by Myles, Jill
Jill Myles – The Beast’s Bride
The Beast’s Bride
A Once Upon a Time-Travel Novel
By
Jill Myles
Copyright © 2013 by Jill Myles
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author.
CHAPTER ONE
"Oh man. That is quite an embarrassing way to die." The elderly woman rested her hands on her knees, looming over Pippa's sprawled, broken body at the base of the stairs. “In all my days of doing this job, this has to be pretty far up the list. You’re the big winner today, my girl.”
Funny, she didn’t feel like a winner. And it didn’t feel like it was her body the woman was bent over, either, considering that Pippa was standing over to one side, her arms crossed over her chest. She looked down at the ‘body’ at the base of the stairs, studying it. It did look like her.
Same navy one-piece dress, same platform heels, same cute handbag. Except the Pippa on the ground wasn't moving, and her dress had skidded up around her waist during the fall, revealing flowered granny panties. That Pippa’s neck was at a weird angle that definitely wasn't typical.
"I’m kind of confused about what’s going on," Pippa said slowly. The crowd in the parking garage jostled each other, huddled around the body on the ground. It was like everyone had forgotten they were going to be late for work and decided to stare at the strange dead person instead. "And why does this dead chick look like me? Is this a joke?"
The elderly woman crouching at the side of the body stood up and dusted her hands off. "Not a joke, honey. That's you right there on the ground. You're dead."
Pippa frowned. She couldn't be dead. She was late for work. Sure, she'd been rushing and didn't want to wait for the elevator, even though she knew it was hard to navigate the parking garage stairs in platform heels. She didn't remember tripping and falling, though. She stared at the body at the base of the stairs. "That's not me."
The little old woman headed to Pippa’s side. She grabbed the edge of Pippa's skirt and hiked it up. "You sure that's not you?" the woman asked. "Same panties."
Pippa slapped her hands away. "But I'm here. I'm not dead." She looked over at Bob, who sat three cubes over from her. He had his phone out and was taking pictures of the body sprawled on the pavement. "Tell her that you can see me, Bob."
Bob ignored her. He took another picture, and then put his phone away. "Did someone call an ambulance?"
"Bob?" Pippa stepped over the dead body—not dead, not dead!—and moved toward him.
She waved a hand in his face. "I'm right here."
He continued to stare blankly forward, even when she snapped her fingers an inch from his nose. He gave a gusty sigh, and then shook his head, oblivious to Pippa’s presence. "Poor kid.
Her own damn fault for taking the stairs in such stupid shoes, though."
“You told me those shoes were great,” Pippa protested. “Yesterday!” She gaped at the faces around her, a cluster of familiar people in their Tuesday morning business wear, portfolios and laptops at hand. They'd stop and stare for a moment, and then ever so slowly creep on toward the building, as if work were more important than a dead girl in the parking garage.
Dead. She was the dead girl. Pippa pushed through the crowd and squatted down next to the body, staring at her own slack face. There was a bruise coloring right at the temple, and again, that bendy neck thing that was freaking her out. Oh crap. She was dead. She glanced at the huddle of coworkers again, just as an ambulance siren began to wail in the distance.
The old woman stood nearby, watching her.
But at least she could see and hear Pippa. Which didn’t make sense. "If I'm dead, how come you can see me and no one else can?"
"I'm your fairy godmother. Of course I can see you." The old lady extended a hand toward her. "Name's Muffin. Pleased to meet you."
Bewildered, Pippa took the hand extended to her, noticing for the first time the woman's appearance. Muffin's white hair was pulled into a tall beehive and she had a bright pink flower perched on one side. Cat's eye glasses perched on her nose, accompanied by a swinging chain, and she wore a bright floral muumuu and what looked to be bunny slippers. Definitely not a coworker. Pippa shook her head. "I don't understand."
"Of course you don't, sweetie." Muffin put an arm around Pippa's waist and began to drag her away from the crowd. "I'll explain it to you."
