The dream came pouring out, and Jenna whispered, “Poppa’s sick. He may be dying.”
There was a long silence, and finally Paul said, “The man could already be near here. Dreams are not bound by time. You have to leave here. The flowers will carry you home. I’ll ensure your safety.”
“No,” Jenna said. “I can’t leave you. You’re in danger.”
“You’ll leave here.” Paul’s tone was harsh. “And you’ll leave now.” He stepped to her side. “I’m taking you to the rose garden. You’ll allow the flowers to put you to sleep. They’ll summon a zephyr to carry you home.”
Jenna’s eyes flooded with tears. “I can’t leave you, yet I can’t allow Poppa to die.”
Paul sucked in his breath. He didn’t speak, for he didn’t trust his voice. He simply led Jenna from her chamber to the gardens.
Outside, the air was redolent with the clean scent of newly fallen rain. Jenna and Paul stood together upon the cobblestoned path. “Will you remember me?” Paul whispered.
“Of course I will. I’ll return as soon as I can. I promise.”
Paul bent his head, and Jenna felt his antlers gently brush her palm. Then he stepped away from her, and she heard the roses begin to sing sleep into her veins. A gentle breeze began to blow. As Jenna was lifted into the air, the castle gate opened of its own accord.
Desperately, she said, “You could come with me.” Then she was carried through the gate. Before drifting into sleep, she felt something caress her hair, but her mind was so heavy with sorrow, she thought nothing of it.
Paul watched Jenna go. A howl of desolation escaped him. Then he was running toward the gate, desperate for a final glimpse of the one he loved. She wouldn’t return. Why would she?
As Paul stepped through the gate, he felt a biting pain slice into his shoulder. He howled and crumpled to the ground. A hand slammed against his shoulder, causing percussive vibrations of agony to course through his entire body. Paul raised his head, and a flushed-faced man sneered down at him. In the man’s hand was clutched a bloodstained butcher knife.
“I knew if I was patient, the gate would open. And here you are, finally emerging into the wide world.” The man aimed a kick at Paul’s form, sending him back through the gate. When Reinhardt stepped inside, the gate slammed shut.
Chapter Eighteen
The zephyr deposited Jenna by the cottage door, and she rushed inside. Mirabel gasped in shock and ran to her sister, enfolding her in her embrace. “Jenny! You escaped!” She was shaking.
Jenna hurried to Poppa’s cot. She felt his forehead, gasping at how hot it was. As she knelt down, her disheveled hair brushed against his face. She wept with pain. “We must find help,” Jenna said.
“Reinhardt’s been giving him medicine, but nothing’s helping. He left two days ago to find that monster and kill him.”
Jenna nodded and quickly told Mirabel her dream. “I must go back to the orchard. The Tree with the Humped Back transported me to the castle. I think he’ll do it again.”
Mirabel stepped to Jenna’s side. “Why would you go back there?” she asked harshly. “Why must you leave me again? That demon has bewitched you.”
Jenna swallowed. “Paul’s kind, Miri. He let me go. I can’t let him be hurt.”
“Paul?” Mirabel’s voice held a smile, the first one in days. “You’re the only person I know who would ask a beast its name, Jenny.” She sighed. “I’ve always tried to protect you, yet you’ve never needed it. Poppa can’t be left. I’ll stay with him.” She drew a shuddering breath. “Go if you must.”
Jenna embraced Mirabel tightly. “I don’t always show it, but I love you, Miri.” She kissed her sister and ran from the house.
It was only then that Mirabel noticed something peculiar. Poppa was stirring on the cot. She ran to his side and stroked his forehead. It was cool to her touch. Weeping with joy, Mirabel gaped as a rainbow-hued rose petal fluttered from Poppa’s face to the ground.
Chapter Nineteen
Reinhardt had not lied, for dying was indeed painful. The Tree with the Humped Back trembled in agony. His frame buckled, and a single cry issued from his rustling branches. “Please, Tecoptra.”
A breeze caressed his leaves. Courageous one, I am sending help.
It was that moment that Jenna approached. The Tree with the Humped Back recognized her shuffling gait. His heart melted when he felt her familiar touch, but he wept, for he was too weak to help her.
