Americana Fairy Tale (23 page)

“I love otters.” Phillipa’s voice carried from the otter aquarium.

Corentin threaded his keys through his fingers. With his pocketknife lost at Randy’s, they were the best weapon he had. He wove his way through the tourists and running children. Phillipa peacefully watched the tanks. As if she was meant to be there like any other tourist exploring the villages of Mount Hood. Her loose honey-blonde waves were brushed forward over one shoulder, cascading over her black-and-yellow riding jacket. Her tight jeans hugged her legs in all the right places. Her beauty would make any man insane, and she knew it. Only Corentin saw the ugliness under the surface. Holding his keys in his fist, hidden in his
jacket pocket, he slid into place next to her. Together they watched the otters swim in somersaults around each other as the creatures played with a stick.

Corentin swallowed as he considered what to say or how the events were going to unfold. His connection with Phillipa was like a bad dream that lingered in the back of his mind. He may have had only knowledge of the last four years of his life, but he would never forget the marks she left him with.

“Our king is very dismayed with you,” Phillipa said, keeping her attention on the otters. “As long as Taylor draws breath, Idi can’t continue with Atticus.”

Corentin tightened his fist around his keys. “I’m working on it, okay?” he said just as calmly. “It’s a balancing act to get him to trust me.”

“Trust?” Phillipa said, incredulous. She turned to him, her dark eyes narrowed. “You don’t need him to trust you. Slit his throat, get the proof, and you’ll be free to go.”

“That’s a lie, and you know it,” Corentin said, watching the otters. “Do you have any idea what Idi will do to us all?”

“This is business,” Phillipa said, tossing up a hand. “Offering my services to the Witchking just assures I’m on the right side of the deal. You, sir, are clearly so tangled up in the princess’s so-called charms that you don’t know what to think.” She pointed a finger. “Now, pretending to be gay was a pretty good move, I must admit.”

“Who says I was pretending?” Corentin said as he glared at her. The conviction in his voice drove the point home.

Phillipa seemed confused, blinked, and then broke into laughter. She swatted at Corentin’s arm in good humor. Corentin shifted away from her touch. “Oh, you can remake yourself into anything you’d like, can’t you? Every seven days you’re someone new. Every seven days you get a new lease on life. And you even believe yourself,” she said with a broad grin, then eased her laugher. “It’s amazing, really.”

Corentin pointed a finger while keeping his other hand in his pocket and around the keys. “I don’t need your shit,” he sneered. “Look, I’ll do whatever Idi wants. It’s not like I have a choice, and it’s not like this is going to work out for me. I’ll always be indebted to him. I’ll just go with it. You know,” he said, then snorted. “Just forget about it every seven days until I get the call to commit the next atrocity.”

Phillipa tilted her chin and pressed her lips into a thin line. “I can always tell when someone’s lying. You know that. I can smell it on them. I can smell every time you’ve lied to me.” She paced a slow circle around Corentin. “Idi ordered you to pass Taylor on to me. But considering Taylor is still upright, I’ll have to take care of it myself.” She smirked, and Corentin’s fingers tightened around the keys.

The urge to protect Taylor surged through him again. “He’s
mine
,” Corentin said in warning.

Phillipa giggled. “That’s an amazingly loaded statement considering your mushy confession.”

“Take it how you’d like,” Corentin said and frowned. “You can’t have him.”

Phillipa rolled her eyes. “You can be so stubborn sometimes.”

She turned her right palm upward, and a sparking shaft of blue magic erupted. The ethereal light twisted, coiled, and solidified into an elegant saber with shimmering blue filigree engraved on the blade.

Corentin danced back, tearing his hand from his pocket. He planted his feet and held up his fistful of keys.

Phillipa held her blade at the ready, and the wicked grin that haunted Corentin’s dreams crossed her face. “I’m going to ask you one last time. Hand over the princess.”

Corentin narrowed his eyes. Instead of standing aside, he said the one thing he couldn’t bring himself to tell Taylor. “Taylor belongs to
me
.”

G
ET
R
EADY
T
O
R
UMBLE
!

Columbia Gorge Discovery Center, Mount Hood, Oregon

June 8

P
HILLIPA
TOOK
the first swipe at Corentin, and he dived behind the display rack of pamphlets. He rolled to his feet, gripped the wire rack, and then threw it in her direction. Phillipa backpedaled just as the rack clipped her knee. Her knee buckled, and she fell back. Her saber slid across the floor toward the otter tanks.

