Beauty and the Beast

by Wendy Mass

  In the near-total darkness, Riley jumps over fallen logs, ducks under low branches. I yell when I see danger, and he obeys. We are a good team. After hours of this, I am both exhausted and wide awake. “We are almost there,” he says with certainty. And a moment later, we emerge from the dense woods. Without the tree cover, the dark is a bit less total. Riley skids to a halt and I climb down, my legs so shaky from gripping that I do not try to walk. I lean against him and look around. Objects slowly reveal themselves as my eyes adjust. The moon first, then some stars. Then a vast openness on three sides. An openness that leads to … the sea! I turn frantically from side to side as more and more of our surroundings become visible. There is no denying it. I grab Riley by the arm. “I have been here before!”

  “But I do not understand,” I say, relieved that for the moment at least, the almost unbearable buzzing in my head has now ceased. “We are in the middle of nowhere, and that forest was nearly impassable. How could you have gotten through it?”

  Beauty points at a distant shoreline. “We came from across the sea, from that port over there.” She whirls around. “And that’s where I found Veronica’s crystal! Right there in that dried-up brook!”

  I shake my head in disbelief, although after the last few months, nothing should surprise me. “Why would we wind up here, amidst these ruins?”

  Beauty lifts the crystal from her neck. It seems to glow with its own light. In a strained voice she asks, “Do you think the crystal led us back here, and it wasn’t the pull of the witch at all?”

  I consider her question. If that is true, we might be nowhere near the witch and may as well give up. If we figured correctly, sundown tonight will bring the witch’s deadline with it. Then I remember something. “The buzzing inside my head has ceased completely. That must mean we are in the right place.” I turn in a circle. “But how could we be? Nothing lives in this barren land, let alone a witch.”

  Neither of us speaks for a moment. We both just stare at the desolate landscape. Then Beauty says, “Think about it, Riley. If you were a witch, you would want to keep people far away from your hiding place, right?”

  “Being a beast isn’t bad enough? Now I’m a witch, too?” I can’t help trying to make her smile. The corners of her mouth twitch and I wish I could be the one to kiss her, rather than the other way around.

  “I’m serious,” she says, punching me lightly on the arm. “What if she enchanted this place to try to make people leave?”

  Before I can answer, Beauty lifts her stone and peers through it. She gasps, yanks the necklace over her head, and tosses it to me. “Look!” I hold it up and watch in amazement as the ruins of the old buildings disappear. Gone are the crumbling stairs, the moss-covered columns, the dust and mud. In its place is a huge, gleaming estate, surrounded by trees and fountains and babbling brooks and animals roaming free. Although it is not yet dawn, the sun shines as bright as noontime. I lower the stone. Instantly, the dark and ruins return. I hold it back up, and the white marble building reappears, brilliant in the sunlight. I see no people anywhere on the flower-lined paths that wind through the estate. I reach out for Beauty’s hand. “She is in there, I know it. I can’t say how, but I do.”

  “Then let us do what we came for, before someone sees us.”

  I hold the stone up again and seek out the best way to get inside. “There is a path on the left side, well hidden by the lemon trees. We can enter there and stay close to the hedges. We can duck behind them if we see anyone.” I put the necklace back over her head. “You should keep this, in case I … well, just in case.”

  Beauty nods, squeezing my hand, and we creep forward. Keeping the stone in front of her eye, she leads us to the right spot. “All right,” she says, stopping. “One more step and we shall be inside.”

  I hold my breath, not sure what to expect. Some sort of alarm to sound, perhaps. Instead, we find ourselves in the bright sunlight, on the stone-covered path, the ruins nowhere to be seen. We no longer need the stone to see!

  “The enchantment must be on the outside only,” Beauty whispers. “The witch knew no one would get close if they saw only ruins.”

