Beauty & Cruelty Page 14

  "This is too embarrassing," Cruelty said. "Yes, my Beauty."

  "I think, though," he said, "that your desire to call her 'your beauty' is kind of a more embarrassing problem anyway."

  "What, the possessiveness? That's just—"

  He shook his head, sighing. "No," he said. "I get that part. 'My' boyfriend or 'My' man or whatever. But you keep referring to her by her... her story role, I guess."

  Cruelty gave him a blank look. "Yes," she said. "That's what she is. I'm Cruelty, the evil fairy. She's the princess, Sleeping Beauty. What we are is who we are. I know this is a bit different than how you live. You all have that concept that kids start out as blank slates with all the potential in the world, can be whatever they set their minds to. But it's the core of us, that boundary. We're made up from what our story asks of us."

  Martin made a dissatisfied face. "I don't know that I buy that," he said. "I mean, ignoring the fact that not every kid gets an equal start—if even your thing were true, the Beast would just be a Beast, right?"

  "He is a Beast."

  "He's a gentleman, you know that much," Martin said. "He's... it's less that he 'is' a beast and more that he's just cursed to seem like one. He's absolutely a person, you know? And absolutely gentle, and humble, and ashamed of himself. And all that. But that's not anywhere in his title, is it? He's not the Cursed One or whatever, he's 'the Beast'."

  "I would argue," Cruelty said, "that a 'beast' is simply something so hideous and twisted and animal-like that it is clearly not human, and will never be treated as human."

  Martin waved a hand. "But then a Beast isn't 'no longer' human," he said. "Seriously, the curse is the problem? Like, if that curse could go away his 'real' self wouldn't be the Beast. It'd be... well, a person. If someone's a person at their core, even just calling him 'the Beast' is kind of awful, but he won't give me any other name to call him."

  "Because that's who he is," Cruelty said patiently.

  "If that's 'who he is', then changing that wouldn't be part of his story," Martin said. "Right? But it is. It's—changing back from a beast is the most important part of his story, isn't it? I want to see his curse get broken, you know. He's so... scared and lonely. He keeps himself apart from everyone as a monster, but he's so kind. He's a good guy. Just—I'm trapped too. We've talked about it before. Even if I wanted to react to him, I can't, because this situation is all fucked up, and I can't leave it. I didn't choose to be here. Obviously that's going to affect how I react to him. And he wants to be uncursed, so it's not like I can take his interactions with me at face value—and I want to, Rue, I do. He seems so nice and I hate to doubt that, but it's not like I can just not think about the fact that I'm here specifically because I was sprung on him in the role of 'if he falls in love, it'll break the curse'. Like, fuck, I'm not stupid. I can tell what's going on, but it's just—it's disingenuous, that level of expectation. Even if he doesn't mean it to be, he's going to be keeping that in mind too."

  Cruelty wrinkled her nose. There it was, then. The answer to the question she and Beauty had tried to pose. They couldn't drive a story along on their own despite their solid attempt. They set it up to the best of their ability, in the easiest way, by following the path that was already set out. But despite the standard tropes, it was going off the rails. There was no possibility for the Beast and this off-topic Beauty to fall in love, not with his awareness of how the 'real world' worked. Another possibility smashed. "Too bad," she said.

  "I want to break his curse," Martin said again, watching his own hands where they were wrapped around his tea cup. "I want to meet him as 'himself', you know? Without all this stuff in our way. Without him being 'the Beast' and cursed and keeping me captive and stuff like that. I think we'd get along, but I'm no equal. I'm not free. I can't react to him without the story getting in the way. Right now it's no place for a relationship even if he wasn't... kind of horrifying. Any relationship where his entire sense of 'self' hangs on someone else, that's never going to work. Not one where I'm his captive either. That's not healthy."

  "I suppose not," Cruelty said, sighing. "That's who he is, though. That's what his story is about. Of course it gets in the way. Characters exist to drive a story, and that's what he is. But if you can't fall in love with him, and his curse can't be broken unless you fall in love with him, you're out of luck and so is he. That's how magics work, and it's how stories work. Actions have repercussions, and those repercussions are planned out from the start."

