Beauty and the Beast: Lost in a Book

by Jennifer Donnelly

  “Well, this is a fine mess, I must say,” Lucanos declared.

  Aranae chittered questioningly, pointing to Belle.

  Lucanos nodded. “Yes, yes, Aranae. I’m quite certain,” he said impatiently. “She’s the girl who sees with her heart.”

  Aranae rolled all eight of her eyes. She chittered again, in a scolding tone this time. When she finished, she crossed two of her legs and gave Belle a dirty look.

  Belle shrank under her disapproving glare. “What did she say?” she asked timidly.

  “She said your heart needs glasses.”

  “I made a mistake, Lucanos. A terrible one.”

  “That, my dear, is an understatement.”

  “I didn’t look past the surface. Nevermore was so beautiful and exciting, and the countess and Henri were so friendly and said all the things I wanted to hear. And I so badly wanted to see my father. I would have believed anyone who offered me that chance.”

  Tears welled. Belle tried to blink them away.

  “What have I done?” she said. “I wanted to escape. From the Beast’s castle. From my life. Now all I want is to go home, but I don’t even know where home is anymore.” Belle’s tears spilled over. “Even if I could get out of this place, I wouldn’t know where to go,” she sobbed. “Where is it, Lucanos? Where is my home?”

  The beetle sighed. He touched the tip of one leg to the place over Belle’s heart. “It’s here, foolish girl,” he said. “Home is all the people, all the places, and all the things that you love. You carry it wherever you go. Don’t you know that?”

  Belle thought about Lucanos’s words. She closed her eyes, and an image of her father came to her. She thought of his beautiful music boxes, and of books. Of petting Philippe’s soft nose. Of roses. And of other things, now, too. Dawn breaking over a winter landscape. The sound of Chip’s laughter. Lumiere teasing Cogsworth. Mrs. Potts humming. Skating with the Beast on a frozen lake.

  “I do now,” she said, opening her eyes.

  “We all make mistakes,” Lucanos said. “The danger lies in letting those mistakes make us.”

  “Make us what?” asked Belle.

  “Make us believe we can’t put things right. Make us think there’s no hope. Make us give up,” the beetle said, giving Belle a very direct look.

  Belle understood what he was telling her. She wiped her face on her skirt and said, “I want to get out of here, Lucanos. Can you help me?”

  “Getting out of Nevermore is easier said than done, I’m afraid.”

  “Why? What is this place, exactly? One big illusion?”

  “Nevermore is much more than an illusion, child. It is very real.”

  “But the countess said—”

  “She lied. Most of the things in it—the marionettes, the ruins, the grounds—were enchanted to deceive you, but Nevermore itself is a realm. Death’s realm. It’s a place of unbecoming. Of rot, decay, and ruin.”

  A shiver ran through Belle, but she shook it off, determined to be brave. To take charge.

  Lucanos noticed. “That’s more like it,” he said. “Now, let’s see if we can get you out of here. We’ve got to be bold, quick, and cunning, because our adversary is all those things and more.”

  “Thank you for coming, Lucanos. You, too, Aranae,” Belle said.

  “Thank us when you get out of here,” Lucanos said wryly.

  Then the three huddled together and started to make a plan.

  “BELLE? BELLE! ARE YOU IN THERE? Are you all right?” the Beast called out. He was shouting now.

  But still, there was no answer.

  “I’m very worried, master,” said Mrs. Potts.

  “So am I,” the Beast said grimly.

  Mrs. Potts had been right when she’d said that Belle hadn’t been herself lately, but he knew Belle would never do this—lock herself in the library and leave them all to wonder and worry. She was far too considerate to do something like that.

  “Stand clear, everyone,” he said, taking a step back from the doors.

  The enchanted objects quickly moved away. As they did, the Beast launched himself at the right-hand door, ramming it with his shoulder. It shuddered under the impact of his powerful body, but held.

  He did it again, ignoring the pain that shot through his arm, but again the door held.

  Desperate, he backed up one last time. Then, with an ear-splitting roar, he drove his shoulder against the unyielding door. Finally it gave way.