  We leave our heavy cloaks behind a large rock and creep forward as quietly as possible. We pass no one. I cannot see any of the animals I had spotted before, either. Only small, well-kept farmhouses, bright green lawns, ponds and fountains. Mother would love this place. I am about to share that thought with Beauty when she suddenly stops and shrinks back into the trees. I quickly follow. Only seconds later, a beautiful young woman appears in front of one of the farmhouses, much too close to us for comfort. Her long, curly hair nearly reaches her waist. A large black-and-white spotted cat trails behind her. The woman bends down and begins petting the cat until it purrs. I want to warn the lovely woman that a witch is near, but I dare not risk being seen.

  As we watch from the trees, a mud-splattered pig crosses the lawn and chooses that moment to shake its rear end. Mud flies onto the lady’s skirts, and she rears back and kicks the pig halfway across the lawn. It whimpers and runs directly toward us! We shrink back even farther. The woman swoops up the cat and heads down the road, fortunately in the opposite direction of our hiding spot.

  The instant the woman is out of sight, Beauty reaches out and hugs the squirming pig, trying to comfort it. “I think that beautiful woman is the witch!” she gasps as the pig continues to wiggle. Beauty only tightens her hold.

  She is right, of course. I should have known by the fact that the tingling has now returned. Not nearly as powerfully but just as insistent. The time is near. “I need to follow her.”

  “We need to follow her,” she corrects me, bending her head toward the pig, murmuring kindnesses. The pig visibly relaxes. I cannot help but smile. Beauty has the same effect on me.

  She nuzzles the pig once more, then gives it a kiss on the top of its head. If I live a hundred years, I shall never forget what happens next. The pig stops moving completely. Then in a blur of movement and color, it falls from her lap and starts … changing! Beauty jumps up and we grab hold of each other, transfixed by the scene before us. The pig’s limbs have become arms and legs. A second later, a man in peasant garb lies twitching and panting on the ground. He is shoeless and hatless, and in serious need of a shave.

  We both hold our breath while the man catches his. Then his eyes fix on me. “Ye gads!” he exclaims, looking me up and down. “The witch must have really hated you!”

  “Are you all right?” I ask, kneeling beside the pig-turned-man. He is still staring up at Riley, shaking his head back and forth.

  “Enough already,” Riley says, rolling his eyes. “I get it, I’m huge and hideous. But she made you into a pig, and that’s not anything to brag about.”

  I turn to Riley. “Did you know the witch had cursed others?”

  “I had suspected,” he admits. “But I did not want to frighten you further by telling you.”

  “You can tell me anything,” I say, a bit hurt.

  “I’m sorry,” he says, stepping to my side. “I will keep things from you no longer.”

  “Thank you,” I tell him, reaching out my hand for his.

  “Hello?” the man asks, leaning on a lemon tree for support as he stands. “Can we focus on the larger issue here?”

  “Sorry,” I say, my cheeks warming.

  “Sorry,” Riley mutters, squeezing my hand before letting it fall.

  “All right, then. First of all, my name is Mumford. I am much indebted to you, young lady, for the kiss. I had long given up on anyone breaking the curse.”

  “No offense,” I reply, “but the witch said the girl has to love you before she kisses you. While you were cute as the pig, I would hardly call what I felt for you love. More like sympathy and gentle affection. Perhaps something else ended your curse?”

  The man shakes his head. “The witch lied. ’Tis only the kiss that matters.” He nudges Riley. “But all the better if she loves you first, right, old boy?”

 
“But … we … I … but …” Riley stammers as he takes in the man’s words. “You mean all this time a girl had only to kiss me and the spell would have been broken?”

  Mumford nods. “Not as easy as it sounds when you’re a pig.”

  Riley’s expression of shock at this new knowledge is almost comical. With his hair all wild from the run through the woods, and his cheeks flushed, he looks like a young child’s drawing of a monster.

  “Most people who saw me tried to turn me into their supper,” Mumford explains. “I was much too far from my home to find safety there, so I wasted most of my months of freedom running from meat cleavers. And then my time was up. Like you, I was pulled back to the witch by an invisible force. I have been here ever since. Five or six years, I think. I have lost track of time. It is never dark. It is never winter. The only voice is hers. Once you are her property, your speech is stolen as well.” He stretches, smiling as he flexes his fingers. “Ah, movable thumbs. How delightful!”

