Beauty's Beast- The Light Page 2

  Johnathon was a peculiar man. He wanted to stay in Ash, which he considered a lovely town, and live happily on his farm, but he also wanted to make history. He wanted to travel on the East road, which was supposed to eventually lead to a town where they held a contest for the best inventions built. Whoever won this contest won a fair amount of gold, along with a company that would gladly manufacture the invention. This was the contest Johnathon planned to go to once he completed his final invention, which was exactly what he was working on when Bella arrived home.

  Home, for Bella, was the farm. It was the little white cottage set at the start of rolling hills and small gardens, surrounded by never ending trees. It was the barn off to the side, which held none but six chickens, three roosters, two cows, and a horse. It was the little shop that was set off on another path, built right beside the forest, where her father kept all the little things he built. It was her own little peaceful world, where nothing bad could ever happen.

  Immediately, Bella went to the shop to see how her father was doing. Right when she entered, waving her book in excitement, there was a loud clang, a bright light, and Johnathon hollered a few curses. Worried, Bella rushed over to the spot he was in, which under the machine he was working on.

  "Papa!" she exclaimed, having grown use to the Spanish word for “Father”. It was Johnathon who made sure she learned the full language, and now she was fluent in it, though she rarely ever found a use for the language since most people in Ash spoke English. "Are you alright?"

  The man slid himself from underneath his invention, muttering, his face coated in dust and grease, sniffing and sneezing. "Just fine—I'm alright! No need to fret now." His accent was thick and hoarse where his daughter's was gentle and sweet, though hers had a little more of a roll to it.

  If one listened very carefully, they just might detect the slightest bit of French that laced Johnathon's accent. His father was a French man, and a very honorable one at that, having had fought in several won battles. The English in his mother, however, attached itself to Johnathon far more than the French. And though Ash was an English town, it was in a French country.

  Surprisingly, Bella looked nothing like her father. In fact, all of her features seemed to center from her mother. Save, her complexion, which didn't seem to derive from either of her parents. Her mother's skin had been the average dark-tan of a Spanish woman, and her father's had been a deep gold like a man who worked under the sun every day, though he was always indoors. Bella merely took on a smooth ivory color that many women wished for.

  "Did you hurt yourself?" Bella pressed, setting the book on the nearest surface and racing to his side. She grabbed his right hand, which had begun to turn red.

  He waved her off, first touching her cheek gingerly, which left a grey streak on her face. "It's nothing; only a small burn. I near about lit myself aflame, but all is well."

  "All is well!" she exclaimed. "Why, what if you really had caught fire? What then? And you really need to put some ointment on that." She grabbed his hand again, examining it carefully. "You don't want to have it infected." Her head threw itself around frantically as she searched for anything that could help, then pulled him towards the door. "We should get to the well and pull some water to soothe it."

  "Really, Bella," he assured her, resisting the urge to grab her face since his hands were so filthy, "I'm alright. You're making something out of nothing. I just need to finish the chopper, should I wish to arrive at the contest in time much less enter it! I know I'm right at the brink of completing it." He pulled away from her, muttering in that way she liked so much. It was a ramble of a sort, one that let you know he was speaking to himself, much like she sometimes did.

  "If you insist," she said with a gentle laugh, the gentle sort that mothers often did when their child said something utterly ridiculous. "But you really ought to pay heed when you are finished, Papa."

  "Child," he said, amongst his ramblings, and he trailed off, something he normally did. He was at the back of the shop, moving things around on his shelves as he searched for whatever it was he was in need of searching for.

  "Victor gave me a book today," Bella said, almost absently, as she grabbed her gift and leaned against the wall to watch her father. "He said that I was the only one who ever really read it, and that I took it enough times that one would think it was mine. It's such a wonderful story."

  "Is that so?" her father asked, just about as absently. "That's truly marvelous, Bella, and so polite of Victor. You know, I've heard bad things about Easterners, but he has proven them to be incorrect. Such a noble man, he is."

  Bella smiled. "That he is." If he were younger, she might have considered marrying him, and she was sure that he would think the same if he weren't still mourning for his wife. He was a man of thirty, and had lost his wife only two years before to fever. Some believed it was a witch that had cursed her, but Bella thought that was folly. A fever was a fever, no matter how unexplained.

  Johnathon turned around to meet her eyes, head tilted. "You're sixteen, Bella."

  She frowned, then smiled uncertainly. "Yes, I do believe I already know this."

  "And you have yet to marry."

  Bella almost thought that he had read her mind and was suggesting that she speak to Victor about the possibility, but then she remembered that this was reality and so mind reading was utterly unthinkable.

  "And who might I marry?" Bella asked. She frowned. "There is no one."

  He crossed his bulking arms over his chest. "There are plenty, Bella. You just haven't chosen. Several have asked your hand, but you've refused them. Why is that?"

  She hesitated. "I don't love them." That, and she couldn't imagine tying herself to some man only to be treated like a slave. She wanted to go out in the world, but she was trying to postpone that until her father succeeded in his dreams first.

  "Not even Jared?" he asked curiously.

