Текст книги "Hemlock Veils"

Автор книги: Jennie Davenport

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 21 (всего у книги 24 страниц)

Chapter 25

Elizabeth admired Henry’s abdomen, his diaphragm lifting with each breath. A contentment she’d never experienced settled over her as she lay atop him, skin to skin. It was late in the morning, the sun high through the blinds she’d opened an hour before. They were both hungry, she could tell from the growling of his stomach, but neither had suggested rising from her bed. He kept his sturdy arm around her and his lips in her hair, and by his measured inhalations, she guessed he was asleep.

She traced her fingers along the narrow trail of hair that led from his navel to the blanket’s edge, then moved them to the wound on his side. It was hardly a wound anymore though, looking weeks past the healing process. Very gently, she felt the smooth, light pink skin, puckered together, and she had to admit her sewing job two nights before hadn’t been half bad for a nursing school dropout under stress.

“Ouch,” he breathed, and the sound of his voice almost startled her. It’d been a long while since either of them had spoken.

Pulling her fingers away, she looked up at him. “I’m sorry, I thought it was better.”

He smiled, running his hand into her disheveled hair.

“Not funny.” But, God, that smile…

“I was never good at jokes, remember?” Still he smiled the smile that left a kernel of joy turning in her heart.

Looking at his scar again, she ran her thumb over it as gently as before. “Does it hurt?”

“I guess I’m worse at jokes than I thought.”

“Not this.” She met his eyes. “When you…change?”

Tightening his fingers in her hair, he pulled her closer. “I’m used to it.”

“I’d give anything to take away your pain, Henry.”

“You already have,” he barely whispered. “I mean it when I say I’ve never been this happy. Not ever. I didn’t know I was allowed to be.” She kissed him, and her desire spiked along with her emotions. Swim in this joy while you can, instinct told her. Before it’s too late.

***

Elizabeth had just tied her robe, ready to search her kitchen, when Regina called. It was the fourth time that day, and convincing Regina that she was all right—just taking the day off to relax—was a grueling task, especially because Henry’s lips attacked hers every time she spoke into the phone. But eventually Regina let it go with Elizabeth’s promise that she would be back to work in the morning, bright and early.

Elizabeth threw her phone on the table, glowering at Henry, who smiled as he kept his arms snugly around her. And she would never tire of that feeling, his arms being around her. “If you keep that up, we have no hope of keeping this secret.”

His eyes sobered. “Maybe I don’t want to keep this secret.”

She pulled back in surprise, wondering if a time would come when this side of him wouldn’t so pleasantly catch her off guard. With a smile, she matched his squeeze, securing her arms around his neck.

A gurgle broke the silence. Then a growl, emerging from his stomach.

“Ignore it,” he said with a subtle roll of the eyes.

“I have an idea,” she chuckled. “I prepared a whole sheet of almond tarts last night, and they’re just waiting in the fridge at Jean’s.”

“Dessert for dinner?”

When his mouth lowered, she lifted on her tiptoes to meet it. If Henry’s kisses alone could sustain her, she would live indefinitely.

“But…” He hesitated, and she sank at the reluctant tone in his voice. “At sunset, you’re coming back.”

She folded her arms.

The way his sigh came with measure and control said he was trying to exercise patience.

“If you’re staying out, so am I.”

“Elizabeth, she might still be out there. I don’t feel good about it, not until she’s gone.”

“She will never be gone, as long as you live.”

The weight in his eyes nearly crushed her, and she felt it in the same way he did. “I know,” was all he managed.

“I thought you didn’t want to hide.”

“I don’t. But you…”

“I’m not hiding from her.”

“Dammit, Elizabeth, she could kill you faster than I could save you!”

“So what do you propose then, Henry? I live the rest of my life hiding away?”

“I—” He cut himself off, out of mere irritation it seemed. He sighed again, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. But remember what I said about protecting you? Well, that’s what I’m doing, and if it takes pissing you off to get you to stay inside, then I’ll sure as hell do it.”

