Americana Fairy Tale (20 page)

“You are my sister…,” Zellandine whispered. “You are my
sister
!” she bellowed. Zellandine stared deep into Snow White’s eyes. She tightened her grip around her lance. The weapon trembled in her hand. “You are my sister…,” she croaked.

Snow White swallowed. Zellandine jabbed the lance forward, the spear point at Snow White’s throat. The apple of Snow White’s throat bobbed, and a trickle of blood dribbled down her neck from the prick.

Zellandine trembled. The dragon thrashed inside her, barely contained.
Do it
, Zellandine told herself.
Do it
!

The citadel rocked hard with another blast from Idi’s enchanters, and beams from the throne room tumbled to the ground. Zellandine had the sense to draw away the lance just in time as she stumbled for balance.

She turned back to Snow White, who once again seized into a contraction. Zellandine looked out over the horizon. The enchanters were nearing the drawbridge. She looked at her sister one last time, overcome by the despair of Snow White’s betrayal and the love she still had for her.

She released the dragon’s spirit within her in a terrible howl and rushed to defend the citadel until her dying breath so the child of Snow White and the Witchking could take his first one.

Randy’s Donuts, Los Angeles, California

The Present, June 7

T
AYLOR
DIDN
’
T
touch his donut. Or his coffee.

Ringo didn’t either.

Neither did Corentin.

Taylor stared at Darlene as she told the story of Snow White’s betrayal of Zellandine and all the other princesses. In the back of Taylor’s mind, he assumed Darlene was using some kind of spell to conjure the images of what the citadel looked like, Zellandine’s elaborate dragoon armor that would make a gamer drool, Snow White… who strangely had long white curly hair and not ebony, as the fairy tale stated.

Despite the blockbuster visuals, Taylor shivered with the cold. The temperature gauge hanging off the back of the donut shop read upper eighties. But he hugged himself, and his teeth chattered. “S-so,” Taylor said and then bit his lip. “What happened to Princess Zellandine?”

Darlene frowned and nudged the coffee toward Taylor. “Here, drink this. My spell is what’s making you feel cold.”

Taylor nodded and eagerly accepted the coffee. He sipped and watched Darlene over the rim of the Styrofoam cup.

“Zellandine sacrificed herself so Snow’s baby could be born and her legacy could continue,” Darlene said, lacing her thick fingers together as they all sat at a picnic table.

Corentin shivered as well and sipped his coffee. “Witches call Snow White the Witch Butcher,” he said. “She captured, tortured, killed, and committed wide-sweeping atrocities against witches and their kin.”

Darlene pushed a bottle of water at Corentin. “Drink this too, hon, you’re dehydrated from being sick.”

Corentin grumbled and uncapped the bottle.

Taylor looked down into his coffee. “I can’t see how that would be all bad if she was devoted to exterminating witches….” He blinked, realizing his error. “Present company excluded.”

“That’s exactly it,” Darlene said, pointing a finger from her laced hands. “Not all witches are evil. We have the usual bad apples like any lot of a population does, but Snow White didn’t discriminate. She hunted all magic users.” Darlene seemed to hesitate and glanced at Corentin. Corentin nodded. Darlene turned her attention to Taylor. “My great-great grandmother was descended of child-eaters. She owned a bakery not unlike this one,” she said and smiled up at the giant fiberglass donut. “She enchanted the pastries to make her customers feel joy. She wasn’t evil. She loved making people happy.” Darlene’s lip trembled, and she dabbed at her eye. “Snow White locked her in her own enchanted oven and let her burn….”

“I don’t understand,” Taylor said. “Snow White was in love with Idi…. Wouldn’t she be lenient to witches?”

“Idi may be the Witchking, but he’s a monster,” Corentin said, then reached across the picnic table and squeezed Darlene’s hand. “His way of ruling is to enslave us all. Anyone allied with Enchants would be executed. Anyone that looked upon him with favor would be exploited. They say he could strip someone of their power and it would leave them a withered husk.”

Darlene nodded. “We contained him once, but he must have gained enough power to seek out Snow again.”

Taylor slapped his hands to the table. “Hold the phone. Contained him? As in, not killed? As in, just tossed in a dungeon somewhere and forgotten?”

Darlene swallowed. “No one can kill Idi. No one. We can only capture him.”

