Rose and Bane: (A Dark Paranormal Beauty and the Beast Retelling)

by Brea Viragh

  “No, thanks. I have a busy schedule today.” A lie. But Allen didn’t need to know that.

  He said a brief goodbye and added well wishes for my mother and Thomas before leaving the sign where it sat, returning to the warm and steaming ovens with their delicious scents.

  I didn’t understand his apprehension. Not that he was alone in it. Many others shared his feelings. There were several people in town with whom I interacted on a regular basis who still would not look me in the eye. Oh, they made polite conversation, enough to get away with the bare minimum of courtesy, but when my back was turned…I knew how people felt about me.

  I just didn’t know why.

  With a sigh, I adjusted the reusable bag on my arm with the precious eggs inside, continuing down the path toward home. Years ago, my vagabond mother had chosen this place to land, saying it looked like something out of a fairy tale. She fell in love with my father, a local merchant, and when my brother and I came along, our family life together had seemed like a fairy tale too.

  Although there was such a huge mysterious void in my memories, family was always there. I had never forgotten any of the beautiful words and stories spun from my father’s voice in the dark nights of my youth. Those stories, those memories had embedded themselves in my heart and fostered my love of reading.

  But the desire for a happy ending, for true love’s kiss…those kinds of things remained relegated to fiction.

  As a grown woman, I knew to embrace my childlike enthusiasm in a number of ways, like finding joy in the small things. But believing in make-believe? Those were just fancies and follies. I refused to be seduced by silly romances that were too perfect to be real.

  After arriving home, I settled myself on the bench near the window in my bedroom, my knees tucked up under my chin. The book I’d grabbed from the shelf lay open and forgotten at my side as the sun disappeared beneath a dark cloud, shadowing the world.

  Patricia whistled downstairs, her tune traveling up the stairwell. A smile curved my lips. She’d leave me alone, I knew, because once I retreated to the sanctity of my bedroom, it was as good as a caution sign. My own world, my own space. And she respected that.

  A twist of my finger had the soft gray feather, the one I used as a bookmark, floating up to my eye level on an invisible breeze. Floating by itself.

  I could do that. Was it magic? Was it some kind of freak genetic trait?

  What was I?

  And why could I do these things that no one else could?

  Chapter 3

  Night had come and gone, though morning brought no further clarity to my life crisis. What it did bring, however, was a breaking point I could no longer ignore.

  “I know you haven’t been feeling well, and denying it is nothing but a lie.” I shot Patricia my patented death glare. The one that brooked no argument, no matter how many times she tried.

  My mother raised a hand to her head, scratching until those gray strands stood at wild angles. “I’m not lying to you,” she insisted. “I feel fine. Well enough that I don’t have to go see some quack doctor to tell me how to live my life.”

  “And what about your arthritis?”

  “I have a handle on it.”

  I shook my head. “Your handle on it involves pushing it under the rug and pretending it doesn’t exist. You aren’t well, and instead of letting me help you, you…what? You turn a blind eye,” I said.

  The woman was infuriating, no question about it. She refused to take her health concerns seriously.

  “Whenever I leave for any period of time, you seem determined to run yourself into the ground. Today I was only gone for a couple of hours and I come back to see you hacking your lungs out.” I eyed the cigar stub with distaste and inhaled a calming breath. Or tried to, anyway. “Are we never going to talk about your death wish? Or why you’d rather keep Thomas and me in the dark?”

  If she keeps it quiet, then it doesn’t exist. What healthy coping mechanisms she teaches.

  Patricia’s brows drew together in a glower. “I’m allowed to smoke in my own home. I won’t have you taking away the one joy I have left.”

  My hands went to my hips. “I like that. The one joy you have left. Because let’s not forget all there is to live for. Say, a son and daughter who love you? Who want you to live to see grandchildren one day, maybe?”

