Beauty's Beast

by Amanda Ashley

“The sorceress is dead?” Valaree exclaimed. Her gaze ran over Erik, her brows drawing together in a frown. “But the curse is not broken.”

  “No,” he replied heavily. “I fear there is no way to break it now.”

  “I know of a powerful mage who lives on the far side of the River Onyx. Perhaps he can help you.”

  With a shake of his head, Erik muttered, “I doubt it.” His arms tightened around Kristine. “But I’m willing to try.”

  He glanced down at Kristine as she stirred in his arms. Slowly, her eyelids fluttered open. “What happened?”

  “You fainted.”

  She stared at him a moment, and then she frowned. “The wolves . . .”

  “They are friends of mine,” Erik said.

  “Friends? Of yours? But one of them changed into a woman. I saw her.”

  “They’re werewolves, Kristine, but there’s nothing to fear. They will not harm you.”

  Kristine peered over Erik’s shoulder. The black-haired woman stood near Misty, her brown eyes serene. The other wolves sat in a group, tongues lolling, ears pricked forward.

  “Are you feeling all right now?” Erik asked.

  “I guess so.”

  “Can you ride?”

  She nodded.

  Gently, he placed her on her feet, then put his good arm around her and drew her close to his side. “Don’t be afraid, Kristine. Valaree saved my life not long ago.”

  Kristine looked up at him through narrowed eyes, unaccountably jealous of the affection she heard in his voice. “When? How?”

  “Later.” He glanced up the narrow path, a shiver of unease slithering down his spine. “Let us get away from here and find a place to spend the night.”

  Kristine nodded. She, too, was anxious to put as much distance between them and this place as possible. Erik lifted her onto Misty’s back, then mounted his own horse. Kristine looked around for Valaree, but the girl was gone, having transformed herself into a wolf again.

  With a sigh, Kristine took up Misty’s reins, wondering if her life would ever be normal again.

  They sought shelter in a small cave that was known to Valaree and her family. Erik tethered the horses to a nearby tree, fighting the despair that threatened to overtake him. Seeing Valaree again only served to remind him of what he would soon become. But unlike Valaree and her family, he would not have the advantage of changing into human form.

  He shook the morbid thoughts from his mind and ducked inside the cave. A small fire burned near the entrance. Valaree knelt beside the fire, stirring something in a pot. A tall man rested with his back against the cave wall. One of the wolves lay beside him, its head resting on his lap, its eyes closed. A girl of perhaps two and twenty sat on his other side, brushing her hair. She sent Erik a friendly smile.

  “Hello,” she said, “I’m Valaree’s sister, Elsbeth. This is my father, Ulric, and that,” she pointed at the wolf, “is my mother, Yolanthe.”

  Erik nodded. “Pleased to meet you, Elsbeth.” He hesitated a moment, then offered Ulric his hand.

  The werewolf sniffed Erik’s fingers, then took his hand. His handshake was strong and firm. “Are you certain Charmion is dead?”

  Erik frowned. “As certain as I can be.”

  “Did you take her head and her heart?”

  “No.” Erik glanced at Kristine, saw the blood drain from her face.

  “It is the only way to be certain she is truly dead,” Ulric remarked.

  “But she had no pulse,” Kristine said. “No heartbeat.”

  Ulric smiled reassuringly. “No doubt she is dead, then. Come, let us eat.”

  Kristine had no appetite for food. Saying she had a headache, she went to the rear of the cave and stretched out on one of the furs spread against the back wall.

  Erik sat near the fire with Valaree and her family. Valaree served up bowls of thick lamb stew. Erik recalled passing a small flock of sheep on their way to the cave, and Ulric’s subsequent disappearance. No doubt Valaree’s father had provided the meat for the stew.

  “Your woman’s time is very close,” Elsbeth remarked.

  “Yes,” Erik said. He slid furtive glances at Valaree and her family. Save for their eyes, which were slanted and thickly lashed, they appeared quite human as they sat across from him.

