Modern Wicked Fairy Tales: Complete Collection (54 page)

“Get down!” Drew grabbed the back of her
head, forcing her to the bottom of the raft, but even from that
vantage point she saw him loosening the line, detaching them. And
she saw the rising, white side of the yacht moving slowly away from
them into the night.

“It won’t be long before they find out we’re
gone,” she whispered, turning over in the raft to look up at Drew,
noticing for the first time that he, too, was soaked. “Why are you
wet?”

“Yeah, I had a little accident getting the
boat.” He gave her a sheepish sort of smile. “Good news: we got the
boat. Bad news: my phone is dead. Which means we have no GPS.”

“We’re lost out here?” Gretel sat up,
looking between him and her brother. She knew they hadn’t left port
too long ago, but they were still miles from even the sight of any
land. “We’re in the middle of the Pacific Ocean!”

“Yeah, I said it was bad news.”

“It’s okay,” Hans spoke up. “We can follow
the sea sparkle. Look.” A long trail of glowing blue water
stretched out behind them, caused by the yacht’s forward motion
through the water.

“Excellent.” Drew gave Hans an appreciative
look. “Let’s hope they don’t turn around. Can you oar?”

“Give me one,” Hans said, holding out a
hand, and Drew gave him an even more appreciative look as her
brother, in spite of his physical condition, hooked the oar into
its rest and positioned himself to row. Both men began without
speaking, rowing them swiftly through the waves, and Gretel
breathed a deeper sigh of relief as the white speck of the yacht
began to grow even smaller.

“Drew, I have to tell you something.” Gretel
snuggled close against his back for warmth, feeling his muscles
working as he rowed.

“Hm?”

“My brother has a knife in his pocket,” she
informed him. Hans stiffened and gasped, his oar slipping slightly.
She stuck her tongue out at him and said, “Don’t poke a hole in the
boat with it, Hans, or we’re all dead.”

“That’s okay, I have something to tell you
both.” Drew chuckled. “I’m not exactly who I said I was.”

Hans swore under his breath, fumbling for
his knife.

“Hey, hey, keep it in your pocket, hero.
She’s not kidding about poking a hole in the boat. We’re dead in
the water if that happens.” Drew stopped rowing too, the raft
floating on the waves. “The truth is, I’m actually a spy for a
green nonprofit company. We’ve been following this research for
years. They want your organism—and they’d like to give you a
job.”

“What do you mean?” Hans asked, pulling a
cautious hand out of his pocket and putting it back on the oar.

“Just what I said,” Drew replied, taking his
own oar back, both men beginning to row once more, aligning them
with the luminescent blue glow of the sea sparkle in the water. “We
knew your grandmother’s company was very close to finding a
solution—but we also knew they intended to patent the organism and
make it proprietary, so no one else could duplicate it. And then
she intended to hold it as long as they could, until fossil fuel
shortages maximized their profit. Our company wants to make it
available now, to everyone, everywhere. It will drive the cost down
and make it an affordable energy source for the whole world.”

“So you lied to me.” Gretel glared at
him.

Drew sighed, continuing to row. “That’s sort
of a prerequisite of being a spy, sweetheart.”

She leaned her cheek against his arm. “But
you’re one of the good guys?”

“I am. At least, I hope I am.” He kissed the
top of her wet head. “I try to do the right thing.”

“Well I know one right thing we can do.”
Hans pulled hard on the oar. “We can get my sister home. The rest
we’ll sort out from there.”

Drew smiled in the moonlight, looking fondly
down at her. “Agreed.”

With that, Gretel settled herself between
her brother and her lover as they followed the gleaming blue
streaks of light, stretching for miles across the Pacific Ocean,
toward home.

Epilogue

“Are you okay?” Drew yelled. Gretel just
gave him a thumbs up.

Part of her couldn’t believe she was doing
this—and another part of her couldn’t wait.
It beats finishing
school.
Grinning, she looked out the window at the patchwork of
land below, wondering if she could see their house from here. A
house that, in the past three months, had finally become a home
again.

She smiled, thinking about her father,
working again in a lab for the first time in ten years, this time
alongside her brother. He had been so apologetic when they arrived
home, certain that they would hate him for listening to their
stepmother, but they’d both been shocked to hear that he had
already kicked her out of the house and started divorce
proceedings.

