Beauty

by Kris Calvert

  “We’re on our way, Solomon. I was just locking up and we’re going there directly.”

  There was exasperation in Edmund’s voice and I wondered if he was growing weary of Rosewood as I was. I also wondered if he meant what he said.

  I turned to him as Solomon walked the other way and gave Edmund a tiny smile. He returned the gesture with a nod and as we walked, I instinctively began to count.

  Making the turn at the stairs, I looked up from my feet to find Edmund waiting for me at the doorway of the king’s chambers. “It’s going to be just fine.”

  “Promise?” I asked as I placed my hand on the door handle, ready to have my meeting with the king.

  “Yes.”

  I turned the handle and entered without knocking. As I pushed the door open I smelled something new—peppermint. “Oh,” I said, startled to find not only the king in his chambers, but another man as well. “I’m sorry your Majesty. I should’ve knocked.”

  “See what I mean?” Boris said as he elbowed his guest in the arm and lit his pipe. “Come in, Beauty. There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

  I closed the door behind me without making a sound and promptly sat in the chair, placing my hands in my lap.

  “Beauty?” The man addressed me as if he knew me. But I didn’t know him. Short and dark, he had a perfect part, separating his slicked back, brunette hair. He was a man of wealth, that was for sure and although he smelled of peppermint, I couldn’t look past the way the spittle seemed to drool from his lips when he spoke. “My name is Benjamin Lupus.”

  “Are you a Lord, sir?”

  He stared at me for only a moment before his face broke into a wide grin and he looked back to the king.

  “You may call me Lord Lupus if it pleases you, Beauty. Or you may simply call me, Sir.”

  I nodded and looked to the king for direction. I was confused as to what was going on. Picking up on my non-verbal cue, Boris cleared his throat and began shuffling papers on his desk. “You’ve been asking me to release you from Rosewood since you arrived, Beauty.”

  “Yes.” I looked to my hands, running my finger across the open gouge left behind by the splinter, quickly working my way up my wrist to finger the red cord. “That’s true.”

  “To get to the point quickly—Beauty—” Lupus began. “I don’t think you belong here at Rosewood.”

  I pulled my face from my hands and looked at him square on for the first time. A fire burned in his black eyes and there was something about him that was magnetic. “I don’t think I belong here either.”

  “Then it’s settled,” he said as he walked away from me to shake hands with Boris.

  “What is settled?”

  “Mr., I mean, the kind Sir would like to take you with him—to live,” Boris said.

  “With you?”

  “Well, yes,” Lupus replied.

  “But why?” I asked as I looked to Boris once again for direction.

  “Beauty, there are only a few ways to leave Rosewood. Your family could come back and retrieve you—which isn’t going to happen in your case, or the court can set you free.”

  “The Court of the Kingdom?” I asked as I traded glances with both men.

  “Yes,” Lupus said as he leaned into my face. Suddenly I felt as if I was being surveyed like chattel. “But you will have to go before the ah…well another king…in order to come with me.”

  I looked to Boris once more. Why wasn’t he saying anything? I needed his help, his guidance. “But, my prince. I’ve been waiting all this time. Shouldn’t I at least wait to see if he’s coming for me?”

  Lupus went down on one knee taking my hand in his. His skin was warm, his hands soft. “I am the prince you’ve been waiting for, Beauty.”

  He kissed the top of my hand and placed it back into my lap exactly where he’d found it before turning away from me. “It’s settled then. I’ll send over the papers for her and the others. As soon as I know the dates for court, I’ll send word. Have them ready to go.”

  With a wink and a crooked smile, Lupus left the king’s chamber. We were alone. “I don’t understand.”

  “Look Beauty, you are an intelligent girl. You are informed in the arts, you’re polite and you’re blissfully unaware of everything around you. But I want to grant your wish. I want to set you free from Rosewood. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted?”

  “Yes, but.”

  “But what? I’m handing you your dream. I’m giving you your freedom.”

  “It’s just I never thought that it would happen like this.”

