Beauty & Cruelty Page 8

  But she couldn't quell that sensation in her stomach regardless. It churned inside her with a thick, nauseating feeling as she opened the door to Talia's room, and wasn't particularly relieved when she saw Talia, still beautifully asleep on the bed, with the Cat sprawled on her chest and halfway across her face. For a moment, she almost seemed like a mundane sleeper with any cat, undignified and human, and that thought turned the nausea to a bitter bile.

  "Rise and shine," Cruelty said, and clapped her hands.

  Talia, of course, didn't snap awake. The Cat didn't either, though his ears twitched upright. But Talia's image popped into being with her hair rumpled and the top of her nightgown wet, as if the Cat's drooling there penetrated even her self-image. The Cat slowly stretched with a whining yawn, giving off the impression of an incredibly fat loaf of bread with four completely straight limbs sticking out of it before he relaxed into a normal cat position again and lifted his head to give her a baleful look.

  "Cruelty," Talia said, and smoothed down her hair with her fingers, as if embarrassed to be caught with her projection in such a disheveled state. "How did things… go?"

  "With our incredibly ballsy recasting and attempt to influence another Archetype's story?" Cruelty sank onto the bed next to them, shoving the Cat to try to settle in next to Talia in her usual parody of affection. The Cat resisted, shoving his butt against Cruelty's shoulder so she'd have to actively strain against him to do what she'd intended. That would have been too embarrassing for words, so she rolled onto her side with a huff instead to make room for all of them. "It didn't go badly. Martin didn't vomit on seeing the Beast, so I suppose that's promising all around."

  Talia leaned over her own body to try to look Cruelty in the face, eyes glittering with delight. It really was no wonder she was known as Sleeping Beauty, Cruelty thought idly. When she was at repose, there was nothing to her except her good looks, but when she was awake and excited, the light in her eyes made her a very different sort of beauty. "Do you think it'll work?" she asked. "Will they fall in love?"

  "Slow down there, Princess," Cruelty said, rolling her eyes. "I said he wasn't completely overcome with horror, but neither of them were happy about it. You've got one who's exhausted, completely out of his depth, stuck in a situation that he doesn't belong in and feeling utterly trapped, and then you've got Martin. It certainly wasn't love at first sight. It was more polite resignation at first sight for both of them. Acceptance of an unpleasant fate."

  "Yes, but do you think it could happen?"

  "Lots of things could happen," Cruelty said. She shrugged her free shoulder. "The world could end first. All I did was put him in the role. We'll see if it can adapt to fit him or not. Maybe they'll spend a year playing chaste chess in a platonic and genial relationship. Maybe it won't happen because he's not what's supposed to be in the story, and maybe Beast simply won't appeal to him. You can't force love. I was informed downstairs that you can't possibly control where it occurs."

  Talia's brows furrowed. "Downstairs?"

  "Never mind," Cruelty sighed, and flicked her fingers. "Some drama. Apparently Sixth and Von Rothbart's girls haven't been kept occupied enough, so they invented their own love triangle."

  "Should I intervene?"

  "I pray that you do not," Cruelty said. "You're such a romantic, you'll probably get distracted from your whole plan trying to resolve things for them. I can already imagine your confusion when the sky came down on your heads as you played flower girl to whatever unfortunate union resulted."

  Talia looked at her for a long moment, still crouched at her own bedside and gazing at Cruelty past her own sleeping body. "Do you really view me that way? Am I really such a silly, distractible girl?"

  "Why not? You are one, and surely you take after your parents," Cruelty said dismissively.

  "Ah yes," Talia said. Her tone was soft, incredibly soft, and there was something about it that made Cruelty's eyes narrow in sudden caution; she sounded dangerous. "My parents. Do you want to talk about them again? I think we'd better, Cruelty."

  Cruelty sat up slowly and scoffed. "I don't see why," she said. "They're long gone, lost to time, and they were petty, shallow people who raised a petty, shallow daughter."

