He didn’t bother asking how they knew Belle had come to his castle. He had his theories on how they always seemed to know everything about him, but didn’t care to share them with the sisters.
“We’re surprised, Beast,” said Martha, her pale blue eyes watery and globelike.
“Yes, surprised,” Ruby spat with an eerie wide grin animating her too red lips morbidly, like a dead creature brought to life by evil incantations.
“We expected your condition to have progressed by now,” said Lucinda, her head cocked slightly to the right while she looked at him. “We dreamed of you running in the wood hunting smaller prey.”
Ruby continued, “We dreamed of hunters tracking you down.”
Martha laughed and said, “Hunting you like the beast you are and mounting your head on the Huntsmen’s Tavern wall.”
“Why, you’re even wearing clothes, we see. Holding on to the last shred of your humanity, is it?” they said in unison.
The Beast did nothing to betray his terror—terror not of the witches’ magic but of his own threatening nature, of which they were reminding him. They were holding a mirror up to the monster within, which was longing to escape. It was a beast that wanted to kill the witches and everything else in its path. He longed to see blood and bones, to taste their flesh. If he tore at their throats with his claws, he’d never have to listen to their shrill taunting voices again.
Lucinda laughed.
“Now that is what we expected of you, Beast.”
And Martha said, “He will never capture Belle’s heart, Sister, no matter how desperate he is to break the curse.”
“He’s too far gone now, I daresay.”
“Perhaps if he showed her how he once looked, she may have pity on him,” Ruby said as a maddening cacophony of laughter filled the rose garden.
“Pity him, yes, but love him? Never!”
The Beast used to hurl insults back at all of them, but it seemed only to fuel their passion for cruelty, and he didn’t dare stir up his own anger and desire for violence, so he just stood stock still, waiting for their little torture session to end.
Martha spoke again. “In case you’ve forgotten, here are the rules, Beast, laid out by all the sisters: You must love her and that love must be returned with true love’s kiss, before your twenty first birthday. She may use the mirror as you do, to see into the world beyond your kingdom, but she must never know the details of the curse or how it’s to be broken. You will notice she sees the castle and its enchantments differently than yourself. The most terrifying aspects of the curse are reserved for you.”
The Beast stared blankly at the witches.
Martha smiled creepily and continued, “This is your one advantage. The only thing in this castle or on its grounds that will frighten Belle is your visage.”
Lucinda chimed in. “When was the last time you looked upon your reflection, Beast? Or saw to the rose?”
There had been a time when the rose wasn’t out of his sight. Lately he tried to forget it. He had almost expected the sisters’ visit this evening would be to inform him that the last petal had fallen off its enchanted stem. But they were just here to mock him, as always, to tempt him into violence, and they’d love nothing more than to see his soul further besmirched.
Lucinda’s cackling voice brought him out of his reverie. “It won’t be long now.…”
Martha continued, “Not long at all, Beast.”
“Soon the last petal will fall and you shall remain in this form with no chance of transformation to your former self.”
“And on that day…”
“We will dance!” they finished in unison.
The Beast finally spoke. “And what of the others? Are they to remain as they are, doomed to enchantment as well?”
Ruby’s eyes widened in wonder. “Concern? Is that what we detect? Isn’t that odd?”
“Concern for himself.”
“Yes, for himself, always himself, never others.”
“Why would he concern himself with servants? He never gave them a second thought, unless it was to punish them.”