Beastly (13 page)

“Please!” he was still begging. “Let me live! I’ll give you anything!”

“What do you have that I’d want?”

He squirmed and thought. “Drugs. You can keep those! I can get you more – all you want! I’ve got a lot of customers.”

Ah. A small businessman. “I don’t do drugs, you sleaze.” It was true. I was too scared I’d do something crazy, like go outside, if I was high on something. I pulled him farther out the window.

He screamed. “Money, then.”

I held his neck tight. “What would I do with money?”

He was choking, crying. “Please… there must be something.” Tighter. “You have nothing I want.”

He tried to kick me, to get away. “You want a girlfriend?” He was choking harder, crying.

“What?” I almost lost my grip, but I dug my claws in harder. He screamed.

“A girlfriend? Do you want a girl?”

“Don’t screw with me. I warn you…”

But he could see my interest. He pulled away, and I let him. “I have a daughter.”

“What about her?” I loosened my grip a little, and he came inside.

“My daughter. You can have her. Just let me go.”

“I can what?” I stared at him.

“You can have her. I’ll bring her to you.”

He was lying. He was lying so I’d let him go. What kind of father would give his daughter away?

To a beast? But still… “I don’t believe you.”

“It’s true. A daughter. She’s beautiful…”

“Tell me about her. Tell me something to let me know you’re telling the truth. How old is she?

What’s her name?”

He laughed like he knew he had me. “She’s sixteen, I think. Her name’s Lindy. She loves… books, reading, stupid things. Please, just take her, do what you want with her. Take my daughter, but let me go.” It began to be true. A girl! A sixteen-year-old girl! Would he really bring her here? Could she be the girl for me, the one I needed? I thought of Kendra’s voice. Sometimes, unexpected things can happen.

“She’d sure be better off without you,” I said. Then I realized I believed it. Anyone would be better off without him for a father. I’d be helping her too. At least, that’s what I told myself.

“You’re right.” He was crying, laughing. “She would be better. So take her.” I decided. “In a week, you’ll bring your daughter here. She’ll stay with me.” He was laughing now. “Sure. Absolutely. I’ll go now, and I’ll bring her back.” I knew his game. “But don’t think you can get away with not doing it.” I pulled his face through the window again, farther than before. He screamed like I was going to push him, but I pointed below, to the surveillance equipment by the greenhouse. “I have cameras all over the house to prove what you did. I have your driver’s license, your drugs. And I have something else.” His hair was long and greasy. I seized him by it and dragged him to the old armoire where I kept the mirror. “I want to see his daughter. Lindy.” The mirror image changed, from my grotesque image to that of a bed, a girl sleeping in it. The image took greater shape. I saw a long red braid. Then her face. Linda. Linda Owens from school, the one with the rose, the one I’d watched in the mirror. Linda. Could she be the girl?

I shoved the mirror in the scumbag’s face. “This her?”

“How did you…?”

Now I said to the mirror, “I want to see the address where she is.” The mirror panned out to the door of an apartment, then a street sign.

“You can’t escape.” I showed it to him. “Wherever you go, I will know exactly where you are.” I looked at his driver’s license. “Daniel Owens, if you don’t return, I’ll find you, and the consequences will be terrible.”

The consequences will be terrible? Sheesh, who talked like that?

“I could go to the police,” he said.

“But you won’t.”

I dragged him back downstairs to the greenhouse. “We understand each other?” He nodded. “I’ll bring her.” He reached out, and I realized he was trying to get the bag of drugs and the driver’s license I held. “Tomorrow.”

“In a week,” I said. “I need time to get ready. And I will keep these in the meantime, to make sure you come back.”

I let him go then, and he scurried into the night like the thief he was.

After I watched him go, I went downstairs. I was almost skipping. Linda.

I saw Will on the third-floor landing. “I heard the commotion,” he said. “But I thought it was better to leave you to your own devices.”

“You thought right.” I was smiling. “We’ll be having a visitor soon. I’ll need you to go and buy some things to make her comfortable.”

“Her?”

“Yes, Will. It’s a girl. The girl who’ll break the spell maybe, who could… love me.” I almost choked on the words, they were so hopeless. “It’s my only chance.” He nodded. “How do you know she’s the one?”

