Belle’s eyebrows lifted with anticipation. “Please, Adam. Let’s go.”
Adam glanced around and saw only Henry and Ella still dancing. “Where did Rory and Cordray go?”
Henry smirked at his friend, finally tearing his eyes from Elle’s lovely face. “They’re probably making babies in her bedroom upstairs. If they conceive on your mattress, you could probably get a pretty penny for it on auction.”
Adam blanched, and then led Belle up the stairs toward the second floor. “Stay as long as you like, but you’re on your own for the rest of the night. Don’t fall for his charms, Ella. Make him beg for it!”
“Where are we going?” Belle laughed as she ran up the steps with Adam, her hand in his and her other fist bunched in her skirts to lift the silk so she didn’t trip.
Adam’s reply came with a hearty, barking laugh of his own. “Vacation!”
31
Seeing the World
The parlor on the second floor where they’d enjoyed their cocktails looked different at night. Lucien came in and lit a few dozen candles for them, dimming the overhead lights for optimum romance. Adam sat Belle on the ornate light blue velvet couch and dashed back out of the room, returning a few minutes later with a cedar display case. His breathless look of achievement made Belle giggle at how worked up he was over something he still hadn’t explained.
“I can give you a glimpse of us anywhere in the world. I can give you a glimpse of anything, really.” He sat down beside her and carefully unlatched the chest, which was about the size of a briefcase.
Belle’s nose crinkled in confusion when she peered inside, finding something unexpected resting on the red cushiony fabric. “I thought you didn’t like mirrors in the house.”
Adam’s lips tightened. “I don’t, but this one is special. Do you remember the story of Queen Snow?”
“Of course. The princess who overthrew her mother, Queen Vanessa, who tried to kill her because her daughter was prettier than she was.” Belle shook her head. “What a stupid reason to try to get someone killed. Glad it backfired. Queen Snow had a good reign after that.”
“That’s right. Every morning, Queen Vanessa would look into her magic mirror and say…”
“‘Mirror, Mirror on the wall. Who is fairest of them all?’”
“Exactly. Queen Vanessa was Henry’s great-grandmother. When she was overthrown, Queen Snow auctioned off a bunch of her stuff. The magic mirror was broken into parts and sold off. My grandfather bought one of the pieces.” He looked down into the mirror with excitement, seeing Belle’s flabbergast. “If you ask it, this mirror can show you anything you like, even if it hasn’t happened yet.”
Belle was afraid to touch the briefcase, for fear of shattering the national treasure. “Are you serious? I can’t believe you have this! You hate mirrors!”
“Ah, but I love obscure bits of history.” Then he cleared his throat, looking into the mirror with Belle. “Mirror, Mirror in my case, show us Belle and me in Helensville.”
Belle’s mouth fell open as she peered into the glass with Adam’s furry cheek pressed to hers. For a moment, it was a normal mirror, and Belle saw what they looked like side-by-side. He was hairy, and his fangs weren’t all that easy to hide, but there they were – Beauty and her Beast.
Adam shut his eyes against the image and burrowed his nose into her cheek, as if that might erase the grand divide that was obvious upon first glance.
“I like the look of us,” Belle whispered.
Before Adam could protest, Belle’s gasp drew his eyes back to the mirror. The solid reflection began to flex, as if it was suddenly under water. The rippling surface twisted the background of the light blue and brass-bedecked walls and swirled them until new bits of color emerged, and the spinning slowed. As if the paint of a portrait had been flung with centrifugal force and then somehow perpetrated into a new design, Belle began to see shapes that kept molding themselves into more recognizable forms. “That’s me!”
“And there I am,” Adam said with disdain. “I’m sure the Helenvillians will be pointing with horror at any moment.”
“Show me the Broadsmith Tower,” she said, breathless as the mirror focused in, transposing their bodies just underneath the iron webs that made up the enormous landmark. Belle reached forward to touch it, but retracted, remembering that it wasn’t real. “The Arc of Julien,” she whispered, and the image shifted again.