Taylor drummed his hands on the table. “Okay. And so…. He’s basically broken out from where-the-fuck-ever and tracked down my brother. And now he’s going to kill all of us.”

Ringo thumbed his chin. “Well…. When you put it that way….”

“And Idi, who’s in the body of our childhood friend, a dude named Charles, is in love with Snow White, who is currently
my brother
, Atticus,” Taylor said, and his irritation grew with each passing second.

“Yes,” Darlene said without hesitation.

Taylor shoved his way from the picnic table, and Corentin grunted with surprise. “It’s bullshit,” Taylor growled while looming over Darlene. She didn’t move.

Corentin shot to his feet and towered over Taylor. “
Hey
,” Corentin said in warning.

Taylor pointed sharply at Corentin’s chin and scowled. “
It’s bullshit
!” he roared. “Come on, Ringo,” he said and started to stalk away.

Ringo remained at the table, watching Taylor with sadness in his eyes.

Taylor spun on his heel and saw he hadn’t moved. He snarled his frustration. “Fuck you!”

Taylor stormed away from the three of them and around the corner of the donut shop. His mind was a shambled mess of emotions, and he didn’t know where to begin. He didn’t know which emotion to experience first; instead, he experienced all of them. The tears wouldn’t stop rolling, and he embarrassedly wiped them away as he kept his certain path to the busy intersection. He had to get out of here. Away. Anywhere.

He had to get his thoughts together. How was he going to save Atticus? How was he going to defeat Idi? How was he going to do anything? How was he going to even get out of Los Angeles?

He paced frantically, holding out his thumb and hoping to hitch a ride. Taylor brushed his hair back from his eyes, and his face became wet again with tears. He paced the other way. He thought if the motorists saw his desperation, they’d stop.

“Hey,” Corentin called behind him.

Taylor ignored him and tried waving at the passing cars.

“
Hey
!” Corentin barked and captured Taylor by the wrist.

Taylor twisted and snapped his arm out of the grasp. He ignored Corentin and tried waving at cars again.

Corentin paced behind him, following his path, but Taylor shoved by him time and again. “Talk to me,” Corentin said in a firm tone.

Taylor pressed his lips together and continued waving at cars. And motorists pretended not to see him at all. Maybe they didn’t see him. Taylor wilted, but he wouldn’t let Corentin see his helplessness.

“Okay, I’ll talk,” Corentin said as he stood aside and let Taylor pass. “Look. Taylor. Can I call you Taylor now? I think we’re on good-enough terms now that it doesn’t sound weird. I get it,” Corentin said behind him, and Taylor paced in the other direction. Corentin followed after, annoyingly talking the entire time. “Look. Enchant history is not what a cartoon mouse drawn by some advertising genius would have you believe. It’s messy. It’s twisted. And it’s not all that beautiful or magical. There is no fucking ‘wishing upon a star’ shit.”

Taylor lowered his hands and listened as Corentin continued.

“You know,” Corentin said. “Even the goddamned Grimm Brothers put a somewhat happy spin on our history. If you can call it that. Fuck. My ancestors are greedy teenagers who ate a damned gingerbread house, and one of them got horny, fucked the witch, and let her cook his sister. You know. He probably ate her too without knowing. You know why we couldn’t figure out on the seventh day why he remembered everything and I forget? Well,
fuck yeah
, I’d want to forget eating a roast made of my sister.”

Taylor spun on his heel to face Corentin. “What is this? We’re having some heart-to-heart now or something? We’re
buddies
now, huh?” Taylor spat. He stalked a circle around Corentin. “Why am I supposed to believe you? You’ve been ordered to kill me, say you won’t, and then you drive us off the fucking Golden Gate Bridge!”

Corentin arched a brow. “FYI, you’re alive.”

“I’m talking!” Taylor screamed, and Corentin watched him with a stoic expression. “In case you just missed it, you’re half witch. Look at you, Cronespawn. In the flesh. And Darlene over there is a damned child-eating witch with a bakery.” He craned his neck toward the giant donut on top of the shop. “This is a fucking gingerbread house, isn’t it? Hiding in plain sight? She really does have a wood chipper, doesn’t she?”

Corentin didn’t say anything, and Taylor knew he’d caught him in his elaborate ruse.

“Why should I trust you? At all?” Taylor asked and threw out his arms. “You’re witches! The both of you. You’ll say anything. You’ll do anything to win me over. Who the fuck knows if the damned Peter Jackson girl-power movie Darlene shoved in my head was even true!”