  I had walked up to the front of our cottage after working at the library and noticed the smoke immediately. Not so much a plume in the air, but the sensation of pleasure. Of guilt. The two went hand in hand whenever I caught Patricia doing something she knew she should not be doing. I pinched my nose as I pushed through the door.

  Patricia had tried to cover up the evidence of the smoking but nothing got past me. I sniffed out the burnt stub and dragged it out of the garbage can, with my stomach churning into queasy knots.

  “Leave me alone,” Patricia argued. She crossed one leg over the other with a grunt of pain. “I get my painting done, don’t I? I bring in cash to put food on the table, don’t I?”

  “Lung cancer is no joke.” I hung my head. “If you aren’t willing to talk about how you’re trying to join the others beyond the grave, then I will. You’ve got one foot in the dirt already and the greasy food and secret cigar smoking isn’t helping matters.”

  Blood drained from Patricia’s face, and the despair my words caused were like a knife to the heart. How I wished I could take them back in an instant.

  “Reila, after everything I’ve done…give me this. I don’t want to hear another word about it.”

  The longer she watched me, the more I saw her eyes fill with cold detachment. Eyes that scrutinized. They saw everything, and my fear for her turned to annoyance. To anger.

  “You want me to ignore this when you won’t even tell me what I am?” I snapped back. My hands went to my hips and I prepared to dig in for the long haul.

  A knock interrupted us and had me stopping dead in my tracks.

  “Oh my God. What time is it?” I asked, then rushed for the door without waiting for an answer.

  Six o’clock. Which meant Gray had come to call on me.

  Dear baby Jesus, not now.

  I didn’t have the mental fortitude to deal with whatever he wished to say, so I had to find a way to get rid of him. One that wouldn’t involve him filling the townspeople’s ears with more rumors about me.

  “Don’t think I’m done dealing with you.” I called the warning over my shoulder, accompanied with a serious finger point at my mother. “We are going to continue this as soon as I get rid of him.”

  “Him who? Expecting company?” she threw back.

  “Nothing I can’t handle. We are not through with our conversation, Momma.”

  Patricia waved me away as though she weren’t concerned about me booting off a potential marriage prospect. She’d already deemed me unsuitable for the institution. “Do whatever you want. I didn’t expect this to turn into an interrogation.”

  I frowned. “You never do.”

  Gathering my courage, I headed for the front door and the man I knew stood there waiting for me. The bell rang once, twice, three times even as I crossed the floor. And when I pulled open the door, inhaling a rigid breath, there stood Gray.

  The smile on his face hit me hard. He returned my stare and leaned against the aging railing, the rotting wood miraculously holding his weight.

  My heart quickened at the sight of him, and not in a good way. But why would I care what this man thought of me? A man of little honor, who delighted in flirting with whatever attractive female crossed his path simply because he could.

  His nostrils flared and his eyes narrowed, taking me in. “Good evening, Miss Barnes.”

  Gray’s deep voice gave me a start, my focus on the desire to bolt.

  “Mr. Matthews. You’re right on time,” I told him. I stiffened with each step he took toward me, and instinctively moved to bump my rear against the doorjamb because I was the only one blocking him from coming in. “What can I
do for you?”

  For the first time in a long time, I wished for a friend. A buffer whom I could call on for strength, for balance. For an excuse to not talk to Gray when he clearly wanted to.

  His smile displayed straight white teeth. A smile designed to charm the pants off of any girl who came within a twenty-foot radius of him. Bright blue eyes flashed and caught the light of the afternoon sun before sliding down my body in a leisurely perusal.

  “Reila.” I hated the way he said my name. “How is it that you look even more beautiful now than you did before?”

  I vowed to remain rooted in place as he continued to smile at me.

  “Thank you for the compliment. I appreciate the kind words. Now tell me what can I do for you?” I struggled to find the power in my voice. Since when did I struggle with such things? The worry for my mother must have affected me more than I initially thought.

  He leaned toward me and his breath singed my bare skin. “We have serious business to discuss, you and I,” Gray replied, his tone languid as he rotated his head to take me in, an amused groan low in his throat.