  I looked down to my hands again and wondered why what I’d seen in the darkness wasn’t coming to fruition. It was my glimpse into the future and the past and it had never failed me, not until now.

  With a heavy sigh, Boris leaned back in his chair. “Unfortunately life never unfolds the way we think it should. Sometimes you have to make your own happily ever after, Beauty.”

  I shook my head. I didn’t believe that was true. I knew that somehow I was to be with the man who loved me—the man who would sacrifice everything just to be with me—my one true prince. “This isn’t how this story goes,” I said under my breath.

  “Anna will assist you with gathering your few belongings to take with you. You can’t take much because your new life will be filled with new things. You shouldn’t drag the old stuff along with you.”

  “Aren’t you listening to me?” I stood and began to pace the room. “This isn’t how this story goes.”

  “I’m not sure I understand what story you’re speaking of.”

  “My story,” I said, my voice quivering with adrenaline. “This is not my story.”

  “Beauty…” Boris dropped his shoulders. I could tell he was tired of me. In fact he just looked tired, as if the days of ruling at Rosewood were beginning to wear on him. It was a physical symptom of the life we led here. “I don’t want you to get upset. I don’t want to call Solomon in here to—well to calm you.”

  “This isn’t right,” I bellowed, throwing my hands in the air. I felt the need to be heard and he clearly wasn’t listening to me.

  “What’s right anymore?” he asked raising his voice. “Is it right that you are here? I don’t know. Is it right that Lupus wants to take you away from here? I don’t know that either. Life is hard. Life is full of tough choices young lady and sometimes when you’re not capable of making them yourself, someone has to make them for you.”

  I began to cry, softly at first, the tears spilling from my eyes without a sound. “Life, your Majesty, isn’t hard. Life is a gift.”

  Boris scoffed at me, sat at his desk and looked away. It was as if he could no longer tolerate my presence.

  “Life isn’t always a gift, Beauty. Look around you. What kind of gifts do you see in some of your fellow—some of your friends? Do you only see beautiful gifts?”

  I walked to him slowly, wiping the tears from my eyes with each step. “Life is a gift.”

  Boris stared into my eyes, allowing an eternity to tick by on the clock before saying another word. “How did you get here?”

  I shook my head but didn’t take my eyes from his black stare. It wasn’t that I couldn’t remember, it was that I didn’t want to. “The question is how am I leaving here, and it’s not like this. I’ve seen my future and Lupus isn’t it.”

  Boris shrugged his shoulders. “It’s out of my hands now. Solomon!” he yelled, not giving me a chance to say another word.

  A cold breeze flew through the door as Solomon rushed in and took me by the arm. With a nod, he pulled me through the door of the king’s chamber.

  I did my best to free myself from his vise-like grip, but only twisted my body into unnatural shapes trying to fight.

  “No!” I screamed as he drug me down the hall and back to my chamber. “No! Listen to me! This isn’t how my story goes!”

  Solomon shoved me into my room, I threw myself against the heavy wooden door banging my fists. “Nooo!” I cried as what l
ittle energy I had left my body and mind. Exhausted, I sank into the floor. The sun was beginning to set outside my window and I knew the twilight was exactly what I needed to see into the darkness.

  I sat at my table and lifted the rectangular mirror to my face. The darkness stared back at me for only a moment before showing itself. Only then could I see clearly.

  There I was—young, blonde, beautiful. The sparkling crown upon my head was right where it was supposed to be. I took a deep breath and focused harder. “What is it that you want me to see?”

  I sat, stone-faced, looking into the darkness for clues and watched my reflection smile at me. I was to be happy. I concentrated harder looking beyond the smile and into the blackest part of the darkness. Behind my shoulder I watched as Edmund brushed the hair from my shoulder and kissed my neck. Edmund was my prince.

  I breathed a sigh of relief. Edmund would be the one to make this all better. He was how my story would end. I dropped the dark mirror and sighed.

  “Let’s go.” The voice was evil and I could smell the king on her breath, but I didn’t move—I didn’t budge.

