Views from the Tower (7 page)

“Let my sister go!” Snow shouted. She ran forward and kicked the back of the prospector’s knee. His leg began to buckle, but he righted himself and turned, backhanding Snow across the face with his free hand. The anger that coursed through me then was more than a match for his wild rage. I took advantage of his momentary distraction to knee him as hard as I could. As he doubled over in pain, I twisted his arm, pulling out of his grasp.

I ran to Snow, pulling her up from the ground where she lay dazed. A small trickle of blood ran from the corner of her mouth.

As we scrambled across the slippery rocks of the creek bank toward the pathway up the side of the ravine, the old man recovered enough strength to chase after us. We were a few steps up the path when I felt the yank on my braids. Even Snow pulling frantically on my arm couldn’t stop my backwards movement. My eyes watered as he pulled me back down to the creek. He’d reached into his pocket and pulled something out. It was a talisman of some kind, made of twigs and shaped like an animal. It could have been a wolf or a bear, I couldn’t tell through the pain in my head and the tears in my eyes.

“Let me go,” I gasped. “We were just trying to help you!”

“Ha! You’re trying to steal my gold! I’ll teach you to pull a knife on me! Don’t think you’re the first to try to cross me!” He held the talisman up, rubbing it with his dirty thumb and began to chant something in a language I didn’t know.

But I didn’t really care what he was saying. His mention of the knife reminded me that that I still had it. I’d slipped it back into my apron pocket after I’d wrested my arm back from him. I grabbed it and stuck it into his leg. He screamed, but he didn’t let go of my hair.

Snow flew at him again, shrieking and beating her fists against his face. He couldn’t hit her this time without letting go of either me or the talisman. He continued chanting, trying to pull me farther out into the creek to escape her fists.

A roar seemed to shake the ground under my feet. I looked up just in time to see Bear bounding across the creek. The prospector saw him too and dropped my braid to put his hands up to defend himself as Bear fell on him in a writhing mass of fur, claws, and wicked teeth. I wrapped my arms around Snow’s waist and half fell, half jumped, away from the fray, splashing into the cold water of the creek.

Snow and I scrambled toward the bank, trying to ignore the sounds behind us. I saw the prospector’s talisman floating near the bank and scooped it up with a shaking hand.

“Run home,” we heard Bear growl. Snow and I scrambled out the water and obeyed him without looking back.

My heart was pounding and my lungs were strained to bursting by the time we reached home. We tumbled through the cabin door, slamming and latching it behind us. Mother looked up in shock from where she had a big pot of huckleberries bubbling on the stove.

“What’s happened?” she asked urgently. I realized we must look a fright. There was blood on my dress and Snow’s face. We were both damp and covered in mud and bracken.

“A man—” Snow gasped out. “A prospector...tried...to hurt us.”

My mother’s face contorted in fury. She strode toward the mantle and grabbed Father’s gun. I shook my head and put my arm across the door as she started toward it.

“Bear.” I said simply, still trying to slow my frantic breathing.

Mother stood for a moment, and I knew she was still dying to go out after the prospector. We stood in a silent, tense group for a few moments. I was worried about Bear. I didn’t think there was any way that the prospector could overcome him. But he had claimed he had powerful strong magic. But then, Bear was magic too, wasn’t he? And strong.

I felt a pain in my hand and realized I was clutching the prospector’s talisman so tightly that it was scoring my palm. I opened my clenched fingers and stared at it. It was made of twigs, yarn and beads. The twigs were bent and twisted into the shape of a bear. I could see that now. The snout was too short and the body too bulky to be a wolf. Maybe this is what he had traded for with the medicine man?

As I stared in fascinated horror at the talisman, Snow moved over to the window. She gazed out silently for a few minutes, and I knew she was worried too. Finally she gasped. “Rosie! Bear is coming!”

