The Beast's Bride (2 page)

“I, um, feel you.”

“Super! Are you ready to head over, then?"

Pippa glanced back to the crowd clustered at the far end of the parking garage. The paramedics were there now, and as she watched, her limp body was lifted to a stretcher. Several people were shaking their heads sadly.

No one had bothered to pull down her dress and cover her ugly panties. Still. Ugh.

"Yeah," Pippa said, turning back to the fairy godmother. "Let's go for it."

“Yay!” Muffin clapped her hands. She grasped Pippa's hand in her own tiny one, and leaned in. “Say the magic word.”

“Um, please?”

“Actually, it’s bibbidi bobbidi boo, but that’s three words. I’ll settle for ‘boo’.”

“Boo?”

The world changed around them.

~~***~~

The world flipped and recentered, and vertigo slammed into Pippa. She staggered…and then realized she could hear birds chirping. She opened her eyes, blinking, and straightened.

Pippa found herself on a path in a forest, a basket of vegetables under her arm. Shocked at the sudden change, she dropped the basket and stared around her. Holy cow. This fairy godmother stuff was real.

Either that, or she was having a psychotic break.

Frowning to herself, she knelt and placed her hand on the dirt path. It felt real enough, slightly warmed from the sunshine. She straightened, dusting off her hands, and glanced around her. Tall, lush green trees lined the path, swaying in the breeze and dappling the road with sunshine. She glanced behind her and a small village was in the background, composed of a bunch of cute little chalets that looked more like they belonged in a Swiss village than in a forest.

Exactly where and when was she?

"Uh, I hate to break in on your gawking, but you're probably going to need me."

It sounded like Muffin's voice, but she didn't see her. Pippa spun around, looking for the plump, short figure of the fairy godmother. "Where are you?"

"Down here. In the basket."

In the…basket? Pippa dug through the contents of the basket under her arm, looking for a hidden microphone. A head of lettuce twitched and she turned it over slowly…

And yelped when Muffin's face stared back at her from the lettuce.

"I know what you're thinking,” the lettuce said. “Green's not my color."

"Uh, I was actually wondering why you were a head of lettuce."

"Because these kids won't have tomatoes for a while yet. Now pick up the basket and let's go home so you can meet your sister Belle. Remember, she’s the star of the show."

Pippa hefted the basket again, tucking it against her body. She made sure to adjust Muffin's, er, face so she would be looking outward, and headed down the path again. "So what's the cover story?"

"I told you. You're Belle's sister."

"Yeah, but isn't she going to know I'm not her sister?"

"Why would she think that? She has a sister named Pippa who looks just like you. Spinster, too."

"Spinster?"

"You're twenty five and not married. Around here, that means spinster."

Jeez. An alarming thought occurred to her. "So where did the old Pippa go if my look-alike is here? Is she falling out of the weave too?”

"She's in storage."

Pippa's steps faltered. "What?"

"I'm kidding. She's working on another task for me. Don't you worry about her. Let's just focus on you. I told you that you only have a month to do this, right?"

"That's right. One month. Got it." There was a plume of smoke in the distance, just over the horizon. Was that their house? Pippa headed up the path and paused, basket in hand. "This the right place?"

"None other. Go in, get cozy with your sister. I'll just be here, nestled in the radishes. Try to avoid suggesting salad for lunch, though."

Pippa held the basket close to her body and approached the path, eyeing the cottage. There was a thatched straw roof that hung over the short walls. Wooden shutters hung open on both sides of the heavy wooden door, and trees waved in the front yard. It was idyllic. Like something out of a Disney movie.

Of course, in the Disney movie, this was the part where one or more of her parents would die tragically, so maybe that wasn't the best comparison. Pippa swallowed and went up to the door, and then hesitated. Did she knock at her own house? It felt weird to just barge in.

The door flew open before she could decide, and a young woman dragged her inside of the dark cottage. "Philippa! You're back! And just in time for supper!"

Pippa squinted, trying to adjust to the darkness inside the cottage, even as the stranger threw arms around Pippa and squeezed her in a hug. She awkwardly hugged back, her grip on the basket of vegetables precarious. This must have been her 'sister,' Belle. Pippa stepped back to get a good look at her.

And almost wished she hadn't.

