Belle the Beast Tamer

by Pauline Creeden

  I looked down at the cuff, and it was glowing red, now hot against the skin of my ankle. It had absorbed the magic of my shift.

  “No way.”

  Just my luck. An enchanted cuff, specifically designed for shifters like me. I followed the chain up the wall to the ring it was attached to about three feet up. I yanked on it to see if it had any give. Nothing.

  Trapped. By another shifter. Probably the dragon shifter I’d been looking for.

  I swallowed down the fear that was lodged in my dry throat. The belief that I could get myself out of this situation was as tenuous as a soap bubble ready to pop in my grip. Panic ate at my insides, and I yanked at the chain again, screaming.

  Chapter Five

  Exhausted, I fell back into bed and daydreamed of my rescue. My father rushed in with the Guardians, breaking me free of these chains. I imagined taking classes back at school and even hanging out with people I didn’t care for, like Drizella. Anything but this. Simple things were all I longed for. Chapstick, a hot shower, homework, study parties, or even my journal to write in. Having spent the last few days in silence in the forest, I longed for human interaction—but even my captor ignored me. My stomach growled louder. I crossed my arms over it and wished it would go away.

  I took a deep breath. “It’s fine. I have myself. I’ll be okay.”

  As the light from the window grew dimmer, I began to wonder if the monster had abandoned me in this building. I squirmed in my chains, and just as I was about to cry hopelessly, I heard a noise—a door opening. Locking my tears back inside, I stood from the bed and awaited my captor's appearance. The door to the bedroom pushed open, and his dark eyes met mine. For a moment, we just stood their, regarding each other. The muscles in his square jaw tensed a bit as he clenched his teeth. Finally, he pulled his gaze away.

  "Evening," he greeted gruffly. He forced a smile, but it looked so out of place, I stifled a laugh.

  "Evening?" I scoffed and folded my arms over my chest. "Yes, it’s lovely. The perfect weather to be held captive against my will.”

  He blushed. “I’m not trying to keep you against your will.”

  I blinked at him, picked up the chain and shook it. “What do you call this then?”

  His gaze barely brushed across it. “Insurance. I need to be sure that you’re not here to hurt me… It’s for my safety.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Do I really look like a threat to you?”

  He eyed me again, and I noticed that his eyes had the slightest tint of green in the brown. He shook his head. “You couldn’t, but if you brought others here…”

  I waited, but he shook his head and didn’t continue. I sighed. “Do you have anything to eat besides a granola bar? I think I’ve had plenty of those the last few days.

  He nodded, rubbing his hands. His eyes darted around the room while he nodded. "Let me get you something."

  That was strange. Try as I might, I couldn’t figure out my captor. He was either yelling at me or helping me. Desperate to not be alone and to get answers, I shouted as he was heading out the door, "What were those papers, anyway?"

  "None of your concern," he spun around and snapped harshly, I could almost hear a growl in his voice.

  “If my mother’s name is on that list, I’d say it is more my concern than it is yours.”

  His eyes had widened, but he quickly composed himself and remained silent. After a few moments of awkward staring contest again, he walked out of the room without explanation.

  "That's right. Just leave me here to starve. It's fine, really. It's not like I need to eat to stay alive or anything." I continued to yell, "I mean if you're looking to torture me or whatever, you're gonna have to keep me alive, you know?"

  “Settle down! I’m getting you some food,” his voice yelled from the kitchen. I could not see him through the wall.

  “You could have said so,” I muttered.

  “I heard that, and I did. I didn’t change my mind simply because you have no manners.”

  “I have no manners?” I asked astonished. “You’re the one who has me chained to a wall!”

  What was this man’s problem? Did he really see nothing wrong in his actions? Perhaps he was crazy. Perhaps he wasn’t the dragon I was seeking at all.

