Red (14 page)

The whole world was quiet, holding its breath, until the beast spoke.

“Get rid of the wolf,” he commanded.

“No!” I shouted. “Let him go! Don't hurt him!” I tried to stand, but the gargoyles held me in place. I could hear Wolf growling and snarling.

“Wolf, run!” I shouted. “Don't fight! Run!”

Wolf yelped. He was tossed up into the air just high enough that I caught a glimpse of him, and then the gargoyles carried him away while the beast lifted me off the ground with one arm like I was nothing but a kitten. Caught.

“I'm free!” I heard Goldie shout.

Goldie! I had forgotten. I couldn't see her. I hoped the beast couldn't, either. She was my only hope.

“Goldie! Run! Run and get help!”

“It's okay. I don't need help anymore. I beat those beastly roses!”

I saw Goldie's curls bouncing above the rosebushes. She was running right toward the beast!

“Goldie, turn around! Run the other way!” Goldie stopped and turned around, but the gargoyles flew over the rosebushes and blocked her path. She screamed and curled up into a ball. The beast leapt over the hedge with incredible power and speed. He scooped up Goldie and carried us both, one underneath each arm, dangling sideways.

“Oh, Red!” Goldie shrieked. “Have we been caught by a bear?”

She was staring at the beast's feet, which were not feet at all, but giant, hairy paws with razor-sharp claws.

“No, it's not a bear,” I said.

The beast bounded up a stone staircase to a set of large double doors that swung open on their own and shut as soon as we had entered.

We were now prisoners of a beast.

The beast locked us in the room and left without a word. Goldie scrambled to the door and pounded. “Please!” she cried. “I'll never see Mummy again! I'll never be loved!” She rattled the door handle, then slid down to the floor and lay in a puddle of tears.

I sat next to Goldie, too shocked to cry. A memory flashed through my head of the last time I'd been imprisoned in a castle, with Rump. It had been his own magical mess that had brought us there. This time I had no one to blame but myself, and it was up to me to get us out.

I took stock of the room. It was not a cell or a cage, but a very decent bedroom with two beds. The bedspreads were embroidered with roses, red on one, yellow on the other, as though the beast had known ahead of time that Goldie and I were coming—or the castle had.

I went to the window and searched the castle grounds for any sign of Wolf. Did he escape? Could I escape? Not likely. We were very high off the ground, and there were no trees near the window.

A clock ticked on the wall. It was in the shape of a rose, a red one. The red petals splayed evenly outward, with thorny stems and leaves in place of the hands. The clock ticktocked a thousand times. When the longer stem reached the top of the hour, a little door opened and a bird emerged and chirped as though delivering a message, but nothing happened. The beast did not come.

“What do you think the beast will do with us?” Goldie asked.

“I don't know.”

“Do you think he means to eat us?” Goldie asked.

“Perhaps,” I said. “Though in that case, he probably would have brought us to the kitchen or the cellar.”

The clock chirped again and again. We'd been locked in the room for five hours, according to the little bird.

“I'm hungry,” said Goldie just as the door clicked and swung open. No one entered.

“Do you suppose there's a ghost in this castle?” Goldie quivered.

“Maybe.” I walked to the door and peered out. There was no one there. I took a step out of the room.

“Don't go!” Goldie squeaked. “What if the ghost gets you?”

“Would you rather stay locked up in the room?”

“No,” said Goldie.

“Then come on. Remember how the castle gate let us in? Maybe the castle will let us out. Maybe it's on our side.” Goldie dried her eyes and got to her feet. As soon as we stepped out of the room, the door shut and locked again, so we could not go back. Somehow it felt more disconcerting to be locked out than in.

To our right, there was a solid stone wall. There was only one way for us to turn, and that was left. We walked down the corridor, and as we did, the sconces on the wall lit up their candles all on their own.

“Definitely ghosts,” said Goldie, clinging to me so tightly her nails left little half-moons in my skin.

“Not ghosts,” I said. “Magic. It's an enchanted castle, remember?” And I had to admit, it was good magic, or at least skilled magic. Even the gargoyles, though terrifying, were impressive. Only a very powerful witch or magician could have performed such spells and enchantments. Was it the beast who had cast them?

The corridor ended at a large staircase, leading down to the foyer and main doors. There was no sign of the beast. No sentries or servants stood guard. Goldie and I looked at each other, then raced down the stairs, ran to the door, and turned the knob. We pulled and pushed, but it was locked and would not budge.

“I suppose the castle isn't really on our side,” said Goldie. It made my chest pinch to see Goldie so forlorn. She was like a butterfly without its wings.

