The Curse Girl (5 page)

Better not go empty-handed. Who knows what was down there. I stepped back into my room and grabbed the candle bracket from the wall too. It was heavy brass. Good enough for braining monsters in a fight, right?

Maybe not, but I felt better holding it.

I returned to the stairs. Taking a deep breath, I began my descent. When I reached the bottom I put one hand against the stone wall and started walking. The candlelight illuminated only a tiny square in front of me. It was like walking into nothingness.

The scream came again, dying to a whisper before fading away into the blackness completely.

“Is anyone there?” My voice sunk in the darkness like stones in a vast lake. “Hello? Please, I want to help you.”

I heard a rasping sound, a clink—chains?

“Hello? Are you a prisoner? Hello?”

I heard someone suck in a breath. Then they groaned, the kind of groan where you’re grinding your teeth together to hold in a much more awful sound, like a shriek.

Apprehension rippled down my back like a trickle of cold sweat. Maybe this had been a mistake. There could be any number of horrible torture devices down here, just waiting for me to stumble into them. Maybe this was some trick of the labyrinth, like the whispering walls in my room. Maybe—

“Are you hurt?” I whispered the words. I was afraid of the answer.

I waited for what felt like a thousand years. And then, I heard a voice.

“Who are you?”

“I’m called Bee,” I said, excited to hear a response. I moved forward, looking for the speaker. “Are you all right? Are you his prisoner too?”

He screamed again, drowning out the rest of my words. The cry died down into coughing. Gagging, almost. I came forward in alarm. “Are you all right?” I wasn’t really good with sick people, like in an “I tend to faint at the sight of blood” kind of way, but I couldn’t just let this poor guy suffer alone in the dark without doing something.

“Please,” he said. It was definitely a male voice, raspy and strangled. “Please don’t come forward. No light. It hurts my eyes …”

I halted obediently, shielding the flame with my hand. “Are you all right?” I repeated. I tried to sound calm and gentle, like a nurse. But my voice came out shaky instead.

“Everything hurts.”

“Are you chained up?” I listened as he moved. Something rattled.

“Yes.”

“You’re a prisoner too?”

There was a long pause. “Yes,” he said, like maybe he hadn’t ever put that together in his head, and he was just now admitting it to himself as much as me.

“Me too.” Excitement buzzed in my veins. If there were other prisoners in this house, maybe we could band together to search for a way out. Maybe we could fight the Beast and escape. I needed to get information from him. He could tell me so much, probably, like where Beast Boy kept his secret exit, or if the servants could be bribed.

I started with low-ball questions. “Have you been here long? What’s your name?”

He moaned again. “Liam.” It was more an exhale than a word. He sounded like he was dying.

“Are you really badly hurt? Is there anything I can do?”

In response, he screamed again. It sounded like someone had stabbed him with a knife or something.

“Do you want me to go?” I took a step back.

“It’s not—so bad when—I’m distracted—” He inhaled sharply, like he’d been seized with sudden pain again. “It helps to—talk to someone—”

“Okay.” I crouched down. I wasn’t sure what the right thing to do was. My bedside manner wasn’t so great. “Do you . . . want to hold my hand?” That was something pregnant women did when they were in pain. “You can squeeze when it hurts.”

As soon as I suggested it I flushed at the stupidity of my own words.
You can squeeze it when it hurts?
What was I, five years old? I stretched out my fingers anyway, and a moment later another hand grabbed them.

I winced at his grip, making soothing sounds. I wanted to ask him so many questions, but it probably wasn’t a good idea right now.

“Do you want me to talk, then?” I asked quietly. “Or will the others hear us?”

“Please . . .” He panted. “And no, they won’t hear. No one can hear. They’re all objects at night, all of them. It’s just me and you until dawn . . .”

The servants, Will, Rose, everyone? Night would be my best option to get anything done, then. “I’m thinking of a way to get out of here,” I whispered, excitement choking my voice. “I’ve been looking everywhere for a door outside—the one in the foyer is locked, but there has to be some way, somewhere—”

“There isn’t,” he rasped. “The whole house is sealed with magic.”

