Beauty's Beast- The Light

by Sebrena Merly

  The others had told him—after Bella had been settled and sleeping—that he had died. They didn't know how he was back, but they knew his daughter had something to do with it, since she was in the room with him. They explained everything that had happened, and what they were preparing for. As much as he wanted to just grab Bella and get out of there, he knew he couldn't.

  Even if it meant the death of them.

  Not only would the Fae stop him, but he didn't know what would happen with himself, though he seemed to be in control so far. He knew that the other wolves would be even stronger than himself, and knew they were a danger to Bella, just as he was sure that he was a danger to her as well.

  He was also told what Bella was becoming—what she almost already was. It was something Johnathon feared—something he had always feared—yet it didn't quite come as a shock to him.

  Because Johnathon had secrets of his own.

  * * *

  Searing pain ripped through Bella's body when she opened her eyes to her own world, and she felt her body slip out of her control and into its own, reacting quickly to the pain, almost instinctively. She could feel someone else's hand clutched in hers, but couldn't see who it was, her head refusing to turn from the upward tilt it had taken, and her eyes burned with a bright, flashing light that coursed through her vision.

  She tried to scream, to release some of the pain, and couldn't tell if she succeeded, listening to—instead—a loud ringing noise that echoed in her ears. Then the pain subsided, and she was left with a dull, stinging ache that travelled over her body, and a migraine that flared at every little noise. The breathing to her right, for example, flooded into her ears, all ragged and worried, sounding much louder than she was sure it was.

  When she lowered her head, and turned it towards where the noise was originating, Bella was momentarily surprised to see her father, and then soon overjoyed, an overwhelming mix of sorrow and pure happiness coursing through her mind, which only made her head hurt worse.

  Ignoring the pain, she thrust herself at the man, unable to think of anything but him. Her arms wrapped themselves around his neck, and she practically slid herself onto his lap as she buried her head into his shoulder, clutching at him as if it was the only way to keep him there—to be sure that he was real and very much alive.

  "I missed you so much, Papa," she said into his shirt, voice muffled by the thick fabric. She didn't even try to hide her tears, practically laughing through the pain as they fell down her cheeks and onto her father.

  He made a startled, strangled noise, which confused her. Then he managed to say, "You're stronger than I remember."

  "Oh?" Confused, Bella thought about that. Then, blushing, she drew back, releasing her grip on her father, wincing at her pain as much as the idea of hurting him. "I guess I should be gentler."

  "Just a little," he told her, blue eyes crinkling. "I may be a wolf, but I'm still human." His mind seemed to wander, and he opened and closed his right hand as he examined it closely before giving Bella a ridiculously worried and joyful smile.

  "Wolf," Bella repeated, frowning somewhere over his shoulder.

  He noticed her concerned thoughtfulness, and grabbed her shoulders, cringing guiltily when she flinched at the pain it brought her. "Bella?"

  The memory of the cave hit her, and her eyes widened as it flashed before her. Then she looked up at her father, mouth hanging open for a moment before she leapt up, her feet padding against the ground as she rushed for the door.

  "Bella," Johnathon complained behind her, jumping to his feet. "You should be resting!"

  "No time!" she shouted back before throwing the door open with a slam, and she raced down the hall. She nearly rammed into several different Fae as she stormed down the hall, but they dodged out of the way when they saw her coming, some of them even stepping to the side when they saw her from a distance. A sort of whirlwind seemed to follow her, helping keep everything out of her way as her pace picked up to a sprint.

  The pain increased the more she moved, but Bella knew that she had to get out word of her knowledge, of the war. The war that she wanted nothing to do with. The war that would come whether she wanted it to or not. The war that was going to happen regardless of what became of her.

  With or without her, a war had already been planned.

  Bella went to the first place she thought she would find Kataros, the room where he had been taken to heal. Sure enough, he was there. But he wasn't alone.

  Malum was with him.

  They both looked up when she rushed in, sitting on the large chair with glasses of that strange blackish-red substance in their hands. Kataros had just been reaching for the bottle for more, his hand frozen in midair as he regarded Bella with a look of tired surprise.

  "Why does it not shock me that you don't want to get better?" he asked.

  "Because that doesn't matter," she said, hardly panting, though she had run a ways. A part of being a faerie, she supposed. She could run longer distances without tiring.

  He looked angry, though shifted his expression under the watch of Malum, who was watching them both curiously, instead looking bored and unamused. "Somehow I knew you would say that."

  "I need to talk to you," she told him, throwing Malum a suspicious look. Kataros opened his mouth to speak, but he didn't get a chance to.

  "Anything you have to say can be said in my company," Malum told her, raising the glass to his lips. "No secrets are kept from me."

  "But this is private," Bella argued, looking to Kataros for help.

  Malum laughed, making Bella frown and turn to him in confusion. Then he smiled, shaking his head. "You think I would listen to him? You think he has power over me?" He shook his head again. "My, how you are mistaken. He may be a Prince, but he is not my Prince." He looked at Kataros, head tilted. "I see we have a new member of the family."

  "Yes," the demon said tightly, teeth gritted as he set his glass down on the table, glowering at Bella as if everything was her fault, and she resisted the obnoxious urge to stick her tongue out at him.

