Bayou Fairy Tale (37 page)

“You need to listen to me right now,” she said, taking a step toward him.

He threw out a hand. “What you need to do is back the fuck up,” he demanded.

With a quick glance to his left, the corpse of a young woman lay impaled on a bush root.

“Who’s she?” His voice trembled. “
Who is she
?” Anger and fear churned inside of him. Who was she? Who was he? Where was he? Why was he bleeding? His heart raced and his skin tingled with the pricks of adrenaline.

The woman in red raised her hands, trying to halt him. “I’m not going to hurt you. My name is Aliss Magnus. Your name is Corentin Devereaux, and she is Gabrielle Devereaux. She’s your sister.”

He puffed a frosted breath and sized her up. He had at least seventy pounds on her. He could overpower her if need be. “Where are we?” he asked as he shivered.

Her attitude shifted into calmness. “New Orleans, Louisiana.”

“You expect me to believe that?” He smirked. He could definitely take her.

She sighed. “I know how insane this is going to sound, but the three of us are called Enchants.” She patted her chest and seemed to search his face for understanding. “I’m the Queen of Hearts.” She pointed at him. “You are a huntsman.” And then swept a hand to the deceased woman. “Gabrielle is a witch.” She nodded to him. “We are allies. And right now, New Orleans is collapsing around us. A young man created this frozen wasteland, and we need to stop him before more people die.”

He narrowed his eyes, considering her words. “That sounds far too insane to make up off the top of your head.”

Aliss smiled. “If you come with me, I’ll get us back to our friends, and I’ll tell you everything.”

He raised his eyes and listened to the sound of anguish in the distance. New Orleans glowed into the night. Not from beauty, but from fire as the city was rendered to ash. He nodded to her. “This is a war?”

“Very much so.” Her tone remained patient, a pleasant change from her irritation.

“How will we fight?”

“With the strength of our will.”

He smirked. “That doesn’t sound like a particularly good offense.”

She rolled her wrist, and a bolt of red light shot from her hand. A great sword in the peculiar shape of a cleaver materialized in her hand. She set her jaw. “I meant it.” She pointed to him. “Try it.”

He didn’t know where this was going, but he was going to give it a shot. He jerked out his right hand, trying to snatch some of this so-called magic. The heavy weight of a giant bow was in his hand. He clutched tightly before it could slip out of his grasp. As much as he thought her explanation was absurd, the familiarity of the bow suggested otherwise.

He didn’t know what he’d find there. But considering he had become a blank slate, any knowledge would be a gift.

“Well, we can’t hoof it.”

“And regrettably, I don’t have any magic that will get us closer.” Aliss rested her cleaver on her shoulder and seemed to consider options.

A blink of red caught his attention. He perked as the red flashed again from under a low-hanging tree. It wasn’t Aliss’s magic. “A taillight?” he asked to no one in particular as he moved closer.

The taillight flickered in the same rhythm, as if someone was pumping the brake. He waved her over.

“I think someone’s trapped in here.” He shook off the snowy branch, and it recoiled upright, freeing the trapped truck.

The red Ford F-150 looked like it had seen better days. The paint had peeled into an orangey, atomic-cherry shade, and cracked dash vinyl stood like tiny brittle scabs. The roof liner sagged into a hammock best made for a kitten. Or a rat.

Was there a rat nesting in here? Oh boy.

The headlights flashed, and the radio station dialed in random squeaking channels. The musical styles of perky pop princesses shifted to growling blues and then to the anthems of classic rock.

He stepped around the driver’s side.

It was empty.

The lights continued to blink and the radio dialed the mishmash of stations.

He drew his eyebrows together. “It seems….” He looked up at Aliss. “Happy?”

Aliss hurried to the passenger side. “And hopefully eager to help.”

He popped open the door, and an avalanche of Big Mac boxes clattered to the concrete. As he settled into the driver’s seat, as if it had been perfectly worn and fit the contours of his back.

Aliss climbed into the passenger side. She frowned as she kicked out the crumpled Starbucks cups and her boots crunched into the McDonald’s bags. “Couldn’t you have stolen something, what’s the word—clean?”

“It’s supposed to be like that,” he said as he flipped down the sun-rotted visor. The keys fell into his hand, and he grinned.

Like riding a bike.

He turned the key and revved the engine, listening to the comforting purr. Throwing the truck into reverse, he spun it out of the snowbank.