  Bella's lips curved up at the sides, a small smile that could barely be seen. Marrying Jared, she had to admit, would be rather interesting. But something in her heart told her that he was not the right man.

  "Jared's a fine man," she found herself saying, only to please her father. "But it is as I said; I love no one. Should I not marry for love?" She fought herself from pointing out that he had.

  He sighed. "Yes, I suppose you should, but you must consider, Bella. You have not long until you are well into your ages and no one wishes to marry you. Not only that, but you can grow to love someone."

  "I know that," she replied. She just didn't want to grow to love any of the men she had already crossed. And she knew she would never be able to.

  "There is talk that Jared wishes to marry you," Johnathon said carefully, going over to his machine and inspecting it closely.

  Bella chuckled. "There's also talk that a Prince of Fae thrives deep in the woods, and that he has a kingdom filled with creatures of every legend." She chuckled again when her father looked at her with piqued interest. "Father, this is all the people of Ash do; talk. They all gossip like old women." She silently cursed herself for saying such things, because many of those people were kind to her.

  But it was true.

  Johnathon laughed. "Well then, perhaps it is the Prince we should look for. I hear that the Fae are the most beautiful and most wise of creatures. Although," he said with a spark of hunger in his eyes, "they are quite often referred to as dangerous."

  This time she joined in his laughter. "Quite, especially with the tales I've heard growing up. Beautiful and wise, yes, but they're not very kind to those who are not of their kind unless they are curious and wish to keep us as pets! I would love to come across one if one of such truly existed."

  "Perhaps they do," he grunted as he twisted at a piece of his device. "Perhaps we have yet to discover them!" His arm jerked to the side, and the machine sputtered. When his arm jerked again, a humming noise started up.

  This was a new noise to Bella; new for the machine. "Has it started-"


  "Hush now, child," Johnathon snapped politely. He grabbed a chunk of wood and set it on a platform in the front, then pulled at a lever. The blade at the top dropped down and sliced the wood in two clean halves.

  "It works!" Bella cried, nearly dropping her book in delight. "Papa, it works!" She ran to his side, grabbing at his arm excitedly. "You did it, Papa!"

  "I did it," he repeated uncertainly. Then more aware, "I did it!" He laughed as she did, blue eyes crinkling up in joy, pulling his daughter into a hug that dirtied her dress, but even she didn't care. It was just a dress, and this was his entire dream.

  "You can enter the contest," Bella said to him as he swirled her into a circle, the both of them gliding across the floor as if dancing was the only way to express their happiness. "You will win. I bet it on everything, you will win!"

  "I will leave tonight," he told her, giving her the wildest grin she had ever seen in her life. "The contest is soon, isn't it? I'll set out tonight, and if I win I will come right back and we shall start whichever adventures we so desire-"

  "When you win," Bella corrected him, because she was so sure he would. He just had to. "I'll stay here and tend to our farm." When she saw the pain in her father's eyes--he didn't want to leave his daughter to herself--she grabbed his shoulders. "I'll be fine, Papa. Someone needs to look after our home." She spotted his reluctance, and shook her head, shaking him lightly. "Papa, don't worry. You will go, and when you return all will be well." She smiled. "That's the plan, yes?" When he didn't answer, she shook him again. "That is the plan, yes??"

  His lips curled at the corners, and she knew all was well. "That is the plan, yes."

  "Then we've got nothing to worry about," she assured him, giggling. "You need not underestimate me, Papa. Just because I'm a woman doesn't mean I can't look after things on my own." She laughed, drawing back and setting her hands, and book, on her hips as she looked over the machine. "I'm Bella, don't you remember? It's you who raised me, isn't it?"

  "Yes, yes," he grumbled, cheeks flushing. He should have known better than to think his daughter wouldn't be able to take care of herself, and it embarrassed him that he, of all people, would forget such things. "You will do well, I'm sure, and I will try my best to hurry back."

  "Take your time," she told him. "Enjoy yourself, will you? I hear the people of the East make lovely meals—and stronger drinks. I do know how much you enjoy drinking." Of course, most men loved to drink. Fortunately, though, Johnathon wasn't one of the angry drunks, but the cheerful one; so, his reputation was untouched when it came to the sort of thing. He never expressed any signs of violence towards anyone.

  He laughed. "Yes, I suppose I could try a drink or two." He frowned, seeming to forget his success as he worried over his daughter again. "But you will be fine? What if bandits come across? There's no one around for some miles."

  "Papa," she laughed, "the thought is absurd! Bandits? Here? Never has such a thing happened!"

  "Well, there's always a first," he mumbled, running a thick hand through his light hair.

  "There is," Bella agreed. "But you need not worry, alright? It's you who should be cautious of them. I hear there are plenty of bandits out on the road." Now she was frowning. "You'll keep a look out, won't you, Papa? I don't want you getting hurt."

  Or worse. But, she kept herself from saying such a thing. It was bad luck to look for the worst of things; for when you do just that, you tend to find the worse things more often than most.

  "A look out I will keep," he told her quietly, drawing her into a hug. "I'll be fine, Bella, you have no need to worry."