  He looked back at the girl, raising his glass in approval before bringing it to his lips again. After a small sip, he gave her a charmingly boyish smile, his ice-blue eyes lighting up. "You really are shaping up. Very beautiful, if I might add."

  Bella stared at him for a moment, gaping. "Th-thank you." Her stutter was small, slight—not as bad as it normally would be. She almost hated herself for it, but ignored her disgust, and turned to the demon. "There's going to be a war." Malum looked at her in grown interest, as if he understood what she was getting at right away, which irritated her. But Kataros merely blinked at her, completely misunderstanding.

  "Of course there is," he said blankly, staring at her as if she were a mere lamb. "That is, if we survive the Northern wolves." When she hesitated, her eyes widening as she rolled those words over in her mind, he quickly added, "Which I'm sure we will."

  She thought about that, then shook her head. "That's not what I mean-"

  The door slammed open, and Johnathon strolled in, his head held high in that stubborn way that Bella recognized, eyes hardened in a look of both concern and anger. "You should be resting," he told Bella when he came to a stop in front of her, hardly giving Malum a glance, jaw set firm and tight as he glared at her insistently.

  She opened her mouth, closed it, and let out a low whine. Then she looked at Kataros.

  He waved his arms around. "Don't look at me for help. He's your father, and we both know that he's right."

  "But that is not what's important right now!" she complained, glowering at the two men.

  When Bella saw Malum studying her father, she stepped in front of him a ways, frowning at him in a territorial sort of way. When he saw the look, he simply nodded his head slightly, rolled his shoulders, and took another sip.

  Bella tilted her head curiously.

  "And what is it that can possibly be more important?" Johnathon demanded, setting his fists on his hips and raising his
brows.

  "The war!" Bella shouted, flinching at the strain it brought to her vocal cords, and she fisted her hands in her stomach. Then, spotting Malum's interest in her pain, she set her hands at her sides and straightened the best she could, waving her father off when he reached out for her.

  The demon's expression twisted slightly, and the corner of his mouth twitched, but he remained in place, refusing to face the other faerie.

  Bella simply took a deep breath, and continued. "We need to be worrying about the war—not me." She thought a moment, and was about to open her mouth to say more, but she didn't get the chance to.

  "I don't think it's necessary to think that far ahead," Kataros said, waving a dismissive arm, though he looked confused. He frowned at the girl, head tilted. "Has this...change—what you are, what you did with your father—affected you...mentally?"

  She stared at him, not sure how to answer. It wasn't just the way he had worded it, but the way he had asked it—as if she would be offended by the question. Not only that, but she didn't quite understand what it was, exactly, that he was asking.

  Not at first, anyway.

  "Are you calling me crazy?" she demanded, fisting her hands, and she gaped at him in disbelief. "I bring up the war, and suddenly that makes me crazy?"

  A sort of vibration filtered through the air, thrumming as violently as it was gentle. It was quite noticeable, something Bella found impossible to miss, though it didn't affect anything in the room. And, when she gazed around at the men, she found that they hadn't even noticed.

  That was, unless they were hiding that they had.

  The demon hesitated, glancing at Malum, who was grinning behind his glass, and swallowed, which was something that struck Bella as odd. He actually looked...nervous. "I'm not coming to conclusions here," he told her. "It's just...you've been acting strangely. And you've been repeating yourself consistently..."

  "So you think that the logical answer is that I've gone 'round the bend." Bella shook her head, glancing over at her father. "Please tell me that you don't think this too."

  Johnathon opened his mouth, let out a deep sound that rumbled in the back of his throat, and shook his head helplessly, mouth seeming to try to form words that wouldn't come out, and he resorted to just looking over her shoulder at the demon for help, which was definitely not something Bella expected since he had wanted to murder him possibly only hours ago.

  "Unbelievable," she muttered, glowering at her feet.

  "Perhaps if you just explain yourself," Malum suggested casually, flicking an uninterested glance over his nails. "Maybe we would understand you better if you went into full detail."

  "You would like that, wouldn't you," Bella snapped, tensing when the vibrations in the room worsened. The others still didn't notice. "Next thing you know, I'll be telling a traitor every personal secret."

  He tilted his head, eyes travelling around the room before grabbing hers again. "Who said anything about a traitor?"

  Kataros looked at Bella with panic written across his features, eyes telling her not to further the conversation, to stop it right where it was. But she was much too determined to quit right then.

  "No one has to," she told the faerie, head held high, hardly giving the demon another glance. "From what I've heard—what I can make sense of—you're not on our side."

  He looked amused, leaning forward, setting his glass down on the table, his arms laying across his knees as he looked up at her—much like she was telling a story. "Do tell."

  "Bella," Kataros warned.

  "Perhaps you shouldn't," Johnathon breathed nervously from behind her.

  She gave her father a glare, one that made him straighten and look as his feet nervously, before glowering at the demon, taking a step towards him. "I don't need you telling me what to do at every turn. I understand that I'm supposed to be your prisoner—guest; whatever you want to call it—but I can say whatever I wish. And if what I say comes with consequences, so be it."