“We'll find another way out,” I said, trying to sound cheerful and not at all worried. “And while we're looking, we can explore the castle. Not everyone gets to see inside a castle, especially an enchanted one.”

Goldie brightened a little. “True. I've always wanted to live in a castle, though as a princess, not the prisoner of a beast.”

“Picky, picky,” I chided.

A door to our right opened up with a creak that almost sounded like an invitation to come inside. We entered an enormous sitting room with lots of cushioned chairs and intricately carved tables. On the tables sat vases filled with withered roses.

“You'd think the beast would at least bring in fresh flowers,” said Goldie. “He certainly has enough.”

“Red! Red! Red!” a voice squawked. I turned around to find a very colorful bird inside a golden cage. I'd never seen a bird like this. She was green with blue-tipped wings and spoke much like a regular person would speak. “Red! Red! Red!” she squawked over and over.

“She knows your name!” said Goldie.

“Goldie! Goldie! Goldie!”

“Galloping grasshoppers! She knows
my
name, too! I wonder if she can tell us how to escape. Please, pretty bird, can you tell us how to get out of the castle?”

“Trapped, trapped, trapped!” the bird said. “Red! Goldie! Red! Goldie! Trapped!”

“That's not very helpful,” said Goldie.

On the west side of the room was a large stained-glass window with a picture of a beautiful woman. Dark, soft curls framed her face. She wore a blue gown and a silver crown with a sapphire at the center of her forehead. The late-afternoon sun poured through the panes, spilling colored light on the dusty floor of the castle. There was something strange about the woman in the window, as though she were somehow enchanted, too. Her eyes were too lifelike, her gown seemed softer than glass should look, and the sapphire sparkled like a real stone rather than colored glass. I wondered who she could be.

I walked around, gazing at the odd little figurines, instruments, and curious boxes, but I was careful not to touch anything. I could feel the magic coursing through the walls. It tingled in my fingers, buzzed in my ears, and made my hair stand on end. There were dozens of enchantments and spells in this room alone, all woven together, and tugging at just one string might unravel a tapestry of chaos.

“Red, look at this!” Goldie pointed at a peacock-feather quill that was writing all on its own. It dipped itself in an inkpot and wrote in elegant calligraphy on cream-colored paper atop a small desk.

Supper is served in the dining hall. Your master awaits….

Goldie reached out for the quill.

“Goldie, don't touch it!”

Too late. She balled her fist around the quill and began scribbling on the page. “Are you a ghost?” She spoke aloud as she wrote. “Can you help us escape— Ouch!” The pen had wrenched itself free of Goldie's grasp and poked her hand.

Do not keep the master waiting. The consequences can be quite nasty. Speaking of nasty, you have a booger hanging from your nose. You will find a handkerchief in the drawer of this desk.

Goldie's hand flew to her nose. “How rude! But do I really have a booger hanging from my nose?” She lifted her chin for me to see.

“Yes.”

“Why didn't you say something?” Goldie opened the drawer and found a white handkerchief with a rose stitched onto the corner. She wiped her nose and began to place the handkerchief back inside the drawer when the pen wrote again.

You may keep it. I,m not fond of gifts from the nose. Only from the heart.

“It's a rather impertinent pen,” said Goldie.

“But smart,” I said, quite fascinated with the writing pen.

Goldie sighed. “Let's find the dining hall. I'm hungry, and something smells good.”

Just as she said that, a door swung open to our right, and the smell intensified, strong and inviting. Roasted meat and herbs and onions. Garlic. Butter. Bread. We were led by our noses until we found the source of the delicious smell.

We arrived in an elegant dining hall. The table was loaded with a dozen different dishes, all of them steaming and fragrant. Silver plates had been set out, and flickering candles lit the room.

The beast sat at the head of the table. He had already begun to eat, tearing into a leg of lamb and crunching on the bone while the juices ran down his matted fur. When he noticed Goldie and me, he wiped his mouth with a furry paw.

“Sit,” he said, gesturing to the two seats on either side of him.

When we sat, a silver tureen lifted off the table and ladled steaming soup into our bowls. It was a red tomato soup.

“Eat,” the beast commanded.

Goldie began to eat hers immediately, but I didn't. I didn't think it was poisoned, but I didn't like the way the beast ordered us about, expecting us to obey like dogs.

“I'm not hungry,” I said.

“Yes, she is,” said Goldie. “We're starving. We haven't eaten since this morning with the dwarves, and they eat rocks.”

I glared at Goldie and clenched my jaw. “I'm not hungry.”

