Beautiful Beast (Enchanted Fairytales) (2 page)

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stopped, closing her eyes against the wash of dizziness and nausea. When the room stopped spinning, she opened her eyes . . . and saw her father sleeping in a chair near her door. Her mouth dropped. She couldn’t remember a time when he’d ever been in her room, unless it was to yell at or punish her.

She stood and walked over to her mirror. A purple smear ran beneath her eye, and dark blood stiffened her dark hair below the bandage. She wondered idly who had bandaged her. Sleeping in her room or not, she doubted it was her father.

She turned toward him, watching him. She’d seen pictures of him when he was younger. He’d been an extremely handsome man. She favored her mother, who shared the same ebony hair and blue eyes as Calli. Her father now had bags below his eyes. His jowls sagged beneath the perpetual gray stubble. Drinking had etched out the broken arteries that ran across his nose and cheeks. All evidence of his attractiveness had been firmly buried under the hard life he’d lived since the death of her mother.

“I’m fine,” she said, sitting down on the edge of her mattress. It was highly unusual for him to be offering to serve her rather than the other way around. “What happened?” she asked, touching the bandage again.

“You tripped up on the hill and hit your head on a rock.”

Calli thought about his words, processed them, and slowly memory returned. They’d been at Monster House. He saw them and chased them. She remembered falling. And then . . . nothing.

“Uh . . .” He brought his gaze back to hers. “Mr. Stratford brought you here and called me. He also brought some fancy doctor with him.”

“Mr.
Stratford
?” Calli was stunned. “The banker?”

“The very one,” her father said, a note of resignation in his voice.

“Wait. A doctor?” Her mind immediately turned to the cost that a doctor who made house calls was going to incur. She paid all the bills from her dad’s meager paycheck, and she knew all too well how tight money was. “Did I get stitches or something?”

“Uh . . .” How could she admit she’d gone up there to stare at the monster? It was a low, cruel thing to do. No matter their circumstances, she’d always tried to hold herself above mean pranks. The room gave a spin, and she moaned. “I need to lay down,” she said.

He reached out to steady her as she did so—another oddity. He pulled her blankets up to her shoulders, and patted her arm awkwardly.

* * * * *

The beast huddled on the floor.
What had he been thinking, chasing them like that? He knew better. He was now paying the price. The burning ache in his arm and leg throbbed in time with his heartbeat. He did the breathing exercises he’d been taught. They didn’t make the hurt go away, but they helped him control his reaction to it.

He thought of the girl, the one he’d carried back to the house. There was so much blood. Panic had engulfed him at the amount of blood that oozed from her head. And yet, beneath his panic, beneath the blood, he’d recognized the beauty she possessed. Her dark hair hung in thick waves. Her alabaster skin was smooth and clear over high cheekbones. Her red lips were perfectly formed, even in their slackened state. Shaped brows above the impossibly long, dark lashes that spread across her cheeks.

He might be a beast, but somewhere deep inside the part of him that was still human reacted to her beauty, drawing him like a moth to flame. He’d held her cold, still hand while his father pressed a cloth to the side of her head. When they heard the sirens turn up their long drive, he’d released her, vanishing into his dark room, giving himself over to his own pain now that he knew hers would be taken care of.

Now, her image haunted him. As he let himself into the fantasy of that image, his pain eased enough that he could slip into a restless sleep.

* * * * *

It wasn’t until noon that Calli finally felt ready to get up.
She wanted to shower, but her dad told her she couldn’t get the stitches wet for 24 hours. She wasn’t happy about the clotted mess in her hair for that long. She changed her clothes since she was still in the ones she’d been in the night before, beyond relieved that her dad hadn’t changed her into her pajamas. At seventeen, she was a little old for that.

Her dad made her a peanut butter and jelly sandwich on stale bread. She didn’t realize how hungry she was until she took her first bite. She ended up eating a second one, followed by a glass of milk.

“Calli, we need to talk,” he said as he took the empty plate and glass from her.

“Okay,” she said, wanting to avoid the discussion by claiming exhaustion. It wouldn’t be an entirely untrue excuse. She did feel weary. But she’d never been one to avoid unpleasantness—well, most of the time anyway. She figured she may as well get it over with.

He sat in the chair he’d moved back into the living room from her bedroom. She reclined on the couch across from him. He sat forward in the chair, resting his forearms on his thighs. He sighed wearily, scrubbing his stubbled jaw.

“I have a pretty good idea of what you were doing up on the hill, Calli,” he began. “I don’t approve of it, of course.” He looked into her eyes. “And I’m surprised at you.” Shame suffused her at his words. “But that’s neither here nor there at this point. What’s done is done and now there’s a price to be paid.”