1Belle was gorgeous. Ridiculously so. She was about the same height as Pippa, but where Pippa was slender, Belle was curvy. Not in an overfed, too-many-pastries sort of way, but more like the heavens-have-blessed-you-with-a-killer-body sort of curves. The simple green dress she wore only emphasized her incredible figure. If that weren't enough, Belle had the sweetest, most beautiful heart-shaped face that Pippa had ever seen. She had big, sparkling eyes of bright blue, high cheekbones, a little chin just pointy enough to be adorable, and dimples. Cascading down her back from a perfect widow's peak were the most gorgeous thick blonde curls that Pippa had ever seen.

“Um, sister? You’re my sister?” This gorgeous creature was supposed to be her sister? What the hell? Sisters were supposed to look alike, and this lovely girl looked nothing like Pippa. Did she get a makeover in this switch? Pippa stole a peek down at her own flat bosom, but it seemed as unspectacular as ever.

Apparently this was a family where one sister was the 'have' and the other was the 'have not'.

“Stepsister,” the lettuce whispered.

Oh right. Wicked stepsister. Gotcha.

"I'm so glad you're home!" Belle giggled excitedly and then bounced in front of Pippa.

"How's Aunt Dulcie?"

She honestly had no idea. But she could play this game, too. Pippa smiled brightly. "Great.

Just great. She sends her love."

Now Belle looked confused. "She does? I thought she hated me."

Oops. She patted Belle on the shoulder. "I'm just teasing you."

"Oh!" Belle laughed. "You’re silly. And I see you've been tending her gardens again, Philippa."

Philippa? Gag. Really? Was that what the other 'Pippa' went by in this reality? Ugh. "You know what, Belle? The walk home had me thinking, and I think I'm going to go by the name Pippa. Can we try that for a while?"

Belle's eyes widened with excitement. "Oh! New names sound marvelous! Can I be Bella?

No, wait! Bell-y." She frowned, squinching up her face, and thought hard. "Maybe Bellette?"

Pippa stared. Was this girl serious?

1Belle continued to consider this, looking thoughtful, her mouth moving as if tasting all the different names. After a moment, she shrugged. "Maybe I should stick with Bell-y. It has a nice ring to it."

Dear lord, Pippa was pretty sure she was serious. She studied her sister again and revised the whole 'have' and 'have not' theory. Maybe one sister didn't 'have' everything after all. "How about Isabelle?"

Belle's eyes went huge. "Oh yes. That is beautiful! Better than beautiful! Beautiful-ly!

Beautiful-loo! Beautif—"

"I got it," Pippa interrupted, softening her rudeness with a smile. "So you can be Isabelle and I'll be Pippa."

Belle nodded quite seriously and clapped her hands as if excited at this new game. "I think that's for the best. But you can just call me Belle."

There was a loud snort that sounded like it came from the basket of vegetables. Somehow, Pippa suspected that Muffin had known exactly what Pippa was getting into. Okay, Belle was kind of…slow. Enthusiastic like a puppy, but not the sharpest tack in the shed. Enthusiastic, dumb, and pretty was a lot easier to work with than bitchy, plain, and balky…which, damn, kind of summed her up.

Wasn't this fun.

She had an urge to toss Muffin's head of lettuce into the nearest stewpot. Instead, she picked it up and tucked it into her arm so Belle couldn't see the fairy godmother's face. It might have been turned into her armpit. Subtle revenge. "So, uh, what's new, Belle?"

Belle gave her a charmingly dimpled smile and moved to the basket, digging through what Pippa had brought home. "Well, you're back, of course, Pippy, and—"

"Pippa."

"Right!"

Right. Sigh. "You were saying?"

"And one of the village boys came by to tell me that they had heard that a rider fitting father's description had been spotted in the woods not too far away." She clutched a pair of potatoes to her ample breasts in excitement. "Do you think Father is truly coming home?"

1"That's how this thing all begins, right?" Pippa said dryly, thinking of the fairy tale. Dear old Dad would come home and offer up one of his daughters to the beast. And if she remembered right, the ugly, nasty sisters refused to go so sweet, beautiful Belle went to spare their father.

Damn. She just realized this made her the ugly stepsister in addition to the wicked one. That sucked.

Belle tilted her head in the most charming fashion, ringlets of gold spilling over her shoulder.

"What thing begins?"

