Hi everyone! After much stress and much wanting to bludgeon my computer to death with my own head, I present to you the 2nd half of my chapter! Thanks again to all my reviewers (its your kind words that keep me writing) and to Trudi for her continued help-much appreciated!

On to the story...

Chapter Twenty-Three.

Voices (part two)

"So, can you sense when it's around?" Raisse asked, trying to sound as if she did not know the implications of her words.

Lefou nodded. "It's like a chill creeping all over my skin, like someone has just walked over my grave…"

"Like when you think you're being watched but you can't see by whom?" offered Raisse.

Lefou thought for a moment. "I guess…but I see it too, in my mind's eye just before it…you know…appears."

They had been talking about the creature for just over an hour. Raisse had managed to manipulate the conversation from family to foes relatively easily, to her surprise. She knew she could be persuasive, always had been. A few more minutes more before bedtime, just one more cake, another game and then she would study, she promised…these were all phrases she used regularly at home. An eyelash flutter here, a smile there, had always gotten her what she wanted. Oh, how trivial it all seemed now, when all she wanted was what really mattered! Freedom. Her family. Her dearest friend.

If Lefou was suspicious of the revealing nature the conversation was taking, he did not show it. Was he really as naive as he seemed?

"Is it here now?"

"No. Elsewhere, has been for days. It's so boring in that house all by myself. Sometimes I…no, forget it…

"What is it? Really, you can tell me, Lefou. I won't breathe a word."

Lefou leant over the table, quickly looked around like a guilty child about to steal sweets, and the dropped his voice to a whisper so low that she struggled to hear it, even in the overwhelming silence that surrounded them.

"Sometimes I feel like I don't want to do this anymore. It was all for Gaston, everything, and the creature promised, it promised that it would help him, that I could undo all the wrongs against him."

"What happened?"

"Nothing!" blurted Lefou. "Nothing happened! Kidnapping you did nothing!"

Raisse was alarmed to see the little man burst into tears. Despite everything, she felt sorry for him. He was so easily led, was probably a good man deep down. Now a lifetime of grief had taken its inevitable toll. The poor man was a wreck.

"There, there," she soothed as she awkwardly patted his shoulder. "Everything is going to be fine, you'll see."

She cringed at how empty her sentiment sounded. In truth, she was becoming increasingly distressed by the sobs that bellowed forth from Lefou's chest. How could she comfort him? It was true; in some way, her family was responsible for his lifelong torment. How desperate must he have been to conjure evil spirits from godforsaken realms and think they could help him find some sort of peace in vengeance?

Everyone, even those resistant to magic and faerie-folk (and there were a few. They prided themselves on not relying on magic to solve every problem, on not succumbing to the powerful lure that it had on mere mortals) knew that spirits, both evil and good, only ever thought of what they wanted. Any assistance or advice given to humans was merely a device to aid their ambition and greed. Even the Enchantress who'd cast the spell on Raisse's family all those long years ago had an ulterior motive—or so everybody said, although nobody was clear on exactly what that motive was.

Raisse was, of course, unaware of the Enchantress' part in her current predicament. The events of years ago—the past, magical roses, beasts—it was all just another story to her. This one, however, was all too real, and required more than a few confessed words of love for there to be a happily ever after. Perseverance, suggestion…these were the only tools Raisse had to win her freedom, and she handled them carefully. Lefou's resolve was weakening. All his pent-up anger and grief was gradually being released in the tears he shed. Now it had to be replaced with ambition and pride.

"Tell me about Gaston, Lefou. What did you like best about him?"

In the old days, Lefou would have taken the opportunity to list all of Gaston's amazing physical traits. His strength, his power, his skill with a bow and arrow…all the attributes that had made the man a legend and earned him a private shrine in the inn and in the hearts of all the people of Molyneaux. These all hardly mattered to Lefou though. He had, after all, met Gaston as a boy, when he was years away from the man he would become.

"He made me feel wanted," he said quietly. "For so long, I belonged at his side. We did everything together—hunted, drank, played games.Then he was gone, and there was just me. I was alone."

"Didn't you try to find your mother? Your family?"