“An anonymous tip,” her father told them
tearfully. “I had the Coast Guard out looking for you both.”

Gretel had looked pointedly at Drew, but he
just rocked back on his heels and grinned and didn’t say a word.
But she’d been so thankful that she didn’t have to see Vivian
anymore. They could breathe in the house again. They could laugh
and shout and joke around. No one knew what might happen to Vivian
if the trial ever went forward. She’d been released on bond and no
one had seen her since.

And no one would ever see their grandmother
again, Gretel thought, sliding her hand into Drew’s and feeling him
squeeze it. The Coast Guard had caught up with the yacht, but by
then the old woman had already collapsed. Heart attack most likely.
She was seventy-nine, a good age to reach if you could get there,
and although she’d clearly not done it happily, she’d died a very
rich woman.

The will, which had curiously never been
changed to reflect their grandmother’s animosity toward her only
daughter, was still in probate. Both she and Hans had agreed that,
if the estate and company were ultimately turned over to them, they
would use the money to further BioGen’s mission. It was a good one,
and they all had hopes it might work out in the end.

Hans was working and happy. Her father was
working and happy. And Gretel… well, she was most decidedly
not
going to finishing school.

“Time to hook up!” Drew stepped in front of
her and she put her arms around him as she’d been instructed. He
fumbled with the belts and loops and buckles, hooking them where he
told her to. He checked and double checked them as the co-pilot
came back from up front. He triple-checked them before waving them
out the open side of the plane toward Gretel’s first skydive.

“Are you ready for an adventure?” Drew
called back.

She squeezed him tight—her answer for yes,
saying the words but not really expecting him to hear them over the
noise. “Every day with you is an adventure.”

But somehow he did hear, and he grinned back
at her, that sweet dimple flashing in his cheek. “For the rest of
our lives!”

Together, they jumped.

WENDY

“What in the world are you looking for?”
Wendy bent to see under the shelf where the boy’s lower half was
still visible, his Keds kicking wildly as he groped underneath. She
usually found this a quiet place to come and think, especially back
by the “used book” shelves filled with old encyclopedias and
out-of-print editions long ago forgotten.

“Mytingyrshaw,” came the muffled response,
followed by three quick sneezes in succession and a string of words
that made Wendy’s face burn.

“Your what?” she inquired again, squatting
down this time to see. The space under the shelf was narrow,
certainly too small for a man, perhaps even any full-grown adult,
but just enough room for a lanky, determined teenaged boy.

“Let me look.” A rough voice interrupted her
and Wendy glanced up, shocked to see a tall blond in four-inch
heels and a bright green mini-dress more appropriate for a street
corner than a library on a Wednesday morning standing there with
her arms crossed. The woman—and Wendy wasn’t sure it
was
a
woman—had more makeup on than Tammy Faye Baker at the breakfast
table and in her heels, stood at least six-foot-four.

“I got it, Tink!” came the reply, followed
by another string of sneezes and a hearty cough. With that, the boy
appeared, his sandy curls tousled and full of dust, his face
smeared with dirt. He waved a book with a black cover .”
Meeting
Your Shadow
. Just where you put it!”

“I told you I did.” Tink huffed, tucking her
hair, cut short with dark roots showing underneath the blond,
behind her ear. “I said I’d find it and save it for you.”

“Good job, Tink!” The boy looked at Wendy
for the first time, and when his gaze met hers, she felt her knees
wobble a little. “Hey, who’re you?”

“I’m Wendy.” She introduced herself, holding
out her hand, which the boy spontaneously used to pull himself up,
nearly toppling them both in the process. “Wendy Dahling.”

“Pete,” he announced. “Peter Pann.”

Wendy glanced up at the tall blond and Peter
did, too—she towered over them both by at least a foot—making
introductions. “And this is Tink. Say ‘hi.’ Tink.”

The blond glared, but mumbled a sufficient,
“Hi.”

“What’s so special about this book?” Wendy
looked curiously at the cover. She didn’t recognize the title or
the author. It looked boring, probably non-fiction—certainly not
light beach reading, which was her own usual fare.

“It’s out of print.” Pete slipped it behind
his back, away from her prying eyes. “Very rare.”

“Is it valuable?”

Pete shrugged. “It is to me.”