  Martin pushed his tea cup away, although the cup was still mostly full. He slid down in his chair, resting his head against the back and sighing as he looked up at the ceiling. "Isn't there any other way to break it? Some kind of curse-breaker magic item or whatever? C'mon, I bet those exist in your stories somewhere."

  "Not really. Curses can be broken by the conditions being met, or by the person who cursed them canceling it," Cruelty said.

  "So can't we find—"

  Cruelty interrupted him before he could even finish the thought. "She's gone," she said. "As good as dead. Like me, she lived out there, but she got caught. If she's even alive, she's probably locked up somewhere. Area 51, that sort of thing."

  Martin winced. "Ah."

  "And even if she wasn't, fat chance you'll find an enchantress who breaks her own curse," Cruelty said. "It's wishy-washy; there's no pride in it. Half of who we are is tied up in the spells we've cast. She's not the Beast Enchantress unless she's cursed the Beast, you get me? An enchantress is one who has enchanted someone."

  "So does that mean you'll never let your 'Beauty' go either?"

  "Why would I? That's the relationship we have. It's all based around that."

  "Does it have to be?" Martin asked.

  The question hung there in innocent stupidity, and she found herself recoiling from it internally, refusing to move her body despite the cringe she felt. She was sure it was showing on her face, could almost feel her lip curl. "That's our Story," she said. And then, "Well look, tough it out. It's just a year and then you'll be out of his patchy fur."

  And then she left and headed back to her castle with the words still circling her head: does it have to be, does it have to be?

  What else could it even be based on?

  Chapter Thirteen

  Cruelty spent the next few days in a strange little back and forth with Talia that she could only think of as 'testing the waters'.

  Sometimes she showed up and was her usual abrasive self—or she thought it was her usual self anyway, harsh and mocking, playing with Talia as a predator with prey. She'd pet Talia's hair or rearrange her hands or gently peel an eyelid back to look into those unresponsive eyes as if the person herself wasn't behind her and chiding her. Those times, she felt a little more accustomed to things, but in a way that didn't actually feel comfortable any more. That itself was enough to spiral quickly, being uncomfortable with being uncomfortable with being uncomfortable. Too many thoughts were taking up too much space in her head, and she didn't like being so hyper-aware of her own actions, didn't like feeling so much like she was forcing the things that were normally her own nature.

  Other times, she played sweet, and that didn't sit right with her either. She'd turn to face Talia's image, and wind her fingers with Talia's relaxed ones, and talk to her about her political plans, her goals. Talia was counting down the days now until she would dump these unclaimed humans back out with their new knowledge of Something Out There. She wanted to wait just a little longer, just to be sure that they had filled as many places as they possibly could before starting fresh. It was important to maximize what little space they had left to keep educating as many people as they could, as thoroughly as they could, to the experiences of their reality. Cruelty had pointed out that she could keep fresh people in shock if she had a faster turnaround, but Talia's image shook her head, smiled. "Let them get to know each other," she said. "That way they'll get in contact with each other once they get back and have each other's memories to rely on too.
So they won't doubt it as much when everyone else around them tries to crush their belief... Besides, I can't eject them on my own. I'm just Sleeping Beauty, after all. I'll need to get someone else to do it, maybe get a bunch of us together providing energy to them. Sixth has said before that he's willing, so we'll work out a good time with him." Cruelty had to admit that Talia was changing, or, at least, was vastly more clever than she'd realized before, and more willing to act on it.

  And sometimes, she'd do a mix of the two things, play with Talia with their bodies together in sex or fucking or lovemaking or whatever it was, kiss her and whisper mocking endearments and no promises whatsoever. Talia liked it. That much was obvious. Talia expected this form of behavior more than either of the others and egged it on. She'd lean down and whisper encouragement to Cruelty, give her prompts, tell Cruelty everything she felt and everything she thought and everything she liked. And all throughout, she'd call her Rue. Rue, Rue, Rue. Like she was trying to name Cruelty by herself into something else.