“That can’t be true.” Icy fear flooded me anyway. No way out? I haven’t believed beastly Will when he’d said it, but if this prisoner said so too . . .

No. It couldn’t be true. I couldn’t give up hope.

“. . . Have to break the curse to escape,” he said, sounding like he was speaking through gritted teeth. He was probably in pain again, and trying to hold in the scream so he wouldn’t frighten me. His grip crushed my fingers.

The stupid curse again. I almost dropped his hand, but he held on tighter. “Don’t go! I’m always alone at night. Completely, utterly alone.”

“I—I won’t.” The agony in his tone broke my heart. At least I could make someone else happy in this miserable place, right? “I’ll talk about . . . something nice. Okay?”

“Please.”

I started talking. At first my words barely made sense. I described the way the woods looked right now, with spring spilling from every branch and bursting up from the ground. I rambled about sunsets and the way cold water feels when you dive straight into a pool. I talked my favorite books and my least-favorite ones. I told him about how my walls whispered at night, as if they housed a whole community of ghosts. I told him how much I wanted to escape.

Gradually his grip relaxed, as if the cadence of my voice was putting him to sleep. I talked until I was hoarse, and then I sat and let the silence wrap us up like a warm, black blanket. I could hear him breathing, low and steady. Finally he gave my hand a final squeeze and let go.

“Thank you . . . The worst pain is gone.”

I got to my feet. “I should probably go. I’d get in trouble if they found me down here.”

“Yes, you should go,” he said. His voice sounded better now—not so raspy. But still strange, like he had swallowed rocks.

I crept away. My candle had burned down to a nub, and I cradled it in my palm. I found the stairs and climbed them to my waiting room. Slipping into bed, I shut my eyes and put my hands over my ears to silence the whispers, and I fell straight asleep.

SEVEN

I desperately wanted to ask Housekeeper about the prisoner in the labyrinth, but I didn’t dare. If anyone knew I was sneaking down there to collaborate with him, I’d probably be locked up at night too. But I wondered about Liam all day. Had he been forced to come here, like me? Had a bargain been struck with his family, had he sacrificed himself for their sakes? Or like my father, had he foolishly tried to take something from the cursed house?

I received my usual summons to join the Master and Rose for dinner. I grimly prepared for the ordeal, putting on my favorite pair of jeans and a black sweater. I felt fierce in black. I even threw on some of the makeup I’d brought in my backpack. I wasn’t sure why I did it—it wasn’t like I wanted to look pretty for that jerk, now was it? But before I could wash it off, the servant was knocking at my door to take me to dinner, and it was too late.

Butler escorted me again. I tried to sneak in questions about possible escape routes, but he wouldn’t answer them. He wouldn’t say much of anything, except “You’ll have to ask the Master about that,” which we both knew I wouldn’t. I fumed the whole way to the dining hall, which was long, because the house kept sending us in circles.

When I reached the dining hall and Butler bowed me through the door, the Beast was already waiting by his chair. Rose was nowhere in sight. He bowed, which I took as a sarcastic gesture.

“Beauty.”

“Beast,” I said, falsely sweet. It was a stupid comeback, but it seemed to annoy him, and that made me cheerful.

He cut a less-than-pleased glance at me when I called him Beast. But he didn’t say anything. We took our seats, at opposite ends of the table again, and I stared down at my silverware while he toyed with his napkin.

“I’m glad you joined me tonight,” he said.

“Save it.”

“I’m trying to be polite to you,” he snapped.

“I don’t care about your fake manners,” I mumbled.

He looked annoyed, but I didn’t really care. He’d probably never had anyone talk back to him in his life except me. It’d be good for him.

“Where’s Rose?”

“She is feeling poorly tonight. She’s having dinner in her room.”

“Ah.” Well, then. I’d have to endure his company alone.

The prospect did not please me.

The servants brought our food, and we ate in silence.

When we’d finished dinner, the servants cleared the plates away and the Beast Boy stood. “If you’ll excuse me—”

The last thing in the world I wanted was to talk to him, but the thought of poor Liam in the labyrinth pressed on my mind. I needed to find a way out, for his sake as much as mine. I needed to do something.