  "Good," she said, "because I don't want to lose you."

  "You won't," he told her, kissing her forehead; then, he looked her up and down with a chuckle. "Look at you—I've gotten you all dirty. I'm sorry, Bella, I really am. I've ruined your dress." He attempted to smudge away the marks on her face, but only made them worse. "And now you're all filthy."

  "Really, Father," Bella said; a word she rarely used: father. "It doesn't take much time to clean up. The dress isn't new, and I always wear it when doing work, so it's alright." She grinned at him, dark brown eyes shining brightly from under all the dust and grease.

  This only made Johnathon laugh harder, and he pulled his daughter into another hug. "This may be the biggest breakthrough yet," he said, tugging at a lock of her dark hair, which was pulled back with a ribbon. He held her out at arms length as they smiled at one another. "Our lives are about to change forever."

  2

  Johnathon had set out not that very night he finished his invention, but that very afternoon. Bella helped him pack his bags into their carriage, prepare their horse, Mudo, and to aid him in putting his creation into the carriage. By "aid him" she really just watched him anxiously as he picked it up and carried it all by himself. It was a little large, and so awkward to carry, but he insisted that he didn't need help in lifting it. Finally, he was all settled, they said their goodbyes, and he rode off into forest, looking carefully over his map as he did.

  Bella thought the map was unnecessary. Her father was going East, so he had no need for it. Perhaps he was worried about getting lost afterwards. She supposed that it was better to be safe than sorry, so maybe her father was wise in bringing the map.

  All night, Bella worried. But she also made sure to do the chores as she did this, and too water the gardens. After all, the first day of Summer was the very next day, and so the plants would need some extra attention. When the animals were all fed, Bella decided she needed to look after herself as well, and so made herself a meal of bread and vegetables. Then she made an apple pie, had a slice for desert, and went to bed.

  Not once did Bella pick up her new book and read from it.

  And not once did she hear the wild screams that sounded from afar.

  * * *

  Bella slept soundly, if soundly was even the right word for it at all. That being said, she wasn't at all awoken by the unusual stillness that her home sank into the night before, or even the panicked silence of the animals. Her dreams were short and sweet, and passed in a series of events. Though, there was a dark cloud that hovered in the corner of her vision constantly, like a reminder that where good things dwelled the darkness did as well.

  Though Bella didn't feel, hardly at all, threatened during her dreams, she couldn't help but feel a little on the curious side. These dreams were unlike the others, there being a ball of light that kept dancing around, and a girl with paint on her face that kept picking up that light and peering into it with her bright, gleaming eyes as if it had secrets to tell. Though, Bella couldn't remember if that girl was herself or someone else; that, and she could have sworn that the pupils were slitted, very much like a cat's.

  When she awoke that morning, Bella was convinced it was going to be a good day. Something in the very pits of her stomach told her otherwise, but she wasn't listening. The morning was bright, and the birds were singing, so it was going to be a good day.

  Or was it?

  The birds weren't the only ones singing. Bella could hear voices, clear as day, singing brightly. It was in a language that sounded familiar, but it was too early for her to understand right away. The music was playing even louder, and was just as beautiful as the singing, though just as irritable.

  Bella walked over to the window that gave a full view of the front walk, and huffed when she saw Jared out front talking to someone. He looked handsome, even from the back, and it irritated Bella that even she thought so. He was a fine man, even if there was something utterly distraught about him.

  He obviously wants something, Bella thought to herself as she stood there for a few more seconds, pondering over what that could be. She had never had anybody do anything this big for her. Normally, they would just ask her for something and she would gladly help them with whatever it was they wanted. Apparently what he was asking for was much bigger.

  Bella was just about to leave the house to find out what was going on when she realized she was
still in her night gown. Naturally, she wouldn't care about wandering around her home in such a thing. But this gown only stretched halfway down her calves, and it was frowned upon to even show the ankle. Not only that, but it was preferred for a high collar and long sleeves because arms, shoulders, and just the slightest sliver of chest was frowned upon as well.

  Bella's dress was entirely unqualified.

  Her hands snatched the cloak that was hanging beside the door, the one she normally only wore on cold days, and clasped it around her neck. When she held it just right, it covered her completely. The only things that showed were her toes and her neck up.

  When she stepped out into the crisp of morning, squinting against the sunlight, she realized just why the singing was so strange.

  French, she mused. How fancy. And not only that, but lovely. To her, there was no better sound than that of French music. Or silence. Preferably silence; especially at these hours.

  The man Jared had been speaking with turned out to be Gregory, who performed a variety of ceremonial events for those who wished them. He was a small old man who had young eyes, eyes that had seen a lot but still shined like he would live forever. Normally the sight of him brought a smile to Bella's face, but this wasn't any normal circumstance. In fact, this was far from it.

  Jared spotted Bella right off, and grinned at the startled expression on her face, guessing that she was starting to piece it all together. He had decided to go all out with the proposal, basically to show her what she would be missing on if she declined him, which he was sure she wouldn't do. No one ever denied him. Especially women.