  The spit caught in my throat as my neck was snapped backwards by the hair on my head. With one tight twist and a second yank, the queen looked down on me from above breathing a stench from somewhere unholy into my face. “Didn’t you hear me?”

  I lifted my trembling hands in the air as if it would grant me oxygen. Instead a euphoric rush overcame me and as the queen became encapsulated in a silver haze, I felt my exhausted body go limp. The darkness came.

  9

  ELIZA

  The next two days flew by as I sat in my office, my fingers nearly on fire with the storyline that poured out of me. I’d become so absorbed into my own fictional world that I’d shut out everything around me. So much so that I didn’t even hear Ray.

  “Lizzie,” he said walking into my office and taking a seat on my couch. “Didn’t you hear me calling to you from downstairs?”

  Finally I pulled my face from the computer screen to look him in the eye. “What?”

  “Don’t mind me,” he said narrowing his gaze. “I was just letting you know I was home. I thought you might be excited to see me. But I guess not.”

  Words were coming out of his mouth, but I couldn’t break from the dialogue in my head to comprehend what he was saying. I asked the question again. “What?”

  “Jesus, Liz. You could at least pretend to be happy I’m home.”

  I stared at him, but said nothing. He rose to leave and walked toward me. My natural instinct was to flinch.

  “What the hell, Liz? I just wanted to give you a kiss.” He took two steps backwards and then came toward me again. “Fuck it.”

  Making an X with my arms in front of my face, I felt as if I should ward him off. He placed his hand on my shoulder and the fog in my head lifted. A window was suddenly open to my stale and stuffy mind, a strong fresh breeze taking its place. I dropped my arms and embraced his neck, standing and hugging him tightly.

  It felt good to be inside Ray’s arms. “I’m so glad you’re home. I’ve missed you,” I said, pulling him close. I breathed him in—musk and oil paints—just as I remembered. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

  “What’s gotten into you, Liz?” he said pushing me away and holding me at arms length.

  “I don’t know what you mean?”

  “Seriously? You acted as if I was about to hit you. I kept asking you questions and all you could say was, what?”

  I stared at him. I had no idea what he was talking about. “I’m just…” I looked around the room. There were dirty dishes, empty coffee cups and paper everywhere.

  “Are you still wearing the same thing you had on the morning I left? Three days ago?”

  Looking down at the stained sweatpants and old Green Bay Packers t-shirt, I ran my fingers through my hair and discovered three pencils, a pen and a wad of greasy curls. Had I not showered or changed my clothes in three days? How long had I been in my office? “What day is it?”

  “It’s Saturday, Liz.”

  I took inventory of the room once more hoping to piece together the last few hours. “And when did you leave?”

  Ray began to pace the room. “I left Thursday morning. We talked late that night. The power was off. You’d had an unhappy encounter with a mouse. Does any of this ring a bell?”

  I stared back into Ray’s eyes and did my best to recall the last seventy-two hours. I couldn’t. Pointing to the computer screen, I was just about to blame my lack of hygiene on my manuscript when I spied the bottom of the document. I did a double take. My manuscript was now two hundred thousand, six hundred sixty-six words. “Wait. That can’t be right.”

  “What?” Ray asked moving behind my chair as I took a seat.

  “The word count. That can’t be right.”

  “Holy shit, Liz. Your book is eight hundred pages. What the…”

  He was right. Somehow in the last seventy-two hours I’d lost my mind and found over two hundred thousand words. “I don’t know how that happened.” I looked to him for an explanation. He shrugged his shoulders just as astonished as I was.

  “By the looks of this room and the dark circles under your eyes, you’ve not stopped since…I guess since the power came back on. When was that?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Taking me by the shoulders, Ray stood me up from my chair and walked me down the hallway and into our master bedroom. The bed was perfectly made—the suitcase Ray had decided against taking to the city still lay open on the mattress. “You really haven’t slept have you?”

  It was all becoming a little fuzzy, and fast. I was weary. Everything ached and sleep felt like a beautiful song that silently called to me.

  “How about a nice hot shower, and then you can put on some PJs and drift off into lala land. Surely the book is close to being finished and your publisher will love it.”