  Growling, he pushed his way in through the splintered wood.

  Something was not right. The Beast felt it in his bones.

  He raced through the library, calling Belle’s name, hoping he was not too late.

  LUCANOS SAT UPRIGHT on the windowsill, two of his spiny black legs crossed, two more folded across his chest. He stroked his chin with his fifth leg, and the sixth waved in the air as he spoke.

  “The food you’ve eaten helps bind you to Nevermore,” he said. “You swallowed both of those sweets, and that pear, which I’m sorry to say, was really a pomegranate.”

  “The food of the dead,” Belle said, her hopes of escape faltering. “In the Greek myth, Persephone ate pomegranate seeds and had to return to the underworld. I’m doomed, Lucanos.”

  “We’re all doomed,” Lucanos said matter-of-factly. “We’re all going to find ourselves here one day. But that day is not today. Not if I can help it.”

  Aranae chittered. Lucanos nodded at her.

  “What did she say?” Belle asked anxiously.

  “She said there’s nothing we can do about the food. So stop talking about it,” he replied.

  Belle feverishly racked her brain for another angle. “What about the three things I gave away?” she asked. “What if I got them back? Would it weaken the countess’s spell?”

  “Interesting question,” said Lucanos. “Quite possibly.”

  “If it did weaken the spell, maybe I could slip back through the enchanted book.”

  “But that means getting the handkerchief from King Otto, the coin from Henri, and the bracelet from the countess herself,” Lucanos said direly.

  “Yes, it does.”

  “So you’re saying that we need to outfox Death,” Lucanos said.

  Belle nodded.

  “Death, Belle.”

  “It’s not the surest of plans, admittedly,” said Belle. “But I don’t have a better one.”

  “All right, then,” the beetle said, eyeing the writing on Belle’s hands, which was now creeping up her arms. “No more dillydallying. Time is not on our side. Let’s go pay court to the king.”

  WARILY, BELLE MADE HER WAY down the summer house’s staircase with Lucanos and Aranae at her side.

  They passed a clockwork man slumped on the stairs. Its staring eyes were empty, its body lifeless, but its feet were still trying to climb the steps.

  “They’re running down,” Lucanos whispered. “That’s good. It means the countess’s enchantment is weakening. If you can get the objects back, you should be able to break out of it.”

  As the three reached the bottom of the staircase, they had to sidestep a pile of broken, twitching figures—the marionettes and mannequins who’d pursued Belle and tumbled down the stairs. Heads were smashed, limbs were twisted.

  Neither King Otto nor Henri was among them.

  “They’ve got to be here somewhere,” Belle said.

  The three continued. As they moved through the ruined rooms, they heard strange, dissonant music playing. It sounded faraway, as if coming from another part of the summer house. They saw puppets slumped in corners and a doll collapsed on a tattered chaise, sawdust spilling from its seams. On either side of a marble mantel, the countess’s elegant greyhounds sat, now motionless stone statues.

  Everywhere Belle looked, surfaces revealed what they’d been concealing. Rot bloomed across mirrors. Holes gaped in the ceiling where plaster had fallen. Mildew crept over curtains and rugs. The crystal chandeliers were gray with dust. Tarnish blackened the candelabra.


  Fury roiled inside Belle. The countess had lied to her. Manipulated her. Controlled her. It wasn’t fair. If the countess was Death, then Death was a cheat.

  As they passed the doorway of the countess’s study, Belle paused. Her eyes swept over the bookcases. The books they contained were tattered and mildewed. Rusted gears, springs, and dials lay on the shelves next to them. Belle remembered being in this room with the countess and the professor. She remembered looking at all the pieces of rusted junk and believing they were her father’s music boxes. The memory sickened her now.

  Her gaze roved over the rest of the study. She saw broken furniture and a crumbling mantel, and then she saw something that made her blood run cold. She motioned to Lucanos and Aranae, then pointed into the room.

  King Otto was standing at the back of it, next to an open window, perfectly still. The automaton’s back was toward them. Belle could see the brass key protruding from it. One hand was raised above its head; a butterfly had lighted on it and was slowly beating its yellow wings.

