Disenchanted (20 page)

"A man was attacked and left
for dead last night in Riding Woods," the newsreader announced in the same
deadpan voice he used for tragedies and rescued kitten stories. "The
victim, who wasn't local, was found badly beaten, with deep cuts and his eye
gouged out. He's currently in intensive care. Legends of a man-eating wolf have
plagued the village of Riding for centuries."

"The 'Keep Tourists Away'
campaign's going well."

"Now do you think it's just
a bedtime story?" Grandma asked.

"Since when do wolves know
how to box? And they can't gouge out eyes – they don't have thumbs. Some idiots
probably beat the crap out of him to keep the legend alive. It's the same with
fairies – if nobody believes in them, they die. "

"You'd better go,"
Grandma told me an hour later. "It's getting dark."

I kissed her cheek and left.
Perrault bounded up to me. I offered him the ham I'd sneaked out of Grandma's
fridge. He snaffled it then licked my hand, his bushy tail waving like a flag
of surrender.

"I can't see you donning a
pair of boots and kicking the crap out of someone," I murmured into his
head, kissing him.

I pulled my hood up and set off
into the woods.

Silence lurked amongst the gloomy
trees as though they were sealing every living creature inside their wooded
tomb. Not even the dying sun was brave enough to banish the shadows that danced
beneath night's flimsy veil.

Something moved in the darkness.

I stopped. Perrault's hackles
rose. He growled.

"Creighton? If that's you,
come out now or you're never seeing me naked again."

I unsheathed my dagger. If it was
those attackers from last night, they'd get a nasty shock. They could take
their fingers home as souvenirs. I listened, my heart beating warning signals
through my veins. I turned around. Trees, everywhere, hiding their secrets
behind their rigid bodies. Perrault padded ahead. I crept after him. For the
first time in my life, the legend seemed real.

But it wasn't the wolf I had to
fear.

Whatever was hiding in the woods
wouldn't be placated with ham.

Perrault growled again. I raised
my dagger across my body, my other hand using the basket as a shield. Twigs
crunched, betraying my position to my hunter. Blackness robbed my vision. I
slipped my phone from my cloak pocket and tapped the torch app. I wielded it,
silver light piercing the night's brutal heart.

A shadow.

Branches reached out, trying to
imprison me in their wooden dungeon. I battered them aside, ducking others and
changing my path. Perrault ran by my side. Brambles scratched my thighs. I
stamped them down and darted sideways to throw my hunter off track. Whispering
voices promised me everlasting pain in this paradise lost.

Something collided with me. I hit
a tree hard, my breath stolen from my lungs. Black rain fizzed in my vision. I
thrust the dagger forwards, feeling it connect with someone. The last thing I
saw was a figure standing over me.

The demon from my childhood
nightmares.

Snow White's Prince Charming.

***

I sat up. My forehead whacked
something and I fell back onto a velvet cushion. Glass walls imprisoned me. I
hammered frantically on the lid, my hands tied.

"Let me out!"

Prince Charming crouched and
stroked the coffin, whispering soothing words, which I guessed were 'hurry up
and die so I can make beautiful love to your cold, dead corpse.' I'd rather
smear myself in jam and dance naked through a wasp swarm. He was every inch the
cardboard cut-out rich, handsome man from period dramas, who made most girls
swoon. I liked my men with more character and without the corpse fetish.

He beckoned and six brides ambled
over, their lifeless eyes boring into mine. They lifted the coffin and carried
me. I rolled around, trying to tip the coffin, but they didn't falter.

Growling resonated through the
woods. The Prince hit the ground, screaming.

"The beast!"

Then I saw what he saw – Perrault
was three times his normal size, with red eyes and wicked fangs. I blinked and
he was my wolf again.

He leapt at the nearest Snow
White bride and they all fell. The coffin plunged, striking a rock and
shattering. I covered my face as glass shards punished my flesh. Perrault
appeared beside me, so I grabbed his fur and pulled myself up.

Branches slapped me, roots
tripped me and the monsters in the woods watched me flee, their crimson eyes
glowing like twisted fairies, trying to lure me into the eternal dance.

I burst out of the woods and
stumbled up the path to Grandma's cottage. I pounded on the door with my bound
fists.