His face darkened, his features stunning in anger, and she grasped his arms, looking into his chocolate caramel eyes. She wanted to tell him to have faith in her…in them. But the soaring of her own doubts left her speechless. Instead she asked, with fluttering anticipation, “Why is it she doesn’t want us together? How can your curse be broken, Henry?”

He shifted his jaw, but then pulled her to the couch and sat her down. He took the large book from the coffee table and opened to the section about Aglaé, his finger toying with the page’s edge. “I’m sure you know this, but only some are cursed as monsters.” He told her all of it, told her—with a hint of shame—more about his frequent escapades to the Heathman Hotel and the night Aglaé first came to him, how she tested him and he failed, a woman’s murder on his hands.

“Henry, surely you can’t blame yourself for that.” She raised her voice when he shook his head. “You were under a spell! No man would have been able to fight it.”

“Some can. I could have. I was aware of my logical side while it was happening, and all I had to do was listen to it. But it was beyond me. I didn’t want to, Elizabeth. Because of me, she died.”

Elizabeth took the book from his lap and searched the page, then pointed to the paragraph explaining Aglaé’s irrational and unpredictable nature. “See, right here. She’s unjust. It was an unfair test, Henry. She targets men like the one you were, and she will do anything to take complete control. That’s what she’s done. And everything that’s happened since then has been because of her, because of what she did to you.”

Still, he shook his head. “Now it’s you who’s being blind.”

“Not blind. Just refusing to look at it the way you do.” Her hand found his, hot and moist. “But none of that matters anyway.”

He gave a single nod, staring at their hands. “What’s done is done.”

“What’s done may be done, but there has to be a way out of every curse she inflicts. And it has to be something doable.”

Though his head remained bowed, he lifted his eyes. “Just because something is physically possible doesn’t make it doable.”

Her swallow was rough, her heart afraid of where this would go. “The Cursed and the Curse Breaker: can you…?”

“I can never have a Curse Breaker.”

Just as she thought. An antidote only he could provide. “Tell me what it is you have to do.”

He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth lifting in a subtle, cynical curve. “Give into my instincts.” At the puzzled look she gave him, he exhaled through his nose, his temples flexing. “We all hear stories that teach a man to love: a man cursed as a monster, the only escape being the love of another—someone who can love him despite what he is. Ones like Absolon and Elvire. If they really existed. But…that wasn’t enough for her.” He paused, staring at nothing. “My curse requires a woman, yes. But instead of her love it requires her…death.” He met her eyes. “A beauty for the beast, a sacrifice.”

“You…have to kill someone in order to be free?”

He nodded. “What starts with a death ends with a death.”

“The women you took…Nicole. Your instinct…?”

His eyes shifted away from hers. “I never would have done it, Elizabeth. There were times I was…” He sighed, straightening. “I’ve been tempted before. In fact, it happens often. And the urge is difficult to tame. Sometimes, the only thing that helps is taking it out on an animal.” His eyes fell in shame, and she recalled the night he’d pinned her to a tree. The blood in his fangs. The deer carcasses Eustace had mentioned. The bear he’d nearly torn in half before her eyes. “But I never would have killed the women,” he added. “I could never allow myself to accept that nature. I could never allow myself to give into it.”

His eyes wore a shield, much like the one he used to wear. “So that’s it. You know everything. Now do you see why I’m the monster I am?”

“No,” she argued, desperate for him to believe it. “If you were, you would have done it a long time ago. You would have given in to that instinct.”

“There are different kinds of monsters. I’m just not the killing kind.”

“Is that what she told you?”

He recoiled. “I did take them, the women. I did think about it.”

“But you didn’t do it,” she said, not missing a beat. “That’s what’s important. Henry, you’ve been placed in the most unfair position, and thinking those thoughts isn’t just normal for a beast, but for any human being. Even following through with those thoughts would be normal for some.”

