With a Kiss (Twisted Tales) (34 page)

Bugul. I took a deep breath and watched Hobs fashion a harness for us out of the hair. He was practiced in the art of escaping tall towers. I wondered how many times he had to scale a sheer wall to avoid the trouble he had made . . . or how many times he had come to visit Ratis. His quick fingers on her hair told me there had been plenty of times. He looped the hair to the leg of the bed. A fierce tug reassured me it wasn’t going anywhere.

“Hobs?”

He gave me one of his firm smiles and I knew there would be no talking sense into him. He stuffed the swirly toy into the waist of his jeans. “C’mon.” He caught my hand and pulled me to the ledge.

“Hey Hobs, you’re not scared are you?” Bugul called up encouragingly.

Hobs scooped up the apple from the bench and chucked it down at him. Bugul’s silhouette moved deftly out of the way. “Give us a second!” Hobs shouted into the darkness. He turned to me. “Okay, this is way easier than it looks. If an old witch can do it, you can.”

“And who was that? There weren’t any old witches! Just a framed girl who died stuck in a tower. No stolen vegetable to keep her pregnant mother alive, nothing.”

“You’re right, no rapunzel—not when she needed it. There was only one way to keep her mother alive, and it wasn’t a vegetable—and still, Ratis wouldn’t make a deal with the Otherworldly to get it. She was too honorable. You can trust the hair.” I listened to his voice; it was better than concentrating on the drop below us. “Put your heel into this knot,” he told me. “And put your arms around my neck.” My legs couldn’t hold still and I held onto him tightly. He grinned and I tried to ignore that he was enjoying himself. He jerked on the golden hair, keeping one side taut. The other he would use to lower us down. I closed my eyes, feeling him ease us from the ledge. I squeezed him tighter.

“Hey, gotta breathe here.”

I tried to loosen my grip on him, but couldn’t. My hands felt sweaty and I wiped one off the back of his shirt as my revenge. “Hobs? Can her hair really hold more than one person?”

“It’s really strong.”

“If we die . . .”

I felt him brace himself before pushing us off the ledge. A moan tore from my lips. Hobs tried to calm me down with a stern look. “Ratis could’ve had everything if she worked with the Otherworldly.” So, he was opting for a distraction? I’d take it and pretend we weren’t hanging so far off the ground. “Well, she wouldn’t have had
everything
,” he said, “—not the treasures—but close enough. She denied the Otherworldly and tried to save us all, and this was how we repaid her. She stood before the Twelve in the court and pleaded innocent. They refused to believe her.”

I felt the ripping before I heard it. Ratis’ hair was ripping! I gasped. Her hair was splitting at the ledge, shredding like dry spaghetti noodles.

I screamed. “Oh, no! I was right!”

Hobs’ arms tightened convulsively around me. I only had a moment to look down at the ground before we fell. There were bushes spread out beneath us. They’d be full of thorns and would scratch our eyes out if I could believe the rumors. And since it was the worst case scenario, I believed them. Ratis’ hair fell over us, silky and smooth. It was nothing like mine. It was suffocating as we plummeted at least a story down. We landed into the soft stuff. I let out a smothered ooph. Hobs collided into me, his arms still around me.

 “Can’t you do anything quietly?” Bugul was on us in an instant, shaking the apple in our faces. “I’m trying to make a clean escape here and you bungle the whole thing!”

It was a good sign that I could still hear him. I could feel my arms and next my legs, and they didn’t hurt—that meant we were alive. I fought through the hair, feeling Hobs’ hand on my back. He pushed me through the golden cascade and it parted like a waterfall to let me out. It had broken our fall. As soon as I was free of the nasty stuff, I turned on him, my breath coming out in gasps. My body wouldn’t stop shaking. “Innocent?” I asked. “You still think she’s innocent?”

He looked confused; so was I. We didn’t die.

Bugul pulled golden hair out of my dark hair, all the while lecturing Hobs. “I should’ve come for you myself.”

“Oh, c’mon,” Hobs said, “you weigh at least five stone more than me.”