  A few minutes had passed when he returned with what appeared to a slab of meat and a roll with butter. The smell made my mouth water, and any thought of hunger strike went out the window. Though I had pitched a fit about being hungry, I controlled myself, eating each bite slowly. There was no need to cause a stomach ache or show the man how hungry I was. He watched me intently, his eyebrows knitted together. Just as I was to take another bite, he said, "Tell me about your mother." He voice was hesitant, but kind.

  "I don't know what to say," I responded honestly. "I loved her very much. Before she…left … she gave me this ring. Thank you for not taking it from me."

  “I wouldn’t. I only rifled through your bag to get rid of any tracking devices. But your mother—you said she left? Where did she go?”

  I swallowed. “I don’t know. She’s been missing since I was nine years old.”

  His face went pale, and again he walked out without another word. Instead of calling out to him, I simply finished my meal and my mind began to wander. It entered into a dark place—is this what happened to my mother? My heart sank at the thought.

  Hours passed, and I could still hear him moving around in the other rooms. What if this person had something to do with what happened to my mother? How could he live at peace with himself? What if my mother had been chained just like this. How could he just walk around and be fine? His footsteps creaked on the floorboards. And I shouted, "I know you're out there, coward! Why don't you come talk to me! Are you the one who hurt my mother? Was it you?" The question made little sense—he was too young, but perhaps someone helped him. My stomach churned at the thought that perhaps it was a family hobby, torturing poor girls who roamed too far from home.

  There was a loud growl and the shattering of glass.

  “Fine!” I shouted. “Be like that!”

  I remained quiet for the rest of the night. Much to my dismay, so did he.

  Chapter Six

  I rested fitfully, tossing and turning. Every time I heard a movement in the house or any noises of the cabin settling, I woke up ready to fight. I expected after my little outburst for him to no longer keep me safe and fed, and I was surprised when I woke to the smell of food. Sitting beside me was a to-go container filled with eggs and bacon. Survival instinct urged my body to move and feed itself, though I was exhausted and in pain from my days walking and the hardness of the bed.

  I wasn’t sure what upset me more, the fact that he treated me with care while keeping me captive or that he was hiding from me. Just as I was about to risk yelling out for my captor, he opened the door.

  Without a greeting or an explanation of his erratic behavior he asked, "Was your mother .... Was she ... Well, was she a shifter too?"

  I nodded, tilting my head. "Yes. She was a were-tiger like me."

  He sighed heavily and began to walk away.

  I screamed, though no words came out. It was simply a loud, broken and frustrated scream as I slammed my fists hard on the ground. The pain coursed through me, much like the pain of shifting, and I wished I was out in the woods—a tiger running among the trees.

  My captor only turned around with wide eyes and a bemused look on his face.

  "No!" I declared. "You don't just get to keep me hostage here without so much as an explanation. I've done absolutely nothing wrong, Mr. Whatever-your-name-is. If you're going to destroy my life, I at least ought to know your name. I deserve that much."

  His hands fisted and I thought I could see the slightest change in his skin. Green-black scales rose on his arm and along his neck. His eyes flashed red again. I narrowed my eyes at him. He was definitely the dragon. Had I made him angry just by asking his name?

  He turned around, trying to hid the fact his hands
were turning into talons. Through clenched teeth, he managed to say, "Bastian. My name is Bastian.

  “What’s happening?” I had never seen a mature shifter lose control. “You should breathe and count backwards—regain control.”

  I relied on my shifter training at the Guardian academy to keep me in check, maybe it could do the same for him. But without so much as a word, he ran out the building. Though I couldn’t see him, I heard the rush of his wings as he took flight, and a shadow drew across my window. He had to have fully shifted and few away.

  I wished I could see what had happened. I wanted to run through that door with him. Most of all, I wanted to shift too. Envying my captor’s freedom, I pulled against my chains. I tried everything, thinking my wrists and long small fingers might be small enough to slip through. I pulled hard against the chains, hoping to break them, but it was a hopeless effort. Frustrated and exhausted, wrists and ankles bleeding and red, I collapsed into bed and waited. Next time he came back, I was going to get answers—because all this man, Bastian, had done was give my more questions.