Corentin narrowed his eyes. “And you said so yourself, you’re a
Curseless
nobody, so what’s your point?”

Rage exploded inside Taylor, and he aimed his fist straight for Corentin’s nose. Corentin stepped to the left, and Taylor stumbled forward in his flip-flops, missing his mark. Taylor wouldn’t be deterred, and he turned an about-face and lunged for Corentin again. He screamed his rage, and the tears renewed themselves. Taylor gasped as Corentin grappled him and then spun him with Taylor’s back to his front. Corentin held Taylor around his waist and nestled his cheek against Taylor’s own. Taylor wailed with sobs.

“It’s okay…,” Corentin cooed in Taylor’s ear. “It’s okay…. I’m on your side…. It’s going to be okay….”

Taylor melted into Corentin and barked his cries. All he could cry into the open air was his most troubling confession. “My brother’s not like that!” he wailed. “My brother’s not like
that
!” He screamed the phrase, again and again. He didn’t care if Corentin understood what he meant by it, but judging by the way Corentin held him, he likely knew by now. Taylor shivered, stripped down and laid open emotionally, in the arms of a man he’d had a single filthy dream about.

Corentin squeezed him closer and whispered in his ear, “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay. We’ll save your brother. It’s going to be okay.”

Taylor stopped screaming and sagged in Corentin’s grasp. They sank together to the ground. Corentin folded his legs and pulled Taylor into his lap as they sat on the side of the road. Taylor hiccupped and tried to stop crying. Corentin rocked him like an infant and occasionally brushed his fingers through Taylor’s hair. Taylor hoped he was dreaming this particular tender moment, because he found such immense comfort, the guilt bubbled inside him.

“You’re okay…,” Corentin said quietly. “You’re okay….”

Taylor looked up at the full moon and sighed. It had been morning just a few hours ago, and now here they were in the dead of night. If this was the way Idi planned it, Corentin would forget Taylor in less than a couple of days.

Taylor didn’t want to say it, but he said it anyway. “You need to write this moment down.” He ducked his head, hoping Corentin couldn’t see him blushing. “So, y’know we-we’re….” Taylor fumbled and quickly covered for it. “We’re
friends
.”

Corentin sandwiched both of Taylor’s hands in his own and rubbed to warm them. He chuckled in Taylor’s ear. “Yes, Taylor. We’re
friends
,” he said, repeating the term in a way that Taylor couldn’t mistake what he meant by it.

Taylor didn’t know how to respond, and his mind raced with what to feel. Corentin wasn’t making any kind of intimate advances, and that explained why his Princesshood didn’t repel him. Corentin wasn’t trying anything anyway, Taylor considered. They were friends. That was it. Taylor liked guys, and now Taylor seemed to get the picture Corentin liked guys too. But Taylor was certain Corentin didn’t find him attractive. Taylor didn’t find Corentin even the slightest bit attractive.

Well. Maybe just a bit.

“I cry a lot,” Taylor said with a frown. He didn’t know if he was trying to make himself unappealing, but he was going to give it a go.

Corentin laughed. “You have a lot going on right now.”

Taylor frowned. That didn’t seem to work. He gave up and watched the passing cars. “Do you think they can see us?”

“I’m pretty sure they don’t,” Corentin said. “I think it’s easier for Idi to make the interstates appear abandoned instead of when we arrive at some place.”

Taylor watched the cars slow at the light and then go again. They sat there like two homeless Enchants looking for a way home. And no one noticed them.

The rumble of a motorcycle startled Taylor as it revved the engine twice and approached the light. Taylor pressed his hand to Corentin’s thigh.

“They only do that if they see someone…,” Taylor said, watching the rider approach.

“Yeah,” Corentin said as they both stood.

Taylor and Corentin recognized the banner of blonde curly hair and the deer antlers painted on her emerald helmet before they saw her lift her visor. “That’s Phillipa Montclair,” Corentin said and gripped Taylor by the elbow.

“My prince…,” Taylor said and didn’t understand how Corentin knew her.

“That’s no prince,” Corentin said. “Get Ringo. We gotta get going.”

Taylor hesitated. “What are you talking about?”

“Now, Taylor,” Corentin snapped, and Taylor jolted at the harshness of his tone. “We gotta go
now
.”