  Riley, wide-eyed, has now begun muttering angrily to himself and pulling at his hair. “Just a kiss!” he repeats over and over. “Just one little kiss!”

  I allow him his tantrum in private and turn to Mumford. “But what is this place? What goes on here?”

  “This is the witch’s compound,” he says, stating the obvious. “She leaves it only to collect another victim.”

  “But why does she bother?” I ask. “Judging by the kick she gave you, she does not seem to like having you here.”

  “Oh, she hates us, to be certain. But she needs us within her walls. She draws her power from ours.”

  “Our power?” Riley asks. “What power?”

  “All of her victims have something she lacks. Some special skill or gift. With some it is strength, or brilliance, or perfect eyesight. Others are especially brave, or are skilled in battle, or can play the violin to make you weep.”

  “I don’t understand,” Riley says, clenching his fists, his anger clearly not spent. “How did turning me into the beast help her?”

  “When she transforms someone, she absorbs whatever their gift is, leaving them unable to outshine her in any way. That is what feeds her magic and keeps her young. She has already outlived her rightful years by many a dozen.”

  Riley frowns. “Then she made a mistake by transforming me. My brother, Alexander, possesses all the talent in our family.”

  The man shakes his head. “The witch does not make mistakes.”

  Suddenly, I feel the rise of anger, too. I am angry that Riley suffered these last few months for nothing. Angry at the witch’s lie about love. Angry that my own family suffered because of it, too. “The witch will never have Riley as her latest ‘pet.’ I shall kiss him before that happens!”

  He smiles gently, unable to hide his amusement. “Then what are you waiting for?”

  I lift my chin high and cross my arms. “I can’t yet. We have to vanquish the witch first so she cannot curse anyone else.”

  Mumford laughs, then stops when we do not share in his merriment. “Oh! You were serious! Forgive me, but the witch is very powerful. She will squash you like a bug. Or, more likely, turn you into one. I was attempting to thwart her when she captured me. Do you have a plan?”

  To my surprise, Riley says, “Yes. I plan to surrender.”

  “Sorry?” I ask. I hope I’ve heard him wrong.

  But Mumford only nods thoughtfully. “Keep talking.”

  Riley begins to pace. The ground beneath us quakes a bit with each heavy footfall. I glance around, hoping the witch isn’t close enough to feel it. All I see are a few ducks and a llama eyeing us warily from a nearby lawn.

  “I will approach her in surrender, as she commanded,” Riley explains to me. “She will see I was unable to break the spell, so I am now her property. I shall keep her distracted while you … well … while you kiss a lot of animals. When the witch’s powers are weakened enough, I shall escape her sight, you shall, um, kiss me, and turn me back while there is still time.”

  Mumford, while delighting in doing deep knee bends and lunges, has been listening carefully. He cracks his knuckles and says, “I will help you by gathering the witch’s creatures to the pastures at the far end of the compound. The smells usually keep the witch far away. And when the transformations are complete, I shall dispense of the witch.” He cracks his knuckles again, then grabs a lemon from the branch above his head.

  I mull over their words for a moment. I do not like the idea of Riley being alone with the witch. “But, Riley, what if she bewitches you in some way? Robs you of your speech, or makes you forget who you are?”

  He kneels down beside me and takes my hands in his gloved ones. “Then you shall remind me.”

  I stare into his eyes, nearly level with mine, and find strength there.

  “You must promise me,” he continues, “that you will not get caught. If you see her approaching, use Veronica’s stone to find your way out. Do not come back for me. It will be too late, and I could not bear it if my fate were to befall you as well.”

  Tears fill my eyes.

  “Promise me,” he repeats.

  I force myself to nod, although I am not at all sure I mean it.

  He smiles and pushes a strand of my hair away from my face. The gesture is so sweet that I begin to cry all over again. Without a thought, he hugs me close. Even through all the fur, I can feel his heart beating. I have never been held by anyone other than Papa. I do not want it to stop.