I ran to the door and unlatched it, swinging it wide open and stepping through to stand between the rose bushes. Bear was walking slowly toward the cabin. I breathed a sigh of relief that he didn’t seem to be injured in anyway. He looked up and saw me standing in the doorway, and he began walking even faster toward me.

I didn’t want to meet him still holding the prospector’s wooden bear. I broke it in half—the twigs were so dry, they splintered easily—and then broke it in half again. I dropped the pieces onto the dirt and kicked them with the toe of my boot under the bush with the crimson flowers.

The wind began to pick up, playing with the strands of hair escaping my braids and pushing at my skirts. It continued to blow, harder and harder, picking up dust in the field outside the cabin and spinning it into little cyclones. The roses dipped and bobbed against the strong gusts. Petals began to scatter, flying out and getting caught in the dust devils—spinning and spinning in a shower of blood red and white.

I didn’t know what was happening. I felt as if the wind might pull me to pieces, but that wasn’t why icy fingers of fear were clutching at my heart. I could feel their frozen grip in spite of the heat. I didn’t even bother to fight against the feeling. I was afraid.

I couldn’t see Bear. He had been walking toward me out of the forest and into our little clearing, and now all I could see was dust and rose petals.

“Bear!” I screamed, but the wind snatched my voice away.

The wind stilled. It didn’t taper off; it just stopped mid-gust. The petals and dust all hung suspended in the air for brief second and then settled to the ground. It was like a sudden rain shower, but instead of water droplets, crimson and snowy petals fell from the sky.

And then he was standing right in front of me. A young man with thick, sable hair and brown eyes that looked like deep, dark pools. He was beautiful. He was smiling at me, but his eyes were serious. He looked at me as if he somehow saw past everything everyone else saw. As if he knew me. And I knew him.

“Bear,” I whispered as I threw myself into his arms.

Down the Rabbit Hole

I knew better than to go following a white rabbit down a rabbit hole.  I mean, first rule of Fairy Tale Investigations right?

And yet here I was trailing a large white rabbit through a maze of winding, dark alleyways.

In my defense, it wasn't a real white rabbit.  It was a guy in a bunny costume, complete with floppy ears and silly grin.  The kind of bunny that overzealous parents stuck frightened children on the laps of for pictures once a year. In other words, creepy as hell. Cause what isn't creepy about a six-foot-three-inch bunny with a bow tie? Nothing, that's what.

The bunny picked up his pace, so I increased mine. He hadn’t given any indication he’d noticed he was being followed and I’d thought I’d been pretty discreet. There were a lot less people here than there had been in the alleys right off the main street though, so it was getting harder and harder to remain inconspicuous.

The oversized rabbit ducked around a corner and after pausing a moment to pull my gun out of its holster, I followed.

I came face to face with a giant, toothy grin. So much for remaining inconspicuous.

“Why are you following me, lady?” The voice was gruff; I’m pretty sure he was disguising it.

I leveled my gun at one of the costume’s buck teeth. “Special Agent Harrison. I need you to take off the bunny head. Slowly. Keep your hands where I can see them.”

The bunny slowly reached up and removed its head. The man inside the suit was stunningly attractive. Black hair, sea-colored eyes, ridiculously square jaw. But then, I’d expected that.

“Can I see some identification?” he asked, tucking the bunny head under his arm. I was right, the voice had been a fake. His real voice could have melted butter on a subzero day.

I kept my gun trained on him with one hand and reached into my back pocket with the other. Flipping open the little black wallet, I flashed him my badge and i.d. He glanced at it. I didn’t appreciate how unimpressed he looked.

“Your name is Alice?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Special Agent Harrison,” I corrected as I stuck the badge wallet back into my pocket.

“Special Agent Alice Harrison. And here you are following a white rabbit. Alice, I’m not going to lie to you: I’m concerned for your career advancement. Irony aside, it’s just not the best general life choice. You never know where you’ll end up.”

“Technically, I wasn’t following a rabbit. I was following you. And you’re just a Charming in a rabbit suit.”