Aliss gasped, possibly trying for a scream and not quite getting there.

He tightened his grip on the wheel and licked his lip. “My name’s Corentin?”

She nodded and fastened her seatbelt.

“What kind of fucking douchey name is that?”

He hit the gas.

The Burning Streets of New Orleans

UNDER IDI’S
command, Taylor took off after Atticus. Ringo and Honeysuckle flew alongside him as fast as their wings would beat, both resonating with their own chipper songs. Honeysuckle could fly in a straight, efficient path. Ringo was not so fortunate. He could keep the pace, but bobbed and rolled into frantic curlicues, thanks to his butterfly wings.

As Taylor bounded from rooftop to rooftop, his pink ribbons of light swathed the streets in massive wakes of primroses. The mundanes below yawned and curled into peaceful slumber.

He didn’t want to think about if Idi would deliver on his promise. Or even if he would kill Ray. Taylor’s trust in him was nonexistent at best, and a fragile thread of belief he was genuine at the worst. He was the Lord of Liars, after all, and was the pure embodiment of that title. Idi didn’t make promises to Enchants or witches. The only thing he delivered on was subjugating all of them.

Trails of glaciers erupted for entire blocks. The shrill crackles of the ice formations stabbed into Taylor’s inner eardrum, and he slipped from a roof ledge. He lost his grip on his lance, and it vanished from his fingers as he fell. Taylor lost his concentration for a regrettably long enough moment that he smacked into the roof of a car. Glass exploded around him, scraping his cheeks, then showering across the street and over sleeping mundanes. Around him, the primroses slowly blackened and wilted. The mundanes stirred from their slumber, and Taylor tried to slow his rapid breathing. His spell broke and the mundanes were on their feet again.

They mobbed him with insanity in their eyes. Fear gripped Taylor as he pulled himself from the ruined car. Every muscle ached as his magic faded. He had to concentrate on how to get it back without causing the most damage to the mundanes.

Groups of mundanes took hold of his arms and pulled him with his back against the car. He tried to kick away, but others took hold of his feet. One of them climbed over him, standing with his feet planted next to Taylor’s ribs. The mundane raised his bloodied baseball bat and snarled like the beast he had become.

Taylor closed his eyes, preparing for the worst.

There was a droplet of water on a still pond, and the mundanes fell back in heaps. Taylor blinked and found Honeysuckle and Ringo over him; they had encased him in the safety of a soap bubble.

The pixies exchanged high fives.

“Way to go on those countermeasures, Honeybee,” Ringo said.

“As you say”—Honeysuckle arrogantly shrugged—“eh, theatrics.”

“You two.” Taylor smirked.

“You okay, boyo?” Ringo asked as he fluttered to Taylor’s face. “Nothing broken? Nothing ruptured? Not dying?”

Taylor tried sitting up, careful to keep from accidentally brushing Honeysuckle’s bubble. “Not dying, I swear. I just lost my concentration. I didn’t know the mundanes could wake up if I botched it.” He shook his head, trying to clear away the fog.

“We didn’t know falling asleep nearly tears you apart too,” Ringo said, then thumbed his chin. “You don’t plan on randomly falling asleep in the next few minutes, do you?”

Taylor focused on his breathing, trying to find that sweet spot of the lucid dream, where his true power lay. “Don’t plan on it…,” he muttered as the soft stillness washed over him.

Ringo tugged on Honeysuckle’s sleeve. “I think our boy’s ready to rock again.”

As easy as the sunrise, Taylor rose to his feet. Honeysuckle dispersed the bubble, and she and Ringo shifted out of his way. Taylor’s lance materialized back in his hand, and he stepped off the crushed car with the same elegance and grace as if he was walking down the royal steps of a palace.

The mundanes cowered before him, unsure of what to do.

He flipped down his visor with a locking click, then tapped the butt of his lance to the cold ground.

Primroses flourished into Spring lushness, and the mundanes settled again.

Ringo waved Taylor off. “You go. We’ll be here tending to the mundanes.”

Honeysuckle pushed up her sleeves. “Nothing a good dose of tranquilizer magic on top of the Blooming Lullaby can’t fix.”

Ringo raised his brows. “Whoa. Remind me to stay out of your way.”

“What are you doing?” Taylor shook his head.

Honeysuckle smirked, a devious disturbing twinkle in her eyes. “Casting magical Ambien. Can’t risk these guys getting up.”

