Chapter Five: Angelic Devil

I descended the stairs slowly, listening to the echo of my shoes' hard soles on the wooden steps. My heart pounded loudly, nearly drowning out all other noise. At the base of the staircase, a masked servant bowed and extended a helpful hand to aid my balance. "Thank you." I mouthed to him wordlessly.

Taking a deep, ragged breath, I rounded the corner to the dining room. There, Christopher stood, peering out of a window, his clawed hands clutching at new crimson drapes. His eyes shifted wildly, as though he were searching for something. His feline lips were pulled into a rigid scowl. His brow was furrowed over his searching eyes. His expression was one of dread.

"Christopher?" I called to him softly.

He turned his head and the look of dread vanished, his whole face lighting up to see me in the dress he'd given me, though his brows remained furrowed with worry. "You're wearing my last gift. I didn't think you opened it."

"I didn't." I replied solemnly. "Until just now." I peeked at him through lowered eyes. My hands were clutched tightly at my waist. "Christopher…I…am so sorry. I jumped to conclusions and I should not have. I judged you far too quickly. You say that I'm kind, but I've been anything but recently."

His lips tweaked in one corner, into what had quickly become his trademark smirk. "The fact that you are aware of your rashness and thought to apologize is evidence of your good heart, Miss Craft." He spoke in his soft and low voice. "I don't blame you for rushing to judge me. People tend to judge by appearances alone. If I look like a beast, then I must be one…" He reached up and touched his heart. "On the inside as well."

"But you're not."

"Hopefully." He shrugged his broad shoulders. "At least I try not to be. I know that I scared you when you first arrived. It's okay if it takes you a while to trust me. All I ask is that you give me a chance to show you how little my heart…my soul has changed. I am a beast, but inside I'm still a scared little boy." He chuckled lightly. "A scared little boy who doesn't know how to act in front of pretty girls." His chuckle grew into that deep bellied laughter of his.

Despite the heaviness in my heart, I laughed too and my troubles were lifted instantaneously. His laughter was infectious. "Thank you, Christopher. Truly, thank you. For everything, especially for making Foxy feel at home. She loves her gifts." I said, as the laughter subsided.

"Foxy is very welcome." Christopher grinned. "I've never been too fond of dogs, not since your uncle's Doberman bit my foot when I was a child, the mean devil."

"You were bitten by my uncle's dog?" I smiled back at him, trying to imagine Christopher as a less hairy child, running from a dog. He looked so powerful now, it was hard to imagine him being scared of anything, at least anything other than me.

"Sure did, he bit clear through my boot!" He laughed, then his face softened. "I don't like dogs, but I see how much you love Foxy. If she brings you a little happiness, then that's all that matters."

"Thank you, Christopher." I replied, quietly smiling.

"You're very welcome, Isabel." He stiffened and clasped a hand over his mouth as soon as my name passed his lips. "Excuse me. Miss Craft." He corrected.

"Christopher, it's really-" I was interrupted as a servant rushed into the room, its form fading to gray and silver as it zoomed past me.

It handed Christopher a note and as Christopher read it, his brows furrowed deeply. His hands began to tremble. He looked at me, looking very shaken and frightened. "I…I'm sorry, Miss Craft, but I'm afraid we can't dine together tonight. It seems I have an unexpected visitor. Please, come with me. Hurry." He took me by the hand and hurried me up the stairs.

"Who is it? Why do you look frightened?" I asked, looking at him and back over my shoulder for any sign of the visitor.

"The black magician." He said, his voice so quiet, I almost didn't hear it. "I can't let her find you here." We stopped outside my door and he opened it for me. "Please, stay inside your room tonight, I'll send a servant up as soon as I can to bring you your dinner."

"Why can't I meet her?" I asked, growing more worried the more I studied his appearance. He looked like a man who was headed to the chopping block, all sweaty, pupils dilated, trembling. I could hear his breathing three feet away.

He looked at me, really looked at me. His eyes pierced through mine with an unspoken warning. "If…that woman finds you here…she'll kill you."

He closed the door. The locking mechanism made a loud sound that echoed through the room with finality. I had to stay locked away…for my own protection…maybe even for his.

"Yet another disaster." I muttered, plopping down in a chair that had mysteriously appeared by the window since I went down to dinner. Drawing the curtain to the side, just a tad, I peered out at the drive way. I could see a white carriage, drawn by stark black horses that neighed and stomped in restlessness, as if they wished to run on forever. Christopher and the shadows rushed out to greet the visitor, like obedient servants.

