Winter's Tale (11 page)

Hans was a sitting duck, and December had no
weapon but herself to smack the spinning missile off its
predestined course. Suspecting it was spelled to hit its target,
she swung her right fist toward it with the same force she’d use to
spike a volleyball at someone she disliked . . . a lot.

She guessed there were benefits to not
completely hating sports. She caught the hilt, but the blade
twisted weirdly, not obeying the laws of normal physics. Pain
burned across her right shoulder. She cursed and grabbed it,
knowing she’d been cut. She’d succeeded other than that. The sword
clattered to the road harmlessly.

For the moment, the queen seemed out of
juice. Hans gained his feet again. Seeing December had been hurt,
he scooped her up in his arms and began running down the dark
two-lane.

The queen didn’t follow, but her black dogs
did, setting up a more-than-natural baying that shook her eardrums.
December didn’t hear the car accelerate behind them until it was on
top of them.

“Get in,” demanded a voice she wasn’t sure
she wanted to recognize.

Miss Westin’s dark green four-door was
keeping pace with Hans. “Get in,” she repeated. “You can’t outrun
fae dogs.”

Hans had more coordination than she thought
“woodcraft” could cover. Forced to accept Miss Westin’s logic, he
opened the back door to the moving vehicle and leaped in—all with
December in his arms. The instant he slammed the door shut, Miss
Westin stomped on the gas.

“Is the girl all right?” she asked, glancing
at them in the rear view mirror.

“Just drive,” Hans said. “I’ll take care of
her.”

He was worried. She could see it in his face
from where she lay in his lap. Her shoulder throbbed and felt wet.
She guessed it was bleeding. Hans checked the rear window. Not to
be punny, but weren’t they out of the woods yet?

“The dogs?” she asked woozily.

“Dropping back. They’re fast, but we’ve
crossed the border. They won’t track as well in the human realm.
Actually, they dislike it here. If Araun can’t force them to
continue, they’ll return to Dire Woods.”

“Good,” she said and closed her eyes.

They snapped back open when Hans knotted a
silk Gucci scarf—probably one Miss Westin had tossed in the back
seat—around her injury as a tourniquet. She winced, but he didn’t
apologize. “Stay awake. I don’t have enough power to heal you. I
used all I’d stored up breaking my statue.”

“
You
broke your statue? I thought that
was my fault.”

“I told you it was like the story of the
Princess and the Snakeskin. She had to throw the prince’s reptile
form on the fire to free him from turning into it. Don’t you read
anything at school?”

“Not what I should, I guess,” she joked.

Hans touched her face, stroking her tangled
curls off at the same time. She wanted to soak up the love in his
expression like a hot bath. No one in her life had looked at her
like that.

“Beautiful man,” she murmured up at him.

He began to smile, but something out the back
caught his attention. “They’re turning.”

December craned to see over his shoulder. The
pack
had
turned. The big black shapes were receding fast as
they galloped the way they’d come. As they went, a scream of rage
unfurled. The sound was human and something more, something older
and deeper than December was used to. She shivered as its primitive
power brushed her.

Araun must have sensed the dogs abandoning
the pursuit.

Miss Westin had been easing up on the gas.
“Floor it,” December urged, seized by instinctive dread.

“What?” the teacher asked, her head twisting.
“What was that sound?”

“Floor it!” Hans seconded.

Miss Westin complied, but December wasn’t
certain she’d done it soon enough. The snake of energy the queen
had sent after her and Hans before stretched toward them through
the darkness—her vengeful will given a half-visible half-form. The
leading tip of the snake glowed like an undersea creature’s
tentacle. If it caught up, would it stall the car? Would Araun find
the strength to cross the non-magical border? Was her hatred for
the man who supposedly wronged her daughter intense enough for
that?

“Spirit of my mother,” Hans whispered, his
fisted hand to his heart. “Defend me one more time.”

The tentacle’s tip flared bright. December
gasped. It was going to touch the rear bumper.

Before it could, an invisible
something
attacked it. The queen’s projection shredded, like
a million tiny shark teeth were tearing it apart. December’s arms
rippled with gooseflesh. If that was Hans’s mother’s spirit, she
was no sweet Casper.