  He stood up, closing the distance between them, and stared down at her nervously, no longer seeming to care that he was under watch. "Some things are best left alone."

  "Yes, but some things aren't," she replied, glaring at him. "Something tells me that you know that more than others." When he said nothing, merely gazing at her, she took a steady—pained—step back. "So, back off and let me talk."

  The demon gazed at her a moment longer. Then, without taking his eyes from hers, he walked backwards a few steps and took a seat, lips pressed firmly shut.

  "Would you look at that," Malum said, as if baffled, smiling as if he had just figured something out. "Beauty's little beast. Tell me, Katharos, how does it feel be treated like the dog you are?"

  He clenched his jaw, all sharp teeth and flaring eyes. "I would watch what you say, if I were you."

  "Or what?" He laughed, settling back in his chair. "Did you forget that you can do me no harm? Or has that slipped your mind—again? I'm merely stating what I see." He gave Bella a menacing smile, all charm and wit out of sight—a sort of smile that lost its innocence—then smirked at the demon. "You've gone soft, Ankth."

  Bella frowned at the word, never having had heard of it, and threw a glance over her shoulder at her father to see if he had recognized it. If he did, he showed no signs, looking just about as lost as she did, which surprised her. Her father was rather good when it came to ancient languages, and the word sounded like it originated from one. Mostly he knew French and Spanish, but he also knew some Latin, Greek, and just a little from the Eastern regions. The demon, however, looked like he knew the word very well, and he didn't seem to like it one bit.

  "Don't call me that," he growled, fisting his hands in the chair, seeming to physically restrain himself from attacking the faerie.

  "It is what you are, is it not?" he asked cheerily. Without waiting for an answer, he looked at Bella. "Either way, I'll find out what you have to say."

  She glared at him. "Are you going to force it out of me?"

  He grinned mischievously. "As fun as that sounds, I would rather not."

  As he sat there staring, that smile seeming more and more malicious, making it clear that he wasn't going to give up, Bella considered keeping her mouth shut. At least, she considered not saying anything until he left—whenever that would be. She also considered finding some way to get him out of the room, or to leave the room with the demon without his following them—though not even that seemed likely.

  There was also the fact that Malum learned of Bella within a matter of days, which let her know that word got around quite fast. And, if that was so, there was no point in hiding anything from anyone. Or, at least, there was no point in hiding it from Malum. Even if there was something overtly wrong with him.

  It seemed, she came to realize, that she didn't have a choice.

  He made his thoughts on this clear as he leaned back in his spot, that same smile playing around his lips as he sipped some more of his drink. The smug look made Bella hate him even more, and she had never hated anyone in her life. Well, that was, aside from the demon, whom Bella found she was becoming fond of.

  Which she hated.

  The echoes in the room were growing worse, almost as if the castle itself was breathing. Either that, or there was some small quake shaking the room without actually doing any damage. It wasn't a physical shake, but something that made Bella's skin tingle, and she annoyed herself wondering how the others didn't notice. Or, at least, how they could ignore it.

  As Bella sat there, wondering about all of this, something in Malum's expression gave him away. That smirking grin he had displayed about his face had a flaw, a single twitch in the corner of his mouth, where his scar was. It pulled down occasionally, and he eventually made the mistake of looking away from Bella.

  She wasn't the only one who had noticed.

  Just before Bella could say anything—though she wasn't sure she even wanted to—Malum broke eye contact with her, eyes flickering down to the ground, and he s
aid, "So, what will it be?"

  She hesitated, and glowered at him. It was clear, facts or not. He would find out either way. And he reminded her of this again, meeting her eyes with the faintest hint of uncertainty etched in his smirk. Though, it didn't seem to be finding out what Bella had to say that he was confused about, but the vibrations that danced through the room, like a sort of angry thrumming, billowing as Bella's irritation fluttered about.

  So, she told them.

  Bella didn't leave out a single detail, save the fact that the girl was basically Life itself. She didn't want to risk causing any distress in throwing in such a fact as that, especially with unwanted ears in the room. She did, however, let them know that the girl hid her features with some strange magic, and was from the future, which gave them no choice but to trust what she had to say.

  "It makes sense," Kataros said when she was done explaining. "It means that Fate has betrayed its reasons for existing. Whether or not Bella was here, we would have to battle the wolves." He looked at Malum, eyes hardened. "It's inevitable."

  The faerie nodded at him, clearly in full agreement, which shocked Bella since the two didn't seem to get along—in fact, they appeared to hate each other. "It is either that, or this is all Fate's doings, and it has given us no choice but to go along with the war."

  Kataros's head snapped in his direction, no longer thoughtful. "Us?" He shook his head—as if disgusted. "You make it sound like you're capable of feeling pity."

  Malum smiled grimly. "I am capable."

  "You feel nothing!" the demon barked.

  "Boys!" Bella snapped, staring at the both of them in disbelief. Normally she wouldn't call men such a title, but it didn't quite help that they were throwing some childish fit, especially after learning what she had just told them. "This isn't helping."

  "Bella's right," her father said, stepping up beside her and setting a hand on her shoulder. "We shouldn't be fighting—it's what they would want."