  “I’m not sure why.” It took monumental effort to keep the irritation out of my tone. “Didn’t we say everything we needed to yesterday? I can’t imagine there would be anything left to speak about, unless you’d like to compensate me for the book you tossed in the sewer.”

  For a moment, Gray had no response for me. I withstood his scrutiny too long before looking away, my skin crawling. Please don’t let him touch me. Please don’t let him touch me. Something about his nearness did terrible things to me. Literally terrible things. But Gray loved toying with me, gave no thought to my resistance to his amorous attention.

  “I’d like to come inside now,” he stated. “The nights get awfully cold lately and I would hate to catch a chill simply because you forgot your manners. The polite thing to do is offer me tea.”

  “I told you that I didn’t want you coming into the house.” I didn’t want him any closer to my mother. Gray held nothing but disdain for Patricia Barnes. For our entire family. Which begged the question…

  Why was Gray so set on me?

  “And I told you that I had something very important to discuss with you.”

  “Gray…” I trailed off, attention splintered. Why was he doing this? “Now is really not the best time. We were in the middle of a family discussion.”

  He lurched toward me and grabbed my hand. Leaned forward to place his lips on my knuckles. “There’s no better time than the present. I’m trying to ask you to marry me. To join with me and let me make you the most powerful woman in Bellmare. In the entire kingdom of Halsworthy, if you will. Reila Barnes, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

  I jerked in surprise and broke his hold on me, nearly closing the door on the fingers he had wrapped around the door jamb. My head snapped up. “What did you say?”

  Gray blinked, taking a second to digest the tactless exclamation. “I want to marry you, Reila. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. With you at my side, there is nothing we can’t accomplish together. We would be the ultimate power couple.”

  It sounded more of a demand than a proposal. A statement that I should feel lucky to have him as my husband. I fought to retain even some semblance of composure. And could do nothing to fight the quiver in my voice, or the disdain.

  “But…but the people in town. They hate me.”

  “There is a very fine line, sweet one, between hate and fear,” he stated.

  His words hit me like a punch to the kidney even as his arms crept toward me again. Wanting my body, wanting everything I had to offer in a way I wasn’t willing to give him.

  I could imagine the horror of my life if I said yes to Gray, yes to becoming Mrs. Matthews.

  “Reila, look at me.” His tone told me he expected to be obeyed. He’d gotten down on one knee. “You are a jewel in a sea of coal, shining brighter than any of the others even in your current condition. Marry me and rise to the heights you were meant to. I will not let you slip away,” he said. “You were meant for more than this. Your power, my power. Your beauty, my good looks. It is a perfect combination.”

  And I heard what he didn’t say in that moment.

  I want to possess you.

  “You…you don’t even know me,” I burst out. I kept my fists at my sides, staring down at him, trying not to let him see how I really felt. “How could you want to marry someone you don’t know? Just because I have a pretty face? There are other pretty faces in town, ones with a more amiable heart and a willing disposition. Try with any of them. Because you won’t get an agreement from me. I’m not powerful. I’m no one.”

  “What of my affection for you?”

  If any of the girls in town heard my refusal, they would have thought me madder than I already was. But Gray’s lines…I would not accept them. I would not take them for anything but what they were. His fingertips skimmed over my fisted hand to draw my attention back.

  I jerked away from his touch. “Stop.” My response came as a low but firm whisper, frustration rising and burning me as I stared daggers down at him.

  Cool it down or you will scorch the walls of this cottage.

  Gray straightened slowly and stood, brushing off the knees of his straight black pants and fixing me with a sneer when he stood to full height. “You have a lot of nerve rejecting me like this,” he said. “Considering your past. And here you stare at me like I am the one to be pitied. It’s beneath you, Reila.”

  I’d never really cared for him enough to remain politically correct now. Not when he stalked closer to me, his fingers nudging at my arms as though to shake some sense into me. Too close for his own good.

