With a Kiss (Twisted Tales) (21 page)

A gray snout sniffed the glass between us and I could feel the warm breath against my leg. Gray was close. I expected him to chomp off my foot at any second. One more inch and we’d be his. “Betcha he told you to wait here while he fetched supplies.”

“Yeah, I did.”

Hobs!
He came back! I was so relieved. Gray howled in pain. I listened to the following thunk, and the mirror cracked between us. He fell against it. We scrambled out into the open, seeing an arrow protruding through Gray’s tail. Gray turned on us with a snarl and we stumbled back from him, running as fast as our legs could carry us. “Hobs!” I couldn’t find the real one in all his reflections.

Octavius found us instead. He snapped his fangs at us and I kicked his snout hard. He yelped and I twisted backwards, not able to get away. The tiara over my head rang and I knew I was in for another freak-out moment. Octavius came for us again. I knocked a mirror between us and he rammed into it, shattering it between us. Hobs pulled another arrow from the quiver, the same one that belonged to that redheaded waif. The wolves’ accusations against him wouldn’t leave my head, but I had to forget about that to survive.

Octavius sprang over the broken mirror, his sharp teeth bared, and stopped short with a howl of pain. An arrow jutted out from his tail. He glared at Hobs. Glasses snickered lazily behind him, not attempting to join his less-than-clever friends—we all knew Hobs played mean. Octavius rolled away with a whimper. “I see you got your arrows back!” The wolf got a hold of the arrow with his sharp teeth and tugged it out, yelping in pain.

“You like them?” Hobs said in a conversational tone. “They can pierce any hide.”

“Then why bother with ours?” Gray joined Octavius in the icy hall to lick his matching wounds.

Hobs put down his bow, watching me. “Did you figure out my riddle yet?”

“I’ve got an inkling,” Glasses said, his eyes on Babs. “The baby ain’t the Faery King’s? That’s why she’s not
Oberon’s
child.”

Hobs grinned.

Octavius licked his tail. “You the father?”

Hobs let out a hoot of laughter. “You’re way off, you dogs. The princess is the real thing. You’re never going to guess it.” Looking nervously behind him, Hobs edged away from the entrance hall. “Girls!” He was talking to all of us. “I think you’ll need to run.”

I smelled the stink of rot moments before a group of hairy ogres barged into the ice cave. They ducked under the high-arched ceilings. A few didn’t duck in time and got knocked out immediately. The shorter of them swung vicious-looking clubs around the room. “Children eat! Children eat!” they repeated, not in time or sync to anything.

I hid Babs behind me, feeling like we were caught in a stampede of buffalos—really smelly ones. They swung at everything that moved. The wolves scrambled to their paws. The ogres came at them too, since they were too dumb to figure out who was on their side. I felt a hand on my shoulder and barely had time to turn before Hobs dragged us away from the commotion. “They followed me,” he said as a way of explanation.

“Let me guess—you led them here on purpose?” He gave me a strange look, but I cut him off before he could give me some flippant remark to throw off my suspicions. “How are we supposed to stop these big guys?”

“You don’t. They’ll do it to themselves.” The ogres hit at the ground, some of them smashing their own feet or their neighbor’s. Clubs were dropped or used against each other while they shouted out their vengeance. They grabbed each other’s throats in chokeholds. By now the wolves had clambered to a safer distance. I tried to back up, but Hobs wouldn’t let me. “Don’t move,” he shouted. “They hit anything that moves.”

“So they’re blind! How’s their smell?”

“They smell awful. It overpowers everything else. That’s why they’re so crazy.”

That’s not what I meant. I kept my breathing shallow, looking into the mirror in front of me. Babs was gone! Where was she? I whipped around and accidentally bopped her in the head. My yelp carried along with hers. She had been behind me the whole time, but she wasn’t in the mirror. I wasn’t the only one who noticed.

Glasses stood on an alcove above us. “Wait.” His yellow eyes slanted. “I know the answer to that riddle.” A passing fist from an ogre knocked him against a mirror and the glass splintered. He rolled away in agony. I cried out, not sure whether I should help him.

