by Russo, Jessa
Mick dropped his gaze to the ground, defeated. “I know. I kinda figured that out. I’m so sorry.”
“Why would you say that? You have nothing to be sorry about.”
“I thought it was me. All these years of training, of waiting for you…wasted. I finally found you, and now I discover that I’m not the guy to fix it, not the guy to break the curse. I’ve failed.”
“No.” I pulled his chin up so his eyes were level with mine again. “Don’t say that. We’ll find a way to break the curse, Mick.” I gave him a quick peck. “We.”
Mick
Someone beat on the front door of the cabin, interrupting Holland’s unconvincing attempt to reassure me that I hadn’t actually failed her.
But I had.
I jumped up and turned to Donovan when the loud pounding echoed through the cabin.
“Piss off, mate. Don’t look at me, I travel alone.”
I narrowed my eyes, but didn’t respond. I looked back down at Holland, who was still sitting on the ground where I’d left her in an awkward position. “Can you move?”
“Not really, but go check the door. Maybe it’s a neighbor worried about all the screaming.”
How would I explain that?
“I’ll stay with her, brother.”
Donovan’s satisfied smile was wide, and the glint in his eyes mocked me. Just as I began to lunge for him, more pounding carried from the front door.
I glanced between him and Holland.
She rolled her eyes. “I’m fine, Mick. Go.”
I headed to the living room and pulled the heavy curtain aside. Ro’s ugly old station wagon was parked diagonally in the snow-covered gravel driveway. She knocked pretty loudly for someone so small—and where the hell is her key, anyway?—which should have clued me into the fact she wasn’t alone, but with everything else going on I was clearly not thinking and opened the door to a very pissed off Cameron.
“Shit.”
“Where is she?” he demanded, shouldering past me. “Holland!”
“Wait, Cam—”
Cam rounded on me, his face inches away from mine. I hadn’t noticed his size before, but now that he towered over me, I realized how unevenly matched we were.
“Don’t you tell me to wait. Where the fuck is my sister?”
“Cam?” she called.
His eyes widened at the sound of Holland’s soft voice coming from the kitchen. He turned away from me, thundering through the great room toward the sound.
Ro’s hand was on my arm, halting me from following Cam. “Mick, I’m so—”
“Not now, Ro.” I pulled away from her and headed for the kitchen, not really caring to hear Ro’s apology. She knew why we were up here and knew what she chanced by bringing Cam. I had to trust that she’d felt she had no other choice, but I didn’t have to talk to her. Not right now anyway.
I almost slammed into Cam’s back at the entrance to the kitchen.
“Get away from my sister,” he growled through clenched teeth. I peeked past him to see Donovan holding Holland up, and almost growled with rage myself.
“Well, you see, mate, that’s the funny thing about this situation. If I get away from your sister right now, she’ll crumple to the floor, and I’m not willing to do that to her. So why don’t you cool your raging teenage hormones and have a seat.”
I closed my eyes, wishing Donovan away, but he was still there when I opened them. Cam’s hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, but he hadn’t moved. He appeared to be gauging the truth in Donovan’s words, watching him help Holland into a chair at the dining table, proving he had more self-control than most guys I knew.
“Ro?” I called over my shoulder.
“Yes, I’m here,” she said from directly behind me.
“How much did you tell Cameron?”
“As much as I knew, but he didn’t believe me.”
I assumed he would now.
I slipped past him and went to stand by Holland. I put a hand on her shoulder, and her hand found mine, covering it. Cam watched the action, but within seconds his eyes were back to her face, his eyebrows drawn together as he probably tried to make sense of the fact that his sister was completely gray from head to toe—the only exception her clothing.
“Holland, I…I don’t understand.”
“I know, Cam. I don’t really understand, either. But I’m okay. You can come closer.”
As if not realizing he’d been staying away, Cam closed the distance between them and crouched on the floor next to Holland. Peering up at her with wide eyes, he took her small hands in his big ones, and I stepped aside to sit down in a chair next to them.
“Who are you?”
We all turned our heads to see Ro standing in front of Donovan. She appeared tiny in comparison, but her stance was anything but small. She looked up at him with a dare in her eyes, and her mouth set in a hard line—a rebellious expression she’d given me too many times to count. I’d have laughed if the situation wasn’t so tense.
“Well, well, little one…aren’t you feisty? I’m that chap’s older brother.” He nodded his head toward me. “The name’s Donovan. And who, may I ask, are you?”
“Brother?”
“Yes, love, that’s what I said.”
“But…” Ro turned back toward the table and looked from me to Holland, then back to me. “Mick?”
“Yeah. I’m as shocked as you are.”
She turned back to Donovan. “How do we know we can believe you?”
“Rosemarie,” Holland spoke up softly. “Look at them. It’s obvious.”
Ro did as she was told, eyeing me first, then Donovan, then back and forth a few times for good measure. “Holy Jesus on a stick! I have another brother!”
Before Donovan could make sense of what she’d said, she was hanging around his neck, squealing with joy. He raised his eyebrows at me and circled her with his arms, hugging her back.
“See? Now this is a proper welcome for family, mate. You’d do well to learn from our sister here.”