  It was unnerving.

  When Talia did that, she found herself wanting to get away. If only just a little. She didn't go back to her house in the real world—not much point, and it hadn't felt much like home any longer, not after she'd been back the last time and seen all the intrusions. But she went back to her own castle and tried to keep out of the way of the humans Sixth brought in there, or she found the Cat and petted him, or she sat by the lake and watched Odette swim and mourn. Sometimes she stayed in Beauty's castle, close to Talia, but did so in the Great Hall below. There, she'd mingle among the humans. She almost felt like they might be viewing her as a good fairy in her willingness to explain to them of the rules of this world and to show them kindness, and the thought made her want to laugh. She didn't lie about herself or pretend to be anything she wasn't; it's just that nobody bothered to ask, just took what was given without question. She pretended, at those times, not to notice the dubious looks Donkeyskin and Brother Deer and the others gave to her; they gave the same to Odile who likewise was playing the (tragically) genteel host.

  Staying that close wasn't something she preferred to do, not exactly, but it did give her the chance to keep the occasional eye on Rick. He didn't approach her again, but he lingered in the crowd, and she heard his occasional complaints and mutterings to others. Sometimes she didn't see him at all, which unnerved her. More than once she'd spotted him exploring around the castle grounds, rather than sticking with the crowd. One way or another, he seemed to be lying relatively quiet or, at least, figuring out his options and what routes were available to him in this place. She kept in mind how soon Talia was going to toss them out and just kept up her smile. She'd already built up the habit from working in fast food. In some ways, it wasn't so bad, she thought; even Rick was forced to contribute to the belief in their reality now.

  She was just watching him head toward the door into the back halls, apparently to continue his explorations, and was trying to decide if she should bother following him, when she felt a tug on her sleeve.

  "Excuse me?" The voice was soft and a little choked.

  She turned.

  The girl, still in her jeans, dirty t-shirt, and apron, was the one she'd met in the ogre's place. Although tired and wan, she was nevertheless looking significantly better, with her brown ponytail smoothly brushed and her face washed. One hand, cupped under her mouth, held the pearls that had fallen from her lips.

  "Ah, you," Cruelty said. "You're looking well. No luck tracking down the person who gave you this blessing though, hm?"

  "Not yet," she agreed, and spat out a ruby. The gems vanished into her bulging apron pockets. "But that's all right. That's something I can take my time on now."

  Not, Cruelty thought, if she was sent back. Once this batch was sent home, this girl was out of luck. Certainly, since it was technically a blessing rather than a curse and not one that had any contract involved, she wasn't bound to anyone here—not now that she'd escaped the ogre, anyway. But when she was gone, so was her chance at tracking down the fairy who'd blessed her. Not that the situation was Cruelty's responsibility by any means.

  "Besides," the girl added wryly, not noticing Cruelty's distraction, "at least I'm making some money this way. Not that it means much while I'm here, but like you said, I can pawn these off back home even if I have to pretend to be mute to do it. That's not so bad."

  So she had plans for herself regardless of circumstance, Cruelty thought, a little surprised. Well, free from someone else's tyranny, perhaps she was able to make them. She'd even seemed to grow accustomed to the pain of passing jewels through her throat, the hoarse edge of her voice not unlike a smoker's or someone with an illness that they were used to; a rasp of discomfort so ever-present that it no longer made itself felt.

  She hadn't wanted to see more of this girl, not really. Helping her out was too much already, just touching her life and passing by. An expression of gratitude was another connection between them. Hearing her hopes was another.

  "What's your name?" Cruelty asked.

  "Jane," the girl said.

  She didn't give her last name, and since she didn't, Cruelty didn't ask. It might not even be her real name; there was no reason to assume it was. Whether because of caution or desire to change, there were plenty of reasons this girl may have given her a new one.

  "I'm—Rue," Cruelty said.

  "What are you?"

