Chapter Eleven

A long journey may not always be an easy one, but for Lumière and Cogsworth, once more at their object size, every passing moment was unbearable.

"We could not simply follow him first, and then transform, could we?" Cogsworth groaned quietly. "Constantly have to do things the hard way! An old dog will never learn any new tricks!"

"If you say one more word, I will be the first to agree to that!" Lumière murmured angrily. "You yourself are living proof with your incessant rambling! Now keep it down before you get us killed!"

"And still so child—."

The poor clock was interrupted as the horse reared with an abrupt halt, almost causing them to fall out. The short-lived rest only lasted for a moment, however; Arnaud must have grabbed the saddlebag to bring it inside, they realized as it jostled about. Thankfully, they felt him hang up their leather-made vehicle of transportation when all movement ceased.

Only the sound of voices prevented them from making their exit.

"Hello?" Arnaud called. "I am back!"

"They suspect nothing, I trust?"

If he was not in a bag, Lumière knew he would have burst into flame at hearing a voice that defined pure hatred for him; Jacques' voice was unfortunately quite distinct. Intelligent tones of a proud aristocrat blended with the hostile hiss of a snake in the grass.

"Nothing at all," Arnaud confirmed, sickening amusement in his tone. "Babette is worried, as was expected, but I swore that I would find her."

"Preferably dead than alive, I say." Jacques replied in the same manner.

Cogsworth quickly reached to cover Lumière's cry allowing Arnaud to speak unknowingly on behalf of the three.

"You did not kill her yet, did you?"

"No, not yet," Jacques answered, the pair exhaling a relieved breath. "It would be pointless to kill the little whelp without her dearly beloved parents here to see it. What good is revenge when one can not revel in it?"

"How are we going to pull that off?"

"Not here," Jacques snarled immediately. "Have you not yet learned that even walls have ears?"

"Who is going to hear us?"

The question must have been answered with a silencing glare, the pair assumed, as no words followed that they could hear.

"Speaking of spies, what are we to do with the boy?"

"We shall deal with him soon enough," Jacques said. "He is so desperate to see his father again. The right thing to do would be to oblige the request, but all in good time. Come, we have much to discuss."

A few moments later, Lumière and Cogsworth peeked outside as they heard a door loudly click shut. Cautiously, they climbed out and onto a small side table before sliding down to the floor.

"I have it in my right mind to kill him now," Lumière growled.

"Calm yourself; no good will come to us if you do not," Cogsworth warned, realizing that for once, the shoe had to be on the other foot. Lumière was constantly telling him to do the same; it was his turn to be the voice of reason. The Frenchman could not afford to be hotheaded now.

Lumière took a deep breath, but it did not help. This was the final nail in the coffin for both men. One that he wished a lifetime in hell to, and one that had betrayed the entire household's trust. Getting Lina home safely was no longer his solitary goal; he would not rest until each received their just punishments. Forget lifetime imprisonment, he demanded the sentence of death.

"Lumière," Cogsworth said insistently. "I see the wheels turning in your head; really now, you have to calm down."

The candelabra looked at his stout companion. As often as he fought and debated with him, Cogsworth was first and foremost his comrade and friend. There was no concealing any emotion from him; the bond of friendship was too strong to hide from.

Lumière nodded, about to respond, when the door across the hall began to open again. Had they been on the table, striking the appropriate poses would have worked; being on the floor, it was best to hide in the shadows.

Arnaud was mumbling to himself in irritation. Most of his words were inaudible, but fortunately, he was not so intelligent to say the important ones silently.

"Always sending me to check on her, cursed royals…"

To follow him would lead to Lina, they realized, vigilantly keeping close at his heels. A hallway here, a staircase there, and soon enough, Arnaud stopped in front of the appointed door.

Slipping in, careful to not be seen by either of them, Lumière and Cogsworth hid in a dark corner, hardly able to resist running to the other side of the room. There, Lina rested uncomfortably, conscious of her surroundings but nonetheless still bleary from the after effects of the toxin. The sight brought Lumière to a state of anguish. There was his daughter, his little girl that he treasured more than his own life, weak and frail, and he was powerless to console her. It took every bit of strength he had to hold himself back.

"What do you want?" Lina asked, her voice raspy and leading to a coughing fit even after a meager few words. What she would have given for a bit of water!

"He asked me to check on you," Arnaud replied. "Pointless trying to talk to a person who is unaware of what you are saying."

"The last thing I want is your true master's company," she snarled.

"You do not have any choice; I will inform him that you are awake."

Without waiting for a response, he was gone, the latch locking creakily from the other side of the door.

Lina sagged against the wall with what little strength she had left. Her head was throbbing, and her throat was excruciatingly parched. With her hands awkwardly tied over her head, the rope tightly wound around her wrists, she felt them growing number by the second. Closing her eyes, her head lulled further to her chest; it was torture trying to hold it up any longer.

Lumière could take no more. Despite Cogsworth's protests, Lumière ordered him to keep watch, and ran to her side, purposefully remaining in his object figure. It was far too risky to change back to his human self, much as he wanted to.

The sight alone nearly brought him to tears. Once when she was a little girl, Lina had, unknowingly to her parents, gone outside to play in the rain, returning later with a wretched cold that lasted for quite a few days on end. He had spent those nights close at her side as if death would steal her away if he did not keep watch over her, letting the others have a laugh at his overdone concern. If he thought that predicament was horrible, looking at her in this state was utterly unbearable.