I rubbed my head and retrieved Babs’ toy from the hair where Hobs had dropped it. Of course my thoughts were on her, and she came up through the mirror. I stared at my baby, and whimpered when I saw the tears on her cheeks. After everything that had happened, it made me cry too. I couldn’t control myself. I choked back my sobs and turned to stare at the apple in Bugul’s waving fist. If I ate it, I’d become one of them. Maybe even worse, I could die. And if I survived, I would never be able to leave this place.

“Oh,
Leannan Sith
.” Hobs looked worried when he saw me. He dropped his argument with Bugul and caught me to him, instead. “You’re crying? You can cry?”

“Okay, I’ll do it!” It came out muffled against his shoulder. “Just one bite won’t hurt.”

Hobs’ eyes followed mine to the apple. He ran his hand through my hair, but his words were less than reassuring. “I’m afraid it’s going to take a little more than that. You’re going to have to die.”

Chapter Twenty-One

And there erect and tall, Abonde the Queen,

Brow-girt with golden circlet, that doth bear

A small bright scintillating star between

Her braids of dusky hair.

—Archibald Maclaren,
The Fairy Family

“S
he’s dead!”

I listened to the muffled voices of surprise as the guards let us into Snow White’s castle. Well, that’s what I called the hag anyway, even though that particular black haired girl was only rumored to be the queen—I thought it made sense.

Bugul carried my glass casket on his back. I guessed that meant Leprechauns were strong. I felt his labored steps beneath me, and concentrated on my role. All I had to do was open my eyes or breathe too heavily and the jig was up. Luckily, the ogres weren’t that smart. Bugul slipped on the ice-polished floor and my fingers tightened over the rose laid delicately on my chest. Apparently all dead people have roses over their chests—Hobs’ idea, not mine.

“What’s this?” I recognized the Cyclops’s rough voice and tried to keep as still as I could. “What’s Hobs doing here?”

Bugul snorted. “Did you expect the prince
not
to attend his mother’s inauguration, Balor?” he replied haughtily. “Under my vigilant supervision, of course. Don’t fret, General. I’m a much better bodyguard than others I might mention.”

“And what makes you think the hag
wants the lifeless body of the princess?”

“It’s just orders, General.”

I could imagine Balor’s one eye zoning in on me and I tried not to breath. It didn’t work too well. “Wait a second. She ain’t dead!”

“Of course not,” Hobs’ voice licked scathingly over us all. “She’s eaten the apple.”

“Oh . . .”

Apparently, it was a common occurrence because he didn’t argue. Apples were bad business here. Still, death or a coma, I was having a hard time getting into it. Besides my roaring headache, everything itched: my nose, my ears, my neck. I forced myself to keep my breathing shallow and listened to the faery music echoing in the chamber. Though it wasn’t exactly healthy, it calmed me down. The only problem was that once the music was in my head, it was in. I tried not to think about it, except my tiara wouldn’t let me forget.
If you hear the music of the faeries, run.
It was worse than a broken record. I kept myself from swatting at it.

Bugul lurched forward, but I could hear the Cyclops keeping an even stride with us. “I don’t think the hag wants her too close.”

“How else will the queen take her crown?” Bugul growled. “Magic, not brawn, will get this circlet off her head.”

I could almost feel the Cyclops’s considering stare and I tried not to let my nose wriggle. “Ah yes, her crown,” Balor said after a moment. “Didn’t think of that. Very good. Continue.”

After a moment, I heard Hobs’ voice. He leaned in closer to us. “Is that true?”

“No, you idiot.”

“No wonder I muted you. You’ve a way with words that’s dangerous.”

Bugul chuckled low in his throat. The casket thumped to the ground, and I knew that I was in the courtroom now. It was freezing in here. The music was deafening, and the sound of partying nymphs was enough to make me want to pick up my casket and run with it . . . or maybe boogie the night away. The good news was my head stopped pounding so hard. Babs was close by. My fingers tensed. I had to get to her.