Over and over she switched the pictures, seeing the two of them at all the places she’d read about and had desperately wanted to visit. The two sat there for hours, long after the sun went down, traveling the world from the comfort of their couch. There they were, smiling at all the great wonders, holding hands and brushing their noses against each other’s with unmasked affection.
“Where next?” Adam asked, transfixed at the sight. After he’d muscled past the knee-jerk revulsion at his own appearance, he slowly began to look forward to seeing them in the next setting she chose, and the next.
“Somewhere completely exotic,” she replied with a wild tint to her voice.
“Mount Carenina? You should really go in person. The sights are only half the fun there. I’m putting it on the list.”
“Not overseas.” She leaned in and said to the mirror, “Show me my papa’s home in the West Village. Show me what it looks like right now.” Before the image shifted, she glanced over at Adam with a slight hint of embarrassment. “My house isn’t nice like this, but I like it. I miss Papa. I think if you two had met under different circumstances, maybe you would’ve liked each other.”
“I’ve spoken to him a few times on the phone. We get along just fine.”
Belle quirked her eyebrow at him. “When have you been talking to my papa?”
Adam smirked at her. “He worries about you, especially after your car accident in the snow. I’ve been calling him every few days to let him know you’re alright, and make sure Sheriff Aston’s not being a problem. Helps us both sleep better at night.”
Belle’s mouth fell open, a tender expression tenting her eyebrows. “You call my papa just to make sure he can sleep better? You check up on him just to be kind?”
Adam narrowed his eyes at her. “Don’t say it like that. Obviously I do it for you. If anything happened to him, I know you would be destroyed.”
Belle’s gaze fell to his lips. “Why am I never allowed to kiss you?”
Adam swallowed hard, remembering his promise not to be selfish with her. How he wanted to kiss her, but he knew the possibility of cutting her soft lips was too great a risk. Instead, he traced her plump lower lip with his thumb, telling himself touching it was just as good as tasting. “Because it matters if I hurt you. I regret many things, but if I did that? It would be the crime I couldn’t stomach.”
It was several beats of longing before either of them looked away. Belle turned her attention back to the mirror, but as the picture focused, their shared looks of desire vanished. “What… This isn’t right.” She shifted on the couch, her eyebrows pinched together in consternation at the sight. It was her home, but not. The eviction notice was back up, and a squad car was parked rudely on the front lawn, a tire toppling the hedge near the mailbox. “Mirror, Mirror, please show me my home in the West Village as you see it tonight.”
The image didn’t change, but Belle’s heartrate did. Her breath began to syncopate when the front door opened, and none other than Sheriff Aston himself marched out with her elderly father, holding him by the scruff of his nightshirt. He had bare feet and wore his long johns, calling out for help to neighbors who were too frightened of the cops to do anything but shut their drapes and pretend they weren’t home.
Adam was on his feet, resting the briefcase on the floor. He pulled out his phone and barked into the receiver. “When you assured me you would deal with Sheriff Aston as soon as you took Belle’s statement, did you mean that metaphorically or literally? Because the old man is literally being dragged out of his home by that criminal right now,
barefoot in the dead of night.”
The agent’s groggy voice only angered Adam. He shouted into the phone about not wanting to hear excuses about the team assembling to make the arrest first thing in the morning.
Belle was already out the door. She ran to her bedroom, stripping off the gown as quick as she could and flinging open the doors to the wardrobe. “Simone, I need travelling clothes. It’s freezing out, and I need to run now!”
Simone came to life and asked all sorts of questions, but beyond producing a pair of gray slacks, socks and a lavender sweater for Belle, there wasn’t another exchange between the two. Belle threw on boots Adam had bought her and ran out the door, tears marring her vision, but not slowing her down.
“Belle, wait! Agent McNally is sending his people to your house right now to retrieve your father.”
She fisted the door’s handle, but paused her escape. “Not good enough! I should never have left him alone this long! I didn’t check on him! I only called once a day, Adam! What kind of a terrible daughter am I?”
