The Beast (28 page)

It unnerved Belle, causing her to hurry Charming even more. Whatever was out there, human or not, Belle wanted to avoid it. Relief was like warm butter in her chest, when she saw Castle Vakre Fjell looming over the trees.

Two soldiers watched them approach. One recognized Belle and signaled for the gates to be opened. The Hunters swooped past, nodding their thanks as they went. Every few paces along the bridge were great stone torches. They blazed, illuminating the night and lighting their path to the castle.

They didn’t halt but continued their run across the bridge. Only when they reached the great front doors did the Hunters slow. A hostler rushed over to take their horses. Belle shooed him away.

“Monsieur Laramie Petit. Get him—” she started to command, then the doors burst open.

A troupe of worried people rushed out. Laramie led them. They hurried down the steps, and he held up a hand to hold them back. Particularly General Kogsworthe who looked ready to have her arrested…again.

“Thank the heavens you’re alive, mademoiselle.” Laramie came right up to Belle, taking her hand softly in his. “The beast, tell me, what fate befell him?”

Her heart clenched at the heartache she saw in his eyes. Even now, he wouldn’t betray his Prince’s secret though he feared that Belle had killed him. She leaned over, bringing her head close to his.

“He lives,” she said, watching the relief wash over his face. He turned to tell the others, but Belle held tight to his hand and pulled his attention back up to her. “He’s human, Laramie. I watched the beast become Aleksander right before me.”

His eyes widened and his blond eyebrows rose. “That’s not possible.”

“Isn’t it?” she asked, fishing for any shard information.

“No!” Laramie violently shook his head. “The curse trapped Aleksander in that wolfish body. His mind and soul were still the same, but he couldn’t…get out. ”

Trapped.
That’s what Aleksander meant when he said he was a prisoner back when they first met. That seemed like so long ago now. It hadn’t been entirely honest, but to imply that the beast was his captor wasn’t completely untrue either. That’s if any of this was true. Why would Aleksander lie about it if it were? Belle shook her head from all the confusion.

“I
swear
it,” Laramie added, reading her reaction as mistrust—which in some way it was.

“There’s more.” Belle relaxed some, wanting to believe Laramie. “After he became human, he went into a coma. Now he has a rising fever. Our doctor says he won’t make it to the morning if we don’t do something.”

“My God.” Laramie’s face turned a ghostly white, the wrinkles around his mouth and eyes looking even more pronounced. “What did the doctor say caused it?”

“He says that Aleksander is healthy and that the there’s no reason for the coma or fever.” Nervous energy zapped through Belle’s heart. The fact that Laramie didn’t produce an answer straight away terrified her. “But what if the fever wasn’t coming from Aleksander as a human, but as the beast?”

“He was healthy as a beast too, I’m afraid.” Laramie looked at the ground, his thoughts taking him to other places. Then his brow quirked up with whatever thought just past into his mind. He looked back at Belle. “Did you say he became human in front of you?”

“Yes.”

“Aleksander hated what the curse turned him into. He searched tirelessly for a way to reverse it. But he never could. No matter what he tried, he could never change back.” Laramie’s face softened suddenly like something had fallen into place and he was comfortable in his certainty of it. “Until you. You saw him and ran from the castle. And he chased after. I’d wager that Aleksander had never been more desperate to be human, then right then—with you…” His eyes drifted and his voice grew faint. “And now that he’s free, he wouldn’t be willing to give it up. Even if the curse kills him instead.”

“You think he’s still fighting the curse to stay human?” Belle ran through Laramie’s words, trying to keep pace with his stream of thought.

“That’s precisely what I think, mademoiselle.” Laramie stared her in the eyes, forcing all of his intensity into his gaze. “He fought the curse back—for you—and he’s still fighting it.”

Heart clenching within her chest, Belle swallowed. “So how do I help him fight it?”

Laramie shook his head. “You don’t.”

“What?” Belle raised her voice slightly at the unthinkable.

“There is no stopping the curse.” His lips pursed and his head tilted sympathetically. “You know this. Think back to your research and what you found there.”

Belle didn’t have to. She remembered all too well what little they’d managed to find. “So there’s nothing we can do? He’s going to die?”

“No.” Monsieur Petit patted her hand. “Tell him to give in to the curse.”

“You want me to tell him to become that…beast again?” Belle asked, incredulous. Tears formed at the rim of her eyes. She blinked and swallowed them down, causing a painful lump in her throat.

“It’s the only way he’ll get to live.” Laramie lifted Belle’s chin, forcing her eyes back on him. “And you’re the only one who can get him to do it.
You
have to save his life.”

“Okay.” Belle sat back in her saddle, taking up her reins. “No matter what happens, I’ll return him to you.”

Laramie bowed and stepped back. “Godspeed.”

“How is he?” Belle grabbed a rag from the wash bin and rung it out. Gently, she sat on the bed and replaced the cloth over Aleksander’s forehead. She noticed the beads of sweat on his skin as she did so.

“His fever hallucinations are more frequent.” Doc sat straighter and grabbed his glasses from the nightstand. “But his temperature has leveled out, at least for now. What about you? Did you learn anything?”

“Maybe.” Belle didn’t spare him a glance.

She had eyes only for Aleksander. He shivered despite how warm he was to the touch. Occasionally his breathing would accelerate or his muscles would clench, disrupting the calm sleep.

