Instead, she had seen the wizard’s adoration as an opportunity.
Jacinda had aspirations far above being a poor, struggling florist, so she had pretended to love Eifert, right up to the moment he had impulsively given her the castle as an engagement present. Once a gift is given, it can never be taken back by force, so Jacinda had kicked Eifert out of his own home and had anointed herself Lady Mottern.
The wizard had been so enraged at being played for a fool that he had cursed Jacinda to become a beast—until she found true love. Conning a wizard was no small task, and my great-grandmother had easily gotten one of the village boys to fall in love with her, despite her new, unattractive fur coat. And so Jacinda had broken the curse, although Eifert had decreed that all of her female descendants were doomed to suffer through it as well.
Now Eifert kept staring at me, a smug expression on his face. He always visited whenever I sent a boy away. He liked to see my supposed devastation. I truly had been devastated the first few times, but now all I felt was irritation.
“What do you want?” I gestured out at the torches rapidly approaching the village. “In case you haven’t noticed, I have other things to worry about right now.”
“Oh, don’t be concerned about the Razors,” Eifert purred. “You’ll be safe here in the castle, Griselle. I made sure of that.”
I rolled my eyes again. “Of course. You wouldn’t want the Razors to kill me and deprive you of the sadistic joy of continuing your curse.”
“Well, it seems like you might be the very last Mottern. After all, you have less than a week until your twenty-first birthday. Why, you might not break the curse at all.” Eifert clucked his tongue in false sympathy.
Disgust spiked through me, and not just because of his mockery. If he hadn’t started this curse, then the villagers might not be in danger from the Razors now. But of course, Eifert wouldn’t—couldn’t—see things that way, just as he didn’t realize that his curse had stopped bothering me long ago.
I faced the wizard, angrier and more determined than I had ever been. “If I am to be the last Mottern, then so be it.”
Eifert blinked. “What do you mean?”
I shrugged. “I don’t care if I break the curse.”
He blinked again, and then again, as if he didn’t understand what I was saying. “You…you don’t mean that. You can’t mean that.”
“That is exactly what I mean,” I snapped. “Do you know how annoying your curse is? How ridiculous? How utterly tedious? If people can’t look past my fur and fangs and see what kind of person I really am, then they don’t deserve my friendship, much less my love.”
Eifert kept staring at me with a bewildered expression. “I don’t understand.”
I stepped closer to him and bared my teeth in a wide, vicious smile. “I am finished with your stupid curse. There will be no more boys, no more dresses, no more flirting and simpering and prancing around like a circus animal. I’m going to go down to the village, defeat the Razors, and return to my castle. And then I will spend the rest of my days reading and writing and exploring the woods and protecting the villagers. I will live quite happily ever after being a beast.”
Eifert’s blue eyes bulged. “You—you can’t do that! You have to break the curse! You have to find true love!”
I snorted. “Why? So you can inflict your sadistic will on whatever innocent daughter I might have in the future? No. You have no power over me, Eifert. Not anymore. And the curse ends with me tonight—one way or another.”
The wizard kept staring at me, a mixture of shock and disbelief filling his face. His features flickered like a sputtering candle, and he suddenly looked old, weak, and weary, like a flame that was about to be snuffed out.
I looked right back at him, an unexpected and unusually soft emotion flooding my chest and cooling some of my sizzling anger. “Perhaps it’s strange, but I actually feel sorry for you.”
The wizard’s shock vanished, and he jerked back as though I had slapped him. Eifert’s face hardened back into its usual smooth, ageless mask, and his eyes darkened, as though they were filling up with ominous storm clouds. “What did you say?”
“I feel sorry for you,” I repeated. “It was wrong, cruel, and heartless of Jacinda to pretend to love you just so she could steal your castle. Perhaps you were right to curse her as punishment for that deception.”
“But?” he snapped, a low, dangerous note in his voice.