“Jesus,” Miss Westin swore, so shaken she
nearly ran them off the other side of the road. She wrenched the
tires back from the ditch at the last moment.

“It’s over,” Hans said. “The queen
overreached her magical resources. She’s been yanked back to her
own realm. You can feel the atmosphere is clearer.”

Maybe
he
could feel it. Miss Westin
and December needed a few deep breaths. Once she’d taken them, Miss
Westin reasserted her control of the vehicle, straightening their
wobbly line of travel into the right lane again.

“Jesus,” she repeated. “You’re certain that
thing is gone?”

“Yes. If it makes you feel better, you could
continue another mile.”

Miss Westin’s hands shifted nervously on the
steering wheel. “No problem,” she assured him.

Teeth chattering from shock and cold,
December realized she was clutching Hans’s leather tunic almost
hard enough to rip it.

“Thank you,” he said to their driver as he
patted December’s hand. “You probably saved our lives.” His tone
was formal, or maybe just cautious. He didn’t know why the teacher
had helped them any more than December did.

Miss Westin nodded, took a couple seconds,
then addressed him.

“You don’t remember me, do you?” she
said.

“I regret to admit I don’t.”

The teacher let out a breathy laugh. “I was
her once. Head girl at Rackham. I tried to save you. Didn’t get as
far as some. A kiss on your marble lips. A few vague dreams. All of
which gained me nothing but a lifelong obsession.”

Hans looked uncomfortable. “Many girls came
to me.”

“Oh yes.” Miss Westin’s amusement was very
dry. “I’m aware we must have been quite a blur to you. I kept track
of many over the years, hoping they’d discover a key I could use to
free you. And now this one’s done it, before I could steal the
prize.” The teacher’s gaze returned to the tree-lined road. At this
hour, theirs was the only car on it. “I suppose she risked more for
you than I did. Throwing herself in the path of that sword was
impressive.”

“We are grateful for your aid,” Hans
said.

Miss Westin smiled cynically into the mirror.
“I’d ask if there were more like you at home, but with my luck, I’d
just lose them to someone else. I guess I should be grateful awful
Bridget Blake didn’t win you either. I’m spared her crowing, at
least.”

Deciding discretion was in order, December
kept what she knew about the librarian’s fate to herself. She
wondered if Brianne would miss her evil-summoning mother or if
she’d be better off orphaned.

~

“This is as far as I go,” Miss Westin
said.

She’d stopped her car at the edge of Kingaken
village. Main Street dipped up and down before them, little shops
and businesses dark for the night. A quaint clapboard steeple,
complete with a tiny belfry, stood watch from the nearest rise. The
town was so small it barely had streetlights.

Hans looked out at the strange territory and
seemed satisfied. He opened the car’s rear door, turning back to
lift December once more into his arms.

Miss Westin rolled down her window and gazed
at them. Her expression was shuttered. “The nearest emergency room
is twenty miles that way.”

“We’ll be fine,” Hans said solemnly. “You may
leave us with a clear conscience.”

Miss Westin frowned at the mention that she
had one. “Do you need money?”

“We’ll be fine,” he repeated. “You have done
all decency could require.”

She shook her head at his answer, then put
her car in gear and drove off. Her tires spun a bit too fast for
her exit to qualify as peaceful.

December waited until her taillights
disappeared around a corner. She was dizzier than she wanted to
think about. And freezing. And unless those drifting white flakes
came from a soap factory, it had begun to snow. The fall was
pretty, just not terribly cozy to be out in. “Is there a reason you
didn’t ask her to drop us at a hospital?”

Hans shifted her to a more comfortable
position. “I’m glad she helped us, but she’s a very unhappy woman.
I don’t think we could trust her for much longer. We’re better off
parting ways with her.”

December laid her head on his broad shoulder,
trying not to cling too hard to his warmth. “
Are
we going to
be fine?”

“My faerie half is lucky. I’ll find somewhere
safe for us to spend the night.”

He began walking down the sidewalk, his
soft-soled huntsman boots quiet on the concrete. Somehow, December
knew he was smiling.