  "Did they, though?" Talia said. She was clearly angry, but her voice didn't rise this time, and though her eyes were sharp and bright with anger rather than excitement, she seemed almost to grow calmer in her anger. "Even if they were unwise in their choice of who to invite and accidentally or deliberately snubbed you, you're the one who's acted out her grudge against the then-infant child. And you're the one who is continuing to carry on with it. Is that petty or is it not? Is it a deep understanding of the situation, or is it shallow?"

  "I am what I am," Cruelty said.

  They stared at each other for a few long moments, and Talia was the first to back down—or, rather, to let it go. She had no defeat, no guilt, no surrender in her expression, but she broke eye contact and let out a sigh.

  "We've got other things to deal with," she said. "We can save the cattiness for later."

  Cruelty felt her irritation rise again at that response. Talia was pretending to be the bigger person, a snub. But she had to swallow it; it was a no-win situation. She let out a slow breath, pushed red hair behind a shoulder, and managed a smile. "I'm sure we will."

  The Cat let out a huge sigh. "You call it cattiness, but there's no way a cat would behave that way," he said with dignity, despite the obvious lie. "There is a lot of talking going on, and a lot of posturing. But you two are missing the most important thing here."

  "Sorry, Tim," Cruelty said, and petted his side.

  The Cat's tail lashed. "Tom," he said, though when they'd switched places, only heaven knew. "And it's not that."

  "It's not petting?" Beauty said. "Are you hungry?"

  "You're useless," the Cat said, and rolled onto his back, paws curled over his stomach. Cruelty, fairly sure it was a trap, lifted her hand. "Worse than humans, always repeating yourselves. Talia recklessly touching anything sharp and not moving from where she is. Cruelty stubborn and unchanging, acting like everyone around her is both clever and stupid, unable to decide which."

  Cruelty, a little stung by the accusation partially because she could find no fault in it, huffed a breath. "Oh, are we fighting now too? Talia and I just finished our own fight, so I'll thank you not to start a new one."

  "I'm not reckless," Talia protested.

  "You are," the Cat said, and stretched, toes splaying. "We're not fighting. I'm only speaking the truth, as all cats do."

  "Yes, cats are definitely known for that," Cruelty said sarcastically.

  "We are when it comes to our people," the Cat said.

  Talia blinked slowly. "Are we your people…?"

  "I'm here, aren't I? You're my people for now," the Cat said. He rolled to his feet, belly swaying, and started making biscuits on Talia's stomach. Her image winced a little at the roll of claws. "Until I leave or change my mind, you're my people. But useless ones."

  "What would constitute useful to your mind?" Cruelty asked, still acerbic. "I assure you, we can operate a can opener as well as any. Well, I can, anyway. Beauty here just makes a tolerable cat bed, soft as she is."

  "Don't you bring me into that," the Cat said. "You know, when two things are opposites, they can't become one. They can't when they're too similar, either. Maybe two things can never become one."

  Talia's image gnawed at her lower lip. "Are you saying that Cruelty and I can't really form an alliance, whether we agree or disagree with each other, because of how we are?"

  "No," the Cat said, in a tone of strained patience. "It's like Tim and myself."

  "What, pray tell, is like Tim and yourself?" Cruelty asked.

  "Archetypes and human beings. The creative force and the created. A world of tales and tired tropes and a world of harsh reality," the Cat said. "Tim and I are both the Cat, but never the same time. We're brothers, but we can never meet. One is al
ive and one is dead. You can't tell the difference between us, but there's only ever one of us at a time. Being dead isn't the same as being gone. It's just another way to live. But it means we can't share how we live. We're helpless to it."

  Cruelty snorted indelicately. "You've never lacked any power, you terrible thing," she said. "You're both a folk tale and science."

  "Science?" Talia asked.

  "Schrödinger's cat," Cruelty said. "It's a scientific theory about provable reality. Say you know that a cat is in a box—"

  "I would like to be in a box," the Cat sighed.

  "But the cat could be either alive or dead," Cruelty said. "You don't know until you open the box. Because of this, in the terms of provable reality, the cat is simultaneously alive and dead, and it only becomes living or dead once you open the box. The Cat manages not to be tied to belief in a Tale the way we are because he somehow managed to get the King of Cats folktale made into a well-known scientific theorem."