Keeping his hand in hers, he looked down. “Whatever it says or doesn’t say about me, it doesn’t matter. Because I’ll always be cursed. That’s her intention.”

“I know,” Elizabeth murmured, reading the pages before her. They explained how Aglaé gains more power the longer she keeps her cursed ones cursed, and loses it for a time if the curse is broken. “Because if you broke your curse,” Elizabeth went on, “she would have to leave this area—and you—alone forever.”

“She knew I would never do what’s necessary to break it, and so…she’s won.”

“I refuse to believe that.”

He smiled crookedly. “You think I should kill someone, is that what you’re saying?”

“No, but…everything has a loophole.”

He looked to the side, shaking off her response as though it was ridiculous. Perhaps it was. “I just don’t understand,” he said instead. “Why is she back? The night she cursed me, she said she would come back if I ever came close to breaking my curse. She would stop me. But I’ve never been further from it. If ever I was going to break the curse, it would never be through you.”

A thought struck her and she looked to the book, hurrying to find the place she sought. She flipped to the next page, her eyes scanning frantically over the words. They got in the way of her search, all these typeset, irrelevant hurdles. Finally, she found it: the part mentioning the lengths Aglaé would go to, to keep her cursed ones cursed. Her eyes shot to Henry. “I don’t know why she thinks you’re close to breaking it, but Henry, I don’t think I’m her target.”

He furrowed his brow then took the book from her, reading. While he did, she said, “It says if she ends the life of one of her cursed, it takes some of her power. But not as much as breaking the curse would. Sometimes they do that: kill their cursed when they sense the curse is close to being broken.”

His eyes lifted to hers, unreadable.

“She wants to kill you. If she could get away with it, she wouldn’t have to worry about you breaking your curse.” She lifted a hand to her hanging mouth. Her exhalation hurt, but she shot to her feet anyway, looking around the room. She began scooting the coffee table aside. “If I make room, you can stay here at night—”

“Elizabeth,” he said, stopping her. He grabbed her arms and she looked at him, reluctantly since her eyes were afire with tears. Damn tears. Her heart beat wildly with fear, with desperation to keep him from Aglaé. “Nothing will happen to me.” He forced a smile. “I won’t fit in here, so I’m not even going to try. Believe it or not, I can be pretty fierce. I can take care of myself out there. You just have to trust me. Think about it: it’s best this way, having you stay inside at night. If I’m out there alone, as far away from you as possible, maybe she won’t feel the need to stay.”

She stared at him in disbelief, knowing he knew as well as she did how wrong that assumption was. He was grappling for something that didn’t exist: a solution. Yet all she could do was nod. And all she wanted was to be free of this knowledge, to be back in the place they were that morning, with carefree love in their veins—the place where making love was a powerful enough force to conquer any demon.

***

The setting sun left the sky pink and as Elizabeth and Henry held each other on her back porch, she wished she could freeze time. They’d spent only an hour at a darkened, empty Jean’s—just enough time to eat dessert while sunk on the floor, hiding behind the counter, and then leave, back here to say goodbye. The goodbye felt heavy and somber, as though the next morning didn’t await them, and she held to him more tightly.

That was when the tremor moved through his body. She removed her head from him at the same time he exhaled sharply, and in a matter of a second, his skin had become hot and moist. She felt it through his clothing, burning. His exhalations were short and shallow and through his mouth, and she could tell he tried to hide the pain. “It’s time,” he said, breathless.

She pulled his face close, her brow creased. Maybe if she wished it hard enough, she could take the pain from him by pure will.

“I’m all right,” he assured, and began unbuttoning his shirt. After she helped him, he ripped it off. He buckled over slightly, groaning even more slightly, but he visibly shook. He kissed her, and it was passionate, almost aggressive. She held to his face, not bothering to wipe the tears from hers.