“But you could have ended it there. You could have left Dammerung and tried to find happiness with someone else. But instead, you keep coming back here generation after generation and punishing women who had nothing to do with hurting you. I’d say that makes you the one who is truly cursed, not me.” I shook my head. “Goodbye, Eifert.”
Then I stalked past the wizard, leaving him alone on the balcony, staring at his own reflection in the mirrored wall.
* * *
I went down to the castle gates, which were standing wide open. By this point, the villagers were running in this direction, trying to get inside as fast as possible. I pushed past them, heading the opposite way.
“Thank you, Lady Mottern!” someone called out.
Soon all of the villagers were shouting their thanks. I nodded and gave them all an awkward, toothy smile, but I kept going.
“Griselle! Griselle!” a voice called out behind me, a bit louder than all the others.
I glanced back over my shoulder. Drury was clutching a long, sharp kitchen knife and was also fighting through the crowd, but he didn’t have my beastly strength, so he kept getting pushed back. I didn’t have time to wait for my friend to catch up, so I waved at him and kept going.
Besides, this was my fight, not his.
The Razors were moving much faster than I had anticipated, and they had already swept through the village, although it didn’t seem they had looted, burned, or destroyed any homes yet. No doubt, they wanted to sack the castle first.
I met the invaders in the middle of the gray stone bridge that led from the castle over the river and down into the village. I stopped in the center of the bridge, and so did they, all of us sizing each other up.
The Razors were girls and boys in their late teens and early twenties. They were dressed in fine jackets and gowns, although most of their clothes were torn and dirty, as though they just wore the garments until they slaughtered someone else and took their slightly cleaner, fresher clothes. Each one of them was clutching a sword or a dagger, and thanks to my beastly eyesight, I could easily see the dried blood staining many of the blades.
A girl who looked to be about my age strode forward and struck a pose, resting her hand on the gold sword belted to her waist. She was quite beautiful, with hazel eyes, rosy skin, and dark brown hair pulled back into a pretty braid. Unlike those of the other Razors, her clothes were pristine, and she looked like a warrior princess in her bright fuchsia jacket, white pants, and shiny black boots.
“Nigella, I presume?” I drawled.
She smiled. “And so the Beast speaks. Lovely. It’s so much more fun when your prey realizes exactly what’s happening to them.”
I held my arms out to my sides, letting them all get a good, long look at me, especially my teeth and talons. “You’re right. I am a beast. I am also the protector of this village. Leave now, and I will not harm you. Attack me or anyone else here, and I will slaughter you all.”
Nigella let out a light, pealing laugh. “You might look like a beast, but from what I’ve heard, you’re just a soft lady underneath. Why, I doubt you’ve ever killed anything larger than a fly, even in your beastly form.”
She was right about that, although I would never admit it. Doubt filled me, but I bared my teeth at her anyway. I might be a soft lady on the inside, but even soft ladies could be vicious creatures when backed into a corner. I had already faced down Eifert, and I would put this bandit in her place too.
“I gave you a warning,” I growled. “I will not give you another one.”
&n
bsp; Nigella smiled again and drew her sword. The rest of the Razors perked up at the soft hiss of her blade sliding free of its scabbard, and several of them started twirling their own weapons around in their hands. I also drew my sword, my fur-covered fingers feeling clumsy, awkward, and sweaty against the cold silver hilt.
“Storm the castle!” she screamed. “The Beast is mine!”
Nigella raised her sword and charged at me. I snarled, lifted my own sword, and stepped up to meet her.
* * *
The Razors rushed past me, but I kept my gaze focused on Nigella. Good thing, since she almost took my head off with her first blow.
Not only did Nigella look like a warrior princess, but she was far more skilled with her sword than I was with mine, despite all the tutors and lessons I’d had over the years. Even if I’d still been in my human form, I doubted that I could have bested her. It was all I could do to dodge her blows and hang on to my own weapon.
“What’s the matter, Beast?” Nigella hissed. “Having trouble pretending you’re still a real girl instead of a monstrosity with teeth and talons?”