Jenna gasped when her groping fingers felt the hole in her tree’s side. Sticky sap coated her fingers. She shuddered. What was going on?
At that moment, a stoop-shouldered woman entered the orchard. She scanned the area around her, the crimson mark upon her cheek gleaming more lividly than ever. Gwendolyn knew the cry of a tree in distress. It had awakened her from sleep, and she’d journeyed far to find its source.
She approached the tree, gasping when she saw its mangled frame. “Tecoptra help me,” she whispered. She saw a young girl with a scarred face and disheveled black hair. The girl was standing beside the tree, and she was shaking.
Compassion filled Gwendolyn’s heart. “Perhaps I can help him, miss.”
She placed her hand upon the tree’s bleeding heart. Its life’s blood pulsed against her fingers. She began speaking words of encouragement. She smiled as she felt the ebbing blood cease. When she drew her hand away, the wound was gone. Only a cross-shaped scar remained.
The tree wept with joy, his branches rustling thanks.
Gwendolyn smiled and addressed Jenna. “He’ll be all right now.”
Jenna gasped, fingering the scar where the hole had been. “Please, ma’am. I don’t know who you are, but I need help.” She told her story hastily. She knew this woman would think her mad, but she was desperate. “I must return to the castle. Paul needs me.”
Gwendolyn stared at the young woman. “The curse will be lifted when a blind beauty requests a rose and a brother confronts a beast,” she whispered to herself. She remembered how the kitchen workers often talked of the physicians who came to examine Sauda.
One maid had talked of a handsome young man. “ ’E gives ’er tea and cordial. ’E won’t leave ’er side.”
Gwendolyn had paid little attention to these conversations. Now something else the girl said filled her mind. “Mistress Sauda’s brother, ’e is. Such a kind man. So eager to ’elp.” Gwendolyn recalled the cream Sauda had made her wear.
“The rose can help.” Gwendolyn took Jenna’s hand, and they stood beneath the apple tree. “Conduct us to Paul’s home,” Gwendolyn commanded.
Chapter Twenty
The castle garden was silent as a tomb as man and beast stared at one another. Paul shook with pain, but he knew the wound wasn’t life-threatening. Of course, the man knew that too.
When Reinhardt spoke, his voice trembled. “I’ve always been grateful to your father. He was so kind. He could have refused to marry my sister after his father’s death, but he chose to honor his father’s wishes. He saved her as I could not. When we were children, Sauda would come to me, crying and bleeding from Father’s attacks. I helped her as best I could. It was because of her that I chose to become a doctor. Father was a gambler, and when he lost money or drank his winnings away, Sauda and I were the recipients of his anger.”
Reinhardt’s face twisted with pain. “I threatened him one day, telling him I’d kill him if he ever hurt Sauda again, but he laughed at me. ‘What will you do, weakling? Attack me with your flowers?’
“Perhaps I’m not strong. I never liked hunting like other boys, and I spent much time with plants. I used flowers and trees to make salves for Sauda’s wounds. As she grew older, I made her cosmetics to enhance her beauty. Not that she wasn’t lovely enough, but she constantly sought reassurance. Father belittled her constantly, and she needed my help.” Reinhardt laughed, the laugh more a bitter cry than anything else.
“Precious little I could do for her! When Sauda died, my heart was torn in two. Justice d
emanded that Father pay for his treatment of her. Flowers can kill, and the ignorant fool should have realized that. It’s quite simple to extract poison from willing plants, you know. They loved me as they loved Sauda. I placed poison into his nightly goblet of wine. I planned to take it to him, but I could not.”
Reinhardt’s face convulsed with pain. “He was right to call me a weakling. Every time I held that goblet in my hand, I saw Sauda’s face. She was so pale when she was ill.” He began to weep, his face flushing with anger. “Gustav loved Sauda—did you know that? He told me so. Everything was going so well. Then that witch had to interfere.
“After Sauda’s death, I began my career as a physician. I’d failed my sister, but I determined to help others. I met Gustav often at the local tavern. I learned of your transformation from him. I feared for Gustav’s life, and my fears were justified.