Extinguishing his one candle hand, Lumière reached to touch her cheek softly, pulling back for only a moment as she flinched. Just like her mother in so many ways.

Lina moaned, painfully exhausted, and slowly opening her eyes, she tried to focus on what had disturbed the short-lived peace she had found. When her vision finally centered on Lumière in his candelabra shape, she could not suppress a whine.

"Mon Dieu, now I am hallucinating!"

"Hush-sh-sh, quiet down," Lumière soothed. "It is me, I promise."

Lina focused again, her appearance still making it seem like a chore. "Papa…how did you…?"

"No time to explain, ma petite chandelle," he replied, slowly climbing up to her shoulder. "We have come to get you out of here, and precious time will be wasted with talk."

Turning her head slowly to watch him burn through the rope, she asked, "We? You are not alone?"

"No, I brought Cogsworth with me," he answered, gesturing to the clock who waved with a smile.

Lina frowned. "I think you have burned your last sane wick, Papa."

Cogsworth mirrored her expression. "If I had not come with him, young lady, he would have gone insane a long time ago!"

"Stop it, both of you!" Lumière hissed, turning up the heat on his flame to burn through the weaving faster and scowling at their timepiece watch guard. "This is difficult enough as it is without you making her angry!"

Cogsworth rolled his eyes. He should have known he would be outnumbered, even with Lina being as dazed as she was. Some things will never change, he thought, going back to his lookout position, and thank goodness he did.

"Lumière!" he whispered nervously. "I never thought I would say this, but I think you should take a rest from your work! That de Crochet fiend is coming!"

Lumière muttered a choice curse under his breath and jumped down quickly to join Cogsworth in their dark corner. "Stay calm, ma fille; it will be all right. We are right here with you."

Precisely a moment later, the door flew open, sending a sudden wave of air to douse Lumière's flames before he could do so himself.

"Rise and shine, my pet," Jacques crooned, kneeling at her side and reaching to lift her chin. Lina defiantly responded by taking a well-aimed spit at his hand, her tired face displaying no sign of regret.

His eyes flashed in anger as she had hit his uncovered hand; she could have at least had a little consideration to hit the gloved one! Taking a slow breath, he mockingly wiped his hand against her skirt, refusing to ruin his finest attire to clean it.

"So glad to see that you have risen from your slumbers."

"Oh I'm sure you are," she drawled sarcastically.

Jacques' patience was wearing thin, but he kept the cool demeanor. "Your mother has taught you well in the ways of mockery."

"How would you know?" she snapped.

"Oh I know, quite well indeed," he smirked. "Babette may serve your master now, but she was born and bred here, amongst my own staff."

"Remind me to offer my condolences," Lina growled.

"Such a witty tongue from a lowly wench," Jacques continued. "She would be proud to see you now, defying your superiors as she herself did. But I wonder." He gripped her face roughly. "If you are truly like her…such a tongue should satisfy as quickly as it argues."

As he leaned forward with the intent to experiment with his theory, Lina struggled, succeeding in sinking her teeth into his hand. Jacques cried out painfully, unable to contain his rage any longer. He swiftly pulled away that hand only to give her a sudden smack with the other. In the corner, Lumière burst into flame, but Cogsworth blew them out before Jacques could notice.

"You foul-mouthed little slut," he hissed in pain. "Worthless whore, how dare you!"

"Quite easily, if you must know," Lina smirked, all too much a reflection of her father than the aristo could handle. "All one has to do is bear the teeth and bite down."

Even kneeling before her sitting figure, Jacques towered over the girl in an intimidating manner. Overcome with rage, all thoughts of lust vanished from his mind; the hunter now demanded blood from his kill. "Nothing, absolutely nothing would please me more than to watch you writhe in slow, tortuous death."

Lina's sarcasm continued as she asked, "What is stopping you?"

"I am starting to ask myself the same question," he snarled. "But then I remember how much more fulfilling it would be seeing your mother in agony as she watches by my side. First you, then your father, and the last link she has left to her dearest friend: his son, your lover."

Lumière had to fight to keep his jaw from dropping; that was why Etienne seemed so familiar! He was Jean Claude's son, who had been orphaned when Jacques had him murdered. With God as a witness, Lumière mentally swore that when the time did come, Jacques would certainly get what he deserved this time; he would see to that personally.

Lina, on the other hand, made her tone more civilized. "Etienne…what have you done with him?"

Jacques grinned, pleased that he had struck the right chord. "Not to worry, he is being as well taken care of as you are."

In a record second, Lina felt her mind snap with rage. Her jaw tightly clenched, her eyes furious in their daze, she spoke, her voice slow and deadly. "Burn. In. Hell."

"You would love to finish what you started, wouldn't you?" Jacques sneered, removing his glove, displaying his badly scorched hand. "Do you remember this, my pet? You were so young, but yet you managed to continue your father's work that night at the masque ball."

Lina refused to show any of the terror that began crawling throughout her body. Much as she had tried, she had not forgotten the event, but she would not give this man any pleasure in seeing her frightened.

"You will never get away with any of this."

Jacques laughed amused. "How very cliché of you to say so."

"I was taught to speak the truth."

"I am certain you were, but this time, my pet," Jacques said as he leaned in closer. "The truth will not set you free."

He rose slowly to his feet, sliding the glove onto his hand once again. "I bid you good night, my precious Chandellina. I pray you enjoy it, for it is your last, I assure you."