“The wonderful kind. I don’t want you going after him. It’s snowing out, and the sheriff isn’t going to see you and let you go. He’s only taking your father to draw you out!”
“You don’t think I know that? I have to try, Adam. I can’t let him…” She screamed into her hand, terrified at all the sordid options that ran through her head.
Belle’s cell phone rang from her pocket, and she answered it after she saw it was her father on the Caller ID. “Papa, thank goodness. Are you alright?”
Belle’s blood ran cold when Gabe’s voice answered her. “Well, well. It’s good to hear such concern. I was beginning to think you didn’t care for me at all. Though I prefer you call me ‘Daddy’.”
“Gabe? Leave my father alone!” She gripped Adam’s arm, balling her toes inside her boots as her muscles all tightened at once.
Adam ripped the phone from her hand, put the call on speaker and punched a few buttons, showing her that the call was now being recorded, courtesy of the features installed in her higher security-enabled phone from his company.
“Of course, of course. I’m sure it’s just one of the paperwork mix-ups. Those happen all the time. Kind of like the photo I saw of you cozying up to the beast.”
Belle shook her head. “What photo? What are you blabbering about? Give me back my father!”
“The photo they printed in the paper. It’s not every day the beast leaves his cave. In fact, an unnamed witness is coming forward tonight, pressing charges against your new boyfriend.”
“Pressing charges against Adam for what?”
As if on cue, the doorbell rang. “It seems he was out earlier this evening and exposed himself to some children. Of course, he was so hairy, they could barely tell what it was, but it’s the principle of the matter, you see. Flashing is against the law.”
Adam answered the door and ushered in two policemen, a grim look on his face as he waved for Belle to exit the area. Belle could barely keep up, but she gripped the phone with a desperate edge to her voice. “You know Adam’s innocent. Leave him out of this. What do you want with my father?”
“Isn’t it obvious? You, Belle. I’ve always wanted you. The one girl too pure and wholesome for me. The only girl to ever turn me down.”
“Fine. I’ll meet with you. Release my father, and I’ll come have coffee with you at Lou’s Diner.”
“Not good enough. See, I think your father is worth more than a cup of coffee. I think he’s worth an early honeymoon, during which you’re very, very grateful.”
Bile rose in Belle’s throat. She closed her eyes and clenched her fist as she uttered the words she hated herself for. “Tell me where to meet you. Even trade – my papa for me.”
Gabe chuckled, and the low sound made her skin crawl. “That’s my good, good girl. I’ll meet you at your home.”
“Papa would murder you if you took me under his roof. I’ll meet you at the station, and my father will be sitting comfortably at my house long before then.”
“Whatever you say, tasty cakes.”
Belle blanched, but steeled herself as she hung up the phone. She moved as if in a daze to the foyer, where Adam was arguing with the policemen. “I was in my house all night. I haven’t left my home in days. There’s my statement.”
“Can anyone corroborate that?”
“I can,” Belle offered, her mouth dry.
The policeman on the right cast her a baleful look. “I’m sorry, but if someone other than his girlfriend could vouch for him, that would be helpful.”
Belle recoiled at the acerbic blow-off. She’d been so isolated in the castle, but now wondered what that article could’ve possibly said.
“How about the Prince of Avondale?” Henry said, rounding the corner. His gray suit was slightly wrinkled, and his blond hair was sticking up in the back, but he was no less commanding.
The policemen both visibly shrank, knowing that they didn’t have a cause to arrest Adam that could trump the crowned prince’s testimony.
Quietly, Belle said to Adam, “Gabe’s agreed to let Papa go. He’s dropping him back at the house.”
“Good.” Adam reached out and gripped Belle’s hand. “This might take a while. Grab the mirror, take your car and go pick up your dad the second Gabe’s gone. Bring your father here. He can stay as long as he likes.”
Belle pressed her forehead to his shoulder, marveling at the unselfish generosity that rolled off him without a second thought. “Thank you.”
“If it’s not safe to go in and get him, hang back and wait for Agent McNally. Promise me.”