She let the elderly woman pull her away from her sprawled body, though she couldn't resist a backwards glance. Why hadn't anyone pulled down her stupid skirt and covered her panties? Her face burned. Not only had she died, but she'd died in a completely undignified way. And when you died, didn’t you head towards the light?
Why was there no freaking light? She began to panic, just a little.
"There are different realities all around us, my dear." Muffin's arm squeezed her waist, drawing her back to the present. "Some are different timelines. Some have magic, and some do not. Think of everything as a great big tapestry. Some threads intersect and some run parallel, but everything comes together to make the finished piece, right? The thread that you're on has just, well, kicked you out. In several other realities, you live to a ripe old age. Not the case in this one.
And that thing with the stairs wasn't supposed to happen, really. That was a misstep upstairs, I'm afraid." She covered her mouth with a tiny, wrinkled hand and tittered. “Oooh, that was bad of me, wasn’t it? Misstep, get it?”
"Yeah, I got it," Pippa said. Misstep? Realities? "So what does this mean for me?"
"Well, when there's a snag in the weave, a fairy godmother is assigned." She beamed up at Pippa. "That's me. I'm here to offer you a deal. Tit for tat, if you like to think about it that way."
"A deal? A deal for what?"
"You want to live, don’t you? I can make all of this,” and she waved a hand, “Go away. No broken neck. No death. No ghost.”
Pippa’s eyes widened. Her hand went to her arm, and she pinched it. It felt real, but… “I’m a ghost?”
“Well, not yet. You will be shortly, though, unless we fix things.” Muffin’s eyes were bright.
“Now quit interrupting, dear. I’m trying to explain things. You’re dead.”
“I got that part.”
Muffin blinked her eyes repeatedly, her face screwed up as she thought. “Oh yes! I remember now. So. All of this can be gone. We can, essentially, start you over.”
“Start over? Start over what?”
“Your life, of course. Do try and keep up.” At Pippa’s gasp, she hurried on. “I can transplant you into one of my existing cases where you will have an assigned task. If you complete that task, we drop you into a parallel reality and set you back on the path again, no worse for the wear. It's a second chance at life. Wouldn't you like that?"
"O-of course," she stammered. “But I’d rather stay here. I have a big project that’s due on Friday—“
The fairy godmother made a slashing motion with her hand. “Not possible. This thread is dead. It’s either start over or nada.”
“Um. Okay.” This sounded absurd. "What's the catch?"
"Well, if you don't succeed, you'll be stuck here as a ghost for all time." She smiled brightly.
"Because you kind of fell out of the weave.”
“Fell out of the weave?” That sounded alarming. More than alarming. It sounded fucking frightening. “How the heck does that happen?”
Muffin glanced around, and then leaned in and whispered, “Interns. But don’t worry, sweetie.
I’m sure you'll do just fine. Now, are you interested?"
What choice did she have? She didn’t want to be a ghost at all, much le
ss a ghost for all time.
Pippa shuddered, rubbing her arms at the fairy godmother’s words. Fell out of the weave. Good god. She didn’t get to go to Heaven, she was just…stuck. That was why there was no bright light. That’s why there was…nothing. Just a parking garage and an embarrassing death. "I'm in, I guess. What kind of task is it that I have to do?"
Muffin pulled out her purse—a rather hideous crocheted handbag—and removed a large
book. "Well, I am a fairy godmother, so I deal in fairy tales. And I've got a doozy that just had an opening. It's what we like to call a 'Code Red.'"
"Code Red?"
"That's right." Muffin opened the book and scanned a page. "It’s a Code Red because there are so many people involved in the payout of this particular fairy tale. Most fairy tales only involve one or two people, mind you. If Rapunzel doesn't find her way out of the tower, no one's affected but Rapunzel and her prince. But a fairy tale gone awry that involves multiple people?
We call those a Code Red. This one involves a lot of people, too." She licked her fingertip and squinted at the book, flipping through the pages. "Let's see. It's here somewhere."
Pippa fidgeted in place. "This sounds like a rather big task if the outcomes of several people's lives are depending on it. You sure you want me to do it?"