  “It looks like it’s wound down,” Lucanos whispered. “What a stroke of luck!”

  Carefully the three proceeded toward it, alert for the slightest movement. As they got closer, Belle could see that her handkerchief was still tucked into its breast pocket. Her heart was knocking against her ribs. Just a few more steps, and the handkerchief would be hers again.

  “Grab it. Be quick,” Lucanos urged her. “We have no time to waste.”

  Belle nodded. She stretched out her hand. But just as her fingers were about to close on it, the butterfly darted off.

  And Otto angrily whirled around.

  “YOU SCARED IT!” the automaton said accusingly, taking a threatening step toward Belle. “It was just telling me what it feels like to fly!”

  “I-I’m sorry,” Belle stammered. “I didn’t mean to.”

  “Now I’ll never know!” the creature shouted, stamping its foot.

  Belle backed away, frightened. She thought it might chase her. Instead, it took a few slow, stiff steps, then burst into tears. Droplets of black oil leaked from its eyes and ran down its cheeks. It wiped them away with Belle’s handkerchief.

  Belle was so surprised, she could only stand there gaping.

  Lucanos flew to her shoulder. “Stay perfectly still. Speak calmly. Don’t make it mad,” he said.

  “I have ears, you know! And I’m not an it. My name is O-O-Otto,” the creature said between sobs.

  Belle, moved by the automaton’s tears, forgot about her fear. She took a hesitant step toward him.

  “You don’t have to be scared. I couldn’t chase you if I wanted to,” Otto said, snuffling. “It’s hard to move. My joints are stiff. Now that the countess has what she wants—you—she’s no longer keeping the illusions up. Everything’s collapsing. The things that took a lot of effort to animate, like me, will last a bit longer, but the orchards, the flowers—they’re already going.”

  As he spoke, a new crack opened up in a wall. Seeing it, Otto launched into a fresh volley of weeping.

  “Otto, why are you crying?” Belle asked, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder.

  “Because I liked being alive!” he howled, burying his face in the handkerchief.

  “We don’t have time for this, Belle,” Lucanos cautioned.

  But Belle didn’t hear him. She was listening to Otto. He’d wiped his face and stuffed the handkerchief into his breast pocket.

  “I was made in Paris. The countess saw me perform there and bought me from my maker. I was always so jealous of the humans who came to watch me,” he explained. “Just now, when I was almost human, I was nearly able to understand what you feel. Why you laugh or cry. I almost felt the thing I’ve always most wanted to feel…love.”

  He paused and smiled, but the smile was bittersweet.

  “I’ve seen how humans love each other,” he continued. “It’s amazing. Once, when my maker was loading me into his wagon after a show, I saw a father push his son out of the way of a runaway carriage. The father saved his boy, but he was killed.” Otto shook his head, awed by the memory. “How powerful love must be, to make a creature do something like that.”

  “It is,” Belle said, thinking of her father and how she’d taken his place in Beast’s castle so he could go free.

  “I wish I could know what that’s like. I never will, though.” His hand went to his pocket. He pulled Belle’s handkerchief out and handed it to her.

  Belle looked at it. What had seemed to her to be blood was really oil.

  “It’s the best I can do. It’s something. I-I tried to love you, Belle. When I was pretending to be your father,” Otto said. He touched her cheek gently with his papier-mâché hand. “I tried, but I couldn’t. I think you need a heart for that—and I haven’t got one.”

  “Oh, Otto,” Belle said, hugging him tightly. As she rubbed his back, her gaze fell upon a window behind him, and the tattered red silk draperies that framed it.

  She remembered the silver scissors in her pocket.

  “Wait right here,” she instructed Otto, releasing him.

  In an instant she was at the window, ripping a silk panel down. She laid it on the floor, smoothed it flat, and started cutting.

  “Time?” he said, as if she’d asked him how much they had. “Oh, don’t worry about that. We have buckets of it! We only have to catch Death before she departs her château to wreak havoc on the world, so take all day, Belle, do.”

  It was hard going; the scissors were small and hadn’t been made to cut fabric, but after a few minutes, Belle sat back on her heels and held up what she’d made—a tattered silk heart.

