Elizabeth’s eyes shifted to the fight, to the whiz of blackness, and she hesitated with a distressed brow. Was it love she felt for the monster?
When the blur stilled, the beast was a mangled, bloody thing, his chest heaving with fatigue. The red-haired woman looked a mess, too, but not like the beast. Then Eustace heard it, clear and vague at the same time, coming from inside his mind but from nowhere. Take her. Take her away from here, Eustace.
His vision shot all around him, then ended on the monster. He stared at Eustace, his large, marble-like eyes—usually evil and full of terror—somber and glazed. Somehow it had come from him, Eustace knew, and in his daze, all he did was nod.
But before he could take hold of Elizabeth’s arm, the beautiful demon pulled a long golden knife from a sheath on her inner thigh and drove it into the beast, just below his ribs. She moaned as she did this, a sensual sound of pleasure, and the beast roared with his fangs toward the moon—the fangs that would always give Eustace the willies.
Elizabeth released a tortured cry when he fell to the ground. Eustace tried grasping her, but she was gone too fast, his fingers catching the air. The beast saw her running toward him, though, and growled, returning to his wobbling feet.
He stared her down with a threatening look, one of competition. He was communicating with her the way he’d just communicated with Eustace—probably telling her to stay back.
Elizabeth did, grinding her teeth, and her attention, as well as Eustace’s, shot to the temptress as she laughed that horrible laugh. She began circling the beast, whose back legs gave out, and she ignored Elizabeth completely. “You know why I’m in this form again, Monster?” Eustace couldn’t stand her voice. There was something unsettling in it, as though the tone had been altered by some machine to make it more feline-like.
The beast snarled at her.
“Because I don’t want to simply poison you.” She examined her long, gold knife, stained in red. She wiped a finger down the blade, leaving a clean, golden streak amidst his blood, and this too seemed to give her pleasure. “I intend to kill you now, Monster. I told you I’d be back, didn’t I? If you even thought about breaking the curse.”
Eustace would have bet the beast sent her thoughts, since her face changed, became irate. Though it frightened him, Eustace couldn’t help his curiosity of this curse.
“Lies!” she cried, swiping the knife at the beast; he backed away, the blade barely missing. “You have thought it, or I wouldn’t be here!” Again she smiled, regaining composure, and as the beast lowered the rest of himself to the earth in weakness—or maybe even surrender—she said, “But don’t worry, Monster. I’ll kill her when I’m finished, if that’s what you want. I’ll do the job for you, since she has made mine more difficult.”
Silence again. The beast’s eyes were fastened so soundly to her he appeared as nothing more than a statue. Her face fell. “You would…give your life for her?”
“No,” Elizabeth began arguing. She tried approaching, but this time Eustace held her back. While she struggled with Eustace—weakly—a silent exchange passed from the beast to Elizabeth, and whatever he said, it was enough to bring her to her knees. She slid out of Eustace’s hands and with a despairing shake of her head, sobbed.
“Very well,” the redhead announced. “I suppose I can spare her.” The next part happened too quickly for Eustace to process, and he didn’t realize what had happened until it ended, until Elizabeth choked on her own blood. Somehow, she’d gotten from beside him to the witch within a matter of two seconds. Somehow, she knew just the right time to make a run for it: just as the temptress drew back her knife. She was about to drive it into the beast’s heart when Elizabeth leapt in front of him, catching the blade with her chest.
Eustace had never seen a sight so awful, nor had he heard a sound to match the wretchedness so impeccably. The beast’s howl was so deafening it brought every resident of the woods to attention. But it wasn’t just the beast who roared his opposition, for the temptress wailed as well, dropping her knife and watching with hands on her head as Elizabeth’s body fell to the ground. “No!” she cried, deep and gravelly.
Elizabeth lay on her back and looked to the stars, choking on the red that drizzled from her mouth. For some reason, this disturbed Eustace more than the spilling of it from her chest did. Elizabeth bleeding: it was so wrong.
The beast, with a new strength gained by probably nothing but adrenaline, lunged for the witch, and his teeth tore so brutally into her neck that Eustace could actually hear the ripping of flesh. In his rage, he shook her—a dog shaking a chew toy—and after he threw her feminine body against a tree, still she stood, miraculously. She stared at Elizabeth, mouthing no and holding her blood-gushing neck. She bled, yet stood as though unharmed.
Then the beast approached Elizabeth with a gentleness Eustace would have never been able to fathom before. He stood over her as her eyes became glazed and her chest heaved with the final croaks and coughs of death, blood now pooling beneath her as it traveled from the wound, down her ribs. He nudged her with his long, monstrous snout, even licked her a few times—licked away the blood on her chin. The gentleness astounded Eustace. It reminded him again of a dog, this time trying to save his wounded master. The beast communicated with her, because Elizabeth—still unafraid in her dying moments—reached a hand to the monster’s face, grasping his dark fur.
Eustace stepped closer so he could hear. While stroking his fur, in a voice so soft he barely heard, she whispered, “It’s all right, Henry.”
Tilting his ear in their direction, Eustace had to have misunderstood. After all, his hearing had been pretty terrible the past few years.
The beast huffed and howled another agonizing cry, then looked back at her, whimpering from deep within his throat.
“Because,” she said, “you’re free now.” Tears left the corners of her eyes and it seemed her voice was more difficult to come by. “Please don’t cry for me, Henry. This was the only way—”
She gagged, turning her head to the side as she coughed again, and this time Eustace knew he hadn’t misheard. Henry. Henry?
“I…” she added in a strained whisper, a smile lighting her face. “I can be your antidote.”
The beast groaned.
“I love you, always. Never…forget it, Henry.” And with that her eyes closed and her hand fell from his fur, her body going limp. As the beast wailed, his howl the most painful sound Eustace had ever heard, it began to sound more human. The sound of a shouting man. A shout of rage: “Nooooo!” Eustace was about to question his own sanity, but then the earth began to tremble.
He took a step back, absorbing the pulse beneath the rubber soles of his boots, and the beast began vibrating himself, pulsating with a visible heat. He shouted, again that shout of a man, and as he collapsed to the ground beside Elizabeth, it appeared his body had turned inside out, and by the sound of his cries, Eustace would bet it was something agonizing. He wanted to look away, his stomach turning from the gruesome sight, but he couldn’t.
Then all fell still and what lay there wasn’t a beast anymore, but a man. Eustace actually rubbed his eyes, just to make sure he saw correctly.
Then he put everything together. Henry, he thought in awe. Of course.
Henry, body contorted and lying face-against-dirt, pushed himself up; Arne, whom Eustace hadn’t seen arrive, ran to him. He placed a blanket over Henry and helped him sit. At the same time Eustace realized he hadn’t been paying attention to the crowd at all, his eyes welled. He turned to the other faces, the awe-struck expressions and even some tears. Regina’s, for one. Her hands were clasped in front of her and her large chest shook with weeping. Nicole’s arms were still wrapped around herself as she too shed tears. Still, no Brian was in sight.