"You’re all we’ve got, sweetie. And this task does involve quite a few people. About a hundred, to be exact. Some star players, some bit players, some walk-on parts, the whole kit and caboodle." Muffin glanced up at her over the weird little glasses. "Did you want to take a pass? I can save this one for someone else, and you can be on your merry way." She wiggled her fingers.
“Doing whatever it is that ghosts like you do.”
Pippa stiffened and quickly shook her head. "No, I'm fine with this. Let's give it a try."
"Here we go," Muffin said, flipping one more page and then offering the book to Pippa.
"This is you."
She took the heavy book from the fairy godmother, staggering under the surprising weight of it. Though it looked to be the size of a paperback, it seemed as heavy as an encyclopedia. She hefted it in her arms and began to read. "Beauty and the Beast? Really?"
Muffin nodded. "Code Red."
Pippa loved the story of Beauty and the Beast. "This is a real thing? Some guy got turned into a beast?"
"I told you, magic exists in other realities. Not so much in this one. In that reality, he was a handsome prince who was turned into a beast because he ticked off a fairy godmother."
Pippa's eyes widened and she stared at Muffin over the book. "You turned someone into a beast?"
The fairy godmother waved a hand. "Not me, dear. One of our interns. Terrible, terrible temper on that girl. I told you they were trouble.” She shook her head. “At any rate, he's now stuck in the fairy tale, and I need you to intervene."
She swallowed, thinking of what the beast’s face must look like. Probably not like the Disney beast, who was more cuddly than scary. Then again, it was a fairy tale, so scary probably wasn’t a huge factor. "So I've got to fall in love with this guy?"
"Actually, no," Muffin grimaced and reached forward, flipping pages. "If you read the fairy tale, Belle is the one that is supposed to fall in love with the Beast. You're a stepsister."
"An ugly stepsister?"
Muffin tsked at her. "Don't be cruel. I'm sure you have a lovely personality."
Ouch. "I meant, aren't the sisters in these things ugly stepsisters? Or wicked? Or something?"
"I can't speak for your wickedness, dear," Muffin said, taking the book back from Pippa. "But I've been looking at the threads of that story's reality, and it's all wrong. There are several possible ways for it to play out, and in every possible scenario, Belle never falls in love with the Beast, nor does she marry him. In this reality, the beast must marry the woman he loves or else he’s cursed forever. If he doesn't break his curse, not only is he doomed, but so are all the enchanted people in his castle."
"Code Red," Pippa murmured, beginning to catch on. "So I have to play matchmaker to Belle and the Beast and make them fall in love?"
That didn't sound so bad.
Muffin smiled brightly. "Indeed. You will have a month to do so. After that, my magic will fade and you'll turn into a ghost because, like I said, you'll be stuck between realities. So you might want to work fast."
She swallowed, trying not to think of that outcome. "Gotcha. The beast needs to break his curse and free his people within a month's time. I understand."
"This won't be easy," Muffin said, pushing her little glasses further up her nose and tilting her head back to squint at Pippa. The lenses made her eyes appear enormous and distorted. "From what I hear, Belle's a bit of a pain in the ass."
"Well, I can be stubborn, too." Pippa gave her a resolute look. "Wait until she meets up with her wicked stepsister."
"That's the spirit! There’s one more thing I need to warn you about.”
“Uh oh.”
“It’s not so bad. Just a warning. You can’t tell Belle why you’re there or the truth about the beast. If she knows he’s a handsome prince, she’ll marry him lickety split, and that ruins all the fun. And we can’t have that, can we?”
“Heavens, no,” Pippa said drily.
“I’m serious. You tell her who you are or who the beast is?” She made a slashing move across her neck that looked surprisingly ominous. “Fairy tale over. Pippa the Friendly Ghost starts. You feel me?”
“I, um, feel you.”
“Super! Are you ready to head over, then?"
Pippa glanced back to the crowd clustered at the far end of the parking garage. The paramedics were there now, and as she watched, her limp body was lifted to a stretcher. Several people were shaking their heads sadly.