"Grandma! Open up!"

The door creaked open. I hesitated
then crept inside. Perrault trotted in, growling. It was too quiet.

"Grandma?"

I edged into the living room.
Empty. I crossed to the kitchen. Empty. I checked the outhouse. Empty. I pushed
open her bedroom door.

Grandma was sprawled on her bed,
an ugly wound where her head should be. Gashes lashed her body. Blood sprayed
the walls. Above the headboard was 'MARRY ME RED' written in blood.

"No." I sank to my
knees, gagging at the stench. "No!" I thumped the bed. Perrault
nudged me then licked my tears. I rested my head against his.

I pulled my dagger free and
jammed it between my feet, sawing my rope. My arms ached, but I was finally
free. I snatched up my dagger and wiped my eyes, Grandma's mutilated corpse
blurring in my vision.

Perrault followed me out the
back. I stopped dead and heaved. On the cutting block, was Grandma's head, an
axe imbedded in her skull like a worryingly realistic Halloween prop.

"A wolf didn't do
this."

Perrault howled in agreement and
trotted to the cutting block. He pawed it, whining.

"I'm not getting that
axe." He stamped his foot. I grimaced as I gripped the handle. "Fine.
But only so I can chop the son of a bitch into firewood."

I took a deep breath, which was a
huge mistake when standing downwind of a severed head. I coughed then gingerly
held Grandma's head steady while I worked the axe free. I looked away, trying
to ignore the squelching and the way her glassy gaze watched me reproachfully.

"Hey! What are you
doing?"

I swore. The woodcutter. He
marched over then paled.

"Griselda?" He looked
at me. "What have you
done
?"
He stumbled backwards. "You're in league with the wolf! Witch!"

He fled, hollering about wolves,
witches and murder. Sometimes I believed our village existed in the times when
fairytales
were true. Except we now had
WiFi
.

"Our cue to leave. If anyone
really believes you can wield an axe, Perrault, they deserve to be
savaged."

We ran through the back garden,
into another part of the woods.

"If I was watching this on
screen, I'd be screaming at me not to be such an idiot," I told Perrault.

I gripped my dagger in one hand
and the axe in the other as we raced through the woods.

"If we find a gingerbread
house, we're outta here."

Perrault barked and led the way
through the undergrowth. I'd never strayed off the path before. But I'd also
never found my grandma butchered before.

We crept through the woods'
blackened heart. Crumbling headstones lurked amongst the trees, each one
engraved with familiar names. Snow White, Cinderella, Rapunzel, Gretel, Beauty.
Red. A grave shook as something rose from its earthy tomb. Soil cascaded from
it, revealing a glass coffin and a decomposing princess, her tiara sinking into
her putrescent flesh.

Bushes rustled, twigs broke and
my heart drummed a terrifying chorus of doom. I was tempted to use my phone's
torch app, but it'd be like pricking my finger in a vampire nest. I shadowed
Perrault as he hopped over a stream, my cloak floating behind me like
Superman's cape. Except I wouldn't look as camp in Lycra as he did and I knew
my underwear went
under
my clothes.
My ankle twisted on landing.

Footsteps.

Behind me. No. In front. They
circled me, getting closer with every step. I tried not to breathe as I edged
forwards, holding my axe like a shield.

"
Red
."

Footsteps.

"
Red
."

I stalked Perrault as I ducked
branches and hurdled fallen logs. I stopped dead. We were at the edge of a
steep drop. Perrault peered down then looked at me.

"Isn't there another
way?"

He disappeared over the edge, his
furry tail beckoning.

"Miss Hood." Prince
Charming stood behind me, his hands trembling as he touched my corset. I bent
his fingers backwards. "You look ravishing. I could eat you up." He
licked his lips.

"Stay away from me you
necro
! You killed my grandma!"

He wrestled me to the ground as
he sniffed my hair and groaned.

"I'll slice you up like a
cake!"

"Be a good girl and stay
still." He moaned as his crown jewels rubbed against me and he fumbled for
my knickers. I rammed my dagger into his thigh. He yelled as I twisted it,
wriggled free and kicked him in the face.