“Wait… what are you doing?” Wendy went up on
her tiptoes, trying to see behind Peter.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” He
scoffed, pulling his shirt out of his pants and tugging it over the
book he’d shoved down the back of his jeans.

“They’re not free, you know.” She pointed to
the sign:
Used Books $1.00

“What if I don’t have a dollar?”

Wendy opened her little purse, finding a
crumpled one-dollar bill at the bottom, stuck to a very dusty
still-wrapped piece of Trident bubble gum. “Here.”

Peter took it between his thumb and finger
as if it might be diseased, but he smiled at her. “That’s very nice
of you.”

“You’re welcome.” She snapped her little
purse closed, already lamenting her generosity. “I can’t really
afford it either, but I’d rather give you my last dollar than watch
you steal something.”

The tall blond snorted a laugh. “How noble
of you.”

“Don’t mind Tink—she’s just the jealous
type.” Peter rolled his eyes.

“What’s there to be jealous of?” Wendy
looked between the two of them, thoroughly confused.

Peter linked his arm with her as if they
were old school chums, leading her toward the front of the library,
away from Tink. “So you’re broke, huh?”

“You could say that.” Wendy didn’t meet his
gaze, hoping the fall of her hair against her cheeks as they walked
hid her flush.

“Shouldn’t you be in school?” the boy
inquired as they threaded their way through tables, a few patrons
sitting and quietly reading.

“Shouldn’t you?” she countered.

“I don’t go to school.” He sounded proud of
this.

“How old are you?”

“Just turned eighteen,” he replied. “How
about you?”

Wendy glanced over her shoulder, seeing Tink
following them. “I’ll be eighteen on Friday.”

“Friday! What a lucky break!”

She blinked at him. “Huh?”

“A birthday is good, but a Friday birthday
is spectacular!” The boy’s grin was infectious. She couldn’t help
smiling back. “What are you doing for your birthday?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing? No cake, no ice cream, no
presents?” Peter looked truly aghast. “No parties, no fun, no wild
overindulgences?”

“No.” Wendy shook her head as they neared
the library checkout counter.

“You’re a boring girl.” Peter dug the book
out of the back of his jeans, slapping it on the counter along with
the dirty dollar bill. The librarian took the offering, tucking it
away in a drawer, and bagged the book.

“I am not!” Wendy protested.

“She is, she’s boring, isn’t she, Tink?”
Peter looked over his shoulder for confirmation.

Tink obliged, quite happily. “Exceedingly.
Let’s go.”

“I have to take care of my little brothers,”
Wendy protested as she followed the boy toward the door. The heat
outside was oppressive—another reason the library served as a
welcome respite. “I don’t have time for parties or… or fun.”

“No time for fun?” Peter turned to her,
wide-eyed. “Now you’ve done it. You’ve gone and wounded me. That
offends my basic sensibilities. Everyone has time for fun!”

Wendy swallowed, blinking back tears. “Not
me.”

“Even you.” He leaned in to look into her
eyes, and she knew they were brimming and she struggled to hold
back. The boy named Peter smiled, his mouth curling mischievously
at the corners as he touched his finger to the tip of her nose.
“Boring girl.”

“Peter, I have to be back…” Tink
interrupted, wobbling a little on her dangerously high heels.

“Here, take the book.” Peter didn’t look
away from Wendy, tossing the book behind him to the tall blond. She
fumbled but managed to catch it.

“You want me to take it?” Tink looked from
the book to Peter.

“You found it, didn’t you?” Peter waved her
away, his gaze still on Wendy. They were standing close, far too
close for Wendy’s comfort. She blamed the heat in her cheeks on the
hot Florida sun. “Take it home and I’ll meet you there.”

“You trust me with it?” the tall blond
inquired.

“Of course, Tink.” Peter sighed, finally
looking back at her. He smiled, that sweet, charming smile that
made Wendy tingle all over, and she saw Tink brighten at his words.
“You’re my best girl. Now go!”

The blond hesitated a moment and Wendy
noticed a necklace at her throat, a small silver bauble, but it was
what appeared above it that mattered—the bob of a man’s Adam’s
apple. Her suspicion had been correct—Tink wasn’t really a girl
after all. The blond gave one more glowering look at Wendy and
Peter before following the boy’s instruction, turning around to go
home. Wendy watched her fly down the sidewalk, amazingly light on
her feet in those heels.