The Eye of the Beholder (8 page)

For one of the few times in my life, I felt a sense of uncertainty, of hesitation. Did I truly desire to break this curse? Could I even fathom what would become of me if I did? It had been so long since I had last been human that I could not help but doubt that I would know what to do if I were to become one again. So much time had passed. I had seen so many things and horded such bitterness and anger, that I did not know if I truly wished to return to my human form. Perhaps it might be better after all to simply watch the sands run from the hourglass, to allow the ceasing of my long, slow torment.

This morbid thought did not occupy me for long; I was simply not built for it. My sense of self-preservation, though dimmed, was still quite strong. I would not let the enchantress win, no matter the cost to myself. Surely it was impossible that life in my human form could be more miserable than life in my beast form and, even if it were, at least I would have triumphed over the enchantress. I had already lived three hundred years in a state of anger and abject despair, solely to spite the enchantress. What was another fifty?

I determinedly turned my thoughts to the situation at hand. I had not the slightest doubt that either the wanderer or his daughter would come, and but a few days were left until the imminent arrival of the castle's newest inhabitant. The only question was whether the wanderer's sense of self-preservation or his willingness to sacrifice himself for his daughter would win out in the end.

My mouth curled in a feral grin as I thought of the wanderer's agony, and a derisive animal howl of delight leapt from my throat. What utter stupidity to care for anyone other than one's own self!

The shadows lengthened as I moved away from the maiden's chamber and returned to my own quarters. No matter how I tried to resist them, my mind returned to thoughts of the maiden, and I briefly considered going to the reflecting pool to have a look at her, but quickly brushed the idea aside. It would do me no good to look at the maiden unless she appeared at the castle, and what did it matter to me at any rate? Her appearance was of no consequence; all that mattered was that I do whatever was necessary to make her fall in love with me so that the curse could be broken. She need not be a beauty or a wit in order for this to happen. In fact, it would serve me best were she a simpering fool.

Unsettled, I paced my chamber, but this was inadequate exercise for the excited state of my mind. Moving over to one of my glassless windows, I took in a deep breath of the fresh night air and decided that it was a night for hunting. The air was crisp and chill and held the scent of late autumn: a mixture of decaying leaves and approaching snow. The fresh air would revive me and, as none of the creatures of the forest came anywhere near my castle, an invigorating run would be necessary in order to find prey.

Hunting was how I obtained many of my meals. My servants prepared food for me on a regular basis, but I had to indulge this bestial part of myself from time to time and, in truth, it brought me immense--though fleeting--enjoyment. I had always liked to hunt, but there was no human sensation to compare to the animal sensation of the thrill of the hunt, the intoxicating sense of satisfaction that washed over me when I made a kill. Moreover, eating prepared meals was an infuriating challenge. Now that I possessed paws rather than hands, it was impossible for me to hold eating utensils, and I had broken more plates than I could count in my efforts to eat from them. Eating what I had hunted was easy and natural.

I bounded from my chambers and out of the castle, running swiftly and almost silently. I could cross great distances in a very short amount of time and it was not long before I was several leagues away from the castle. My breathing was gently labored as I stopped and concealed myself within the thick screen of trees and undergrowth. Pricking my ears, I listened carefully for signs of prey. My eyes prowled the darkness, looking for movement, and my nose twitched as I took in and analyzed the many scents of the night. Before long, I caught one of my favorite scents and crouched even lower as the beast approached.

From the first time I had hunted, I had known instinctively that I needed to remain downwind in order to conceal my presence from my prey. I remained motionless and silent as the buck entered the clearing just on the other side of the cover in which I had concealed myself. He was magnificent, one of the largest bucks I had seen in some time. His head was crowned with a very impressive set of antlers, telling me that he was a dominant male. He looked around, his ears turning from side to side as he assessed the situation. After a moment, he made the fatal error of deciding that he was safe, and he bent his head, grazing some low-hanging leaves.

I smiled at his lack of awareness, my blood quickening. Saliva dripped from my fangs, a delicious sensation of ferocity suffusing me, and I sprang. The buck had only time to look up and register terror at the sight of me. The scent of the fear emanating from his body provoked sharp pangs of hunger, and my fangs sunk greedily into his tender neck. He let out one brief cry of agony before falling forever silent. Wasting no time, I gave in to my urge to gorge myself, savagely ripping his flesh from his bones. When I had eaten my fill, I remained in the clearing for several moments, the air heavy with the scent of blood, as I listened to the wind whisper through the trees.

At last, I set back for the castle, running again but more slowly this time, for I knew what was about to happen. Even though I felt a heady sense of euphoria as I hunted, even though I gave myself over to the animal part of me, the human part always returned afterward, leaving me consumed with loathing and revulsion. As I remember the taste of the raw, bloody flesh on my tongue, my stomach twisted and I growled low in my throat. This was the worst of all torments, this instinct to behave like a beast but possess a higher consciousness that made me think like a man.

Upon my return to the castle, I went immediately into my chambers and found the water that my servants had left out for me. They always knew when I hunted and they knew that when I returned the water was to be ready for me. As the feral thrill of the hunt wore off, it was imperative for me to wash away the blood of my prey lest my human revulsion overtake me.

When I had cleaned the blood from my fur, I lay upon the floor and contemplated the wisdom of continuing to hunt if the maiden were to come to me. A part of me was regretful at the thought of giving up this base pleasure, but another part of me was relieved. It would be very difficult to resist the temptation to hunt, but if the maiden were to arrive and I were to attempt to woo her, she would surely not be impressed by the knowledge of my hunts or by the evidence they left upon me.