I scrambled up and jumped over
the ledge. My legs buckled and I hit the slope on my back. I slithered down
like a human toboggan. Brambles and twigs sliced my skin, tearing at my clothes
like a lust driven lover. I wrapped my cloak around me. Trees flashed past, too
fast to break my fall. I hit a log and bounced up, landing face down in a
river. I groaned. I hurt everywhere and my pride needed a life-saving
operation. I frantically pushed myself up. No Prince Charming. Perrault bounded
over, his warm tongue investigating the cuts on my arms and drying my tears.
Somehow I'd kept hold of the axe and hadn't hacked off a limb in the fall.

The surging river smothered any
sound Prince Charming might make. I couldn't go back the way I'd come. My feet
slipped on hidden rocks and I face planted in the water. Swearing, I hauled
myself up and splashed on. Night embraced me in its star studded cloak. I
shivered and pulled out my phone. Remarkably it still worked.

"
Creigh
,
I've been attacked by the creature in the woods." He swore. "It was
Prince Charming."

He laughed. "Were the
dwarves there too?"

"He killed Grandma. I found
her head on a chopping block. The woodcutter thinks I did it. The prince…"
saying it made it real. I took a deep breath. "…tried to rape me."

"I'll fucking kill
him!"

"I shoved my dagger in his
thigh. I'm gutted. I loved that dagger."

"I'll make you a new
one."

"I lost Great Grandma's
basket.
Mum'll
kill me. She won't believe me about
the prince."

"Maybe whatever haunts the
woods isn't the wolf. Well, it probably was to the first person who saw it
because that's what he was afraid of."

I waded deeper, gasping when the
river's icy body collided with my skin. "What do you mean?"

"You're afraid of Prince
Charming and that's who you saw. Father Smith was mauled by demons, Nigel by
flesh eating creatures. Maybe it's not a wolf in Riding Woods but people's
darkest nightmares."

"I used to have nightmares
about the prince as a kid. I was convinced he'd kill me and put me in a glass coffin
to rape me."

"What version of Snow White
were
you
read?"

"I know everyone's supposed
to be frightened of the witch, but I've always found it disturbing that a man
stumbles across a dead girl in a coffin, falls in love with her and demands she
be taken to his castle for a wedding. And the dwarves didn't question his
motives or run a police check on him. She cooked and cleaned for them and they
repaid her by shipping her off to the local pervert the minute she snuffed
it."

"Stop fearing him, he'll go
away."

Twigs cracked. "Bit hard
when his battering ram is trying to penetrate my castle defences."

"Most girls dream of
stumbling across a prince in the woods."

"I'm not most girls."

"No, you're a hot, sexy minx
who stabs
fairytale
princes. I think I'm in love."

"The doctor can give you
something for that."

I tried moving quicker but the
river's currents slowed me down. Branches snapped. Perrault growled as he swam
beside me.

"Where are you?"

"In a river. I don't know
this area."

"I'm coming to find
you."

I hung up. Hearing Creighton's
voice was reassuring. But now I was alone in the dark. Another branch snapped.

I wasn't alone.

My legs ached. My boots felt
heavy. My hand hurt from gripping the axe. Something brushed my leg. I
flinched. Something else bumped into me. I whirled around. The full moon bathed
the river in a silver glow as slowly, dead bodies floated to the surface.

I clamped my hand over my mouth.
Bloated, discoloured, naked corpses brushed against me. Their open, opaque eyes
gazed at the sky like star worshippers enjoying the clear night. Their mouths
were locked in silent screams. Some were face down. All were once young women
with long black hair and scarlet lips. A rubbery hand touched my thigh. I
freaked out, trying to rush past the corpses without touching them but each
time I moved, a new one rose to block my path.

"You're not real. You're a
figment of my twisted imagination."

A marbled hand grabbed my wrist.
I shrieked then raised the axe and chopped the corpse's hand off. Its arm
flopped down but the hand remained clamped around my wrist. Cringing, I prised
the fingers off then flung the hand.

I took a deep breath then pushed
the dead bodies aside as I lunged for the bank. Somebody dragged me out. I
looked back at the river, shaking. The corpses had vanished. The beautiful
river gushed past.