“Because she has to be.” I thought about her father, ready to trade his daughter for his drugs and his freedom. A real father would have said no, even if he got arrested. My father would have done what hers had. “And because no one cares about her either.”

“I see,” Will said. “And when will she be coming?”

“A week at most.” I thought about the drugs still in my hand. “Probably sooner. We’ll need to work fast. But everything has to be perfect.”

“I know what that means,” Will said.

“Yeah. Dad’s credit card.”

3

In the next days, I worked harder than I’d ever worked at anything, decorating the empty third-floor master suite. Linda’s room. The furniture in it was living room stuff, and empty bookshelves – just to remind me that my father didn’t plan to visit. Now I made it over into the perfect girl’s bedroom and library, sending Will out for furniture catalogs, paint, paper, everything.

“And you think this is right?” Will said. “Forcing her to come here? I don’t know that I can take part in –”

“Kidnapping?”

“Well, yes.”

“You didn’t see the guy, Will. He broke in, probably to steal my stuff for drug money. And then, to get out of trouble, he offered me his daughter. Maybe he’s done it before – ever think of that? So I said yes. You know I don’t plan to do anything bad to her. I want to love her.” God, I sounded like the Phantom of the Opera.

“I still don’t think it’s right. Just because there’s a benefit to you. What about her?”

“What about her? If her father would give her to me, who’s to say he wouldn’t give her to someone else? Sell her into slavery? Or something worse, to buy drugs? I know I’m not going to hurt her. Can you be so sure about the next guy he tries this with?”

Will was nodding, so I knew he was at least thinking about it. “And how do you know she’ll be someone appropriate for you to fall in love with?” Will asked. “If the father’s a sleaze?” Because I have watched her. “This is my one chance. I have to love her,” I told Will. “And she has to love me back or it’s over for me.” And if she could love that loser of a father, maybe she could see past my looks and love me too.

Three days passed. I chose blankets and pillows filled with down. I imagined her sinking onto the bed, the nicest she’d ever had. I picked the finest Oriental rugs, crystal lamps. I could barely sleep those days, so I worked from four in the morning into the night. I painted the study turned library a warm yellow with white trim. For her bedroom, I chose wallpaper with a trellis of roses. Will helped, and Magda, but only I worked through the night. Finally, the rooms looked perfect. Almost unable to believe she was coming, I did more. With the mirror, I visited her house and explored her closets, then went online and bought out the Macy’s Juniors department in her size. I arranged it all in the walk-in closet in her new rooms. And I bought books – hundreds of books – and arranged them on ceiling-high shelves. I bought out all the online booksellers and included all my own favorites, the titles I’d been reading. We could talk about them. It would be so great to have someone my own age to talk to, even if it was just about books.

Each afternoon brought a new rush delivery from UPS, and each morning found me working long and hard, painting and sanding and decorating. I had to make everything perfect, had to so maybe she’d look past my ugliness and find some happiness here, find some way to love me. I didn’t begin to think about how that would happen, that she’d probably hate me for taking her from her father. I had to make it work.

On the night of the sixth day, I stood in the suite of rooms that would be hers. I still had to fix my greenhouse, my beautiful greenhouse. But fortunately, it was warm out. I’d fix it next. For now, I studied the room. The floors, waxed to perfection, gleamed next to rugs in shades of green and gold. The air smelled of lemon cleaner and dozens of roses. I’d chosen yellow ones, which I read symbolized joy, gladness, friendship, and the promise of a new beginning, and placed them in Waterford crystal vases throughout the suite. In her honor, I’d planted a new rose, a yellow miniature called “Little Linda.” I hadn’t cut any of those, but would show them to her when she first visited the greenhouse. Soon. I hoped she’d like them. I knew she would.

I walked to the door of her suite and, using a stencil and a tiny brush dipped in gold, painted the finishing touch on the door. I had never been neat in my former life, but this was important. In perfect script, the door said:

Lindy’s Room [flourished font]

When I went back to my room, I checked the mirror, which I was keeping by my bed again. “I want to see Lindy,” I tried.

It showed her. She was asleep because it was after one o’clock. One small battered suitcase stood beside the door. She was really coming.