Taylor glanced to Ringo. “They’re going to be
holy Storyteller ouuuut
,” Ringo said in a breathy growl.

“Can you cast the spell elsewhere?” Taylor asked.

Honeysuckle worked the soft yellow ball of energy between her palms. “I can’t move as fast or as widespread as you. I’ll need time between each casting, and there’s no way I can dose an entire city.”

Ringo cupped Taylor’s cheeks and touched his forehead to Taylor’s visor. “Whatever you do, don’t lose your concentration, or we’ll be in this mess all over again. Got it?”

Taylor nodded. “Like it was on a fire sale.”

Ringo bonked his fist on Taylor helm. “Atta boy. Time to save the fucking world again.”

“You know, I’m so over this preventing the apocalypse business,” Taylor said with a shrug. His armor plates clanked together with the gesture.

“Keeps life interesting.” Ringo smirked.

“Just don’t die, sweet pea,” Honeysuckle said with a kind smile.

Taylor smirked. “Thanks.”

Satisfied, he took off again. Taylor dashed through the fortress of glaciers, and with his will, ran up the rippled sides of the cackled surfaces. Primroses bloomed under his footfalls as he headed for the summit. The ice fractured under him and fluttered away into trails of flower petals.

As one glacier’s face slid under Taylor’s footing moments away from shearing off to the streets below, Taylor stabbed the blade of his lance into the ice. “Come on, Zee,” he whispered drowsily.

Zee took control. The invisible force of her spirit shot down his lance and into the ice. The titan glacier face burst into the sweetness of rose petals and drifted away on the wind, carrying Taylor’s Blooming Lullaby over half the city.

Tapping into Zee’s power, Taylor carried himself to the nearest rooftop. He couldn’t get an exact location due to his loss of the ability to read signage or two-dimensional objects. Only the bend in the Mississippi River served as a landmark.

Spiny ridges of ice shot upward from the streets below, leading to the water. Only one thing could be making a moving trail of ice.

“
Atticus
.”

ALISS CLUNG
to the window bar as she gritted her teeth.

Corentin cackled openly at her wide-eyed terror. “You can’t possibly be scared,” he said as he floored it toward the ferry ramp leading to the Mississippi River.

“You do realize there’s no ferry,” she said while trying to keep her terror in check.

“I do.” With a sharp turn of the wheel, the truck slid down the ferry ramp like a playground slide.

Aliss dug her fingernails into the tattered upholstery.

The truck went airborne, twirling with the grace of an ice skater.

Corentin released the wheel and tilted back his head, letting the rush take him.

The truck crashed to the ice, spinning a long sequence of revolutions.

Aliss couldn’t hold in her panic anymore. She broke into a cracking screech.

Corentin laughed with the demon within as he threw the wheel and hit the gas, forcing the truck to speed over the river.

“Did you know the ice wouldn’t break under us?” Aliss gasped in rapid breaths.

“Nope,” Corentin said, fanning his fingers over the leatherette of the steering wheel.

A row of icy spines shot up from the river across their path. There was no time to stop. The truck could only absorb the least catastrophic damage.

“Hold on,” Corentin said calmly.

As he slammed on the brake, the truck turned and slid, skating on the ice toward the barrier.

The impact shattered the ice, and the truck continued to skid over the surface.

Corentin spotted a man crossing the river. He tilted his head as he tried to puzzle it out. Maybe a knight, perhaps in shining armor? A prince? Aliss did mention something about Enchants. “That’s the guy fucking everything up, yeah?” he asked and pointed.

“That would be him,” Aliss said.

“Terrific.”

Corentin slammed on the gas, and the tires slipped and slid before catching traction. They took off like a streak of mayhem.

The knight, as Corentin decided to call him, seemed to be caught in his own hesitation as he looked skyward.

Fantastic timing. Kismet, one would say.

A pink comet sailed through the night sky, burning a long, glimmering trail.

Corentin shook his head. “Are those flower petals coming off that comet?”

Aliss leaned forward, grinning broadly. “I see Princess Hatfield has decided to join us.”

“Hold on,” Corentin said as they closed in on the knight. He didn’t care who he was. Aliss said he was the one causing the disaster, so that made him a logical enemy. Logical or not, it was a choice. It may be a horrific one, or a fantastic one, but he couldn’t think about the solution until it presented itself. Not that he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. One decision at a time.