No one had bothered to pull down her dress and cover her ugly panties. Still. Ugh.
"Yeah," Pippa said, turning back to the fairy godmother. "Let's go for it."
“Yay!” Muffin clapped her hands. She grasped Pippa's hand in her own tiny one, and leaned in. “Say the magic word.”
“Um, please?”
“Actually, it’s bibbidi bobbidi boo, but that’s three words. I’ll settle for ‘boo’.”
“Boo?”
The world changed around them.
~~***~~
The world flipped and recentered, and vertigo slammed into Pippa. She staggered…and then realized she could hear birds chirping. She opened her eyes, blinking, and straightened.
Pippa found herself on a path in a forest, a basket of vegetables under her arm. Shocked at the sudden change, she dropped the basket and stared around her. Holy cow. This fairy godmother stuff was real.
Either that, or she was having a psychotic break.
Frowning to herself, she knelt and placed her hand on the dirt path. It felt real enough, slightly warmed from the sunshine. She straightened, dusting off her hands, and glanced around her. Tall, lush green trees lined the path, swaying in the breeze and dappling the road with sunshine. She glanced behind her and a small village was in the background, composed of a bunch of cute little chalets that looked more like they belonged in a Swiss village than in a forest.
Exactly where and when was she?
"Uh, I hate to break in on your gawking, but you're probably going to need me."
It sounded like Muffin's voice, but she didn't see her. Pippa spun around, looking for the plump, short figure of the fairy godmother. "Where are you?"
"Down here. In the basket."
In the…basket? Pippa dug through the contents of the basket under her arm, looking for a hidden microphone. A head of lettuce twitched and she turned it over slowly…
And yelped when Muffin's face stared back at her from the lettuce.
"I know what you're thinking,” the lettuce said. “Green's not my color."
"Uh, I was actually wondering why you were a head of lettuce."
"Because these kids won't have tomatoes for a while yet. Now pick up the
basket and let's go home so you can meet your sister Belle. Remember, she’s the star of the show."
Pippa hefted the basket again, tucking it against her body. She made sure to adjust Muffin's, er, face so she would be looking outward, and headed down the path again. "So what's the cover story?"
"I told you. You're Belle's sister."
"Yeah, but isn't she going to know I'm not her sister?"
"Why would she think that? She has a sister named Pippa who looks just like you. Spinster, too."
"Spinster?"
"You're twenty five and not married. Around here, that means spinster."
Jeez. An alarming thought occurred to her. "So where did the old Pippa go if my look-alike is here? Is she falling out of the weave too?”
"She's in storage."
Pippa's steps faltered. "What?"
"I'm kidding. She's working on another task for me. Don't you worry about her. Let's just focus on you. I told you that you only have a month to do this, right?"
"That's right. One month. Got it." There was a plume of smoke in the distance, just over the horizon. Was that their house? Pippa headed up the path and paused, basket in hand. "This the right place?"
"None other. Go in, get cozy with your sister. I'll just be here, nestled in the radishes. Try to avoid suggesting salad for lunch, though."
Pippa held the basket close to her body and approached the path, eyeing the cottage. There was a thatched straw roof that hung over the short walls. Wooden shutters hung open on both sides of the heavy wooden door, and trees waved in the front yard. It was idyllic. Like something out of a Disney movie.
Of course, in the Disney movie, this was the part where one or more of her parents would die tragically, so maybe that wasn't the best comparison. Pippa swallowed and went up to the door, and then hesitated. Did she knock at her own house? It felt weird to just barge in.
The door flew open before she could decide, and a young woman dragged her inside of the dark cottage. "Philippa! You're back! And just in time for supper!"
Pippa squinted, trying to adjust to the darkness inside the cottage, even as the stranger threw arms around Pippa and squeezed her in a hug. She awkwardly hugged back, her grip on the basket of vegetables precarious. This must have been her 'sister,' Belle. Pippa stepped back to get a good look at her.