  "Lucky you," Talia said. "But here you are with us, and alive, so—"

  "Am I?" the Cat asked. "Tim is dead, and Tom is alive. Eventually, Tom will be dead and Tim will be alive. But here's the riddle: Tom and Tim look exactly alike. How do you know that I'm Tom?"

  Talia blinked. "Well… you told us."

  "What if I lied?"

  Cruelty said, "Either way, you're a cat."

  "That's right," the Cat said. "That much has already been observed. Alive or dead, I'm a cat. I'm an Archetype, and I'm a scientific theorem, and I am also a cat; cats will be believed in by humans as something strange and magic until the end of time. Even if your world explodes, I'll live on. And die on. Simultaneously."

  "But you're here," Talia said. "You even brought Cruelty here. You can't just be bragging right now. You have to believe that our plan could possibly work."

  "It might," the Cat said. "Right now, the plan's not finished. So, it's not observed. Anyway, I just brought her here because I felt like it."

  Talia's brows were furrowing further and further. "So it's simultaneously working and not working, and we won't know which until we… know?"

  "Don't let him confuse you," Cruelty said, and tweaked the Cat's tail. "It's about how much effort is put into it. Believe me, you don't have to know whether a cat's alive or dead to try to nurture it; put out food and water and all the rest. If you leave it alone in its box, you'll certainly kill it."

  "Cruelty's threatening me," the Cat whined at Talia.

  Talia shook her head, her image's hair flying. "I feel you're trying to prompt us into something, but I don't know what," she said plaintively. "Tom, please."

  "Am I Tom?"

  "I'll trust you to be Tom if you say you're Tom!"

  "Hm," the Cat said. Then, "You're making this plan all around humans, but you don't know anything about their world."

  Talia and Cruelty stared at him for a few moments, and then Cruelty laughed. Of course. That was a simple enough matter. It was something she'd already known. She'd seen humans all this time and knew how unlikely this plan was to succeed. Talia was all fired up only because she didn't.

  "He's right. You'd kill the plan for sure," Cruelty said.

  "I didn't say that," the Cat said. "Cruelty, you're terrible. Talia, pet me."

  "Then… if I see what they're like," Talia said, ignoring the request she couldn't grant, "I could perhaps nurture the plan better?"

  "I didn't say that either…"

  "But you meant it, I'm sure of it," Talia said, and fixed her gaze on Cruelty. "Cruelty, take me there."

  Cruelty let out a startled laugh. "In what, a gurney, just roll you along the sidewalk?"

  Talia let out a huff. Her eyes were doing that bright thing again, intense. Cruelty suddenly got the feeling like Talia wasn't going to let this go, and that she'd have to capitulate to her. Certainly, being better informed would help Talia plan better. Even if she stuck to the current plan exactly, she'd at least have a better idea of what she was in for. But Cruelty didn't want to capitulate, either. She felt, somehow, that the fiery gaze in front of her was still innocent, that Talia's determination and fire was based on not understanding how the real world worked. The idea of seeing that go out, while its own kind of temptation, felt bitter, made her uncomfortable, made her want to squirm.

  "You're a fairy, aren't you?" Talia said. "You have all sorts of powers. Use them for this."

  "That's not really my way," Cruelty pointed out. "I'm more of a 'use powers against' type of fairy."

  "Imagine using them against our fate, then," Talia said. She reached to Cruelty's arm, passed her hand through it like she wanted to grab on. It felt like nothing at all. Her body was breathing fast, mouth parted.

  "Beauty, sweetheart—"

  "Use them for me," Talia said, and something in Cruelty, which should resist even harder at that, seemed to crumple.

  Chapter Seven

  No matter how she looked at it, it seemed like what she was doing was a stupid idea.