  Valaree had told him this was a cave they used often. They kept a supply of clothing here, along with blankets and furs and several flasks filled with water. It was, she said, just one of the many places where they had supplies.

  “You have questions,” Ulric said. “Ask them.”

  “I’m sorry, I did not mean to stare.”

  “It is natural for you to be curious,” Ulric remarked.

  Erik nodded. Curious did not begin to describe what he was feeling, thinking. Fearing.

  “When you are ready to talk, we are here to listen.” Ulric stood up, and the wolf stood with him. “Come,” he said, gesturing to his daughters. “Let us run beneath the stars.”

  Elsbeth bounded to her feet, her eyes sparkling. “Will you come with us, Erik?”

  “No. I should stay here, in case Kristine needs me.”

  “Of course,” Elsbeth said.

  “Valaree, are you coming?”

  “No, Father. I shall stay and keep Erik company.”

  With a nod, Ulric left the cave, followed by his wife and daughter.

  “It will not be so bad,” Valaree said softly. “I have told you that you are welcome to stay with us when the transformation is complete.”

  Erik shook his head, unable to put his thoughts into words.

  “You feel alone, as though you will be cut off from humanity, unable to speak, to communicate. But it will not be like that, if you stay with us. When we are in wolf form, we will be able to communicate with you, and you with us.”

  She placed her hand on his arm, her dark brown eyes intent upon his face. “If you wish, I will be your mate. Wolves mate for life, Erik. You need not be alone.”

  “Valaree . . .”

  “You need say nothing now. I spoke only in hopes of comforting you. I know how frightened you must be, how lost you must feel. Though I was born a werewolf, there were still adjustments to be made. It is not an easy way of life, but you can find happiness, if you try. There are wild wolves who are friendly to our pack. If you stay with us, you will meet them.”

  Erik drew in a deep breath. “My thanks, Valaree. I will think on what you have said.”

  Later that night, lying beside Kristine, Erik thought about what Valaree had suggested. He did not want to spend the rest of his life as a wolf, but if it was his fate to do so, then he was fortunate indeed to have met Valaree and her family, to know there were those who would welcome him.

  But it was Kristine he loved, Kristine whose life he wished to share. Turning on his side, he placed his hand over her belly, felt his child stir beneath his fingertips.

  Please, please let me see my child before the transformation is complete. Please let me hold my babe in my arms just once. Please . . .

  He closed his eyes as Kristine pressed herself against him, and prayed that, whatever happened to him, his wife and child would make it safely back home.

  It rained the next day. Valaree had suggested staying in the cave to wait out the storm, but Erik had insisted they move on. Time was running out. They had to find the mage soon, before it was too late.

  Ulric had agreed with him, a fact that chilled Erik to the core of his being. The werewolf knew, as he did, that the transformation was almost complete.

  Erik glanced into the distance. The wolves loped ahead of the horses, running tirelessly, oblivious to the cold and the rain.

  Kristine huddled inside her cloak, the hood pulled low over her forehead to shield her face. She had been quiet since they’d left the cave. He knew she was troubled by the presence of the werewolves, by the constant reminder of what awaited him when the curse was complete.

  At noon, they paused to rest the horses. The wolves went ahead to expl
ore the lay of the land. Erik lifted Kristine from Misty’s back and they sought shelter in the lee of an overhanging rock.

  “Are you going to return to Valaree if. . . when . . . ? Are you?”

  “You heard what she said?”

  Kristine nodded. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.” Her gaze searched his. “Are you going to be her . . . her mate?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I think you should.” She looked up at him, tears spilling down her cheeks. “I know you won’t be happy staying with me after . . . After. I don’t want you to be alone.”

  “Kristine . . .”

  “I just want you to be happy.”

  “Ah, Kristine . . .” Taking her in his arms, he held her close for a long time, gently rocking her back and forth, his throat thick with emotion, and knew he had never loved her more.

  “How much farther is it?” Kristine asked.

  “Ulric said we would reach the wizard’s keep late tomorrow.”

  “The mage will be able to help us,” Kristine said. “I know he will.”