  It was a bit more of a direct question than Cruelty expected, produced with a round spinel, and she ran fingers through her long sleek hair a little uncomfortably. "I'm a fairy," she said, finally. "A wicked fairy."

  "You don't seem terribly wicked," Jane said.

  "I'm plenty wicked when the mood takes me," Cruelty said. "And when the mood doesn't take me, I'm not. Because I serve my own interests first and foremost, and tolerate no insults. You understand?"

  Jane's expression flickered at that, shuttering a little. "I do understand that," she said.

  Cruelty sighed. "I bet you do," she muttered. "I've got nothing against you, obviously. I saw you, I decided to do something about it, that's that. If you're here to express your gratitude, I'll take it, but don't think my actions toward you were a policy rather than a whim. I'm kind to the people here out of the same reasoning, just whim. There's nothing about me that isn't inherent in me."

  Worrying her lower lip, Jane nodded after a moment. "I just—you saved me," she said. And, "I don't want to end up like that again."

  "Worried I'll change my mind and take you captive myself?"

  "Worried I'll put myself in a position where I'd allow it," Jane said. "With anyone."

  Cruelty let out a soft laugh, not unkind. "Ah. So that's something about you that's inherent in you."

  Jane glanced down, still gnawing on her lip. It was unsurprisingly raw, Cruelty noticed. "Well, yeah," Jane said. "I mean, when I asked you to help me, I even offered to be your slave. You didn't take me up on it, but you could have."

  "I could have."

  "And there's plenty of people who won't wait to be invited," Jane said. She was fidgeting with the full pockets of her apron, an audible clack clack clack under her touch. "There's plenty of people who will just take advantage of you."

  "That's true," Cruelty said. "Humans and people like us alike. Everyone likes to be in a position of power."

  Jane nodded, then crouched and swept up the small green gems that had fallen from her lips. She slid those into her pocket with the rest. "It's not my fault, though, I'm not saying that. Those people… they're the ones who decide to do it. It's their fault, nobody else's. But it's something I'm too used to, maybe. I sometimes feel like I've already lost and it's too easy for me to just let it happen. I mean, I'm not even sure I'd notice it was happening until it was already done, unless it's totally extreme. Do you think so? That I can just... get used to that kind of situation, just accept it like that?"

  Cruelty sighed. "You'd know, not me," she said. "I don't exactly know that much about you."
>
  "But it's possible."

  "It's possible. Habits are habits. We act the way we're used to and try to come up with explanations to justify it. For good or ill," Cruelty agreed.

  Jane clenched her hands noisily inside her apron. "I don't want to do that anymore," she said. "I can't stop other people from trying to do things. And I don't want to think that I'll always be able to keep them away from me even if I try. But… I don't want to give up, to keep giving up. I'm sick of being powerless."

  Cruelty tilted her head, watching her. She still looked much the same, dumpy and unremarkable, and if anything, what was in front of her wasn't a picture of independence and determination but one of distress. Jane's shoulders were shaking and she was still biting at her already scratched lip. But what she seemed distressed over was her own rawness, Cruelty thought. Pleading to someone else for help, even if was just a transfer of ownership, was the only thing she could do when they first met. That kind of helplessness was in its own way a kind of buffer. Not between herself and suffering, perhaps, but between herself and finding her own way. Some people would have no choice but to use it for their own safety, their own sanity; nobody could blame them for that. Now, finding herself in a position where she wasn't in anyone else's grasp, she wasn't beholden to anyone. But she hadn't ever felt power either. Lacking the buffer of futility, she was raw in the face of decisiveness. So it was brave, maybe, that she was able to talk at least this much about what she wanted and what she didn't want, to not blame herself but not blame the world either.

  "Hey, do you have an email address?" Cruelty asked.

  That seemed to jolt Jane out of the tension wracking her. "Email? Yeah, of course… but you? A fairy?"

  "Sure. I've got a life back there too," Cruelty said. "You seem interesting enough to check up on."

  "Oh, I—um," Jane said, obviously taken aback. "I don't know?"