When he released her and turned, she called him back. “Stay until you’re transformed?”

His chest heaved as he watched her with hesitant eyes.

Taking his face again, she pulled it close. “Please,” she whispered.

He barely nodded, his body jolting again, and this time he grunted, closing his eyes tightly. He walked down the steps and removed his pants, letting them fall to the ground, and in the unusual light that could neither be called sunlight nor moonlight, he stood with his backside toward her, his naked silhouette beautiful and strangely fitting for this place.

He groaned again, buckling over, and began trembling so violently that even though she was safe on the porch, she took a step backward. He became a giant form of pure energy, heat radiating from his skin.

Then it happened, before she could even feel the distress of how intensely it must hurt him: beginning at the back of his neck, a tremor rolled down his spine, bringing with it the appearance of flesh torn in half, and where that tremor rolled, it left the exterior of the beast in its place. As though that form was hidden inside Henry’s skin, the monster ripped through it in its escape, leaving none of Henry behind. At the same time the rolling change moved throughout him, he at least tripled in size, the massive towering form of the beast now standing in place of the man he used to be—and the whole thing happened within a second, too quickly for her to analyze how it was even physically possible. The man, who was large in stature by human definition, now seemed small.

Henry, now the creature meant to scare mortals away, huffed into the air, giving his form a furious shake, then turned to her. She ran down the steps, taking hold of his muzzle when he lowered it.

Don’t cry.

He straightened then, both of them sensing it. Aglaé or Diableron—or whichever form she was in—was somewhere near. Henry had no time to force Elizabeth inside, however, because instantly came the murmur of voices and the sound of footsteps on the street. Lots of footsteps. Henry spotted what she heard, for his eyes were directed behind her, his ears perked and listening.

She turned toward the many lights: the whole town, coming to her house. Coming to find her. Twisting back to Henry, she pushed him. “Get out of here,” she demanded in a whisper.

Hesitation.

“I’ll find out what’s going on. You have to leave.”

He looked down on her. I won’t be far. Go inside when they leave. And with the twitch of his tail he was gone, the trees rustling in his wake.

“Elizabeth?”

She turned at Taggart’s voice, but it sounded angrier than usual, even riled and distressed. He approached with nearly every Hemlock resident she knew at his rear. They appeared as an angry mob, but in place of torches, they held flashlights and lanterns, and in place of pitchforks were Taggart, Holman, and Eustace’s guns.

Guns. This was an angry mob.

“What is it, Sheriff? What’s wrong?” Regina was here, too, along with Brian, Nicole, Old Ray, Doc Ortiz, and even Bill Thurman. Who wasn’t here?

“What’s wrong is Sheppy’s been murdered, Beth.”

Air left Elizabeth’s chest with a gust, and in the instant time stood still, her mouth fell open.

“Brutally ripped to shreds. Regina found him on the edge of the forest by the diner an hour ago.” His Adam’s apple bounced. “Not much of him left. And we all know there’s only one thing that coulda done it.” Elizabeth’s eyes shot to Regina and while Regina’s jaw was compressed and her chin high, moisture pooled in her eyes. She put her hand on her hip, and Elizabeth got the sense it was an announcement that she was no longer on her side. Eustace cocked his shotgun, his Betsy, and his stance was just as defiant. Everyone had that look on them, even Nicole who stood next to an angry, drunk-looking Brian.

“Sheriff,” Elizabeth began, raising her hands. Tears pooled in her own eyes and she found it hard to conjure words as she imagined Sheppy with his red backpack and green Chucks. She prayed he hadn’t felt too much pain. Or fear. Had the only truly innocent soul in Hemlock Veils been tortured before Aglaé took his life? She thought of Regina and how it must have felt to find him—wondered how much of him was left—and her heart swelled an agonizing throb. “I’m…I’m so sorry about Sheppy. But…let’s not jump to any conclu—”

“Enough!” Taggart shouted. His eyes were wet, too. He took a few short, shallow breaths. “Enough,” he said more softly. “It’s been decided. None of us are resting until we bring the monster to the ground. Now, I’m only going to give you one chance, Beth. Are you with us or against us?”