  Erik nodded.

  “And then we’ll go home.” She forced a smile. “I want our daughter to be born at Hawksbridge.”

  “My mother will be pleased.”

  “We must send for her when we get home, Erik. She’s lonely at the convent.”

  “She is at Hawksbridge already.”

  “She is?”

  “I went to see her. That’s how I knew where you had gone. I sent Chilton to fetch her home.” He let out a sigh. “It was wrong of me to send her away. Hawksbridge was her home long before it was mine.”

  “She understood your reasons.”

  “Promise you will take good care of her for me.”

  “You will be able to do that yourself, soon.” She smiled up at him, though her eyes were sad. “The mage will be able to help us. You must believe that. You must help me to believe,” she said with quiet desperation. “Oh, Erik, I cannot bear this any longer.”

  “Kristine, don’t. I need you to be strong for me.”

  “I’m sorry.” She wiped her eyes with a corner of her cloak, and then she smiled up at him, her eyes luminous with unshed tears. “We should go. The sooner we find the mage, the sooner this nightmare will be over.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The River Onyx appeared as black as its name. Erik knew it was simply a trick of the light reflecting off the black stones that lined the bottom of the river; still, it was disconcerting to gaze at that murky ribbon of water and think of crossing it.

  Though the water was only thigh-high, it ran swift. The horses balked at entering the dark water and only Erik’s firm hand, and the stallion’s trust, enabled him to lead Raven across the river. When he reached the far side, he went back for Misty. Fearing the mare might panic, Erik told Kristine to wait. In the end, he had to blindfold the mare to get her across the river.

  He went back one more time to get Kristine. Lifting her in his arms to keep her from getting wet, he carried her to the other side.

  Valaree and her family, in wolf form, swam across easily enough. Standing close together, they shook the water from their coats, then ran off toward the woods that edged this side of the Onyx.

  “You’re cold,” Kristine said as Erik put her down.

  “I’ll be all right. We’ll rest here a few minutes.”

  “Are you hungry?”

  Erik nodded.

  “Me, too.” Delving into one of the saddlebags, she withdrew a loaf of brown bread and a square of yellow cheese.

  Erik drew his knife and sliced the bread and cheese. It would satisfy his hunger, but what he craved was meat. Only days ago, he had insisted Valaree cook the venison she had offered him; now he found himself yearning for a hunk of meat that was raw and dripping with the juices of life. A part of his mind was disgusted by the mere idea of eating uncooked meat while another part, a part that was growing more dominant with each passing day, hungered for the taste.

  “Erik?”

  He glanced up to find Kristine staring at him. “What?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing.”

  “Tell me.”

  She shook her head again. How could she explain it? How could she describe the feral look she had seen in his eyes? For a moment, his eyes had looked just like those of the werewolves.

  They washed the bread and cheese down with wine. Kristine put the remainder of the food back in the saddlebags, and then Erik lifted her onto Misty’s back. She took up the reins, watching as he climbed into the saddle. Once he had moved with effortless grace; now his movements were sometimes awkward as he tried to adjust to his changing form.

  “What about Valaree and her . . . her family?” she asked.

  “They’ll find us. Are you ready?”

  Kristine nodded. “Yes, let’s hurry.”

  It was a dark, forbidding region they traveled through. Huge boulders dotted the landscape, looming out of the swirling mists like nightmare creatures ready to pounce. Trees rose up out of the ground, misshapen by a devil wind.

  Kristine shivered, wondering if they had made a mistake in coming here. Surely nothing good could dwell in this accursed place.

  She glanced at Erik. He rode beside her, careful, now that he had lost his mask, to ride on her left side so that she was spared the sight of his disfigurement as much as possible.

  She had told him it was unnecessary, yet she knew it bothered him when she saw the ruined side of his face. It bothered her, too, but not in the ways he imagined. She felt only pity for him, and an increasing sense of sadness.

  The setting sun had turned the sky to crimson when the wolves materialized out of the shadows. They trotted beside the horses for a few minutes, and then the big gray one barked and veered into the woods to the right.