Hobs tugged us away. He dropped down on one knee to fire off a few arrows to keep the ogres back, but it wouldn’t work for long. They grunted at the impact and grappled with the arrows sticking from their flesh, which only served to pound them in harder. I flinched with disgust and fear. They had us surrounded and were too stupid to feel pain. And now they had reinforcements. Something hideous lumbered up behind them, foul and decaying. It was worse than any monster I had ever seen . . . wait, actually, no. I had seen this one before. Bugul.

His image was duplicated millions of times in all those mirrors and we fell back as one. The ogres and wolves screamed out and scurried away. My knees got weak, but I resisted the urge to follow after the wolves. I tried to comfort Babs instead. I shouldn’t have bothered—she smiled her toothy grin at Bugul and waved like a mini-Daphne.

The room echoed the silence of a battle’s aftermath. A few ogres lay face down on the ground. Everyone else had deserted us after taking one look at Bugul. Hobs let out a relieved breath. “I never thought I’d say this, Bugul, but I’m really glad to see you.”

If the look Bugul gave him was anything to go by, the sentiment wasn’t returned. We had been the ones to desert him; it seemed useless to tell him that it was entirely Hobs’ fault.

Hobs walked off to rip out more arrows from the fallen ogres, slipping slightly on the ice. Bugul followed him with tight fists. Hobs was in for it. The wolves were long gone. Bugul had nowhere else to turn his wrath, except on Hobs, who didn’t seem to care. After waving his arms and getting no reaction, Bugul gave a long and ragged sigh. I knew the feeling—lecturing Hobs was never satisfying.

Hobs wiped the green blood from the last of his gathered arrows. “I suppose you’re going to say I told you so.” Hobs waited for Bugul’s answer, but when the goblin didn’t speak, Hobs couldn’t resist. “Oh yeah, I forgot your vow. Guess you can’t.”

Chapter Fourteen

Sound of the calm wave on the beach,
pure shadowing tree of pure music,
carousals are drunk in your company,
voice of the swan over shining streams.
Cry of the Fairy Women from the Fairy Hill of Ler,
no melody can match you

—Gofraidh Fion O Dalaigh,
The Harp of Cnoc I'Chosgair

“F
orget it!” Hobs pulled away from Bugul, giving him a dark look. “It’s the most dangerous territory in the Sidhe and you know it! We’re not trespassing there.”

Bugul and Hobs had been arguing since we left the ice castle, which seemed like a pretty hard thing to do considering that Bugul didn’t have a voice, but they managed quite well. From what I gathered, Bugul wanted to take his chances with the nymphs and cross their territory to get to the faery queen, but Hobs, as usual, wanted nothing to do with them.

Bugul made a fist and grunted out another argument that no one but Hobs seemed to understand. Hobs gave a frustrated sigh, glaring at the forest around us. The leaves glowed green under the dust of snow as if lit from below. Despite the cloudy day, the branches filtered the light into a spattering of speckles over our faces.

Hobs’ eyes rested on my confused face and he surprised us—most especially Bugul—with a pleasant expression; it held a hint of devil. “Fine. Okay. You win, Bugul—we’ll cross Crystal Lake. It’s probably frozen over by now, but that’s okay. We’ll walk across it if we have to.”

Bugul grunted out his opposition. Now instead of fighting him, Hobs was putting words into his mouth. Even I could tell Bugul didn’t want to go to Crystal Lake. “What? No!” Hobs looked shocked. “Bugul, we can’t swim across. We could drown. Be reasonable.”

“Uh-uh,” Bugul got out. It was an obvious no.

Hobs helpfully supplied Bugul with yet more reasons for his resistance, “Steal a boat? Well, I guess if you want.”

“Uh-uh,” Bugul grunted with more force.

“Oh, just borrow it? Okay, we’ll take it from the nymphs, although for the record I’m shocked you would suggest such a thing.”

“Uh-uh!” Bugul shook his fist for emphasis.

 “It’s not very honest—that’s why I’m shocked. Borrowing without asking is usually called stealing.” By now, Hobs was trying not to laugh outright. The goblin had gone scarlet with rage. “But we’ll do it.” He reserved an apologetic look for me. “Bugul is a daredevil. I hope you’re okay with that.”

