I Am

Traded for a Rose (Part Four)

Mr. Unknown watched the story progress from a distance in the study, as Beauty followed the butler down the stairs. His heart ached, watching her leave. If only he never allowed her to volunteer for this mission as his partner, then she would not be in this mess. If what the computer specialists said was true, her data existed broken into separate pieces within the human world. They could recover her memory, but only if the E.L.A. did not find her data first. If found, they could use the information to discover secrets to destroy CLOAK. Even though their goal was to rid the world of all literature, CLOAK fought them to protect the world and its happiness.

He needed to tell her about the scattered data before it was too late. He would do anything to protect her, but an agent of CLOAK must have blood like ice. Even though she was his fiancée, the preservation of literature must take precedence. An agent must always think of the mission. Literature was their number one priority. But as he recited the mantras within his head, his heart refused to listen.

"My master had your room tailored for you. He wasn't sure what you would like, but he told me to say that if you would rather redecorate it yourself, you are free to do so," the butler said with his hand positioned on the handle.

Beauty stood near Hughes and leaned around him to gaze at the rose carvings, which decorated the immense door. He opened the door and revealed an enormous master bedroom filled with antique furniture. Beauty stepped around the butler and into the room. She gasped at the pink, and red rose painted walls. Because of the intricate details on the flowers, she imagined herself standing outside in the rose garden. Such time and effort went into this room! The canopy bed looked heavenly with its plush comforter and plump pillows. The double doors, which led to the balcony, were open, allowing fresh air to flow into the room. A gentle breeze lifted the curtains from the canopy. A vase of roses sat on the nightstand near the bed. Beauty walked toward the flowers and then picked up a small card.

On the card, it read: I hope you like the room.

Beauty turned to ask the butler about the card, but he had already left. She set the card down and sighed. How did the Beast do this in such a brief time? Had he prepared the room before her arrival? The roses appeared to be freshly cut. What if she had refused to come? Did the Beast know she had no other choice? Or was he hoping that she would?

Marriage to the Beast, could she do it?

"Of course, you wouldn't marry him," Mr. Unknown said after materializing.

Beauty turned toward the sound of his voice and saw that he sat in a settee near the double doors. She crossed her arms and frowned at him.

"Why is it that you always seem to appear when it's most convenient for you?"

"I'm just good like that," he responded with a grin. "To answer your thought, Beauty would marry the Beast, but you would not. Once this story is complete, you will move on to the next one."

"That makes sense. So, I am not Beauty. I am another person."

"Yes and no. You are technically Beauty. You speak like her, talk like her, and think like her. You should, at least. CLOAK should have fixed your detection and conversation skills."

"Conversation skills? Oh! Is that why I answered a question without thinking?"

"Sure."

"That doesn't give me a lot of confidence," Beauty muttered. "I've meant to ask this, but you've mentioned CLOAK and the E.L.A numerous times. You haven't said what they meant."

"I didn't? Hm, well, CLOAK means Cops Leading Operations Against Killers and the –"

"Killers? Cops? What? I'm a Cop?" Beauty shouted. She glanced toward the door after realizing she yelled at him. "Can anyone hear us talking?"