  Mumford clears his throat. “Hate to break this up, but we really must get moving. The witch will shortly be heading this way.”

  I had nearly forgotten we had an audience. Reluctantly, Riley and I release each other. “Be careful,” I whisper. “Now that I have found you, I do not want to lose you.”

  “Nor I,” he says. We lean toward each other as though going in for one last hug. His face only inches from mine, I am overcome with emotion. Without any thought whatsoever, I lean forward and kiss him so quickly that it almost might not have happened.

  But it did! We stare at each other in horror.

  Mumford shakes his head. “Young love. What can you do?”

  I can feel the echo of the kiss as we stare at each other. It was as soft as a moth’s wing, and as quick as a hummingbird, but I can still feel its effects all the way down to my tingling toes. We hold our breath. Maybe it wasn’t enough to break the spell? Maybe we can still follow through with our plan?

  But Beauty knows the truth before I do. She steps back and shakes her head. “I’m so sorry.”

  Seconds later, a shudder rips through my entire body and, still kneeling, I fall face-first to the ground. Where months ago there was stretching, now there is shrinking. My limbs rearrange themselves, my hair yanks itself back into my head, and my fur disappears, leaving my skin bare and raw. I press my lips firmly together to keep from screaming. Everything is dark! I am blind! Then my eyes open. I hadn’t realized I was squeezing them shut.

  The first person I see is Mumford, bowing low before me. “At your service, Your Highness,” he says, reaching to help me stand.

  “How do you …” But I need only to look down at myself to know the answer. I am wearing my traveling clothes. My cloak has the royal emblem embroidered on the front.

  Dizzy from the transformation, I let him take my elbow and help me to my feet. It takes a second to realize when I have reached my full height, for it seems so close to the ground. I cannot help running my hands over my arms and face. Gone are the muscles and the broad shoulders and the strong arms. But so is the thick hair, the fur, the hawk nose. I pinch my nose. I cannot believe it was ever this small!

  I feel a light touch on my arm and know that when I turn around, Beauty will be standing there. What will she think of me? Will she be disappointed? I turn slowly to face her.

  Her eyes scan my face, void of any expression other than curiosity and wonder. Finally, she says, “You are shorter than I expected!” and then grins.

  I laugh and hold
out my hand. She takes it.

  “A much better fit,” she says.

  “Indeed.” This is the first time we have held hands without my gloves on, and I feel suddenly shy. My cheeks grow warm and I have no long hair to cover them.

  “I have ruined our plan,” she says. “I am truly sorry about the kiss.”

  “I’m not,” I reply truthfully. It feels great to smile without the hook of my nose digging into my lip.

  She squeezes my hand and I no longer care if she sees me blushing. I am human again! And a girl likes me! It is hard to think of the witch.

  Mumford hurriedly shakes two lemons from a branch over his head. He tosses one to each of us, only mine lands on the ground due to me not really being aware yet of where my arms begin and end. “Let us be on our way,” he instructs. “We will have to cut through the pasture, so there will be no trees nor buildings to hide behind. Stay low to the ground.” He tilts his head at Beauty and says, “Due to this one being so free with the kisses, we shall come up with a new plan as we go.”

  “Hey,” I say, defending my lady, “had she been less free with them, you would still be rolling in mud, eating worms and tree bark or whatever pigs like to snack on.”

  He laughs and slaps me on the back. “You speak the truth, Your Highness!” He takes off at a sprint, having apparently recovered his balance already. He begins to whistle a low tune, almost like a hum. Every animal in sight stops its grazing and follows him.

  We hurry to catch up, me stumbling every few steps. When your feet are suddenly half the size they’ve been for months, walking is an entirely new experience. Mumford keeps turning in circles as he goes, searching the property for the witch. I feel very exposed in this pasture, with nothing but low grass surrounding us on all sides. Beauty and I stick close together. More than once she has to catch me before I hit the ground. “So much for my plan to save the day as the beast,” I whisper as she steadies me once again.