Modern Wicked Fairy Tales: Complete Collection (47 page)

Although occasionally he felt guilty, like
now when his sister presented him with a gift on the occasion of
her eighteenth birthday instead of the other way around. He had
something for her, of course, but the surprise party wasn’t until
that night and he didn't want to spoil it for her.

"Gret, it's
your
birthday, not
mine."

"I know." She just smiled and held the
pretty wrapped package out for him, practically vibrating with
excitement. What could he do but take it?

"I shouldn't let you do this," he grumbled,
snatching the package from her hands, feeling the heavy weight of
it, already wondering, in spite of himself, what could be inside.
No one knew him and what he liked and secretly wanted like Gretel
did.

"Open it!" she insisted, shifting from foot
to foot as she stood in the doorway to his room. There was no
dampening Gretel's enthusiasm—she was 220 volts running on a 110
line.

"Did you spend your own money?" He put the
gift on his desk where he'd been studying for his organic chemistry
final, deciding to torture her a little and increase his own
anticipation.

"What other money is there to spend?" She
rolled her eyes, glancing over her shoulder as if their
penny-pinching stepmother might be lurking in the hallway. "Now
open it!" She picked the package back up off the desk, shoving it
into his lap. "Before she comes home and asks where I got the money
to buy it."

Hans raised his eyebrows, hefting the box
again. "Where
did
you get the money?"

"Open! Open! Open!" she chanted, ignoring
his question.

He finally did, finding a large obstruction
in his throat in the way of a “thank you.” Gretel just beamed,
exclaiming about the gift, telling him where she’d purchased it and
how much she knew it would help his research.

“It’s not as expensive as you think,” she
assured him, seeing the look on his face as he gazed from her to
the microscope in his hands. “I got a good deal. At least the
Attack Jack taught me how to bargain hunt!”

Hans laughed at her use of that old, secret
name for their stepmother—Jack, after the cheapskate Jack Benny,
and the “attack” part, well, the woman was known for her malicious,
manipulative and underhanded tactics. Even against her
stepchildren. Especially against her stepchildren.

“You are the best sister ever.” Hans stood
and gave her a one-armed hug, still holding the microscope in the
other. “What am I going to do without you?”

“Why, what have you heard?” Her eyes widened
as Hans sat back down, putting the microscope on his desk, gazing
at it fondly. “Are they sending me to military school?”

“Worse.” He sighed, meeting her wary eyes.
“Finishing school.”

“Oh god.” Gretel’s face drained of blood,
her normally rosy cheeks turning to marble. “I’d really prefer the
Marines!” She blinked at him in disbelief and then exploded in her
usual, spontaneous way. “
You
got to go to college! Why not
me?”

Hans winced at the whine in her voice. “I
heard her telling Dad that you wouldn’t be able to find a suitable
husband in college.”

“Suitable meaning
rich.
” Gretel
snorted, rolling her eyes toward the ceiling.

“Of course.” He smirked. “How else are we
supposed to pay off all the debt Dad’s in?”

“You mean the debt
she
racked up
since she married him!” his sister hissed, glancing toward the open
door.

Hans shrugged. “As soon as I have a degree,
I promise, I’ll get a job and we’ll find a place together and get
out of here.”

“You’ll probably get married and forget all
about me by then.” She pouted, crossing her arms and looking
unhappily at her own reflection in the mirror over his dresser.

“I won’t forget about you, sis. I promise.”
Hans smiled indulgently, standing to give her another hug, this
time with two arms. “Now, you better go get dressed up.”

“How come?” She pulled away, giving him that
wary look again.

“That’s all I’m saying.” He made a turning
motion with his hand in front of his lips—locked up tight. But she
already knew, he could tell by the look in her eyes, and he wasn’t
sorry he’d slipped. He liked seeing that ridiculously happy look on
her face, in spite of her annoying habits, like buying him gifts on
her own danged birthday.

“Really?” Gretel squealed, shoving him away
and clapping her hands, starting to preen in his mirror. “Oh, I
wish I had a new dress.”