  She'd bound Talia's image to a needle and thread, replacing her tie to her body. It always had to be a needle, always had to be something sharp and meant to create and bind, and she wasn't about to go carrying an entire spinning wheel around with her. Even a spindle was too archaic. The needle was tied into her hair, so whenever Talia spoke, it came directly into her ear. Since her entire body was only a few inches long, her voice was soft, subtle, as if through some kind of magic headset. It was like having Talia leaning directly over her shoulder, watching everything she was doing and commentating on it for her hearing alone, and it was, already, driving her crazy.

  "This is your home now?" Talia's voice didn't sound so much either admiring or displeased; it simply sounded taken aback. "A little small, isn't it?"

  "You would be absolutely stunned how much setting up your own castle draws attention," Cruelty said, dry. "There are hardly any in this country, and the ones that are here were usually set up by some rich asshole a hundred years ago. They're not hereditary homes anymore, really, they're hotels or tourist stops. I could probably have set up a mansion, but there's no section of land that's unaccounted for. Everything's accounted for under city planning, owned by or leased out to private owners, and undeveloped land is still land you have to pay for. Records are very, very thorough. Renting is easier; I'd have to spend too much time and energy explaining away my building otherwise. Besides, I've been living here like any human might. Trying to live like any human."

  "You've got a lot of books," Talia said. "I didn't realize you were such a reader."

  "I didn't used to be," Cruelty said shortly.

  She checked the schedule hanging in her kitchen—it was a little early for her shift at the coffee shop still, if only by a couple of hours. But might as well show up with plenty of time and get herself a coffee first. Ignoring Talia's further questions about why she was a reader now—little fool could figure it out on her own—she headed back into the bedroom and pulled her work uniform from the closet: a collared black shirt, a pair of apparently unremarkable black pants. The pants, at least, she got admiring remarks on from the girls at work, and for good reason: they had pockets. She'd added them in there herself, and several of her coworkers had asked her if she could add some for them. She'd never bothered to take them up on it.

  Talia fell silent as Cruelty pulled her shirt off over her head, and she wondered, amused, if Talia was embarrassed. Then again, she'd hardly had the opportunity to see another person naked before, or even her own body. Not for many years, not as she was. "What now?" Cruelty asked, as she snapped her bra on and turned it around. "Shy?"

  "It's not... that... exactly," Talia's soft voice murmured, and, sure enough, she sounded embarrassed.

  "Hmm." Cruelty said, and pulled her work shirt on, careful not to dislodge the needle in her hair. "What, then?"

  "It's just… it doesn't seem to be your style," Talia said. "You don't usually wear things like this."

  "Well-identified, princess," Cruelty said. "Th
is is my work uniform."

  "It doesn't look much like a uniform either," Talia said. "It's not… fancy?"

  "Work uniforms aren't. They're just made to guarantee that everyone's wearing approximately the same thing. Sensible black shoes without heels, no piercings, black pants or skirt, collared black shirt. It guarantees you don't look too fancy or too casual, and don't stand out in any way as an individual. And it doesn't show stains."

  "It's hard to imagine you working."

  Cruelty snorted. "Don't spend a lot of time dwelling on it," she warned. "I can toss your needle away and leave you forever lost."

  "You wouldn't."

  "Try me."

  "You wouldn't be able to resist tracking me down to see how I took the abandonment," Talia said.

  "Don't tempt me," Cruelty said.

  She was greeted at work cheerily by her fellow baristas. "You just can't stay away, can you?" Chris said. "Aren't you on in an hour?"

  "You said it, but boy, I need some coffee before I start," Cruelty said with a bright, false smile. "I've been out of town for a couple of days and haven't had any caffeine since then. It's killing me, I swear."

  "Ouch. Doing what?"

  "Camping."

  "That's our Rue, a nature-lover," Chris said. "What can I get you today?"

  "Doppio-small half-sweet caramel macchiato, extra caramel, extra foam."

  Chris laughed, scribbling on a paper cup. "Treating ourselves today, Rue?"

  "Something like that," Cruelty said.

  Talia had been silent while she and Chris talked, apparently not wanting to interrupt, but spoke up when Cruelty headed over to the side bar to wait for her drink. "Rue?" she murmured.

  Cruelty spoke quietly back under her breath. "My name here. Don't read too much into it."