“Wait,” I protested. “We should talk more about the curse. Maybe I can—”

“Why bother? You aren’t going to figure anything out. I told you, I’ve been looking for pearls for years with no luck. I really doubt you’ll be able to find anything I haven’t, especially since I’ve lived in this house my entire life and you’ve just gotten here.”

“You’re really moody,” I shot back. “And you’re a jerk. And I’m sorry you have some horrible curse on you, but apparently you deserved it. And I didn’t deserve to be locked in here with you because I didn’t do anything to anyone. So why don’t you take a Xanax and help me figure out how we can break this thing so I can leave before my boyfriend dies of old age without me!”

His expression changed slightly. “Boyfriend?”

“I bet it’s impossible to imagine, huh? That there’s someone out there I care about? That I came here because I wanted to rescue my family from the curse my father stupidly unleashed on us? Because I wanted to rescue them from you and the mark you inflicted upon him?”

His irritation faded into astonishment. “I didn’t put the mark on your father. The curse put it there.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Anyone can enter the house, but not everyone can leave. Your father made a promise so I’d let him go. He said I needed you, he said you were supposed to be here because of your name, because of the legends. He said he knew you’d come if he asked you—”

“No,” I said, cutting him off. It couldn’t be true. I had volunteered as soon as I heard the conditions, as soon as I knew what was at stake. My father hadn’t—

But my father had known I would. Of course he had. He’d done this on purpose? I couldn’t believe that. He would never do that. He would never . . .

“The stories of the magic hourglass are well-known in your town,” Will said. “Aren’t they? They say the sand in the hourglass preserves life, which by the way is a worthless fable. Many have tried to come for it before. Most never even got through the front door. But your father … For some reason, the house let him in.”

A memory slipped into my mind. My father’s face, twisted with guilt as he watched me walk towards the house. His eyes, avoiding mine. His hands, shaking.

Shock had immobilized me. I couldn’t move.

Deep down, like the ache of a stab wound, I knew he was telling the truth.

“He begged me. He told me he had a daughter, Beauty, and that he would trade her life for his. That he needed a bit of the magic from the hourglass for his wife . . . that she was dying, and he knew I needed a Beauty.”

“And you let him do that? You let him just bargain with my life? Like I was a sack of potatoes? A used book nobody wanted anymore?” I struggled to breathe. I could barely get the words out.

Will scowled. “I thought it was disgusting and servile, but I was powerless. I stood there while he told me, and then I told him to get out. But the curse—it put the mark on him, and then I told him the truth. That it was a promise that he had only a few days to bring you or they would all fall under a curse themselves. But it was the curse’s deal, not mine.”

“What do you mean, the
curse
made a deal? It isn’t a person.”

“The curse took on a life of its own when it was pronounced on us, as all curses do. Do you think I have any control over the magic of this place? It does what it wants. And it wanted you. Your father knew that, too, somehow.”

I was completely numb. My mind spun with memories—my father’s eyes finding mine, his broken voice explaining that he’d gotten lost, that he’d gone into the house for shelter from the storm, that it had demanded he bring me back or it would kill us all. I remembered the mark on his wrist, swollen like a bruise, pulsating with light just beneath the skin like phosphorous had slipped into his veins.

“He did it for her,” I said, my lips numb as the realizations clicked into place. “My stepmother. She has cancer.”

Was that a trace of sympathy on his face, or just disgust?

“He would trade his daughter’s life for her recovery? What kind of father is he?”

It was hard to think. Hard to breathe. Hard to hear over the sound of my heartbeat in my ears. I’d been sold like a sack of corn. “I don’t think I’m really his daughter. I know
he
doesn’t think I’m really his daughter. My mother . . .” I didn’t want to finish. I just wanted to cry. But there were no tears. There were never any tears.

I turned and left the room, and he didn’t follow. I went back to my room and lay on the bed with a pillow pressed to my mouth.

When the screams from the labyrinth began after darkness fell, I climbed from my bed and took down a fresh candle from the wall.

Now it was my turn to need somebody to talk to
me.

He’d been waiting for me, I think. His voice echoed in the darkness. He was panting softly, like he was trying to ride out the pain and failing miserably.