Elizabeth stood tall. “One chance? Or what? Are you going to lock me up if I’m against you, Sheriff?”

He gave Brian a single nod and Brian took Elizabeth by the arms. Before she could fight him off or even wonder what was happening, Taggart pulled out the two silver bracelets she once thought she would wear at Mr. Vanderzee’s demand. He glared down at her as he handcuffed her, intentionally making them tight, and his eyes said he blamed her for everything. Rightfully so.

“No,” he finally answered. “We’re going to use you as bait.”

Chapter 26

“You’re not thinking clearly,” Elizabeth said. She struggled in Taggart and Brian’s arms as they both towed her along, since Brian couldn’t manage her on his own. They went deeper into the forest, and her churning gut left her worrying some of their lives might end like Sheppy’s had. “Please,” she begged. “You don’t know what you’re dealing with out here. You need to be inside, where it’s safe.”

“And what is it exactly that we’re dealing with?” Taggart asked, breath labored. “We know now, Beth. We know about your bond with it.”

Elizabeth paused in her struggle long enough to glance at Regina, who looked down. She couldn’t blame her for telling them. No one wanted another death, and really, other than Elizabeth, no one had any reason not to suspect the beast. “What do you plan to do, Sheriff?” she asked. “Torture me until he comes to my rescue?”

With an abrupt halt, Taggart yanked her roughly in his direction. She could almost feel the edges of his mustache brush against her nose. “I gave you a chance, Beth. You think I want to do this?” In mad desperation, his eyes flitted back and forth to each of hers. No, this was the last thing he wanted.

“You don’t have to.”

“You’ve left me no choice! If it’s true, if you’re friends with this…thing, you’re the only way we’ll get close enough. It’s time. He’s got to go. He’s terrorized us long enough, and I’ll die tonight before I let him live another day.” He pulled her along again. “Besides, if he won’t let any harm come to you, like Eustace says, then you ain’t got nothing to worry about, do you?”

Eustace wouldn’t meet her eyes. Just like Regina.

“As far as I’m concerned,” Brian interjected, speaking for the first time, “you’re just as much a devil as the beast.” His fingertips dug so hard she would surely be bruised afterward, and the light of Doc’s lantern caught the saliva spraying from Brian’s mouth. She wondered how long he’d been inebriated. “I should’ve seen it before. Protecting the monster like you’re some—”

“You’re more of a monster than he is,” she said, and his eyes whipped in her direction. If she didn’t have Taggart at her other side, surely he would have hit her.

They continued to drag her through the forest that reminded her of Henry and even of her father. She still felt her father here, even after all this, and she missed him then more than she had at every moment combined during the past month. How would he feel knowing she was in the midst of one of his fairy tales, that she was the single thing to make it crumble?

“Sheriff,” she pled. They walked the path she usually walked with Henry. “He didn’t kill Sheppy. I know this because he was with me. Please listen to me. You’re making a mistake. There’s something else here, and it won’t be merciful like the beast. Your lives are all in danger.”

“Sheriff,” Nicole said from behind, her voice tainted with fear. Honestly, Elizabeth was surprised she was here at all, even slightly impressed by the bravery it showed. “Maybe…we should listen to what she has to say. I don’t have a good feeling about this.”

“Course you don’t,” Taggart said. “What we’re doing here ain’t fun, Nicki. No reason to have a good feeling.”

“Sheriff.” Regina’s voice was stronger than Nicole’s. “C’mon now. You’ve taken it too far.”

“You didn’t think so earlier,” Brian said. Elizabeth had given up her struggle by now, but she threw her weight slightly to the right as they passed a cedar whose trunk intruded on the path, and Brian’s arm hit it with a thud. More saliva flicked from his mouth as he cussed.