It was a triumph for my human self that I decided I had best give up my hunts if the maiden came to the castle. I felt such a powerful sense of relief at this triumph that it left me feeble and weak. The passage of time had rendered me more and more bestial, to the point that I had nearly stopped thinking of myself as a man. It had taken the wanderer's arrival and the prospect of his daughter to restore to me the memories of what I had once been. I had worried that I had given in to my animal side, that I had relinquished my will to defeat the curse, and I felt a sense of great power--and even greater relief--at the knowledge that this was not true.

Chapter 8: Into the Beast's Lair

Never before had I known ten days to be of such short duration. Since we had moved to Everforest, there were often days when I worked unceasingly from dawn until dusk. These days, as quickly as they passed, were nothing in comparison to the swiftness of the passage of the days that stood between my freedom and my captivity in the lair of a beast. It seemed mere moments between the time I lifted my head from my pillow to begin my day and when I laid my head back onto my pillow at night. Each day was so full of frenetic activity that, despite my troubled mind, I immediately fell into an exhausted sleep.

The flight of those days was something like the death of my mother, for their passage felt like the beginning of the end of all things. Once at the beast's castle, all I had ever known or loved would be lost to me forever, just as my mother was lost to me forever. There was much I wanted to say, but I was not free to speak the words. I wanted every day to tell Papa how much I loved him but could not, for I feared he would instantly divine what I was planning and would stop me. Though it would pain me horrifically to leave him, it was inconceivable that I could survive the agony of his leaving.

In spite of my care and my diligent attempts to make all my own preparations, it was not long before I understood that I could not possibly ready myself without some assistance, and I turned to my sisters. They did not help out of the goodness of their own hearts, nor did they do so in order to protect Papa. Rather, they gladly offered their aide because it would help them achieve two of their dearest aims: to see me disposed of, and to ensure that Papa would remain with them and continue to provide for them until they could marry and transfer their dependence to their unfortunate husbands. In spite of my disgust for the motivations behind their actions, I was glad for their assistance. They were able to procure the supplies I needed for my journey and they agreed to divert Papa for as long as possible in order to delay his discovery of my departure.

While they were engaged with these tasks, I did all I could to see to it that the cottage would be in good order when I left. I did not know how Papa would maintain it once I was gone. My sisters surely would not be of any assistance to him, and I nearly wept as I thought of this. And yet I could not allow such thoughts to influence me; better to have him safe at home and eating stale bread than languishing in the dungeon of a cruel and terrifying beast.

We knew that Papa would not sleep of his own accord the night before his supposed departure. As the day approached, he grew paler and more withdrawn. We often heard the sounds of his soft footfalls as he paced our sitting room all night long. Three days before he was to leave, he had packed and settled all of his affairs.

As I descended the ladder the night before he was to leave, I grieved that Papa would wake to find that I had left in his place. In order to ensure that he would sleep soundly, I had slipped a preparation of herbs into his nighttime cup of tea. I felt badly about this deception, but I soothed my conscience by reminding myself that it had been done for his protection. I could not risk his waking and attempting to stop me.

My sisters and I stole from the cottage, carrying the pack of provisions we had prepared for my journey. I had decided to go on foot, as the horse was needed to pull the plow. This meant I would be unable to move as swiftly as I would have like, which made it all the more imperative that I left long before Papa woke. He must remain asleep until I was far from home, when there would be no risk of his catching me, no matter how swiftly he rode.

As I shouldered my pack, I turned to my sisters and seized their hands. "Please, I beg you, take care of Papa." I was unable to prevent my voice from trembling.

Rowena pulled her hand away from mine with a sneer. "We have shall fare perfectly well without you."

"Indeed," Thomasina added. "Your absence will scarcely be noticed. It is best that you go to the castle, for there is nothing for you here."

I turned away from my sisters, tears flooding my eyes. "Perhaps you are correct," I said, not bothering to keep the hurt from my voice.

As I began walking toward the forest, Rowena and Thomasina turned their backs on me and went into the cottage without another word. My throat thick with unshed tears, I paused for the briefest of seconds to look back at the place I had once called home before I began putting one foot in front of the other, focusing on making my pace as swift as possible.

I did not recollect much of the initial stages of my voyage, for my eyes were much too blinded by tears and my heart too sorely pained for me to pay any heed to the sights I passed. Though Papa had not told us how to reach the beast's castle, I had the strangest sense that I knew exactly which way to go. I tried not to reflect on this, as I could only deal with one terror at a time, and the impenetrable darkness of the forest frightened me almost more than I could bear. It seemed to close in around me, swallowing me whole.

Hours after sunrise, I paused at the side of the road, hurriedly drinking some water and eating a bit of bread and cheese, before concealing myself in the undergrowth and trying to rest. My sleep was fitful, interrupted first by a nightmare of highwaymen descending on me and murdering me in my sleep and next by one of a pack of prowling wolves devouring me whole. When I rose, I was more exhausted than when I had lain down, and my nerves were frayed. I decided I would not stop again until I reached the castle gates, and I laughed a little madly at the thought that the castle of a monster seemed safer than the murky road.

At last, deep in the midst of the night, I caught sight of the beast's castle. The tall gates opened of their own accord as I approached, raising gooseflesh all over my body, but I did not stop. I was so eager to put the forest behind me that I hurried through them with little hesitation. I shall never forget the cold, loud clink as they closed behind me. It felt as though my heart stopped beating, and I do not think I drew breath for a full minute thereafter. It was some time before I was able to move again.