Beau and the Beastess

Chapter Six - Beau

Beau wasn't sure how long he'd been lying on the cot in his unlocked dungeon, he was pretty sure he'd dozed off a couple times, but Annabelle had respected his wishes and left him alone.

He couldn't get the vision of that young girl on her horse out of his head, and although he knew she'd stop at nothing to reverse the curse that she believed had been put on her, Beau couldn't help but wonder if Annabelle was telling the truth.

Maybe it was wishful thinking on his part, that he'd finally have the answer of where he'd come from and who he'd been before he woke up that day.

Did he have a family?

How did he go blind?

Was the place in his dream a memory and not just a dream?

Maybe he was as crazy as Annabelle, but she'd raised enough questions to give him a spark of hope.

The question was, what could they do about it?

Rising from the cot, Beau moved his neck in circles to work out the kinks then walked gingerly out of the dungeon and back up the stairs.

The house felt still, as if it were still night and all the servants were asleep. Beau wondered where the liquor was kept in this place...he'd kill for a drink right now. He'd have to ask the next person he came across to give him a tour of the house.

Being independent was something that had been important to him since he realized he was blind. Knowing where everything was located would normally be his first priority when arriving somewhere new. He didn't like people waiting on him, rather choosing to get things for himself, but since he'd been brought here, he'd felt like the prisoner that he was. If Annabelle wanted him to see her as anything other than a monster, that would have to change.

Low strains of music had him turning and heading in a direction of the house that he hadn't yet explored.

Chopin Waltz No. 10 in B minor...

Beau's mother had enrolled him in dance lessons when he was a younger, thinking it would help him with movement and grace as he got used to being blind, and it had, although he'd never thanked her for it. When you were seventeen and blind, taking dance lessons was the last thing in the world you wanted to do.

"I'm sorry, did I wake you?" Annabelle asked as he walked over the threshold into what he assumed was the music room she'd spoken of.

"No, not at all," Beau replied, redirecting to move toward the sound of her voice.

When he was close enough to hear her breathing, he stated, "Chopin."

"My coming out dance was supposed to be to this...the waltz. I practiced for week, but was sent away before I got to dance it." He could tell it was a record playing, but the soft bits of static intermingled with the music.

Annabelle's voice was wrought with emotion, and without thought, Beau reached for her hand, felt that now familiar shock at their first touch, and led her to what he hoped was the center of the floor.

No words were needed. Beau lifted their hands, then waited for her to place her other hand on his shoulder, before moving his around her back. He chose to ignore the hump he felt beneath his left hand, and the strange contours of the hand in his right. In his mind, he was holding the girl from his dreams, and his lessons were finally paying off.

They danced as if they'd trained together, their movements smooth and fluid, and when the song started again from the beginning, they didn't miss a step. They just kept dancing.

To the servant skulking by, they looked like what they were, a blind man and a beast. But in their hearts, they were simply a man and a woman fulfilling a moment that had never come to pass.

When the song ended again, Annabelle stopped and pulled gently away.

"Thank you," she said, her voice rough with emotion.

"You're welcome," he replied, and when he turned to leave, she stopped him by saying, "You can have the guest room downstairs, you don't have to sleep on that cot... I'll show you the way."

"Thank you," he returned, grateful not to have to go back down into the dungeon. Then he remembered his earlier thought. "But first, if you don't mind, I'd love a tour of this level, and a drink."

"Of course. I'm sorry I didn't see to that sooner."

The music turned off and Annabelle crossed to him, placing his hand on her forearm.

She showed him were the guest room and bathroom were then walked him back around to the music room, dining room, and kitchen, so he could memorize the layout of the floor.

Once in the kitchen, Annabelle led him to the refrigerator and pantry, so he could eat whenever he got hungry, then gave him a moment to wander and become acquainted with the rest of the space.

"Now," she said, guiding him out of the kitchen, down the hall and to the left, "you've been here before, the library...but if you come to the back of the room and unlock this case that is where you'll find the liquor."

Annabelle lifted his hand, a small hum running through his veins at the skin on skin contact, and placed it on a bottle. Beau felt the bottles in the cabinet until he felt the familiar curve of his favorite whiskey and turned to her with a smile.

"This one."

Beau heard her sharp intake of breath and lost his smile.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes, um, I'm fine," she stammered. "Please, have a seat, I'll pour us each a glass."

He was barely seated a couple seconds before the cool glass was in his hand.

"Thank you," Beau murmured before taking a sip then leaned back with a sigh as the liquid warmed the back of his throat.

"You're welcome," Annabelle replied as she sat a few feet away. "You're a beautiful dancer, Beau. I'm impressed."

"My mother loves dance. She encouraged me to take lessons."

"Are you close with your parents?"

Beau rested his glass on his thigh and replied, "Yes, very. They've always been very protective of me, and never held back an ounce of love. I consider myself very lucky that they found me and wanted to claim me as their own."

"You miss them," Annabelle said. More of a statement than a question.

Still, he answered, "Yes. They'll be very worried. Especially my mother."

They sat in silence, Beau wondering what his family must be going through with him having disappeared.

Suddenly, Annabelle stood, causing him to sit up in his seat, startled at the movement.

"I'm sorry," she said softly, but before he could comment on the tears in her voice, she was gone.

Beau stood, taking his glass with him as he left the library for his guest room, exhaustion hitting him all at once. He downed the rest of his whiskey before placing the glass on the nightstand then stripped down to his boxers before falling in to bed.

He dropped into sleep immediately, and dreamt of a beautiful girl, laughing astride her white horse.