  She put her scissors back in her pocket, then called to Aranae. “Can you help me?”

  The spider huffed impatiently, but she took the heart in her fangs. Then she scuttled over to Otto and climbed up to his chest. Otto looked at Belle questioningly, but she just nodded at him, biting her lip and hoping.

  Working quickly, Aranae placed the cloth heart over the spot on Otto’s chest where his real heart would’ve been had he been human. Using her fangs, she punched holes through the heart, and using her claws and spider silk, she stitched it to Otto’s jacket. When she finished, she patted the heart and jumped down.

  Otto caught his breath. Color flooded his cheeks. He looked down at his heart wonderingly, then smiled at Belle.

  “I know now! I know what it means to be alive! Love is its own magic. And it’s strong. So strong!” He twirled around, arms spread wide. “I love you, Belle! I love you, spider! And you, too, beetle!”

  Belle’s heart swelled. She smiled back at Otto.

  Lucanos tensed with frustration. “That’s so great, Otto. I’m happy for you. Truly,” he said. “But if we don’t get the coin from Henri and then get out of here, Belle is going. To. Die.”

  Otto, still twirling, said, “I’ll help you! I love helping!”

  Lucanos closed his eyes. He rubbed his forehead. “Otto,” he said, “if you want to help us, stop spinning around and tell us where Henri is. Tell us how to get the coin from him. We’ve got to come up with a way, because I doubt very much we’re going to win him over with a cutout heart.”

  “BELLE!” THE BEAST BELLOWED. “BELLE!”

  He was standing in the middle of the library, his paws clenched.

  He’d broken the door down and pushed his way into the library, certain he’d find her here. The others had followed him inside and fanned out through the room, calling for Belle.

  But Belle had not answered.

  “She’s not here, master,” Lumiere said as he rejoined the Beast. Cogsworth, Mrs. Potts, and Plumette followed him.

  “We’ve looked everywhere!” Plumette said.

  “She’s left us,” the Beast said, voicing everyone’s deepest fear. “She’s gone back to Villeneuve.”

  “But, master, the wolves…” Mrs. Potts said, distressed.

  “Fetch my cloak,” the Beast said grimly. “I’m going out to look for her.�
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  “What if it’s too late? What if the wolves—” Plumette said, her feathers trembling.

  Mrs. Potts cut her off. “Don’t say that! Don’t even think it!”

  The Beast held his paws up. “Wait a moment. This makes no sense. How could Belle have left? The library doors were locked from the inside.”

  “What about a window?” Cogsworth asked. “She might have jumped from one and used the snowdrifts to cushion her fall. I did the very same thing once, having been taken prisoner by the Prussians at the battle of Vellinghausen….”

  No one stuck around to hear Cogsworth’s story; they all raced to the windows.

  “She didn’t jump out of this one. It’s still locked!” Lumiere called out.

  “Same here!” Mrs. Potts shouted.

  “She would have left footprints in the snow, and there aren’t any,” said the Beast, perplexed. “Where is she? How could she have just disappeared?”

  At that moment, they all heard a loud, frantic barking coming from the back of the library. A second later, Chip hurtled toward them, breathless. Froufrou was right behind him.

  “This way!” Chip said, panting. “Hurry!”

  “Chip, did you find her?” Mrs. Potts asked.

  “No, but come with me! Hurry!” he begged. “I think I know where she went!”

  “I LOVE YOU, BELLE,” said Otto happily.

  Belle turned around. She held a finger to her lips. “I love you, too, Otto. But could you be a little quieter?” she whispered.

  Otto nodded energetically. “I love you, Aranae!” he whispered.

  He clumsily ran to catch up with Lucanos, who was flying next to Belle. “I love you, too, little black beetle!”

  “Good grief, man. Get hold of yourself!” Lucanos said, shuddering.

  Otto clutched his chest. “That hurts my heart!” he said.

  “Your heart—and all the rest of you—will hurt a lot more if Henri finds us before we find him!” Lucanos hissed.

  Otto scowled.

  “Also, can you not clank?” Lucanos asked irritably.