Pippa shrugged. "This whole—ow!" She jerked the head of lettuce away from her armpit. It had just bitten her. "Will you excuse me for a second, Belle? I need to go teach this lettuce some manners."

"O-okay." Belle gave her a curious look and then held up the potatoes. "I'll work on dinner.

Do you want me to teach the leeks some manners?"

"Sounds good." She headed for the back room in the small house, ignoring Belle's curious look in her direction. Once there, she shut the door behind her and rubbed her armpit, tossing Muffin's head of lettuce down on the bed. Ow. Sure enough, she had a sore spot and a wet mark on her sleeve from where Muffin had bit her. "What the hell, Muffin?"

"Ixnay on the airy-tale-fay," the head of lettuce hissed at her. "She can't know this is all pre-ordained. You want her to balk even more? Hint that she doesn't have a choice in the matter.

Belle looks to be a cute little fluff-head but she's stubborn as heck. Trust me. I've had to deal with thirteen different versions of her in thirteen different realities, and she can be a big pain in the ass. Just go with the flow and try not to muck things up, okay? You're not here to put a wrench in the works—you're here to bring two lovebirds together. Got it?"

Pippa flopped down on the bed and grabbed the lettuce, holding it up to look at Muffin's face.

"So what exactly am I supposed to do?"

"Be a big sister. Coach her. Talk him up and make him sound like a great catch. Try to get her interested in him. You know, big sister stuff. I'll check in on you as often as I can."

Pippa gasped. "You're leaving?"

"Um," came a small voice from the doorway, and Pippa looked over to see Belle's confused expression. The blonde entered the room, trying not to stare hard at Pippa, who appeared to be having a conversation with a head of lettuce that she was holding aloft. "Is everything okay?"

"We're fine."

1"We?"

"Me," Pippa blurted. "I'm fine. I just…I thought I saw a bug on this and took it in here to get a better look." She turned it, holding it aloft, and spun it around in her hands. The fairy godmother's face was completely gone from the head of lettuce. Okay, that was weird. She supposed the conversation was over now. Damn. And the woman hadn't really given her much to go on. "It looks fine now."

Belle smiled brightly and took the lettuce from Pippa, leaning over to give her a friendly, one-armed hug. "You're tired, sister. You've taken too much upon yourself while father's been gone. Why don't you take a nap and I'll work on getting dinner ready?"

Pippa stood and brushed off her hands. "No, it's okay. I can help."

Belle nodded and headed out with the head of lettuce, holding it at arm’s length. Pippa went to follow her and noticed the small, wavy mirror in the corner of the room for the first time. She stepped forward and examined herself.

Nothing was different. Not really. Her face was still a plain oval, her eyes a muddy greenish-brown. Her hair was that plain mousy color between blonde and brown and hung limp and straight. Her bust was not impressive, and the dress she wore was plain, brown, and serviceable.

One ugly stepsister, coming up. Pippa touched her cheek and frowned. She wasn't considered ugly by most people. Maybe not a raving beauty, but she wasn't ugly. Plain, yes. Unremarkable?

Definitely. She glanced through the doorway, where Belle was humming to herself and chopping vegetables. Her thick ringlets had been pulled back over one shoulder and looked like a skein of gold in the sunlight creeping in through the shutters.

Okay, maybe if she stood next to Belle for long periods of time, she'd look like an ugly sister.

It was kind of insulting, really. And Pippa couldn't help but watch with a bit of satisfaction when Belle took a carving knife and chopped the head of lettuce in half.

~~***~~

That evening, she and Belle were sitting in front of the fire, bellies full of vegetable soup.

Pippa yawned, frowning at the quiet. It was too quiet. She was used to city sounds – distant trains, traffic, neighbors. There was nothing, and it freaked her out.

1Across from her, Belle picked at the stitches on the sleeve of a dress. She'd brought out a basket and laid it at Pippa's feet earlier, beaming and proclaiming that she'd saved the spinning for her sister, since she knew that was Pippa's favorite.

Except, Pippa wasn't entirely sure what to do with a spindle. She fiddled with it and then grabbed a handful of wool, grimacing at the feel of it. It still smelled like sheep. Gross. She dropped it again and wiped her hand on her skirt. The sound of horses’ hooves clattered in the distance, breaking the almost-unnerving stillness of the woods.

Belle jumped up from her stool, dropping her sewing on the ground. "Father!"