Using the delay to his advantage, Corentin bolted out the door, not caring if he collided into any tourists. He discovered, even though they couldn’t see him, they were still just as solid as ever. When he crashed into a girl, she tumbled onto her rear. She was confused by what hit her. Her friends laughed that she had one too many. Corentin surmised this was a problem. Because even if they had no idea of their presence, that meant they could likely get hurt.

Corentin looped around the corner of the museum but had to force himself to slip through the maze of mundanes milling about. He zigzagged through the throng of bodies, but he miscalculated when a stout man raised his phone for a selfie and unknowingly clotheslined Corentin. The huntsman went airborne with his feet tossed out from under him. He collided with the pavement and landed on his back. The man’s phone arched through the air and crashed to the sidewalk, completely unharmed. As Corentin coughed, the man laughed because his expensive phone survived the drop.

“
Corentin
?” Taylor called over the expanse of the parking lot.

“Shit,” Corentin hissed and scrambled to his feet. He heard the rush of footfalls behind him. Phillipa was coming. He ducked into the shifting bodies of tourists and waited. The footfalls came closer, and Corentin counted to three before he stuck out his leg to the left between two bodies.

Phillipa caught her foot under Corentin’s knee and flipped forward. She flew forward, tucking into a roll. She somersaulted down the sidewalk and then recovered her feet. She spun on her heel and offered Corentin an excited grin. “Catch me if you can, hunter,” she purred and dashed across the parking lot.

Corentin sprang into action, chasing after her. He had to stop her from getting to Taylor at all costs. Corentin was certain she was going to kill Taylor on the spot instead of taking him prisoner. He had no idea what he was doing, why he was so convinced he had to protect Taylor, but it felt right at the moment. And all he and Taylor had was surviving the trap of the road moment by moment and not anticipating what happened next.

“Taylor!” Corentin yelled across the parking lot. “Run!”

Taylor stiffened. “Shit!” he yelped as it seemed he caught sight of Phillipa coming for him. He kicked off his flip-flops and hustled back into the tree line.

Corentin grinned. He could track Taylor in there and easily keep him safe before Phillipa could find him. In the distance, Phillipa hesitated at the tree line on the edge of the parking lot. She seemed to be looking for the easiest access point. Corentin knew some days you just had to dive in. Corentin went downwind of Phillipa to throw off her senses and ducked into the trees closest to the interstate while she was near the Discovery Center.

Once his feet hit the sand of the brook shore, he stood still. The trees swallowed all outside noise, leaving the sliver of wilderness as quiet and wild as any Pacific Northwest mountain range. He listened for anything that sounded human over the rhythm of birds, frogs, or reptiles. He listened for butterfly wings beating.

There was a crack of a stick, and Corentin grabbed for his truck keys. He threaded the spiny keys through his fingers and knew Phillipa had the reach with her saber that he didn’t with his keys. There was no way out of this without getting some measure of a wound.

A bird behind him took flight. Corentin pivoted on his heel, swinging his fist and keys wide. Phillipa lunged forward, ready to stab for Corentin’s side. Corentin threw himself into a wider arch but still got nicked by the blade at his hip. He gasped with the sear of pain, and Phillipa swung her saber up, looking for a neck wound. Corentin ducked before the blade could connect, and the saber crunched into a tree.

Phillipa jerked at the blade once to free it, and Corentin saw the distraction. He spun around to her back, planting his elbow hard into her kidney. She buckled forward and gripped her side. Corentin slipped around her and made a grab for the saber, but Phillipa could somehow see his intent. She raised her clawed fingers, making a gripping gesture. The saber yanked itself from the tree and spun toward its mistress.

Corentin dropped into a crouch as the blade sailed over his head. He stood, watching Phillipa as the saber returned to her hand. Again, the game was on.

“Corentin!” Taylor called from upstream.

Corentin caught a glimpse of his magenta T-shirt. “Run, Tay—” Corentin started to yell before Phillipa slipped the thin lanyard of her keys around his neck. Corentin choked, scrabbling for a grip on the cord.