“Oh, I’m never ‘just’ anything.” He gave me a lazy grin and a wink. Was this guy flirting with me? While I had a gun pointed at him? I felt my blood pressure notch up in irritation.

“Yeah, actually, you’re ‘just’ under arrest.”

He didn’t even look flustered as he leaned against the nearest wall, casually crossing his ankles. “What for?”

“You are Erick Phillips, current Charming of the “100 Years Sleep” tale?”

“Yup, that’s me. Though really, Alice, “Charming” is such a politically incorrect term. As if all that matters about me are my good looks and wonderful personality.”

“Special Agent Harrison,” I reminded him. From where I was standing, and honestly, my gun arm was getting tired so this could have just been the annoyance talking, his personality didn’t look so wonderful. My bias could have also been due to the arrest warrant burning a hole in my pocket. “Erick Phillips you are under arrest for world jumping without a permit, purposeful tale deviation, and failure to pay all fees and tariffs associated with said world jumping.”

Phillips smirked at me. “How like the Office of Narrative Order to be so concerned with money.”

“The last charge actually carries the longest minimum sentence.” I shrugged as I unhooked the handcuffs from my belt. “Don’t do the crime if you can’t pay the fine.”

“Oh, that’s cute. Do they hand out mugs with that clever little saying on them at the O.N.O?”

“I’m pretty sure they’d prefer you didn’t do the crime in the first place. Turn around and place your hands on your head.”

“How would they pay your salary then, Alice, if everyone followed all of the rules all of the time?” The dimples almost made his smile look sincere. Almost.

“Mr. Phillips, please turn around and place your hands on your head,” I repeated. He continued to lean against the alley wall, nonchalantly, as if I was discussing the weather rather than putting him under arrest.

“You can’t seriously think you’re going to actually be arresting me today?” He raised that same eyebrow at me again. I gritted my teeth. That was the problem with Charmings, they always expected to get their own way. They never followed orders.

“Mr. Phillips, your arrest isn’t up for discussion. Seeing as I have you at the end of a gun, it would behoove you to comply.”

“You’re not going to shoot me.”

“Turn around and put your hands on your head.”

“Can you just imagine all of the time and expense of having to replace a Charming? In one of the main fifteen too. It’s a pretty important tale. I’m not bragging or anything; it’s not like I asked for the job, but I can’t imagine the O.N.O. wants a dead Charming on their hands. The paperwork alone could take years. What if my L.L. wakes up before my replacement is ready? What happens to my tale then?”

I felt the beginnings of a stress headache starting behind my eyes. He wasn’t wrong, just the thought of the paperwork made me queasy. I would be on desk duty filling out those forms for the next eight months at least.

“Don’t you even use your Leading Lady’s name? What kind of a Charming are you?” I’m not sure why the question popped out; maybe I was just so surprised at his casual mention of the woman who was supposed to be his true love. I really should just shoot him, preferably somewhere non-vital. A leg wound wouldn’t put him out of his tale that long, and more importantly, would require a lot less paperwork on my end. I let my gun drift in the direction of his leg.

“She’s been asleep for almost a hundred years. I’ve never even met her. Sure, we’re scheduled to meet and fall in love, but meanwhile real life is happening.” He shrugged his shoulders casually. Even though they were covered by the dreadful bunny costume, I could tell they were broader than regulation for Charmings. I’m sure this guy had no problems with women. The thought of it made me strangely angry. It’s not like his poor Leading Lady was taking an extended nap because she wanted to. If he was going to complain about not having asked to be a Charming, then surely his L.L. had just as much right to complain.

“And ‘real life’ just happens to include breaking several very important laws?” I asked sarcastically. I was now aiming my gun directly at his knee. A blown out knee cap would be satisfyingly painful, but it wouldn’t kill him. It might even serve the double purpose of making him stay put in his own story for awhile.

“When you’re fighting a battle for freedom against a corrupt and oppressive regime sometimes laws get broken. And don’t think I haven’t noticed where you’re aiming.”