Beauty’s Beast(55)
Author: Amanda Ashley

“I shall do my best.” In a fluid motion, the wizard stood. “Disrobe.”

“Again?”

“Please.”

Erik glanced at Kristine, then turned so that his left side was away from her. Jaw clenched, he shed his clothing. It was humiliating to stand naked before the mage, to stand exposed as if he had no more feelings than the beast he was all too rapidly becoming.

The wizard smiled at Kristine. “Stand away, my dear.”

Kristine moved to the far side of the room, her hands clasped at her breast. Slowly, the wizard circled Erik. Three times to the left. Three times to the right. With a wave of his hand, he sprinkled a handful of what looked like crushed dandelion fluff over Erik’s head and shoulders. And then he began to chant softly. He had a most pleasant voice.

Kristine tried to understand the words of the incantation, but they were in a language she had never heard before.

The wizard circled Erik again, three times to the right, three times to the left, his voice rising, becoming higher and more intense. A hail of multicolored sparks flew from his fingertips; golden lights danced around the two men, enclosing them in a shimmering circle of brilliant amber fire.

Kristine folded her arms over her stomach, felt all the hair on her body rise as the wizard’s power filled the room.

Erik’s head fell back and a long, low groan rose from deep inside his chest.

Kristine leaned forward, her gaze fixed on the man she loved, the words please, please, please pounding in her head as the golden lights grew brighter, changed to swirling silver flecked with blue. The air pulsed with energy. There was a sharp crack that sounded like lightning, a sudden whoosh as a ribbon of rainbow fire engulfed Erik.

Her breath caught in her throat as, for the space of a half dozen heartbeats, Erik stood before her, tall and straight, his body whole, perfect, and beautiful.

The spell was broken! Relief gushed through her. And then, between one breath and the next, the rainbow fire turned black as pitch. The air filled with the acrid odor of smoke and ash.

The wizard stumbled backward, as if pushed by an invisible hand.

A cry of pain was torn from Erik’s throat as his body changed back to what it had been. Fighting for breath, he dropped to his hands and knees.

For every tear my daughter wept! For every drop of blood she shed.

The words, filled with unrelenting hatred, echoed from the floor, the ceiling, the very walls of the room.

Kristine covered her ears in a vain effort to shut out that horrible, vengeful voice. She looked at Erik. He was writhing on the floor, his body convulsing beneath a hideous greenish-black aura.

“No!” She screamed the words. “Leave him alone! He’s suffered enough!”

For every tear my daughter wept! For every drop of blood she shed!

The words vibrated through the air, exploded off the walls, shattered the windows.

Erik curled into a tight ball as waves of excruciating pain ripped through him.

“Lady Trevayne!” the wizard shouted. “Come to me, now!”

The urgency in his tone compelled her to his side. He put one arm around her shoulders and held her tightly against him. A wave of his hand enclosed them in a shimmering silver cloud.

“My curse cannot be broken.” Charmion’s voice, brimming with evil, slammed into Erik.

“Please,” Kristine begged. She shook off the wizard’s grip on her arm and took a step forward, intending to go to Erik, only to find that she could not move through the cloud that surrounded her. “Please. He’s suffered enough.”

“Not yet,” the voice said. “Not yet.” Hideous laughter filled the air. Power slithered through the room like a living entity. The force of it pressed against the shimmering silver cloud protecting Kristine and the wizard. She held her breath, afraid the witch’s power would strike them down, but nothing happened.

An angry wail echoed off the walls, and then there was a great silence, broken only by the sound of Erik’s labored breathing.

“She is gone,” the wizard said.

“It can’t be Charmion,” Kristine said, confused. “I . . . I hit her. I killed her.”

“Apparently you did not,” the wizard remarked. A wave of his arm dissolved the shimmering cloud.

Kristine hurried to Erik’s side, one hand reaching out for him.

“No!” He backed away from her. “Don’t touch me.”

“Why?”

“I can feel her power crawling over me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m afraid for you, afraid you’ll feel what I’m feeling if you touch me.”

“What do you feel?”

“You don’t want to know.” He closed his eyes, fighting the sharp, stabbing pains that grew more intense with every breath. “She’s punishing me,” he said. “Punishing me for coming here, for trying to cheat her of her victory.”

Kristine stared at Erik. “How can she be alive?”

He shook his head. It didn’t matter how. It was enough to know Charmion still lived, that Kristine and his child were still in danger, and he was helpless to protect them.

“Erik . . .”

“Leave me.”

“No.”

“Please, Kristine.”

“Come, child,” the wizard said, “I believe he needs to be alone.”

“I just want to help.”

“I know,” Caddaric said, his voice laced with sympathy. “I know.” Draping his arm around Kristine’s shoulders, he led her from the room.

Left alone, Erik collapsed on the floor, surrendering to the pain that lanced through him with his every breath, every heartbeat. They had come here seeking help. He knew now that no help would be forthcoming.

It will be less painful if you stop fighting. Valaree’s words rose in the back of his mind. Was that the answer, to simply give in? If he stopped fighting the transformation, would it take place more quickly? It would be so easy to give in, to stop fighting and accept the inevitable. So easy . . .

Closing his eyes, he sank into the velvet blackness that waited for him.

“What are we to do now?” Kristine asked. They were sitting in the wizard’s chambers. It was a large, square room, the walls lined with bookshelves crowded with books, scrolls, and manuscripts. Plush gray carpets covered the floor. Several flowering plants added splashes of color. The white raven regarded them from a perch in the corner.

Kristine stared into the cup of green tea the wizard had conjured for her. “It’s useless to fight her, isn’t it?”