  Hours passed and the burning of my wrists became a familiar feeling. I always considered myself a strong and kind person, but since being abducted by Bastian, I found myself in tears more often than not. I shouted cruel words at the man keeping me here against my will. I did not feel very strong, but these were extenuating circumstances. I doubted even the strongest shifter could endure such torture—such fear and pain—and live to tell the tale. How was I going to survive this? I cried into the pillow, sobs racking through my body as I begged the universe to let sleep come to me. I couldn’t be here anymore. My dark nightmares sounded like a pleasant escape.

  Chapter Seven

  I jumped up, a cool sensation spreading across my wrists. I was awoken by the cool touch on my skin—a touch that triggered something foreign fluttering in my heart. I figured I was still dreaming, and for a moment I imagined I’d look around and saw glowing, handsome dream-man comforting me, rescuing me. When I finally did look up, I nearly screamed. Bastian sat beside me, rubbing ointment on my wrists. Neither of us said a word to each other. We simply stared into each other’s eyes, a war waging between us, each waiting for the other to break. Why was he taking care of me? Why did he care when he was holding me hostage? I wanted to ask him those questions and more, but bit my tongue. I would not break. Besides, every time I did ask a question, he ran away. This time, he’d be the first to say something. I blinked and waited.

  Taking a deep breath, he knowingly nodded his head. “Well, I guess it’s time you know a bit more about me. I suppose that’s only fair.” He took a deep breath then whispered softly, "I am hiding from the Guardians."

  His voice was so calm and matter-of-fact, I almost didn’t detect the fear lingering in those words. It was the fear that kept me calm. He was afraid of something, something that I was connected to. That was good. Perhaps I could scare him into freeing me—after I got more information, of course.

  "Why?" I asked, my voice matching his. "Why hide from them? They could help you—"

  "How? By chaining me up and torturing me for two years? Been there. Done that."

  "Guardians would never do that!" I argued, disgusted at the thought.

  "Is that so? And tell me, I, what do the Guardians do for you? I suppose they’re the ones to blame for the situation you’re in right now?”

  “You’re the reason I’m here. You’re the one that’s the monster. Not them!”

  His hands shook, and scales broke out along his skin. He pulled off his shirt. Scales continued to spread down his body, but after a few deep breaths they disappeared. He turned his back to me, revealing his scars. The skin on his back was criss-crossed with would have been fairly deep wounds. I cringed at the sight of them, but I refused to believe the Guardians could do such a thing. If it was a Guardian, perhaps they had gone rogue. There had to be a better explanation. I had been raised to trust the Guardians—it was like trusting the firemen or the policemen. You did so without question, because they were there to protect you.

  “Belle, if your mother is on that list… you need to know the truth.”

  “I never told you my name,” I realized suddenly, my voice a quiet accusation.

  “It was in your belongings—your journal.” His brow furrowed.

  “You read my journal!” I gasped.

  “No, no, no!” Bastian threw his hands up, his muscles covered in a few bright scales still. “I was only looking to see if… if you were sent by them.”

  I bit my lower lip. “I don’t believe you.”

  “I swear I didn’t read it,” he pleaded. “Besides, you were sent by them.”

  “Not about that.” I believed him that he didn’t read my journal. It wasn’t as if it contained a thrilling account of my life or the past few days out here. I wrote down vague details along with my lists. Either way, he had no reason to lie or feign innocence for my sake—not when he was the one holding me prisoner in a cabin. “About the Guardians,” I clarified.

  He took a deep breath. With understanding eyes, he put his pointer finger in the air, as if catching a thought. “I’ll prove it to you,” he declared. Something about his eagerness, I realized that whether or not what he was saying was true, he believed it was true, and that frightened me even more.

  “No matter what you show me, I refuse to believe that something that has brought about so much goodness and understanding for our kind, could be so evil. Besides, you’re not in the best position to prove your claim,” I said, holding up chains as evidence.