“One day, I found Gustav and his manservant lying dead in an apple orchard. The manservant was severely mauled. Gustav’s wounds were not as severe, but he had obviously been attacked.” He glared at Paul. “Can you imagine how I felt? I organized a search party, but we could never find you. The castle gates never yielded to us. Even battering rams were useless.
“I heard nothing about you for two years after that and assumed you were dead. Imagine my surprise when one of my friends entered these grounds. He’s endured so much hardship, and now he’s dying from despair. You killed one of his daughters. Your life is required for the ones you’ve taken.”
Paul stared at Reinhardt, and in the man’s eyes, he saw a reflection of himself. Loneliness and desperation were etched onto the man’s visage.
“Father’s and Claudio’s deaths haunt me every day. I never meant to kill anyone. I would never kill Jenna. I let her go,” Paul said.
“You expect me to believe that?” Reinhardt sneered. “You kill those who can’t fight back and then hide. You’re a coward.” That same bitter laugh passed between his lips. “Mind you, I’m a coward as well, but I won’t be today. You must be stopped!”
Paul rose, howling in fury. Despite his pain, he stood strong, towering above Reinhardt. “Leave here now,” he growled.
Reinhardt shook his head. He raised his hand. Within it gleamed the butcher knife. He struck, sinking the knife into Paul’s chest. Paul stumbled, his antlers connecting with Reinhardt’s shoulder as he collapsed.
Man and beast fell in a crumpled heap.
Chapter Twenty-One
Reinhardt lay in a welter of pain. The makeshift tourniquet he’d applied was inadequate, but it would suffice until he could bind his wound properly. His pain was irrelevant. Paul bled profusely. “Just a few moments more,” Reinhardt whispered.
Paul wasn’t listening to Reinhardt. He heard another voice, a voice of strength and compassion. I’m here.
Comfort caressed Paul’s heart. A peculiar rustling surrounded him, and he saw a rose with rainbow hues open wider and wider. He gasped as a hand reached toward him. The hand hovered before Paul’s face. Touch me.
Paul tried to lift a paw that he might caress the flower. Yet the pain was so great. “I cannot,” he whispered.
Pierce me with your antlers.
Paul shuddered. He saw Claudio lying dead upon the ground. He shifted his gaze to Reinhardt. The man lay still. Addressing the rose, Paul whispered, “I’ll kill you.”
A poisoned rose transformed you. In order for the curse to be broken, I must die, as must you.
Paul trembled. He was dying now. Jenna was gone, and he was utterly alone. What did he have to lose? He raised his head and struck at the rose, his antlers sinking into the diaphanous petals.
A searing heat coursed through him, and Paul howled in agony. He watched as the rose crumpled before his eyes, the petals falling at an alarming rate. A hand stroked his head, laying him back upon the ground. The ground shook, and he heard the sound of a young woman whimpering with pain.
“Jenna?” he whispered. Then all was still.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Jenna knelt within the castle gardens, clutching Paul’s trembling body. She had arrived too late. She rocked to and fro, whimpering with pain. She caressed the antlers, the protruding eyes, and the marked cheek.
“Please don’t leave me,” she whispered. “I love you.” She kissed his forehead and then drew back with a cry, feeling him go limp in her arms.
She heard someone stir beside her, and a familiar voice said, “He was telling the truth.” Reinhardt patted Jenna’s arm as he reached to take Paul from her.
“You killed him,” Jenna whispered, her voice choked.
Reinhardt sighed wearily. “I did what I thought was best. I thought he’d killed you. How did you convince him to let you go?”
“You don’t understand! He loves me, and I love him. He’s kind.”
Incredulity and fear filled Reinhardt’s eyes. “Love him? Are you mad? He’s bewitched you in some way, hasn’t he?”
You’re hurt, Reinhardt. A majestic voice, powerful even in its pain-racked intonation, filled the garden, and Reinhardt gasped, startled by the sound.
“Who’s there?” he asked sharply.
I seek to heal your wounds.
Reinhardt’s eyes alighted upon a mangled rose, its final petals preparing to fall. He thought he glimpsed a hand hovering just above the rose’s petals, a hand that bore a strange wound. The hand was not clearly defined but seemed to cradle the rose’s fragile head, and in the wound’s center was a drop of blood that gleamed like a ruby. He felt a twinge of compassion. He was a Flower Master, after all.