Hans sighed at the downturn at the corners
of her mouth, already giving in. Okay, so his stepmother had picked
it out and wrapped it for him—and paid for it too. She insisted on
doing all the household purchasing, down to their underwear and
socks. But it would make Gretel happy, and that’s all that
mattered. “Look in my closet. There’s a gift for you in there.”

His sister squealed again in delight when
she opened his birthday present, giving him a quick thank-you kiss
on the cheek before running down the hall and around the corner
like she used to run around bases, off to try it on.

* * * *

“I still can’t get over at this dress!”
Gretel nudged her brother again at the punch bowl, her voice
dropped to a stage-whisper. Hans handed over a glass of red punch—a
disaster waiting to happen with the cream-colored satin backless
gown she was wearing, but she took it anyway—and he gave her
another once-over with his eyes.

“She picked it out, you know,” he admitted,
the punch in his own glass gone in one swig.

“I know.” Gretel smirked. “But that’s what I
mean. Why would she get me something so…so…
nice!
So
expensive!”

“Good question.” He shrugged, dismissing her
as their father approached, holding his own glass of punch. He
smiled at them both fondly, and Gretel sighed at the look on his
face. That expression hadn’t changed since they were little. It was
love mixed, with a deeper sorrow and an even deeper guilt he never
spoke and probably didn’t even know was there.

“How are you liking your party, little
miss?” Her father kissed her cheek, his breath hazy with alcohol.
He’d obviously been sneaking it by their stepmother, probably
pouring it from a flask into his punch. “Eighteen! I can’t believe
it! Where did the time go?”

“It’s a lovely party, Daddy.” Gretel looked
around at the room full of adults—all of her stepmother’s friends
and acquaintances mingling with her father’s business associates.
There wasn’t one of Gretel’s own friends in the bunch. “Thank
you.”

“Thank your mother!”

Stepmother.
Gretel corrected him
bitterly in her head, but she let her smile widen as the woman
approached, towering over their father, throwing him completely in
shadow. If she had been asked to pick an antithesis, someone so
different, so frozenly polar opposite from the warm, feminine being
that their real mother had been, Gretel would have chosen Vivian
without a second thought.

“This is all Viv’s doing.” Their father
looked up at the woman with such a grateful expression it made
Gretel want to vomit.

“Thank you for the party.” Gretel said what
she knew her father wanted her to say, even managing to do it
without gritting her teeth, and he smiled approvingly.

“Nothing is too good for our cherubs.” Viv
flashed them a smile—her smiles were full of straight, white teeth,
almost blinding. She was a beautiful woman even at her age, her
long dark hair pulled up and back in complicated coils and loops,
the material of her dress hugging her curves like blue waves.
Gretel knew the tag was likely still attached to it, tucked up
somewhere, hidden, just as hers was. Hans smiled, taking his cue
and complimenting their stepmother on her appearance. She beamed,
but Gretel saw her brother roll his eyes and sneer as Vivian leaned
in to whisper something in their father’s ear.

“Hey Sis, whatcha think are in all those
boxes up there?” Hans nodded toward the gift table piled high with
presents.

“Nothing could be better than the dress Hans
got me.” Gretel winked, knowing who had picked it out, playing the
game, appeasing their stepmother. It didn’t matter what was in the
boxes up on the table and they all knew it—if they contained
something her stepmother liked and wanted to keep, she would do so—
the rest would be returned for cash.

Vivian brightened at Gretel’s comment,
stage-whispering, “I picked it out for him.”

“Really?” Gretel acted surprised. “Well I
love it!” That was the first true thing she’d spoken to the woman
all night. The dress really was something, and she was thrilled to
be wearing it, even though she knew it would be going back to the
dress shop tomorrow. She still couldn’t figure out why her
stepmother had chosen something so stylish, so adult. She was
usually stuck in pink little-girl dresses.
Maybe it’s
preparation for finishing school.
Gretel blanched at that
thought.

“It will make a wonderful first impression.”
Vivian nodded her approval, taking their father by the elbow. “Come
along, Ralph, I have someone I want you to meet.”

Gretel watched them go, making a face behind
their backs that made Hans laugh. She turned to her brother and
asked, “First impression?”

Hans shrugged. “I have no idea.”

“Here.” Gretel handed him her untouched cup
of punch. “After that, I need some air.”