  “They must have found a place to spend the night,” Erik remarked. Two of the black wolves ran after the gray, while the third kept pace with the horses.

  A short time later, they reached a large cave carved out of the side of a rocky hill.

  Dismounting, Erik lifted Kristine from her horse, and they went inside.

  Valaree had changed into human form. She wore another long gown, this one a pale shade of blue. The other wolves sat in a half circle behind her. A small fire blazed cheerfully near the rear of the cave.

  “Why don’t the others change?” Kristine asked.

  “It is more difficult for them than it is for me.”

  Kristine looked at Valaree, puzzled. “I don’t understand.”

  “And I don’t know how to explain it,” Valaree replied. “Only that it is easier for some of us to change from wolf to human than it is for others. My sister prefers the wolf form.”

  “And your parents?”

  “My mother has lost the ability to change.”

  “Lost it?” Erik asked. “Why?”

  Valaree shrugged. “No one knows. That is why my father rarely transforms.”

  “Is this another of your dens?”

  “Yes.” Valaree glanced around. “We come here often. It is the largest. Come, sit. I will prepare something to eat. Elsbeth has killed a deer.” She looked at Erik, her expression thoughtful. She started to speak, glanced at Kristine, and changed her mind. “Why don’t you rest awhile, Kristine?” she suggested.

  “Yes, I think I will.”

  “There are blankets in the back of the cave.”

  “I’ll get them,” Erik said. He stared at Valaree a moment, then walked to the back of the cavern.

  There were several furs and blankets piled against the cave wall, as well as a small cask of wine. He also noted several clay jars filled with water; others held herbs and dried meat.

  He picked up two thick wool blankets. “Here.” He spread one of the blankets on the floor of the cave, out of the way of the smoke.

  “Thank you,” Kristine replied. “I am a little tired.” More than a little, she thought, but she didn’t want to worry Erik. He had enough to worry about.
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br />   He brushed a kiss across her lips, then covered her with the second blanket.

  “Erik?”

  “What is it?”

  “You won’t leave me?”

  “No, beloved, I won’t leave you.”

  She smiled at him; then, with a sigh, she closed her eyes. Moments later, she was asleep.

  “This journey must be difficult for her in her condition,” Valaree remarked when Erik returned to the fire.

  “Yes.”

  “Yet she never complains. She is a brave girl.”

  He nodded, thinking brave did not begin to describe it.

  Valaree regarded him through eyes that were dark and wise, eyes that knew him better than he knew himself. She cut off three thick chunks of venison and placed them on the ground. One by one, the wolves came forward, accepted the meat, and then went outside to eat.

  Valaree looked up at Erik, the knife clutched in her hand. “Do you want to have yours now, while she sleeps?”

  Erik stared at Valaree, his heart suddenly beating faster. He knew what she was asking. He looked at the haunch of venison. Unable to help himself, he sniffed the air, his mouth watering as he inhaled the rich, gamy scent of the meat. For a moment, he imagined what it would be like to sink his teeth into the raw meat, to taste the warm bloody flesh and then, with a groan, he shook his head. “Cook it.”

  “It will be less painful for you if you stop fighting,” Valaree remarked softly.

  “I can’t stop. I can’t give in.” He clenched his good hand into a tight fist. “Don’t you understand? I cannot let her win.”

  “The witch has won already.”

  “No!” Erik stared at his left hand. With a low-pitched growl of pain and resignation, he turned and left the cave.

  Valaree stared after him, her heart aching with sympathy and understanding.

  Late that night, long after the others were asleep, Erik stood outside the cave, staring into the distance. They would reach the mage’s castle on the morrow.

  He refused to let himself believe the mage would be able to break the spell. Better to expect the worst. At least then he would not be disappointed. And yet a tiny spark of hope burned deep in his heart. He closed his eyes, imagining what it would be like to be a whole man again, to have the use of two good hands, to return to the company of men, to associate freely with his friends and neighbors. To make love to Kristine without fear, to feel her hands upon his flesh . . .