“That’s because I didn’t know what we were gonna do,” Regina continued. “Handcuffing Beth and using her as bait?”

Taggart turned to her sharply and Regina recoiled, the beam of her light illuminating her face from beneath. “You got a problem with it, Regina, you’re welcome to go home.” His eyes shot to everyone else, at least thirty souls scrunched on the narrow path and even amidst the dense trees. Despairing faces, fearful eyes, all lit by their lights. They were at least fifty yards into the forest by now, and a small clearing waited just a few feet ahead around the bend. “That goes for everyone,” Taggart went on. “I get it if this is too much for you. I won’t blame you for leaving. But if you stay with us, you’re with us, and I don’t wanna hear any questions about the way I’m going about it.”

“You really think Mr. Clayton will approve of this?” Eustace said, and she could tell the idea didn’t sit right with him either. “I’d bet he’d kill you himself if he knew. He and Beth are friends.”

“You wanna go wake him up, be my guest.” Taggart and Eustace engaged in a brief stare-down, and when no one else spoke, Taggart yanked her arm and continued on his way.

“Tell him about the demon you mentioned,” Eustace said at Elizabeth.

As though on cue, an ear-piercing scream lifted in the air, not far from where they were—near the clearing just ahead—and her heart stopped with everyone else’s.

“Shit’s sake,” Eustace said under his breath, tightening his hold on Betsy. Taggart pulled his handgun from his holster and so did Deputy Holman, who’d been quiet the whole time. Elizabeth wanted to tell them guns would be useless, but she couldn’t speak. Every part of her froze with fear.

Henry.

Slapped by the blunt, breathtaking wind of reality, she turned to Taggart, pleading like she’d never pled before. “Sheriff, you have to let me go. He’s in danger.” Taggart’s brow furrowed and she went on, “It’s her, the demon, and if you want to get through this with no more deaths, I have to go to her. Leave me and get out of here.” She struggled in their arms. “You have to trust me.”

Taggart looked at Brian. “Let’s keep going.”

She fought with all her strength, dragging her feet. It wasn’t long before they reached the clearing and they paused, observing the stillness. Nothing was here; not even the smallest insect could be heard. The moon reigned high in the sky, the west still a grayish hue from the setting sun, and the stars were beautiful—far too beautiful for the doom she felt inside.

“Tie her to a tree,” Taggart said at Brian, and through the authority in his tone, she sensed his conflict.

“Sheriff!” she cried while Brian shoved her against the nearest trunk—a cedar, damp against her back. A rope looped through the small chain of her cuffs then around the tree, her hands pulled tightly against it. “Please, let me save him! Let me save you!”

She jumped when a shot cracked through the air; Taggart’s gun was angled upward behind them. “We have her!” he shouted. “You want her, come and get her!”

It came then, the air of Diableron—nearly seizing her chest. Elizabeth stared at the trees across the clearing, preparing herself. This was it, the time everything would change. The wind told her so, stirring the forest as doom stirred her heart.

Amidst a difficult breath, she announced, “This is your last chance, Sheriff. She’s here. Go home.”

“Who’s here?” he asked with a shaky voice, and she knew he felt it too.

She appeared from nowhere, only feet away, and startled gasps lifted everywhere, even from Elizabeth. Her face, black, void, and melting away, twisted as she looked at every vulnerable soul with eyes Elizabeth couldn’t see even if she tried. By the way Nicole screamed and Brian stumbled back—and how everyone whimpered—Elizabeth guessed Diableron was appearing as something different to each person, showing their deepest, most personal fears. And perhaps to some the very sight of her would be their deepest fear.

Elizabeth shouted at them, trying to get their attention while she struggled against the tree, but to no avail. Taggart’s gun had fallen to the earth, and Holman was on his knees, tears streaming down his face. “Look away! Look at me!” Taggart didn’t and in the most booming voice she could muster, she yelled again, “Dammit, Sheriff, look at me!”