He gulped down the drink before calling
after her, “Don’t go far. Jack Attack said she had an announcement
to make around nine and she wants us both here.”

“Oh joy,” she mumbled under her breath,
waving her brother’s reminder away as she made her way through the
crowd. It was her own birthday and she didn’t even want to be here.
No one stopped her or said “happy birthday” or even “hello” as she
made her way toward the exit. Vivian had rented a hall and had it
all catered—on credit, of course. Everything she bought was on
credit.

The hallway was five degrees cooler than
inside and she took a deep breath, but it wasn’t quite enough. She
found her way down the hall and around the corner, following the
corridors. The rooms back here were dark, unused. They were the
only party going on in the place. She came across a metal door with
a steel opening bar under a red “exit” sign. It was February and
bitter cold outside, but she didn’t care, hitting the bar with both
hands and flinging the door wide.

She inhaled deeply, standing in her heels on
a lighted pathway—someone had shoveled the snow—closing her eyes in
relief. It was cold, the wind stinging her bare back, but it felt
strangely good, at least for a moment.

“Hey! Wait! The door!”

She heard it swing shut behind her but it
was too late. The man who bolted past her to reach for the handle
swore, yanking hard, but it was no use. It had closed and
locked.

“Oops.” Gretel turned to face both the man
and the now-locked door, the cold suddenly far more biting than it
had just a moment before. “Sorry.”

“Me too.” He sighed, slipping a cell phone
into his suit coat pocket and gazing longingly at the door. “Locked
out twice. What are the odds?”

“You came out to make a phone call?” she
asked, although that was obvious.

He nodded, giving her the once-over.
“You?”

“Just to get some air.” Although now she
thoroughly regretted the decision, even if the guy she’d ended up
stranded with was rather attractive. She turned and pounded her
fists on the door. “Hello! Help!”

She waited a moment for a response and
started pounding again, yelling louder. Then she waited again—still
nothing. She stood there, panting, realizing that even if she
wasn’t getting an answer, at least the motion had made her feel a
little warmer.

“I tried that.” The guy leaned against the
door, crossing his arms and looking at her. “Until you came along,
no luck.”

“Still no luck, apparently.” She snorted.
“Well where are we? There have to be other doors.”

He nodded, gesturing to the enclosed space
they were in, a patio area they obviously used for gatherings in
warmer weather. There were a few doors with that red “exit” sign
illuminated from the inside. “Yep. And they’re all locked.”

“You have a cell phone.” Gretel sighed in
frustration, her teeth beginning to chatter. She didn’t have one of
course—neither of them were allowed. Too expensive. “Can’t you call
someone?”

“It’s a great idea,” he agreed, patting his
jacket pocket. “But unfortunately, I can’t get a signal. That’s why
I came out here in the first place—I was hoping I could get a
signal outside. Still no luck.”

She didn’t doubt it. They were in a sort of
cell phone dead-zone. Her father complained about it all the time.
“Maybe a window?” She hugged herself, really shivering now.

“That was my next plan.” The man frowned,
slipping his jacket off and draping it around her shoulders. “Here.
Better?”

“Th-th-thanks.”

“I’m Drew. Andrew Hess.” He was still
standing close, his arm around her shoulders, but he was warm and
blocking the wind, so she didn’t protest.

“Gretel Anderson”

“I know.” He smiled at her look of surprise.
“Happy birthday.”

“Thanks.” Of course. It was her party, and
everyone knew her—but she knew no one. She wondered who Andrew Hess
was. Some business associate of her father’s maybe? He had that
smart, professor look about the face, but he was a big man—far
bigger than her father or her brother.

He guided her down the shoveled, stone path.
“Come on. I can’t be responsible for the birthday girl turning into
a Popsicle.”

Gretel watched, acting the part of the
damsel in distress, as Andrew tried the first window and found it
locked. He systematically went around the patio, trying every
window, while her hopes dropped with every failure. Aside from
being cold, she was imagining what Vivian’s reaction would be when
she wasn’t there for the grand “announcement.” Probably just
something about finishing school. She didn’t really care if she
missed it, but she did care about the repercussions afterward.
Vivian would find some way to make her life miserable—
more
miserable.