The room fell silent. Either Lefou did not hear her, or he chose not to. Either way, Raisse felt the control she had had over the conversation slip just a little. Lefou was lost in his past, and those lost in the past rarely wanted to regain the present or even think of a future. The past was safe. One already knew what had happened. Far scarier was a life beyond stolen moments and spent memories, when a person had to let go and face the unknown.

In Lefou's case, the unknown was clearly a life in which he thought for himself and dictated his own actions. For both of their sakes, he needed to learn how to do this.

"Haven't you ever wanted to be a hero, Lefou?"

The word brought Lefou out of his self-imposed trance.

"A hero?" he breathed. Truly, he had never thought of it. He'd always been a lackey, a sidekick, the person who cheered on others who were courageous and gallant. The idea of him being the centre of attention and the one people looked up to…no, he could never do it…could he?

"Me? A hero?" he said out loud. "I…well, I…how could I be a hero? Heroes are tall and strong. They kill monsters, they save people. I've never saved anyone…and the biggest thing I've killed is a housefly."

"You could save me, "she suggested rather boldly, "and kill your own demons for good."

"What?" stuttered Lefou. "I couldn't…I wouldn't even know…how…how would I do that?"

"Just think, Lefou. You'd be free. You could do whatever you wanted to, and they'd cheer. The people would cheer! They'd say 'Hail, Lefou! Saviour of the princess!' and you'd be a hero. A hero just like Gaston! Surely that's what he'd really want, for his loyal friend to honour his memory by saving the day!"

She jumped up, excitement shining in her eyes, and suddenly Lefou could hear the people singing his praises and shouting his name. He was being carried on a throne through the crowd and women were throwing flowers and children were staring up at him with wide-eyed awe. And there, right in the middle, was Gaston. He saw the hunter smile and then clap him on the back with his strong hand. "Well done, Lefou."

Raisse stepped back to admire her handiwork, daring to feel hope raise up inside her, and not just hope that she could escape. Hope that this little man, whom she had grown quite fond of, could break away and start afresh. Hope that…

"No," he said, suddenly.

Raisse blinked.

"What?"

"No, I can't do it. I won't do it. Goodbye, Raisse," he said calmly.

He dipped his head in a little bow, strode to the door, and slammed it behind him, all the while with a small smile on his lips.

Raisse was stunned. It had all been going so well. It had been working. How could it go wrong? In a daze, she slumped back down in her chair, waiting for the heart-wrenching despair to seize her chest and slowly start to defeat her from the inside out.

But this never happened, because then Raisse saw the small iron key that had been left on the table.

"Oh, Lefou!" she breathed. "You did it! You did it!"

Without further hesitation, she ran for the door, wiggled the key into the lock and flung it open. Air hit her in the face, such sweet outdoor air, and then she was running. She didn't care where. She just wanted to run far, far away to her life. To her home. To her freedom. She ran faster than she ever thought she could run, hardly seeing the trees as they flew past, her bare feet slapping on the grass, the hem of her dress streaming out behind her, and all the while she thought of her home, her family and her friends, and mentally thanked the strange little man who had saved her.

The man in question saw her run. He had barely moved out of the way of the doorway before she swung it open and then took off like a deer during a hunt. He watched her as she disappeared from his sight, and smiled to himself.

Finally, I did something right…

His thoughts were confirmed by the presence of a voice at his ear, a voice that had always been there, a voice that sounded like dead leaves and dry twigs underfoot…

"So she has escaped…"

"How did I do, master?" asked Lefou, his voice a little squeaky.

"Perfect, Lefou," whispered the creature as it hungrily stared at the forest the princess had run into. "Just perfect."

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"My mother is dying. I do not know what of. She has been sick for sometime. She asked me to find my brother and to search in Molyneaux, so I did.

Chip studied Fauve as she told her story, absorbing every word she spoke. His anger had subsided a little, just a little, just enough so that he could concentrate on her excuse for deceiving him. It was hard for him to tell if she was still lying. She seemed sincere enough, but then she had not been honest since the day he met her, so the cynicism he had developed only recently made every word sound false. Still, he listened, though a part of him was too far gone to care.