  Steam began to roll out of the tiny shower and I nodded as Ray slipped the stained shirt over my head before pulling my sweatpants to the floor, helping me step out of them. Testing the water with my fingertips, the warmth was inviting and I felt as if I was floating into the fiberglass stall on air as the water enveloped me, matting my soaked hair to my tired body.

  Soaping up, I began to feel relaxed. The past few days circled the drain at my feet and I felt as if I was washing away more than three days of scum. I squeezed the shampoo into my hand, inhaling the counterfeit floral undertones before glopping it on top of my head. Humming, I felt a little bit of energy come into my tired bones. Ray was right—I would sleep like a baby after this shower.

  Starting at my temples, I worked my way back, massaging my long hair into a full mass of soapsuds. Using my hands as a squeegee, I worked off the excess foam and began to knead my tired scalp beneath my fingertips—I’d worn a ponytail so long, my hair actually ached.

  “Hmm hmm hmm hmm hmm hmm hmm” I hummed the tune in my head and turned my body into the warm spray of water. “Hmm hmm hmm hmm hmm hmm hmm.”

  Ray spoke to me from the other room, but I couldn’t make out what he was saying with the water running. “I can’t hear you. Hmm hmmhmm hmm hmm hmm hmm. Hmm hmm hmm hmm hmm hmm hmm…”

  Satisfied that I’d washed the last three days out of my hair, I leaned back into the warm water, still fingering through the tangles, now soft with expensive botanicals that were supposed to keep my follicles healthy. Smelly stuff, was what Ray called it.

  I shook out the foam as I rinsed my hair. Taking a deep breath, I placed my hands on my temples. I paused as I felt pressure on the crown of my head. Reaching back, I felt another hand—a hand that wasn’t mine.

  I let out one scream before slamming into the front side of the shower. Still holding me by the hair, I was rushed backward, my spine cracking on the water lever. I let out another agonizing shriek and called to Ray.

  “Lizzie!” I heard him call to me.

  “Ray!” I shouted as I slammed again into the front of the sh
ower, blood now gushing from my nose.

  As Ray opened the shower door, I collapsed into a heap of wet and bloody flesh.

  “What happened, Liz? Talk to me!” he shouted in my face as he held it in his hands. I watched his mouth move, but merely heard the high pitched ringing that filled my ears.

  Ray picked me up and carried my battered body to the bed. Careful to place my head on the pillow, he rushed away coming back with a towel to catch the blood pouring from my mouth.

  “What happened? Did you fall?”

  “I don’t know,” I gasped through my hysterical tears. “I was washing my hair and it felt like another hand was on my head. When I grabbed it, it slammed me against the side of the shower over and over until you opened the door.”

  “What the hell?”

  I was hysterical and rattled off my words like a machinegun “I’m not crazy. Don’t think I’m crazy. I’m not. I’m not crazy.”

  Ray cradled me in his arms as I sobbed. “I don’t think you’re crazy, Liz. But I am worried about you. You don’t sleep for days, you’ve overshot your word count by a hundred thousand, your weird message the other night and now this?”

  “I’m sorry,” I said between fits and gasps of air. “I don’t know what’s happening.” Pulling away I looked into Ray’s eyes and saw how scared he was—I didn’t know if he was scared for me, or scared of me. He wiped the blood from my lip and kissed my forehead. “Lie back and try to relax. I’m going to get you some ice for your bloody nose, a couple of Advil and a sleeping pill.”

  “I don’t have any sleeping pills.”

  “I do,” he replied.

  I awoke in the middle of the night. Rolling over, the alarm clock was aglow with the time—three twenty. I lay on my back and stared at the ceiling. My head still ached from being knocked around in the shower. I thanked my lucky stars that Ray had been there to pick me up off the ground, to make it stop.

  Grateful for him, I rolled over to wrap my arm around his warm and muscular chest—kiss his shoulder and whisper how much I loved him in his ear. The bed was empty and the coolness of the sheets let me know he’d been gone a while.