I watched as Christopher opened the carriage door and helped an elegantly dressed woman out of the carriage. Her dress was grand, pure white with silver embroidered vines crisscrossing over the bodice and skirt. Diamonds glittered from her pale skinned throat and hands. She wore a flamboyant hat with a plumed feather sticking out of it. I couldn't see her face at all, only a bit of curled pale hair, yet I knew that she must be beautiful, very, very beautiful. For she seemed to glow in this place, drawing all attention to her. All the gorgeous roses and delicate angel statues looked dull in her presence. The demonic statues seemed almost to gawk at her.

"She hardly seems the villainous type." I grumbled. "She looks like an angel, but she must be a devil indeed if she can make Christopher so afraid of her." I added, as Christopher led her into the house. She was speaking to him and he was holding her hand, but he kept his head bowed and his eyes averted, looking like a beaten dog.

I thought about retiring early, but couldn't sleep, not while Christopher's black magician was just down stairs. I sat up, waiting late into the night and into early morning. Finally there was a faint tapping at the door. I jumped up and flung open the door, completely forgetting that I was dressed only in a thin nightdress.

"Isabel." Christopher croaked, his voice cracking.

Realizing that I was standing there in a nightdress, I selfconsciously covered my chest with my arms, but Christopher didn't seem to have noticed. His eyes were foggy. He swayed on his feet. His mane was disheveld more than usual, as were his clothes. He handed me a dinner roll and a nearly empty bottle of vintage wine. "I brought you dinner." He said, his words slurring together.

"Christopher? Are you alright?" I asked.

He took a step forward and tumbled head first onto the floor.

Horrified, I got down on the floor as well and used all my strength to turn him over. As I did so, I noticed the red stain on his shirt and the stench of alcahol that poured out of him. "You're drunk!" I huffed.

"Isa! Isabel!" He yelled, looking around the room, wildly searching.

I bent over him and brushed a few strands of his mane away from his forehead. "I'm here. It's okay." I soothed him.

His eyes found my face and they focused on me. His clawed hands grabbed at the hand that was stroking his head and he clutched it tightly. "Marry me! Please marry me!" He pleaded incoherently, only half there, his sense clouded by the wine.

"I can't marry you." I said, looking down at the beast sadly.

"You must! You must!" He cried. One of his hands let go of mine and he touched my cheek, letting the clawed fingers run through my hair. "I'll die!"

I took his hand and put it back down on his chest. "You won't die, I promise, Christopher. You'll be just fine. Sleep now, you've had a long day."

His eyes stayed locked on mine for a long moment and he continued to ramble, insisting that he'd die if I didn't marry him and mumbled something about roses. He made a pitiful whining sound and tears rolled down both his cheeks. I held his head in my lap and gently brushed his mane until he finally slipped into sleep.

I held him that way for a long while, simply sitting there, petting him and watching him breathe. He cried in his sleep, tears constantly falling, dampening my gown beneath his head. Foxy watched us intently from her bed, tilting her head in curiosity. A few times she tried to bark at him, but I quieted her with a whispered scolding.

As the sun began to rise, two shadows appeared in my room. They didn't come through the door. They merely conjured themselves there in front of me. My fear of them was slowly beginning to wane. Oddly enough, their presence and mysterious ways were becoming familiar. "What is it?" I asked, wondering why they had come.

One of them held up a piece of paper that said, We're here to take the master to bed.

"I've never seen him drunk before. Does he do this often?" I asked, worried that I had a drunkard on my hands. He hadn't seemed the type.

The shadow with the note scribbled an answer with a magically appearing quill. Only when she comes to visit. The note read.

"Why is that?" I asked.

"She reminds him of how hopeless his situation is. The curse that is upon him is one that is not meant to be broken. It sadens him and fills his heart with fear." The shadow wrote.

"Then…she's the one that cursed him?"

The shadows didn't answer. They ignored me as they lifted Christopher up effortlessly and took him away.

The following morning, there was a pink rose by my bedside and a note beneath my door.

I'm sorry about last night. Please, join me for breakfast. I have another gift for you, which I think you will like.

At the bottom the note, almost like an after thought, was yet another ill fated proposal.

Will you marry me?

I wrote down my answer and left it outside my room before Foxy and I walked down for breakfast.

Christopher was waiting for me by the front door. He was already dressed in his gardening attire. Under one arm, he held a folded pile of dull colored clothes, that had been clearly patched over and over again. In his other arm, he held a basket of fresh bread and cheese. "I thought we could eat in the garden today." He said with a smile. The look of dread and sadness that had been there last night was gone. He was back to his usual, charming self. I was happy for it.

I smiled happily back at him. "That sounds delightful."

Though he didn't offer, I locked arms with him and we went out to the garden together. Foxy ran and bounced ahead of us, barking at the song birds that literally dominated the grounds. They swooped over her head, squawking in annoyance.

We found a place beneath the large oak and sat down in the grass for our meal, not bothering to spread a blanket. While I nibbled on the meager breakfast, Christopher sipped at a cup of water, still too self-conscious to eat in front of me.

