As I walked back, I thought about Belle. Belle – that's the girl he chose. Those soft brown eyes and hickory-black hair were engaging, that was true. But… of all the girls, why did Gaston have to choose the one that was not interested in him?

But I knew the answer. Gaston was a hunter. He enjoyed the chase, enjoyed cornering the animal and showing it off. If Belle would marry him, the next round at the tavern would be "Look at me – I could even convince that bizarre Belle girl to marry me… Is there nothing I cannot do?"

But what, I wanted to know, would come after the cheering and celebration? What would Gaston do with a wife around? He seemed too young to be sitting around creating miniatures versions of himself, tossing them diminutive rifles and teaching them how to shoot.

Or was I just jealous of Gaston's interest in Belle? Was I thinking that if Gaston and Belle had a family, there would be no place for me? After all, I was Gaston's protégé, but not his blood kin, obviously. Gaston had taught ME. Gaston had showed ME what to do. I didn't want to be tossed into the corner in favor of perfect little Belle and her squabbling brats. It was enough to make me sick.

But Gaston wouldn't forget me… Would he? It was inconceivable that a man like him would waste his time on women like her. If he wanted a wife, he should have just chosen one! Pick a name out of a hat! Instead of this endless plotting and confusion and sending me out to pick up dredges like D'Arque!

But it would be worth it in the end… Wouldn't it?

I spoke quietly to D'Arque.

"We're almost at the tavern."

"At last," he said simply. I quickened my step, the town seeming so different at such a late hour of night. No baker was out selling his bread, there was no running fountain with small children crowding around it, no town-women gossiped while exchanging flowers… the town seemed dead and cold, with an eerie sense of foreboding. I couldn't put my finger on it, but something did not seem right.

I could feel something grip me, and it was something I'd been thinking ever since a few days beforehand, when I killed the deer. It was like a… loss of innocence of sorts. Sure, I'd always followed Gaston around, but this time, this plan, we had the possibility that we were doing something truly cruel and evil.

But we were doing it anyway, and acting as if it were nothing. And I couldn't feel my heart tell me to back out. I was in too deep to claw my way back out. Gaston's interests had become irrevocably intertwined with mine. He was all I had.

We arrived at the tavern, in front of which Gaston was waiting, an annoyed look on his face. I opened the door and he and D'Arque stepped inside. We made our way to a table on the edge of the nearly deserted tavern – the only patrons left were a few of the old cronies, who were drinking the night away and weren't paying any attention to us.

"Thank you for coming on such short notice, Monsieur D'Arque," Gaston said. I looked into his determined blue eyes, and I felt a hand clutch my gut. This was happening.

"I don't usually leave the asylum in the middle of the night," D'Arque intoned, "But this fellow said you'd make it worth my while."

Gaston and I explained the situation with Belle, and explained to D'Arque our plot – threaten to lock Maurice up if Belle refused to marry him.

"A bit of a 'shotgun wedding', if I do say so myself," Gaston whispered to me. I smirked.

D'Arque agreed. The money was on the table, after all.

And now all we had to do was wait for Belle and her father to cross paths with us yet again. Which, we deduced, should not take terribly long.