Ro released his neck and dropped back to the ground, her momentary excitement fading as questions formed in her mind. The same ones I’d had, I imagined.
“Wait,” Ro asked. “Are you on our dad’s side, or Mick’s mom’s side?”
“I’m afraid we’re all on the same side, here, love. Daddy Dearest.”
“And you’re how old?”
“Older than that poor loser over there, I’d say.”
Ro turned back to me. “But if he’s Dad’s eldest son…then that means you…”
“Can’t break the spell. Yeah.” Maybe if we stopped acknowledging the fact, it would lose validity.
“Wow.” Ro sank down into a chair and brought her attention to Holland. Ro studied her, really seeing her gray skin for the first time. “How are you feeling?”
Holland laughed before answering. “Aside from being completely gray, and having moments of rage so intense that I feel it burn through my skin, I’m feeling pretty awesome.”
“Okay, I need some more explanation here, guys. Rosie told me about the…curse.” Still squatting beside Holland, Cam shook his head. “But I don’t get it. We’re actually descended from a Disney movie?”
Donovan took the last remaining chair across from me. “If you want to get technical about it, the Disney movie was descended from you, not the other way around. The fairytale wasn’t fiction, after all. It was a very true story, made to appear fictional and beloved by generations, as you probably know. The Beast—” he added air quotes to the word, “—was your great-great-great-etcetera-etcetera grandfather.”
“Wow,” Cam murmured.
“Yes, mate, wow is correct.”
“So, how do you all come into the story? I thought the Beast and Beauty—Belle, right?—got together in the end and broke the spell? Why is Holland cursed?” Cam looked up at his sister again, studying her face.
She gave a slight smile and looked down, avoiding any of our eyes.
&nb
sp; Donovan snorted. “That’s what Mickey Mouse wants you to believe. But there were many before Disney, and more still to come. People who already have, or one day will, take the story, blow it out of proportion, and profit from it. Though, can’t say as I blame them. A great story such as yours—” he gestured toward Holland, “—add some things here and there, take liberties with the actual events, and then tie up all the loose ends Hollywood-style. Give the people what they want: a happily ever after. Because, truthfully, who would want to read or watch this story?”
Donovan stretched his legs out and crossed his arms behind his head.
Holland watched him as he did so, and my chest tightened. Whoa. What was that? Jealousy?
“So, the ending is a lie?” Cam asked.
“Yes. The most fictional part of your family’s history, mate, though the rest of the story you’re all familiar with is a bit of a spin as well.”
“Okay, so what really happened?”
Cam looked at me this time, as if not wanting to hear any more from my mysterious new sibling.
I reached for Holland’s hand, sliding her fingers between mine. Turning to Cameron, I began the short version of the story.
“Your ancestor had an affair with a woman who was more than she appeared. She was a witch, a sorceress, and she loved him greatly. As the story goes, when he did not return her love, but instead remained with his true love, eventually marrying her and raising a family with her, the witch turned bitter and ugly, cursing them both out of anger and pain.”
“Let’s not get too carried away, mate. I don’t recall any part of the story calling her bitter and ugly,” Donovan said.
I ignored his comment.
Cam’s eyes were wide, but I couldn’t tell if he believed the story or thought I was crazy. He looked at Holland again, and his gaze roamed over the gray skin of her face before he brought his eyes back to mine. He nodded, so I continued.
“So, first of all, Beauty and the Beast are not two different people. They are one. Unlike the fairytale version, in this story, Holland is the beauty. She will turn into the beast. My involvement in your family’s history was really just a chance encounter…and some really bad luck. See, at the same time the woman cast a spell on your family, she cast one on mine—ours,” I corrected myself, gesturing around the table to include Donovan and Ro. “That is how we became connected, how our curses intertwined.”
“This is too crazy to believe. You guys know that, right?”
“Cameron,” Holland pleaded. “I’m gray. Gray.”
“I know, but…shit. Seriously? This is too crazy. I can’t believe this. Nah, it’s too crazy.”
“You’ve mentioned that, and I know it is. But I think we have to believe. I mean, look at me. And that’s not all—I have these moments of freaking out, and…I can feel something there.” She pointed to her chest.
“How long have you known?”
“Only a little while. I didn’t know what it was, but I felt something changing inside me. And my eyes started to change before anything else.”
“And you, Mick? Rosie?” Cam looked up at us as he asked.
“Since I was fifteen,” I answered. “And I only told Ro a few years ago when our father passed away. She’d been unaware of the work we’d been doing, but when it was down to just the two of us, I figured it couldn’t hurt to let her in on the details of what my future held. Plus, seeing as she was so close in age to you guys, I knew she could help me get to Holland.”
“Okay.” Cam stood and began pacing. “So, when you say ‘get to Holland,’ what do you mean by that? Why did you have to get to her? How do you fit into all this?”
“When our families became linked, the curse defined the men in my lineage as Destined: the only ones who had the ability to break the spell. Every four generations—”
“Why four?” asked Cam.
“I don’t know. Anyway, every four generations, the first born son gets a chance to rid our families of the curse. Up until an hour or two ago, I thought that son was me.”