Reinhardt thought of the many flowers and trees that he’d used in his fruitless quest to save Sauda’s life. He’d made many medicines for her, spoon-feeding her his concoctions when she was too weak to lift her head. For a time, it had seemed as if his medicines were working, but that deformed witch’s magic had been too strong. Anger slammed into his heart. He glared at the rose.
“I don’t need healing, but others did, and no one helped them.” He staggered to his feet, preparing to turn away.
It was then that he finally noticed another figure in the garden. The ugliest woman he’d ever seen knelt beside the dying rose. He recognized her immediately, and bile rose in his throat. “You,” he hissed.
Gwendolyn gazed at Reinhardt, pain carved onto her face. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“Are you? Now I suppose you want me to forgive you, and then we can go on our merry way. Sauda was so happy when Gustav married her. ‘I love him,’ she told me. ‘I’ll be a good wife to him.’ She always suspected you were the one who sent that red rose on her wedding day. Now you have the gall to ask my forgiveness? You’re more ignorant than I believed possible, witch.”
He turned from her with contempt. It was then that he felt a weakness unlike anything he’d ever felt before. A heaviness pressed against his wounded shoulder.
“You’re dying,” Gwendolyn said. “Is that what you want? Accept the gift that Tecoptra offers you.”
Reinhardt turned back to Gwendolyn. His hand was clenched around the handle of the bloodstained butcher knife he’d retrieved from the ground. He was shaking. His eyes strayed to the rose yet again. He saw that only one petal remained. It trembled and seemed so very fragile. Could one mere rose petal really save him? He thought of the apple tree he had wounded. The pain in his shoulder intensified. Reinhardt felt the knife growing heavier and heavier in his hand.
With an oath, he allowed his hand to relax, and the knife clattered to the ground. He bowed his head in defeat. He saw Sauda’s wistful face on her wedding day. He saw Mirabel’s kind visage. “I became a doctor because I had failed my sister,” he whispered. “I’m a failure in all things. I’m so very tired.”
He looked at Gwendolyn and then bowed his head. “Justice demands that you die,” he said, “but I am too weak to carry it out.” He gasped as another spasm of pain attacked him, and he crumpled to the ground.
The rose opened wider than ever, the final petal falling.
A gentle breeze wafted the fragile petal toward Reinhardt’s trembling hand.
Tecoptra is just, but he is also merciful. The pain-racked but powerful voice filled the garden once more.
Reinhardt felt someone gently touch his hand, moving it just close enough to the rose petal that the tips of his fingers grazed its bruised surface. Reinhardt managed to raise his head, and he saw that Gwendolyn’s hand was holding his.
A strange heat tore through him, to be replaced by calming coolness. His eyes began to close. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Miri, I truly loved you.” Then he lay still.
Gwendolyn stared at Reinhardt’s lifeless body and at the dead rose upon the ground.
She wept, turning to where Jenna knelt beside Paul. Rain began to fall, and the roses rustled, speaking one word: Awaken.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Jenna continued caressing Paul’s face. Suddenly, she felt something strange. His fur was gone. Was she mad? She felt him stir beneath her hand. She felt a broad forehead and soft tendrils of hair. She was definitely feeling skin, not animal fur. She gasped.
“Jenna,” Paul whispered, his voice deep and familiar. “You came back.”
Jenna flung her arms around Paul and helped him stand. Trailing her hands down his arms, her fingers encountered hands where paws had once been.
“I said I’d return,” she said, laughing with joy.
Voices filled the gardens as a multitude of people joined them. The enchantment had broken, and the liberated servants laughed and embraced one another. Gwendolyn gazed at the happy celebration. As she observed the people, she also saw the rose, which now sparkled more vibrantly than ever. It had been restored.
She turned to Paul and Jenna, smiling as she watched them embrace. Behind her, the castle gate stood open, and she watched a man and young woman enter the garden. Gwendolyn knew they must be members of Jenna’s family. The young woman ran to Reinhardt’s side, reaching out to touch his hand. Her face grew pale.
Blind Beauty and Other Tales of Redemption Page 6