Phillipa hopped onto Corentin’s back, wrapping her legs around his waist. She leaned back, using her body weight to hold the lanyard tighter. The saber dropped to the ground at Corentin’s feet. His head fuzzed as the air left him. But Corentin had enough sense to think about the saber. He snapped forward at the waist and flung Phillipa off him. The relief of the blood pressure easing from his face felt like a splash of ice water. Phillipa hit a tree and slumped to the ground on her head. Corentin snatched the saber from the ground and staggered back. Now that he had the upper hand, Corentin waited for her next move.

Phillipa didn’t move.

Corentin’s heart pounded in his ears. The stream bubbled and splashed.

Phillipa lay limp.

He still wasn’t convinced. He poked at her with his booted toe. She flopped onto her back, limbs akimbo.

Corentin didn’t need any more proof. He grabbed Phillipa’s keys and shoved them into his pocket. Keeping the saber in hand, he made his way up to the parking lot. “Taylor!” he called into the woods. “Get to the truck!”

Once Corentin set foot into the parking lot, the rush of the interstate noise thundered. He staggered from the terrible sound. He dashed to the truck as Taylor appeared ten yards away from him, likewise running for the truck.

They reached the truck at the same time, each hurrying for their own side. But Corentin circled around to the passenger side with Taylor. Taylor froze and seemed bewildered by Corentin’s roughed-up state. Corentin shoved the truck keys and Phillipa’s keys at him. “Take these. Get in. Lock the doors. Bury Phillipa’s keys under the backseat,” he said breathlessly.

“W-what about you?” Taylor asked, fumbling with the rings of keys.

“I have to make sure she can’t follow us,” Corentin said.

Taylor seemed to catch the grimness in his tone. “Did you… kill her?” Taylor asked, the horror plain on his face.

“Get in the truck, Taylor.” Corentin gave his command and turned away. Taylor reached out for him with a desperate cry, and Corentin flinched out of his grasp. “
Now
,” Corentin barked.

Corentin forced himself not to look back as he stalked off for the woods. He couldn’t stand to see such desperation in Taylor’s gaze. Phillipa couldn’t be dead. There was no way the beast could die so easily. Phillipa’s kind was as eternal as Mother Storyteller herself. And Corentin prepared himself mentally to do what he must. He had to keep Taylor safe. Considering his fucked-up sense of empathizing with a princess, perhaps there was some truth to huntsmen having changes of heart, but not without the cost of their own.

Phillipa had said this was just business. Corentin had to believe it. As he eased down into the woods again, his hand tightened on Phillipa’s saber. Corentin knew what had to be done. He crept along the water’s edge, listening for any signs of Enchant life. He spotted Phillipa’s yellow-and-black riding jacket in a heap on the ground.

Corentin bent his knees, readying himself to strike. “It’s just business,” he whispered. Corentin lunged forward and froze.

It was only Phillipa’s jacket. She was gone.

“Fuck,” Corentin snapped and scrambled back up the embankment into the parking lot.

When the truck came into his line of sight, he could see Taylor was inside and seemed safe. Phillipa had vanished. Corentin wasn’t taking any chances. She was here. Somewhere. The beast always knew how to hide.

Corentin wiped his face on his jacket sleeve as he hurried toward the truck. He kept his grip on Phillipa’s saber. Taylor’s gaze focused more on the weapon and less on him as he approached.

“Unlock the doors,” Corentin said in a firm tone. The door locks popped, and Corentin reached for the handle. He stumbled when Phillipa’s saber burst into sparks in his hand. Corentin yelped from the shock and the sting of magic as the force slammed him to the pavement.

Taylor flew out of the truck and rushed to Corentin’s side. “Shit! You okay? You okay?” he asked in a panic. Ringo was close behind, fluttering over Taylor’s head.

“We gotta go,” Corentin said as he pushed to his feet. “She’s still out there.”

Taylor seemed somewhat relieved. Corentin smiled weakly; Taylor had approved of his choice.

Corentin snapped forward when a sharp weight tackled him headfirst into the side of the truck. The world spun as his head pounded from the sharp metal clang. He shook it off and turned to the sound of Taylor screaming. He forced the world into focus and found Taylor running for his life back to the Discovery Center. Phillipa gave chase effortlessly, and she would have him in her claws soon. Corentin sprinted after them.