Cam turned to Donovan. “But it’s you? And they didn’t know about you?”
“Exactly,” Donovan said with a sly smile. “But I just found out about them, too, lad, so don’t look so distressed.”
“Okay. So how does your family break the curse on my family?”
“Love,” Ro spoke up. “Holland has to fall in love with the first born son.”
Cam stopped pacing, looked from me to Donovan and back again, then peered down at his sister. “Wow, Holl. That’s pretty heavy. Doesn’t seem like you have much of a choice here, does it?”
“She absolutely has a choice, Cameron.” I stood, but the power of my words surprised even me. “No one is going to force her to fall in love with anyone.”
As I said it, I knew I meant to finish with especially Donovan. No one was going to force her to fall in love with Donovan.
“But that’s not true, now is it, Mick?” Donovan said. “You planned for her to fall in love with you. That’s why you whisked her away and brought her here, isn’t it? To fall in love?”
“I brought Holland here to keep anyone from seeing her like this,” I said as calmly as I could, while my insides boiled. “I brought her here to protect her.”
“Don’t you mean to protect others from her? To keep her from doing any more harm to the people around her?”
The words left his mouth, replaced with a sardonic grin, before I even realized what he’d done. My mouth slammed shut on any retort I’d been about to make.
“What did you just say?” Holland asked him.
Dammit. She’d obviously not gotten to that part of the story when she’d read everything in my office.
I closed my eyes, wishing for the words to fly back into Donovan’s mouth unsaid.
Holland
Harm? What did he mean? How was I harming anyone?
“What did you just say?”
Donovan ignored my question for a second time, staring hard at Mick. I turned to Mick and asked him instead. “Mick? What is he talking about?”
He sighed, then ran his hands down his face. “Holland, I—”
“Oh, stop beating around the bush, Mick. Tell the poor girl the truth.”
“Enough, Donovan. This will destroy her.”
“She deserves to know what she’s capable of—”
“I’m right here!” If I’d had all of my strength back, I would have jumped up from the table. Instead, I slammed my fist down on the surface and glared at Mick. “Tell me! I’m right here, and I deserve to know. If there’s more to this story—to my story—I have a right to know.”
Cam stood behind my chair and put both hands on my shoulders in support. “She’s right. This is her story. She should know all of it.”
I looked up at Cam as he smiled down at me, but I could see his eyes waver, not fully able to hold my gaze. My heart ached for my brother. What was he feeling during all of this? My little brother, the one I was supposed to shelter and care for, had been forced to become my protector when my life crumbled around me after the breakup with Rod. And, even now, as I sat here helpless and cursed, he stood tall and spoke in my defense.
I was a horrible big sister.
“Oh, hell.” Donovan stood and left the room, his boots clomping all the way down the hall.
“What’s his problem?” Rosemarie asked. Then she turned to me, a frown pulling at her sparkly purple lips. She ran a hand through her cropped black hair. “This next part of the story isn’t good, Holl. Mick doesn’t want to tell you for good reason, not because he wants to keep things from you.”
I sighed, my resentment subsiding a bit. “I appreciate that, Rosemarie, but I won’t accept it. If this story is going to get worse before it gets better, I want to know.”
“All right then, here you go.” Donovan reentered the kitchen, then plopped a stack of papers onto the table in front of me and returned to his seat to my right. “Ring any bells, love?”
I flipped
open the manila folder. The first document was a newspaper clipping with an article attached. At the top, a picture of Leslie. She was talking to a reporter, standing in front of her house, her mom and dad on either side of her. The caption below the photo read ‘Leslie Sinclair speaks with local television reporter about being in the wrong place at the right time. She and her boyfriend, Rod Simon, narrowly escaped death after the beach house they’d been allegedly staying in was burned to the ground. Local authorities suspect foul play.’
I swallowed the lump that formed in my throat.
“What the fuck is this?” Cam growled, clearly outraged. He’d kept as much of this stuff away from me as he could—hiding newspapers, getting rid of reporters, even going as far as cancelling cable for a month after the fire so I wouldn’t catch a news report by accident. He reached down to grab the folder away, but I stopped him, resting my hand on his arm. Donovan obviously wanted me to see something in this stack of papers, so I had to continue.
“It’s okay, Cam. I’m okay.”
I turned to Mick, seeing him shake his head gently and close his eyes. He positioned his elbows on the table, then leaned his head forward to rest in his hands. “I’m so sorry, Holland. I didn’t want you to find out like this.”
I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I took a deep breath and turned to the next paper in the stack.
This was a newspaper article that looked like it had been printed off the Internet. At the top of the page was a panoramic photograph, viewing the row of houses where Rod’s family vacation home had once been, as if the photographer stood with his back to the ocean. The snapshot displayed the scene after the fire, when nothing of the Simon home remained but charred foundations, blackened pieces of wood, and miscellaneous debris.
I closed my eyes, just as the first tear escaped.
Mick’s hand found mine. “Holland, let’s not look at these, okay? It can wait. You’ve had a long morning already.”
I shook my head, wishing the tears away. “I imagine,” I said, my eyes still closed, “that the rest of these pages contain similar information?”
“Yes,” Mick answered softly.