  The scales faded completely, and he pulled his shirt back over his chest. “I’ll show you those papers. Look over them again, more closely this time. Make up your own mind.”

  Bastian walked away and was gone for a few minutes before returning with the pages I had found my mother’s name on. He handed them over, and I traced my mother’s name. What did this mean?

  “It’s a list,” he explained. “My name is on there, too.”

  I looked through the list and sure enough, his name was on it, too.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “It’s how they kept track of who they tortured.”

  Sickened, I looked over the papers. Names, cryptic explanations of different techniques, which now that he’d said they were acts of abuse, I could understand that they were means of torture including sensory depravation and electrocution. And on the paper sat the watermark used on all official Guardian documents.

  I wanted to find another explanation or accuse Bastian of forging these documents, but I could see the truth in his dark blue eyes, and it made my blood run cold. What if he was telling the truth? In my heart, though, I knew there was no “if” about it. The truth held a pain I had never known, a betrayal far worse than the backstabbing behaviors of a friend or even family member. This was the betrayal of an organization that claimed to save my kind and provide them a refuge and place to learn—a group that guarded supernaturals. It was as if I found out my whole world was a lie. Why? I collapsed into myself, my dry eyes aching.

  I imagined my mother being tortured and what that must have been like, but my imagination could never do such a scene justice. I couldn’t imagine the pain and the fear. What I was feeling now would have been magnified so much more, so much worse. It wasn’t until Bastian reached over with a tissue to wipe at my tears did I realize I had been crying. I jumped back from him, twisting my ring nervously.

  “Don’t,” I whispered. “Just don’t…”

  It wasn’t his fault, but in this moment, I blamed him for shattering my world. Even though my world was a lie, an illusion. I started to wonder what else I didn’t know about the society of Guardians.

  “Sorry,” Bastian stepped back, whispering gently. I shook my head to say it was okay, but I couldn’t talk; it was not okay at all. All I could do was see my mother, the scars on Bastian’s body, and remember the emptiness of my childhood. To think the Guardians—the people I trusted so much, even abo
ve my friends and family at times—could cause so much pain baffled me.

  Trust no one, my broken heart urged.

  I sat on the bed and covered my face with my hands. It was all too much. How could the Guardians be so cruel? How could they take care of me as if they were on my side if they were the same ones who caused my pain and my mother’s disappearance?

  The bed leaned a bit to the left, and I felt Bastian sit down next to me but I didn’t lift my face to look. I just couldn’t even be polite right now, with my world virtually crashing all around me. He shifted closer to me, so the warmth of his leg pressed against mine. His hand patted my shoulder. I leaned into his awkward embrace, and began sobbing into his chest.

  Right now, I needed the warmth and comfort of another human, someone who understood at least some of what I was going through. My shoulders sagged with the weight of this new knowledge. I wished more than anything that I could go home and tell my father. For a second, I wondered how I would go home—if the Guardians had tortured my mother… how could I go back to them. I thought of running away with my father, but even then, where would we go that the Guardians wouldn’t find us? They would send someone to find my, just as they had sent me out to find Bastian. My stomach turned as I recalled the Guardians offering the condolences and comfort when my mother disappeared—even claiming to have searched for her.

  “Liars!” I seethed.

  “I know,” Bastian whispered in my ear. “I know.”

  My soul ached in a thousand different ways. It ached because I was chained up in a room when all I longed for was freedom. It ached for the loss of my mother and now knowing what happened to her. It ached for the knowledge of what Bastian must have gone through, and realizing he suffered the same torture my mother did. Overcome with grief and pain, I was exhausted by all the emotions coursing through me. I closed my eyes, leaning my head on Bastian’s shoulder, finding comfort in this stranger… my captor. I could feel his pulse through his shirt, and it was very much likely a lullaby lulling me to sleep. Sleep. That’s all I wanted. I needed to escape this new reality.