Bugul spun from us to pace the snowy clearing by the trees. I couldn’t understand why he didn’t storm off, but the two must be better friends than I thought. Bugul gestured with a meaty fist for me to follow him. I gawked, not sure what he meant to do. He made muttering sounds, and I left Hobs to investigate. I couldn’t figure out what Bugul was trying to tell me until he gave a sigh of impatience and drew something in the snow. Babs and I stared over his shoulder at his artwork. He poked some holes in the white powder and made a squiggly mark around them. “Is it a map?” I asked. He nodded. Hobs leaned over it too, and Bugul pushed him back roughly. “What’s the squiggly?” I asked.

“A snake?” Hobs guessed. Bugul stopped his drawing to glare at him.

“Crystal Lake?” I asked. I tried to warm my hands against Babs’ neck. She smiled up at me. Bugul watched us with a piercing look, then nodded again. “Then what are the dots?” I asked. This time Hobs stayed silent, his lip curled up. “A forest?” I guessed. Bugul shook his head. “Villages? Houses? Cottages? Condos?” Bugul was about to shake his head off. He made bigger pokey marks in the squiggly line as if
that
made things clearer. Was there something in the water? “Alligators?” I asked. “Crocodiles?”

I was closer this time. Bugul got excited and acted out combing seriously long hair. Babs laughed.

“Oh great, we’re back to the nymphs again.” Hobs threw his hands up. “I thought we were past that.”

I circled on Hobs, knowing he was trying to throw us off. The wind picked up, chilling me from my scalp to my numb toes. We didn’t have time for games. “Take it back.”

“What?”

“Take it back! Your curse. It’s stupid. Make it so he can talk again!”

Hobs hesitated. “I’d love to, but it’s a time dependent spell. It only wears off.”

“Then what’s he really trying to say? Answer me that. You’re keeping something from us and I want to know what!”

Hobs gave in with a shrug. “He’s trying to warn you about the Merrow. He’d rather face the nymphs than them.”

Bugul sagged in relief.

That was it? “I don’t understand why you’re so against nymphs, besides their music and all. How can Merrow possibly be less scary?”

“The Merrow are green with razor-sharp teeth, and the nymphs will grant you your every wish.” Hobs acted like that was worse.

“So?”

“You don’t want that.” He looked stern.

The cold Sidhe wind ran through my hair. I hopped up and down in the snow to ward off the chill. “You want to know what my first wish to the nymphs will be? Huh? To be warm! Maybe I’ll ask for some earmuffs too—something crazy like that!”

“Are you serious? We’re almost to the faery queen’s and that’s what you want?” Hobs’ gaze slid over my clothes, and then he looked over at Babs and let out a sigh. “You’ll never pass as a nymph in that outfit.” I stopped dancing around in the snow. Was he going to follow Bugul’s advice? He would trespass nymph territory? Hobs mussed the top of Babs’ hair. The poor girl was drowning in his jacket with my Midsummer Dream’s costume, which made me wonder what my shadow was wearing for the play at home. I tried not to think about it.

“Maybe if you had packed us some real clothes,” I said. “I wouldn’t be throwing away my wishes on something warm.”

Hobs ignored me, tapping Babs’ forehead with his finger. Her costume lost its wings and pulled into Babs’ tiny frame. The skirt became little khaki pants and the ballerina top turned into a pink-striped sweater. A long white coat layered over her, replacing Hobs’ oversized jacket. Her hands grew matching mittens. Soon she was wearing fur-trimmed boots. She looked warm and absolutely adorable.

“Did you really just—?” My lips trembled with the cold that he could’ve alleviated with a mere tap of his fingers. “What else can you do that you haven’t been telling me about?”

“That’s it. I’m just the brave little tailor who could.”

Bugul snorted in derision. I felt the same way.
What a liar!
“And you couldn’t go brave little tailor on us sooner? I’m about to freeze to death!”

“Oh, c’mon, you just think you are. We’re
in
the Sidhe after all! Besides, I only have so much Fringe power on reserve and you want me to waste it all on clothes?”