"I aplogize for my rudeness last night. I swear, when she comes for one of her visits, I feel like I'm about to crawl out of my own skin." He said, picking at the grass beside him.

"It's alright." I tore off a piece of my bread and tossed it to Foxy. "I was worried about you. You seemed to be terrified."

"I was." He muttered. "I've never disobeyed her. Not ever…until now that is. I'm not supposed to have anyone here with me. I was afraid that she'd find you and hurt you. I don't know what I would have done if she had."

There was a long pause. Silence settled between us like a towering, brick wall. "Do you remember coming to my room last night?" I asked at last.

He looked at me in bewilderment. "I did?"

"Yes. You were drunk out of your mind, mumbling nonsense."

A look of horror crossed his features and he looked down bashfully. I was sure that beneath his fur he was blushing a deep crimson. "I-I'm sorry. I don't usually drink that much." Hesitantly, his eyes lifted to me again. "You say I was mumbling nonsense? What exactly did I say?"

"You asked me to marry you and insisted that you'd die if I didn't." I replied, trying not to remember the shier desperation I'd seen in his eyes as I held him the night before. "Then you started talking about roses and passed out."

"Again, I'm sorry. I must have made a fool out of myself." He sighed heavily.

"Not really. I felt sorry for you, more than anything else. The shadows told me that you only drink like that when the black magician comes to visit you. They said that she depresses you."

"The shadows spoke to you?" He asked, quirking an eyebrow in surprise.

"They wrote to me." I explained. "Don't change the subject." I muttered. "I don't mean to be rude, but…who is that woman to you, Christopher. It seems like she had something to do with your curse."

He was silent as he stared out at the garden, looking at one rose bush and then another. "I can't talk very much about my curse."

"Tell me what you can." I prodded. Trying to reasure him, I reached over and laid my hand over his much larger one.

He took a deep breath and finally spoke. "Your great uncle sold me to her when I was thirteen. I lived with her for two years after that. She spoiled me and gave me everything I asked for. I thought she was an angel for all the kindness she showed me, but then she asked me for something in return that I couldn't give her. It was a price too great and one I wasn't willing to pay. When she didn't get her way, she showed me her true heart."

"She put the curse on you."

Christopher nodded sadly. "I was only fifteen when she turned me into this." He said, looking down at himself, at his fur covered hand beneath mine. "I'm nearly twenty eight now. I don't even know what I look like now, as a man. When I try to picture my real face, all I see is that fifteen year old boy."

"Is there no way to undo your curse?" I asked, my pity growing for him. What it must be like, I wondered, to not know what you really look like, to be more familiar with a beast's face than that of a man's.

He pressed his lips tight together, then with a ragged breath he murmured, "I doubt it. The black magician is crafty and designs her curses to be nearly unbreakable. I have little hope of ever being free of it." He tilted his head back and gazed up at the thick branches above us. The sunlight poured through the branches and leaves, creating a mozaic of light and shadow across his face. "All my life, I've traded one prison for another. I'll probably die, never knowing what freedom feels like."

"No you won't." I vowed, my eyes narrowing with determination. "You will be free someday, Christopher. I promise. I'll find some way to get you out of here." I swallowed back the angry tears that were rising in me. How dare she! How dare that witch treat Christopher like an animal! "You don't deserve what that witch has done to you!"

He started to laugh, but there was no joy behind it. "You really are a kind girl." He said, reaching a hesitant hand to wipe a fallen tear from my cheek. "But you shouldn't worry about such things. It's far out of your control. The only way for me to be free would be for the curse to be lifted, and that would be nearly impossible. Besides, I've accepted the fact that this is my fate. I've made peace with it." He gave me a reassuring smirk. "Really, it hasn't been so bad since you came along." He picked up the folded pile of clothes and placed them in my lap. "These are for you. They're some old clothes of mine, from before the curse. I should warn you. I was big for my age, so they're probably way too big for you, but they're better for working in the garden than a frock. I felt bad for destroying your dress yesterday."

I unfolded the shirt and held it up in the sunlight. It was tattered, torn and there were more patches than original fabric, but it was more wonderful than any other gift he'd given me, for it came truly from the heart. "They're perfect, Christopher. Thank you." I said.

"Do you want to keep helping me in the garden?" He asked. "You don't have to."

"I do!" I assured him, enthusiastically. "I enjoy helping you garden. I'm not very good at it, but I enjoy it. It gives me something to do, besides sit around on my backside all day." I laughed lightly.

He echoed it with a low chuckle. "Good." He said, hoisting himself up and dusting grass and dirt off the back of his pants. "Get dressed in your work clothes then." He smiled broadly, showing an expanse of feline and human teeth. "We have new roses to plant."