He finally did.

“It’s not real, whatever you’re seeing. She’s only trying to scare—”

Something knocked the air from Elizabeth’s chest and Diableron was face to face with her at once, just like before. That cold, damp, heavy flavor; the invisible weight crushing her insides, sucking the oxygen from her chest too fast for Elizabeth to catch it. Her surroundings spun, her head whirled, and behind Diableron’s angry, bared teeth, the black hole that was her mouth tried sucking her in. Behind Diableron, people began standing again, looking around in disorientation, and she knew the images before them were gone.

“Where…is he?” Elizabeth managed stiffly.

“Sssuffering, like he deserves.”

Tears rose to Elizabeth’s eyes, though her breaths were diminishing. She tried not to sob, since she couldn’t afford the oxygen, and shook her head. “No.”

“It’sss no matter, Elizabeth. A soul like hisss isn’t worth sssaving. I’m doing the world a favor, doing you a favor. I’m sssaving you.”

“You’re…wrong, Aglaé. No matter…what you’ve done to him…he’ll never be a monster.”

She screeched, again baring teeth far more frightful than the beast’s fangs, and Elizabeth closed her eyes at the sound, the pitch hurting her ears. Then his roar, deep and booming: her eyes snapped open to the best sound she’d ever heard. He came into the clearing from her right, his leg in a limp and blood caking his fur. The light of the many lanterns lit the gash across his chest, showing muscle and other pink matter, and the crowd gasped.

He approached Diableron in a ready crouch with fangs bared, and she met him, releasing Elizabeth and leaving an oily mist to hover. Panting desperately, Elizabeth allowed oxygen to revive her. The demon laughed an awful sound as she began circling Henry, but he leapt for her. His fangs tore through the air, the action startling and abrupt, and the people Elizabeth once called friends flinched beside her.

The fight—nothing but a blur of rolling blackness and mass—transpired too quickly to catch, but Elizabeth heard the cries of pain coming from both. Tied against the tree, utterly helpless, her wrists became raw from the cuffs. But before she could beg Taggart to free her again, the scene changed before her.

Henry and Diableron came to a standstill—his body in a crouch, his breaths labored and raucous, blood and debris clinging to his fur—and a light came from within the demon, blinding and white. Then she wasn’t Diableron at all, but the most beautiful woman Elizabeth had ever seen, more beautiful than the illustration in her book. Her wavy and flowing red hair appeared to actually glow.

“What…the…?” Taggart breathed beside Elizabeth.

Aglaé didn’t seem to notice her audience as she sauntered toward the beast. “Poor, pathetic Beast,” she said, her voice raspy, and sensual in an unearthly way. “Look into my eyes, Monster. Come to me.”

“No!” Elizabeth shouted, and Aglaé’s eyes shot to her with an abrupt sharpness, allowing, in her distraction, for Henry to attack. His fangs took hold of Aglaé’s shoulder, staining her silky gown with red instantly. But with a scream and a flip of her palm, she hurled him as though he weighed nothing, and he fell to the grass with a thud.

While he labored to stand, Aglaé ran to the crowd and sobbed, kneeling before Taggart and pleading in a way so real even Elizabeth almost believed it. God, even in distress she was exquisite. “Please,” she cried, grasping a fistful of Taggart’s polyester pants. “Please don’t let him kill me.”

“I…won’t,” Taggart said, almost in a trance.

“She’s not real, Sheriff!” Elizabeth shouted.

Aglaé’s glare was subtle at best. She rose, gently placing her hand on the side of Taggart’s face, her other on his arm. “Your gun. Use it, Sheriff. You’re so strong and brave. Save us all.”

“Don’t.” The two of them blurred, swirling. Even though it would always be fruitless, she struggled with the cuffs.