  “What are you saying? I didn’t get the chance to reject you. I’m still trying to process the shock of you proposing to me. The whole town thinks I’m crazy, no one wants to speak to me, and you…you’re the golden boy. What could you possibly want with someone like me?”

  I bit out the last question, genuinely wanting an answer. There was so much I wanted to say to him, so many things I had held inside, not only when it came to Gray but with everyone. At once his presence was unbearable.

  He took a step closer yet and if I hadn’t been so keenly aware of him, I might have missed the way his hand rose. To touch me or slap some sense into me, I didn’t know. “You can’t talk to me like this, Reila. Do you have any idea who I am? What I could do to you and your family if you cross me the wrong way?”

  He said the words as though he were a savior, doing a good deed, rescuing me from my fate, and in the moment I felt certain he would hit me if I continued to resist.

  I blinked. “Are you actually threatening me and my family?”

  “I suppose I should have expected this from you,” Gray finally said. Disgusted. “After what you did five years ago, I should have expected you to be nasty about this.”

  Like that, my stomach dropped, his words cutting yet ringing with unshakeable truth. “Hold on. What are you talking about?”

  “Guess you’re not as easy as you used to be. That whole thing with Merek must have drastically changed you.”

  I battled the urge to react, instead fixing my eyes on the buttons of his shirt. The perfectly tailored clothing. “Who is Merek?” I asked him on a shaky breath.

  “Merek Lyndon? Prince Merek Lyndon?” His words sounded bitter. “Don’t tell me you’ve really forgotten the poor man you cursed. All this time I thought you were playing dumb because you couldn’t bear the guilt.” He tilted his head to the side. “Maybe not. Maybe it isn’t an act.”

  “Gray, please.” I lunged at him to grab hold of his suit jacket before he could turn and leave. He had answers, and my mind clung desperately to the small ray of hope those answers may offer. If I could get him to speak to me. “I don’t understand. What does this Prince Merek have to do with me?”

  He stared at my hand until I let go. “You cursed him. You turned him into a beast. Like a real bitch, Reila. Like
you were somehow better than the rest of us.”

  “What are you saying?” I asked, shaken.

  Gray’s cheeks turned pink, then red with the effort of his barely restrained tirade. His composure unraveled finally, the genial facade he usually showed to the world slipping away. “I thought we’d moved past the whole situation, since it’s been, what, five years? But apparently you’re still just the same nasty woman who wants to hurt people simply because you can. Watch the tails you pull, sweet one, because this lion will not hesitate to turn on you.”

  I grasped the sides of my head, an ache spreading between my temples and pulsing in time with my heart. The longer he spoke, the more the ache grew. The empty pit inside of me yawned wider. “I don’t know what you mean—”

  Gray scoffed, wrinkling his nose, his voice full of disdain as he cut me off. “Sure you don’t. The same way you don’t know why people in town talk about you like you’re crazy. It’s because you are. A crazy witch.” He shook his head and straightened his waistcoat, still immaculate. “I’m sorry I came here today. I truly am. You’re obviously not in the right mood for any kind of serious discussion.”

  He swept off the porch with stomping feet causing dust to fall from the rafters. I held onto the doorjamb to keep from falling and my pulse echoed in my ears, gaining speed by the second. I couldn’t think. Couldn’t stand. Could only watch Gray as he stalked down the road, with the small crowd of people gathered on the sidewalk parting to make way for him, the smug grin finally wiped off his face after he dropped a bomb on me.

  The crowd then turned back toward the cottage with a combination of curiosity and disdain. The same combination I received daily and only now understood why, in part.

  A curse? A prince? What the hell had Gray been talking about? I didn’t remember anything about a curse. Or a prince.

  My fingers trembled, my knees turned to jelly, the wind picked up, blowing leaves and debris around the yard. “Get out of here!” I yelled at the crowd. “Stop staring at me! Go on, go away!”