The beast glared at me. “Eat,” he said, his voice low and dangerous.

I said nothing, only glared back. He didn't look away, and neither did I, so we were caught in a glaring contest. I have never lost a glaring contest, and I thought I was winning until the beast roared so loudly and fiercely that a wind rushed at my face and blew out several of the candles. I'd be lying if I said that didn't frighten me, but I couldn't show it. This was a battle of wills. I took my silverware as though to eat, but as soon as the beast started to relax, I stabbed the knife and fork into the table and folded my arms over my chest.

The beast jumped upon the table, upsetting dishes and goblets and the tureen of tomato soup. He shoved his face inches from mine. “You think you're brave, do you?” he said. “But only those with the deepest fears come for my roses, so perhaps you're not so brave after all?”

I flinched involuntarily. Goldie had frozen, her face splattered with tomato soup and her spoon perched on the tip of her tongue.

The beast clambered down from the table, crushing a pie and demolishing a loaf of bread.

A tense silence filled the room. The beast went back to attacking his food while glaring at me. After a while, Goldie chirped up with her usual chatter.

“This food is delicious,” she said. “Did you make it?”

“No.”

“Then you must have a wonderful cook,” said Goldie.

“No.”

“Your mummy?”

“No.”

“Your wife, then?”

The beast choked on a bone. “No. My castle provides everything I need.”

“Ooh, how wonderful! Could your castle by chance make golden apple tarts? My mummy makes the most wonderful golden apple tarts. I doubt even a magic castle could make them better.”

The beast scratched at his furry chin, clearly unsure what to make of Goldie.

“What's your name?” Goldie asked. “You never did tell us.”

“Beast,” said the beast.

“Of course, but what is your
real
name? The one your parents gave you. Surely they didn't name you Beast.”

The beast growled, showing sharp teeth.

“Beast is a perfectly suitable name.” Goldie slurped her soup. When her bowl was empty, a knife and fork sliced some mutton and placed it on her plate while a spoon scooped her some potatoes and beets. My stomach growled noticeably, but I still did not touch the food.

Goldie asked a dozen questions about the castle—how it worked, what other things it could do besides cook, and if Beast thought the castle might be able to make her mummy love her. The beast mostly answered “No” or “I don't know” with increasing agitation, until I feared he would explode again, so I changed the subject.

“How long do you intend to keep us, Beast?” I demanded.

“Until I get what I want,” he said.

“What do you want?”

“The return of what was stolen from me.”

“But I didn't steal anything. Your gargoyles took the rose.”

“Yes, the rose,” he said. “You wished to bring one to your granny, The Witch of The Woods, you said? And if she is truly a witch, wouldn't she know of such magic herself?”

“Yes,” I said. “But she's too ill to perform such powerful magic.”

“And you, her granddaughter, cannot perform such magic? Did she not teach you?”

I felt my face heat up. “She hasn't taught me everything.”

“Red's very afraid of magic,” Goldie said with her mouth full of bread. “She nearly killed her granny!”

Beast's ears twitched. “Nearly killed your granny! How charming.” He tore off a final strip of meat and tossed the bone aside. A pitcher poured wine into his goblet, and he guzzled it down.

“What will you do with us?” I asked.

“Make you my servants, of course.”

“Your servants?” I said. “What for? You just told us your castle takes care of all your needs.”

The beast casually observed one of his claws. “An enchanted castle takes all the fun out of being in charge. I miss giving orders and having them grudgingly obeyed. You two will fill the hole in my heart.” He rose from the table, brushed some bread crumbs off his fur, then brushed all the scraps from the table onto the floor.

“Now clean up this mess.” With a swirl of his cloak, he strode out of the dining hall. The doors shut behind him.

Goldie and I sat still, trying to make sense of the bizarre moment. “At least he's not going to eat us,” said Goldie.

My stomach screamed. With the beast gone, it didn't seem beneath me to eat something. I reached for my spoon, but it slid out of my fingertips. I tried to lift my bowl to drink from it, but it jerked and splashed soup in my face.

“Grrrrrr!” I growled and clawed for any food within my reach, but it all jumped and slid away from me. The knife and fork crossed themselves in front of the mutton.

“I guess supper is over?” said Goldie. “I think we're supposed to clean up.”

“That beast can't make me do anything.” I huffed to the door and turned the knob, but it didn't open. I marched to the door on the other side of the room, but it wouldn't budge, either. It wasn't until Goldie started stacking dishes on a tray that a door clicked and swung ajar. That door led us to the kitchen, which was piled high with pots and pans waiting to be washed.