“You’re happy.”

“I’m happy,” he agreed. “I’m free, and you’re
with me, and I’m finally exploring a world I’ve been growing more
and more curious about. I’m going to seize whatever comes and enjoy
it.”

Considering they were—what?—true bride and
true groom, it was good to know he was low maintenance. Smiling
herself, she patted his chest. This had been one strange night. She
hoped his lucky faerie half could score her some panties.

She must have fallen asleep. She woke as he
set her gently onto her feet. They’d stopped in front of a small
junkshop called Ring My Belle’s.

“How are your breaking and entering skills?”
he asked. “I like the feel of this place, and the sign on the door
says it’s closed tomorrow.”

December was about to say she’d need
something to pick the lock when she spied a paper clip on the
threshold. Maybe his faerie half’s good fortune was rubbing
off.

Luckily, the lock was simple, and the shop
had no alarm. Despite being logy, she picked it in record time. As
soon as they were inside, Hans scooped her up again.

“I have legs,” she objected, though being
carried felt really nice.

“You need to rest until I recharge enough to
heal you.”

Questioning whether he really could seemed
rude, so she glanced around instead. Like a lot of junk shops, this
one was bigger than it appeared from outside. Room led to room,
piled with furniture and toys and lamps and old-timey this’n’thats,
more or less organized by type. She’d lost her penlight during
their pell-mell escape but turned out not to need it. Vintage signs
lit each new twist in the warren, as if the place were designed for
burglars’ convenience.

Beneath an old ESSO gas station sign, they
encountered a section that made her heart sing.

“Clothes!” she exclaimed happily.

Hans found her a beautiful hand-knit sweater
and a warm pair of corduroys, both of which he helped her put on.
Her shoulder had stopped bleeding but hurt too much to move freely.
His luck didn’t end with finding her an outfit. In the next room,
an ancient but functional Frigidaire yielded thick roast beef
sandwiches and Orange Crush soda. December showed Hans how to heat
the sandwiches in the microwave. She could feel her blood supply
increasing as she dug in.

Hans sipped curiously at the soda before
deciding it was all right. Maybe they didn’t can drinks where he
came from.

“A feast,” he declared from the opposite side
of a rickety card table. Their ordeal seemed not to have flustered
him. He looked relaxed and ridiculously vital lounging in an old
vinyl chair—real and not real at the same time. The glowing “Miller
Time” clock on the wall behind him gilded his shaggy hair, making
the locks resemble actual gold. Beauty like his would never be
ordinary, no more than the wonderful warmth that shone from his ice
blue eyes.

December reached across the table to squeeze
his hand. “You’re a miracle.”

He grinned. “I guess in your world statues
don’t come to life every day.”

“That isn’t the only reason. It’s a miracle
that you love me, that you—” A fit of shyness caused her to
hesitate. “That you risked death to be with me.”

“Had to. The queen was coming. I couldn’t let
you face her alone.”

“But if I hadn’t truly loved you, for all you
knew destroying your statue would have destroyed you. I’m not sure
I would have taken that big a chance. I . . . there were a couple
moments when I had trouble believing.”

Hans rubbed her knuckles, his smile and his
eyes gentle. “You’re young yet, but you’ll learn. True love doesn’t
mean being without doubt. It means the faith part is stronger.”

“Am I
too
young?” she blurted
worriedly.

He laughed and chucked her chin. “I’ve known
thousand-year-old faeries who acted like they were ten. Compared to
them, you’re a wise woman. And let’s not forget you’re also brave,
beautiful and fun. You suit me, December Worth. You suit me very
well.”

She liked the way he said that. It made her
feel warm inside.

“You need to sleep,” he said, noting her
drooping eyelids. “Let’s see if we can find a bed.”

They found a kid-size four-poster with
flannel cowboy sheets. December began to see how matters normally
went for him. She wasn’t at all surprised to discover a small
bathroom too, complete with packaged toothbrushes, soap and clean
towels.

No spa could have left her more refreshed
than using all of them.

“Faerie luck,” she said, squeezing into the
little bed in front of him. The pair of them filled the mattress
completely.