I lay down and fell into the perfect sleep for the first time in over a year – not the sleep of boredom, failure, or exhaustion, but the sleep of anticipation. Tomorrow, she’d be here. Everything would change.

4

Someone was knocking. Someone was knocking! I couldn’t answer it. I didn’t want to terrify her at first sight. I stayed in my rooms, but I watched in the mirror as Will let her in.

“Where is he?” It was the scumbag father. But where was the girl?

“Where is who?” Will asked, all polite.

The guy hesitated, and in that moment, I saw for the first time that she was with him, standing in the shadow behind him. Even though she was shadowed, I could see she was crying.

It was really her. I realized I hadn’t believed it.

Lindy. Linda. She was really here!

She’d love the roses. Really, it was she who’d first taught me to appreciate them. Maybe I should go up to meet her after all, show her to her room, and the greenhouse.

Then I heard her voice. “My father has the crazy idea there’s a monster here, and that I need to be locked in a dungeon.”

A monster. That was how she’d see me if I went upstairs. No, I would let her see the place first, the beautiful rooms and the roses, before she had to see the horror of me.

“No monster, miss. At least, none I can see.” Will chuckled. “My employer is a young man of – I am told – unfortunate appearance. He doesn’t go outside because of it. That’s all.”

“Then I’m free to leave?” Lindy asked.

“Of course. But my employer struck a deal with your father, I believe – your presence here in exchange for his cooperation in not reporting certain criminal acts that were caught on tape. Which reminds me…” He reached into his pocket and took out the bag I’d taken from the intruder. “Your drugs, sir?”

Lindy grabbed the bag from him. “That’s what this is about? You’re making me come here so you can get your drugs back?”

“He caught me on tape, girl. Breaking and entering.”

“I’m guessing this wasn’t a first offense,” Will said, and I could tell from his face that he’d checked the guy out with his special blind person sixth sense and found him exactly as I’d said. “And the drugs alone would result in a serious sentence, I believe.”

He nodded. “Minimum mandatory – fifteen years to life.”

“Life?” Lindy turned on Will. “And you agree to this… my imprisonment?” I held my breath, waiting for Will’s answer.

“My employer has his reasons.” Will looked as if he wanted to put his hand on Lindy’s shoulder or something, but he didn’t. He probably sensed that she would deck him if he did. “And he’ll treat you well

– better, probably than… Look, if you want to leave, you may, but my employer has the break-in on tape and will bring it to the police.”

The girl looked at her father. Her eyes were pleading.

“You’re better off.” He snatched the bag from her fingers. “I’ll take that.” And without a good-bye, he was out, slamming the door behind him.

Lindy stood staring at the spot he’d occupied. She looked as if she’d crumple to the floor. Will said,

“Please, miss. I can tell you’ve had a hard day, even though it’s only ten o’clock. Come. I’ll show you to your rooms?”

“Rooms? With an s?”

“Yes, miss. They’re beautiful rooms. Master Adrian – the young man I work for – he’s worked very hard to make certain they’re to your liking. He asked me to tell you that if there’s anything you require –

anything at all other than a telephone or an Internet connection – to be certain to ask for it. He wants you to be happy here.”

“Happy?” Lindy’s voice was flat. “My jailer thinks I’ll be happy? Here? Is he crazy?” In my room, I cringed at jailer.

“No, miss.” Will reached over and used a key to lock the door. Just a formality. I counted on her staying to protect her father. The sound of the doors locking was terrible to me. I was a kidnapper. I didn’t want to kidnap her, but it was the only way to get her to stay. “I’m Will. I too am at your service. And Magda, the maid, whom you’ll meet upstairs. Shall we go?”

He offered her his arm. She didn’t take it, but casting one last reluctant glance at the door, followed him upstairs.

I watched as Will brought her up the stairs and opened the door. Her cheeks and eyes were stained red from crying. She gasped as she entered, taking in the furniture, the artwork, the walls, painted the exact shade of yellow as the roses in their crystal vases. She gazed at the king-sized bed with its designer sheets. She walked to the window.

“It would be very far to jump, wouldn’t it?” She touched the thick glass.

Will, behind her, said, “Yes it would. And the windows don’t open that far. Perhaps if you give it a chance, you won’t find it so terrible, living here.”