Belle looked up at him as her heart broke in her chest at the thought of leaving Adam. She wished she could put his mind at ease, but knew his mind was most tranquil when she was there to chase his darkness and demons away. She lifted herself up onto her toes and blessed his cheek with a kiss, trying to communicate all the things he was to her. “I’ll be back soon.”
Only she knew she wouldn’t be back. If Gabe had his way, she would never come back.
32
A Race to Belle’s Father
Belle’s mad dash down the freeway was taken at fifteen miles over the speed limit, but the car barely registered the additional exercise. Adam demanded only the best, and the car he’d given her was no exception. The roads had been plowed and salted, making for a speedy race to her father. The briefcase was open on the seat next to her, and she glanced at it to make sure Gabe was keeping his word.
All the things she’d never said to her father passed through her mind in quick succession, each one more important than the last. She knew he’d heard her say that she loved him, but did he understand all the ways she adored him for who he was and all he’d done in raising her by himself? Belle bit down on her lower lip, gripping the leather steering wheel as the barrage of things she wished she’d thanked him for beat her conscience, stripping away her solace until she was a trembling mess.
Glancing at the mirror, Belle cringed when she saw Gabe throw her father into the drunk tank at the precinct. Her heart hammered with betrayal when she realized Gabe never had any intention of following through on his end.
To be fair, neither had she.
“Show me my home,” she said to the mirror. In a flash, the castle came into view, warming her heart despite the cold. The mirror was never wrong, and this was no exception. Somewhere between fear of the unknown and adoration of the man she now knew more than most, the castle had become her home – in legal deed and in her heart. “I meant my papa’s home in the West Village.”
The mirror flashed again, revealing to Belle three squad cars parked in front of her father’s house. She snarled when she recognized the squat and portly Deputy LeFeu. They were waiting for her, staked outside her address to bring her in on whatever grounds they felt like making up, in case she did what she was trying to do – rescue her father and ditch Gabe.
“Show me Sheriff Aston,” she commanded the mirror. Errantly, she
was disappointed in the wicked Queen Vanessa who’d ruled before Queen Snow. To have such a powerful tool and waste its use by asking who was the fairest to look at? Belle shook her head, grateful she didn’t have to live under the rule of a queen like that. King Hubert was fair, and though not everyone agreed with his policies one hundred percent of the time, Belle knew such a thing was a pipedream, and that the kingdom was fortunate to have someone so wise and balanced as King Hubert.
The mirror showed Gabe checking his gun and thumbing his handcuffs as he leaned on his desk. His widow’s peak was always exaggerated, but he ran his fingers through the coif a few times to make his full head of black hair stand even higher. His biceps were large, complimented by the fact that he wore a uniform that was meant for men far smaller than him. It looked as if he was so muscular that he was bulging out of his button-down. It worked on some of the women in town who were impressed by things like badges and bodybuilders, but that had never been Belle. At least, not when the badge was so tarnished, and the bodybuilder used his stature for selfish gain. He yelled something over his shoulder to her father, who shuddered – either from the residual cold aching his bare feet, or from the disgusting venom always dripping from Gabe’s words.
Belle picked up her phone and dialed Agent McNally, not bothering with greetings when he picked up. “Sheriff Aston’s got my father locked in the drunk tank. He told me he won’t let him go unless I…”
“Belle? Hold tight. We’re assembling a team now.”
“He won’t let my father go unless I trade myself for him!”
“You’ll do no such thing. Go back to the castle or tell me where you are, and I’ll have one of my people pick you up.”
Belle ended the call and bit down on her bottom lip, taking a second to think her half-a-plan through. She’d gotten away from Gabe the first time he’d attacked her because she Pulsed an exorbitant amount of Discernment into him and had her hunting knife stashed in her glovebox. She didn’t count on getting the same advantage this time. She saw him playing with his government-issued handcuffs and shuddered. She guessed the handcuffs might be used this time to keep her from being able to touch him, thus inflicting a shred of conscience into his evil heart.
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