I listened to the girls swarm around Hobs; it was hard to ignore. “Hobs, what have you brought?” a smooth female voice asked. It was one of the lovesick nymphs. “Is it a present?”

“You could say that.” He made up colorful excuses as he deftly maneuvered around the besotted girls. Hobs might not be as powerful as his mother, but he was tricky enough to make up for it. The nymphs chattered desperately to get his attention until the noise abruptly stopped. It didn’t take me long to figure out why. “Mother.” His voice sounded altered, angry. My body stiffened in response.

 “Son.” The high notes of her alarm echoed through my ears. “What are you doing here? Who let him in?” She gasped at what I could only guess was my coffin. “What did you drag into my courtroom, you wicked scamp?”

“What?” Hobs sounded amused. “I’ve just brought you your handiwork, My Queen. How could you be upset with that?” He sat on the end of my casket and it creaked under his weight. He attempted a mournful tone. “So, why did you do it, Mom?”

I knew the moment the Snow Queen saw me in my coffin because she shrieked. “Get away from her. Hobany! Now.”

“What’s the matter, Mother? Are you afraid I’ll wake her up?”

“You idiots!” she cried to the room in perfect villainous fashion. “Why did you let him drag her sorry carcass in here?”

“Oh c’mon, Mom. She’s practically dead—what’s she going to do? Crash the party?” Hobs clicked open the sides of the casket. “I think she was hungry. What I don’t understand is why you fed her.”

I took a deep breath and opened my eyes. His mother’s screams escalated as I accepted her son’s hand. Hobs lifted me out of the casket, and my royal blue skirts dragged behind me. The extra pomp and ceremony was Hobs’ idea—I was only grateful he left out the puffy princess sleeves. Red netting molded to the shape of my arms, and tufts of fur decorated my collar. I looked like Snow White with a gothic twist. I’d get him back for that later, since in no way did he bother to dress up for his mother’s coronation. Now that I was able to get a good look at him, I saw he sported the same worn-out jeans and black punk shirt he had been tromping around in all day. He matched his mother’s glare with defiance.

The hag stepped back in all her ice-caked ceremonial finery. “What have you done, Hobs?” There was no way she would fight me, but if she didn’t—all of this would be in vain. It meant I had to force her hand somehow, had to make her crazy enough to take me on. I looked around, wracking my brain for ideas.

The castle was like being inside an elaborate igloo. Ice sculptures stood silently in the hall of mirrors, mirrors that a certain little girl wouldn’t be able to see herself in. The stairs were made of packed snow. The floors shone like glass. They’d need a Zamboni to polish them, not some poor little kid with numb fingers. Now where was she?

Hobs passed the apple to me and I tossed it in my hand. “Did you think you could get rid of me with this?” I asked the Snow Queen. Before she could say anything, I took a bite of the apple and chewed slowly. It tasted just like any other apple. She waited expectantly, but nothing happened . . . well, nothing she
could see. I, on the other hand, felt very strange. It gave me both a light and heavy sensation, which flowed through me. It made my heart beat unevenly. With each bite, I became one of them. I turned to
the Snow Queen, trying to ignore that. I didn’t
want
to be one of them. It still wasn’t too late.

Where was Babs? Seeing the hag’s smug look, I took another bite—she didn’t suspect a thing. “You know I wasn’t really going to eat a poisoned apple, right?” I choked, ruining the effect. Once I caught my breath, I managed to say, “Looks like you fell for the oldest trick in the faerytales—playing dead. Hobs swiped this apple off your banquet table.”

That wiped the hag’s confidence right off her perfect face. “My dear girl, you promised you wouldn’t fight me.” She snapped to some waiting guards. “Quickly! Fetch me the child!”

One of the sweeter-looking waifs dragged my baby out from behind a banquet table. How Babs had gotten so dirty in such a short amount of time was beyond me. The Snow Queen dug her long nails into Babs’ plump arms, yanking her to her side. “You know what will happen if you break your promise to a faery, my girl? I break my promise! And you all die.”