I jerked back, her words wounding me far more than Eifert’s insults ever had. Still, as the Razor queen whirled around for another strike, I considered her point. Nigella was right. I was a beast now, so I should fight like one.
I dropped my sword, which tumbled end over end along the bridge. Each ding-ding-ding of the metal hitting the flagstones rang out like a bell.
“Giving up already?” Nigella smiled at me again. “Don’t worry, Beast. Soon you’ll be too dead to care how hideous you look. Although I’ll do you one last favor—I’ll mount your head above one of the fireplaces so you can still look out and pretend this is your castle instead of mine.”
Anger sliced through me. I opened my mouth to respond to her taunt, but screams and shouts rose up behind me, and I glanced back over my shoulder instead. The Razors were right outside the open castle gates, along with the villagers, who were attacking the invaders with pitchforks, hammers, and other tools. Drury was at the front of the pack, still clutching his kitchen knife, which he stabbed into every Razor who came near him.
Seeing my friend in danger further enraged me, and I whirled back around to Nigella. “You will never take my head, my castle, or anything else from me!”
I launched myself at her. This time, I went on the offensive, swiping out with my talons and snapping out with my teeth. Nigella scrambled away, but she wasn’t quite quick enough to avoid all my strikes, and my talons ripped across her left shoulder. She screamed and staggered back, staring down at the blood soaking into her fuchsia jacket.
“What’s the matter?” I hissed. “Having trouble pretending you’re still a real girl instead of a murdering bully with a sword?”
Nigella screamed again and charged me, slashing her blade through the air. I dodged her blows and lashed out with my own.
The fight was more or less even, until I foolishly turned to the side, trying to see what was happening behind me and if Drury and the villagers were beating back the Razors. Nigella used my distraction to slip past my defenses and bury her blade in my left shoulder.
I howled like, well, like a wounded animal.
Nigella grinned and twisted the blade in even deeper before viciously yanking it out. “Your head, your castle, and your village will never be safe as long as I am alive.”
I could tell she meant every word, and I knew I couldn’t beat her. Not like this. Not with weapons, teeth, or talons. But my beastly form had always been tougher and stronger than my human one, and I knew it was stronger than Nigella’s body too.
So I surged forward and locked my arms around her waist, digging my talons into her back to hold her close and keep her from gutting me with her sword.
“What are you doing?” Nigella yelled, trying to twist away.
“Saving myself, my castle, and my village,” I snarled back.
Then I churned my legs, shoving us both toward the side of the bridge.
“No! Don’t! Stop!” Nigella screamed, still trying to twist away.
But it was too late, and I was too strong and much too determined. I churned my legs a final time, using all of my beastly strength to propel us forward.
Still locked together, Nigella and I tumbled over the side of the bridge.
* * *
One moment, I was hanging in midair, listening to Nigella shriek and watching the river rush up to meet us. The next moment, we both hit the water.
A loud, hard, sharp, sickening crack reverberated through my entire body, and for a few seconds, I thought I had broken every single bone I had. Then the river closed over me, cold and dark and further shocking my body. I opened my mouth to scream, but water rushed in, silencing my hurt, panicked cry.
That last, third shock roused me out of my stupefied state, and I clawed my arms and kicked my legs, desperately trying to get back up to the surface, even though water had filled my clothes and boots and was dragging me down, down, down. I clawed and kicked with all my might, but I suddenly felt much weaker than before, and I wasn’t moving with my usual strong, beastly ease. I growled with frustration, but once again the water muffled the sound.
Still, I kept clawing and kicking, and I finally broke through to the surface. I sucked down a giant gulp of air. Then another, then another, until my mind slowly realized that I wasn’t going to drown after all.
I glanced around. Thanks to the snow crusting the landscape, and the light from torches and candles blazing down from the castle above, I could see that I was in the middle of the river, slowly drifting south as the current pulled me along like a fishing lure skimming the surface of the water. I twisted around and around, but I didn’t see Nigella in the water or along the riverbanks. Either she had already been pulled farther downstream or she had drowned in the icy water. I hoped it was the latter.