When there seemed to be nothing more to say, Belle removed the cloth and dropped it back in the bucket. Her heart pounded in her chest. She had no idea if this would work. In fact, she doubted that it would. But she couldn’t let that show in her voice. Belle had to be the woman that Aleksander needed her to be. Confident and in control.

Belle took a deep breath and when she was finally at ease, she leaned in to place her lips next to his ear. Her hand almost instinctively went to his hair. She made small graceful strokes, letting the locks slide through her fingers.

“Aleksander, listen to me,” she said quietly. There was a subtle shift in the Prince’s muscles and she wondered if he really could understand. Elation and hope shot like a bullet through her. Doc’s chair creaked as he shifted to listen. Belle ignored him. “I need you to let the curse take you. I know you’re fighting it, but it’s going to kill you if you don’t give in.” She paused, searching for the right words. “Your people need you, Aleksander. You’re all they have. Giving in, isn’t giving up.” The words came out of her easily then. Belle forgot about the doc and the surrounding room. There was only her and Aleksander. “We’ll find a way. I’m not ready to let you go.”

Belle stayed close to him, continuing to caress his hair, even when there was nothing more for her to say. What felt like an eternity passed and nothing changed. Belle dropped her head, tears forcing their way to the surface. What more could she do? What other options did they have? A droplet of salty sadness landed onto his cheek.

Belle whispered, “
Please
.”

Just like that, as though her pleading was more than he could bear, Aleksander’s muscles began to spasm. Belle moved back and watched in amazement. Angelic ringing hummed in the air. A giddy smile broke over her lips and she looked at the doctor. He was pressed against the wall, terror written on his face. But Belle was elated. It was working! Aleksander had heard her and was shifting back.

Thin rays of silver light jutted out from the Prince’s skin, illuminating the room like a beacon. Belle watched them dance over his body until they were too bright and her eyes burned to look away. Whiteness exploded over her eyelids, then suddenly vanished along with the noise. The room went terribly silent.

When her eyes finally adjusted, the Prince was gone and the beast was in his place. Even at rest, he was massive. The room felt suddenly smaller. He dwarfed the bed that his feet now hung off of.

Doc gasped something about the holy mother, Mary and formed the cross over his chest.

Belle smiled at him. “It’s all right, Doc. He’s still just the Prince. He still needs us.”

The doctor couldn’t seem to look away, which was understandable. She wasn’t sure he’d ever seen a hellhound up close, let alone whatever the Prince was. Belle angled her head to draw the doc’s attention. “Okay?”

Finally, he looked at her and recognition flashed in his eyes. Doc nodded, swallowing hard. As long as he didn’t forget that it was Aleksander he was looking at, that was all she needed from him.

Turning back to the Prince, Belle leaned back over him just as she had before. This time she spoke into large, pointed ears and her fingers combed through thick fur. “Good Aleksander. You’re going to be fine. I’m right here with you.”

A moan rumbled from his chest, reminding her so much of a sighing dog.

Henri took off the glasses and to hug Belle, telling her how glad he was that she was okay. Feeling ashamed, Belle was quick to apologize for leaving without word. He understood her reasons, saying that the doctor had filled him in completely when he returned from the tavern. Now all he wanted to know was if she learned anything from her trip back to Vakre Fjell.

So Belle explained everything from her conversation with Laramie to Aleksander turning back into a beast. When she was done, Henri was at a loss for words. Then he pulled his glasses back on and said, “Machines are much less complicated than the divine.”

Belle agreed and confessed to exhaustion. Henri kissed her on the forehead and wished her goodnight. As Belle climbed into her bed, with Pixie snuggled in her own tiny nest, Belle was aware that she wasn’t as tired as she’d led Henri to believe. But she was more than eager to sleep—and perhaps to moon dream.

Hours later Belle threw her off her blankets. She sat on the edge of the bed and brushed her hands through her hair, letting out a frustrated sigh. Pawing the wall, she found the tiny brass turnkey. Small flames appeared around the room with only a twist. They grew as she turned the key further, casting the room with dim lighting before she let go.

Belle glanced over, watching Pixie’s chest rise and fall with simulated breathing. She’ll stay there, in her decorated egg, for many more hours still. Perhaps the Prince was moon dreaming with her because he certainly hadn’t been with Belle. Her sleep had been dreamless until stress finally woke her.

Knowing her thoughts would keep her awake, Belle climbed from her bed. She went to her wardrobe and withdrew a simple blue dress. She slipped it on and grabbed her brush. Standing in front of the mirror, she dragged her long waves of curls in front of her shoulders. Belle stared at her green eyes, the softness of her hair—just stared, not really admiring. Then she noticed the saddlebags sitting by the door, hidden by the many shadows in her room.

Belle walked over to pick them up. The smell of worn leather swept into her lungs. In one pouch, she found her father’s pocket watch. In the other bag was Aleksander’s letters to various recipients. She ran her thumb over the top address, thinking of Aleksander’s fingers moving his pen across that very parchment. Her imagination pictured him leaning casually over his desk, as rays of sunlight crossed the room. But that was impossible, wasn’t it? The Prince would have been the beast when these letters were written. This couldn’t be his handwriting; it had to belong to Laramie then.