"I was too late. I discovered he had already left. Nobody knew where and when he had gone, and when I asked further, they shut their doors on me muttering things about evil spirits.

"I went to his house, but, of course, it was empty, save for a pentagram made of chalk and a large number of books that I dared not read. I know black magic when I see it. My mother used to warn me of such things, but I never dreamed that my own brother would involve himself in such horrors."

She shook her head sadly, causing something on her cheeks to catch the light of the sun that now rose steadily on the horizon. Chip could not see if the somethings were tears or left-over raindrops. She continued;

"I had hit a dead-end, and I did not know what to do next, so I stayed in the cottage for a while. I guess I wanted to get a sense of who my brother had become. I was so young when we moved that I didn't remember him, and Mama had never spoken of him until that day.

"Eventually, out of desperation, I sat in the room where he'd conjured demons and cried out to anyone or anything that could hear me to help me. It was the creature who answered. I'll never forget he first time I saw it." She shuddered. "It robbed me of breath and made my blood run cold. When I had calmed enough to hear it, it said it had him who I sought and that he would be released if I cooperated."

Chip nodded grimly, feeling his anger return. So, he was right after all. Fauve must have noticed the subtle shift in his mood, for she suddenly cried out, "No! It is not what you think. Please let me finish. Judge me then if you must, but let me finish."

He did nothing, said nothing, so she took that to mean she should continue.

"It told me that a man of your age and description would arrive in the village, calling himself a wanderer with an uncertain destination. It said I must stop him from reaching it by any means necessary. He is a threat to me, it said. You must ensure he never finds me. Only then will I return your brother to you. I gave the creature my word, but inwardly vowed to do the opposite."

Her voice grew soft and she dared to come nearer to him, though she noticeably trembled with every step.

"I knew when I met you that you were special, that you had the power to defeat it. And you do, Chip! Don't you see? We can do this together, we can destroy it once and for all!" she said, new excitement causing her to babble somewhat. "We can work together. We can save the princess and my brother. See, I never lied! I…"

She was halted in her tracks by a sudden burst of laughter from Chip. The idea that he might not take her seriously had never occurred to her, and now it irritated her immensely.

"What? How dare you? I….I'm being serious! How can you…"

"You fool, Fauve!" hissed Chip sharply, now fully understanding the situation. "Don't you realise what you've done? This is what it wanted all along! It tricked you!"

Frustration at her stupidity awoke the beast that now dwelt in Chip's mind. He felt the power rise up with him, unstoppable now in its persistent menace, and somewhere deep inside, part of him – the part that was still Chip -- became terrified. What was happening to him? He felt that he was losing control as the rage overtook him. Fauve felt herself begin to back away, seemingly against her will and rather clumsily, as she nearly tripped over a tree-root in her haste.

"It knew you would help me. Did you really think you could outwit such a creature? It wants me. It needs me. How could you do this to me, Fauve?"

The hurt and anger in his eyes was too much for Fauve to bear. She began to cry, fear and guilt distorting her voice into a series of desperate gulps and stutters."

"No! No, I didn't…I didn't mean to, I didn't know. Chip, please…I'm sorry…I…"

"You used me to find your brother and so have condemned me to this…to what I have become. I don't want this, I don't want this!"

Now he was screaming like a frightened child. He saw himself pick Fauve up from the floor with unseen hands and then slam her body against a tree. She had hurt him, she had deceived him. Like everyone else, she had lied. All the pain he had not yet fully allowed himself to feel over his mother was now taking over, and he was pushing Fauve into the tree. Again, again, and she was yelping in pain, and he did it again, and now he was crying for everything he had lost and everything he was about to lose…

Suddenly, he came to his senses. With great effort, fighting the person he now was with everything he still had, he let her go. She fell to the floor in a heap, bruised, shaken but still alive. She proved this by somehow managing to scramble to her feet, whimpering all the while, and Chip saw, truly saw, for the first time what he had done. With one last look, her eyes watering in her red and muddy face, her hair wet and tangled, her dress a mess of holes and rags, Fauve ran out away through the trees and out of his life.