“A price?”

He nodded. “Mr. Stratford is willing to drop the charges.”

“
Charges
?” she squeaked.

“You were on his property, trespassing.”

“I didn’t . . . we weren’t in the yard. We were behind the bushes.”

Her dad shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. He owns most of the hill. His property doesn’t end where the grass ends.” His tone indicated this should have been obvious to her. She honestly hadn’t thought of it, had followed Eli blindly. Okay, not exactly blindly. She’d known what she was doing.

“He wants to . . . press charges against me?”

“He
has
pressed charges, Calli.” A tremor shivered through her frame. “
But
he—” He cut himself off, dropping his head into his hands.

“He says . . . he says that if you’ll live at his house and be his son’s friend and schoolmate for a period of six months, he’ll drop the charges. And . . .”

Calli’s stomach twisted furiously. “And?” she prompted with a whisper, not sure she wanted to hear the rest.

“And he’ll pay the doctor’s bill.”

Calli pushed up from the couch, her head spinning from the sudden movement. She took a few deep breaths then strode across the small room. She stopped short of spinning on him, knowing she’d probably fall over from the motion. Instead, she faced the wall. He wanted her to be a
friend
to the monster? The mysterious thing who howled at the moon? No way! For six months? That was, like, an eternity. She’d rather go to jail.

Then she thought of the last thing her dad said. He’d pay the doctor’s bill. They couldn’t afford it, but it would probably be a drop in the bucket to the banker. She wanted to flat out refuse, but knew she’d have to think this through. If she said no, that bill could be the thing that sunk them for good. They were barely holding on to their house as it was. It was no secret that her dad’s car was on its last few miles. She turned around to find him watching her.

“Calli, who else was there with you?” She dropped her eyes, refusing to answer. The rest had gotten away. Her dad stood and walked to stand in front of her. “Tell me. If you tell me, I can tell the police, then you won’t have to pay for this alone.” He gripped her upper arms urgently. “I know you didn’t think of this. I know you didn’t do it alone. Please, Calli, tell me so we can fix this. We don’t have to give in to his demands.”

She shook her head and the room swayed. “Dad, I really need to lay down again.” He relaxed his intense stance, nodded curtly and walked with her back to her room. Once she lay down, he moved to the door.

“Calli,” he said, “if you just—”

“Dad,” she interrupted. “Just let me rest. Let me think about this for a while, okay?”

He nodded and closed the door behind him. Tears welled in Calli’s eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Feeling sorry for herself wasn’t going to help. She closed her eyes and gave herself over to sleep.

* * * * *

Two days later, Calli felt much better
. She’d showered the day before, and in spite of the slow, painful process of washing the blood from her hair, her spirits improved just from that. She showered again, dressed, put some makeup on and carefully fluffed her hair, covering the shaved spot as best she could.

Her dad was working today, which was good for her. That meant she could set out on her errand without argument from him. Her head still hurt, and every once in a while the world tilted, but she felt she could do this.

She left her house with a note for her dad in case he came home early—something else she rarely did—and headed to the other side of town. It was a long walk, taking her nearly half an hour to make the bank. When she finally arrived, she had to sit on the steps out front for a few minutes and rest. She wished she’d remembered to bring a water bottle.

She stood and turned toward the bank entrance, fear climbing her throat now that she was here. She forced it down, pushed her shoulders back, and climbed the remaining steps, entering the cool interior.

There weren’t many people inside the richly appointed building. She saw the Smythe’s over talking to the loan officer. The poor farmers were probably begging for a loan to save their struggling land. Another woman she didn’t know stood at the counter. She was definitely not from Calli’s side of town if her clothes and designer purse were any indication.

She hurried up the stairs to her right, unnoticed. She knew just where Mr. Stratford’s office was—everyone did. A pinch faced secretary sat at a cluttered desk outside his sanctuary. She looked up at Calli’s entrance. Her eyes widened at the sight of Calli. She was used to the reaction from people who didn’t know her. But then the woman’s eyes scanned her ragged clothing and her eyes narrowed, seeming to silently judge her and coming to a quick verdict.

“Can I help you?” she asked in her most unfriendly voice, letting Calli know that she was in the wrong place for whatever she was looking for.

The woman began to stand and Calli made her move. She darted around the desk, and the woman, and pushed to door open to Mr. Stratford’s office.

That took the wind out of Martha’s sails. Calli grinned triumphantly at her as if to say,
see?
Martha humphed and exited, closing the doors behind her briskly. However, Calli’s bravado slumped when she turned back to the imposing man who now stood.