Even though I was chilled, exhausted, and bleeding from the deep wound Nigella had punched into my shoulder, I slowly, awkwardly paddled through the water and over to the shore. Then I stood up in the mud and slogged my way over onto solid ground, leaving wet, dirty boot prints behind in the pristine snow. My teeth chattered, my breath frosted, and I hugged my arms around my chest in an attempt to stay warm, although it didn’t work.
What was wrong with me? With my beastly fur coat, the cold almost never bothered me. Perhaps it was the combination of being soaked to the bone along with the strange wind that was howling over the river like a pack of wild banshees. Yes, that must be it.
“Griselle? Griselle!” Drury’s voice drifted down to me from the castle, along with shouts from the villagers.
“Lady Mottern!”
“My lady!”
“Where are you?”
From the sounds of things, Drury and the villagers had defeated the Razors. Relief coursed through me. Good. Now all I needed to do was get back up to the castle. I started to swipe the wet hair out of my eyes and stopped short, my hand frozen in midair right in front of my face.
I was looking at my hand. Not my fur-covered paw but my hand—my human hand.
Shock jolted through me, overpowering my concern about the cold, Drury, and everything else. I glanced down. Instead of tufts of fur sticking out through my torn, bloody, waterlogged clothes, I saw smooth, pale skin. I took another step forward and wobbled on my feet. I was so used to the heavy weight of my fur that the lighter skin of my human body seemed incredibly strange, as though my beastly form had been stuffed inside a thin, fragile paper doll.
The curse was broken.
I was a human girl again.
I should have been happy, ecstatic, overjoyed, but instead, hot tears stung my eyes, and grief and loss cracked against my heart like cold, heavy hammers. I felt like a part of myself, perhaps the very best part, had been cruelly ripped away—
“Stupid girl,” a low, angry voice snarled. “You won’t escape me that easily.”
I whirled around. Eifert was standing in front of me, his hands fis
ted by his sides, his ageless features twisted into a murderous scowl. The yellow glow from the castle torches above cast his face in shadow, making his skin look like it was stretched tight across his cheekbones, as though he were a skeleton that still had a bit of flesh stubbornly clinging to it.
“What happened?” I asked, my voice a weak, choked rasp.
Eifert’s lips curled back with disgust. “You might have broken one curse, but I can always cast another one on you.”
He pushed up the sleeves of his long blood-red robe, then wrapped one hand around the gold wolf pendant hanging from the chain around his neck. He raised his other hand and pointed his palm at me. Dark red magic crackled like lightning across his skin. I tensed. This was exactly what had happened when he had cursed me the first time—
“Enough,” a feminine voice cut in. “That’s enough.”
Startled, Eifert and I both whirled around. Footsteps whispered, and a woman stepped out of the snowy woods. Like Eifert’s, her face had a smooth, ageless look, marking her as a witch, and she could have been anywhere from twenty to two hundred years old. Her skin had a silvery sheen, and her eyes were the same eerie color, although her hair was a dark orange-red, like an ember that was about to blaze up into a full-fledged fire. Her long robe was similar to Eifert’s, although hers was a pale, dusky gray that blended in with the snow.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“I am Ramera,” the woman replied. “I am the head of the magical council in this kingdom.”
Eifert stabbed his finger at me. “This girl is mine. I can curse her as I see fit. Over and over again. You have no right to interfere.”
Ramera arched an eyebrow at him. “You seem to forget that council rules forbid witches and wizards from cursing mortals more than once. The girl broke your curse, Eifert, fair and square. It’s over. She won. You lost.”
He stamped his foot like a petulant child. “No! This girl will suffer just as I have suffered! And her daughter and all their daughters will suffer too! For as long as I live—”
The Beauty of Being a Beast: A Short Story Page 2
