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Authors: Marie Hall

Tags: #Paranormal Romance

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BOOK: Rumpel's Prize
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Wrapping her arms around the massive trunk of an oak tree, she inhaled deeply as the bark scratched into her cheek, not caring that it was scraping her open. Where was she?

The garden was less chaotic, but it was still full of people. Some lounged on grass, tilting their faces skyward toward the sun. Others were huddled in groups and playing instruments or singing loudly and off-key, but they didn’t seem to care how terrible they sounded.

Children ran around, some of them holding kites and flying them above a vast expanse of water that stretched out on the left side of the gardens. The sea of life was crushing and she hadn’t a clue why she was here or what she should do.

“Hey lady,” a small voice piped up, and at first she hadn’t expected that voice to be actually trying to talk to her, so she ignored it. Until it spoke again. “Hey!” This time a tug at the hem of her dress was accompanied by a little girl’s shrill voice.

Terrified of allowing anyone to touch her—her arms were decently covered but not her legs—she jumped back and grabbed hold of her chest, stuttering, “What?”

Heart racing, hands trembling, she stared at the little thing. She couldn’t be more than nine or ten, and her hair was long and dirty, obviously in need of a good washing. Her cheeks were smudged with dirt and her nails black. She wore a pink dress that was a size too big and had on flat shoes with holes at the toes.

She looked like a street urchin and Shayera’s heart instantly melted. “Girl, where is your mother?”

The child laughed. “Mom? Yeah, her. She’s got a needle shoved in her vein right now and is probably passed out on the floor somewheres.”

“What?” Shayera blinked at the blunt manner of the little one; she appeared to not be upset or even much disturbed by the fact that her mother could even now be dangerously ill. “Shouldn’t you—”

Sneering, she held up a small hand. “Save it. I don’t got time. When she wakes up she’ll expect me to have dinner ready. You got any cash on you?”

“What?” She frowned, patting her dress. She had no pockets and had no idea what this
cash
was. “I don’t under—”

“Bread. Money. Greenbacks. Cash.” She rubbed her fingers together, her bright green eyes glinting with steel and determination. “Look, Paco’s right over there,” she said and pointed at another equally pitiful-looking urchin, except this one was much older, late teens, and had a greedy, terrible look about him that Shayera instantly distrusted. “He says we should just beat ya for it, but I told him that you looked nice and maybe if we just asked you’d give it to me.”

Mouth dry, pulse still thundering in her eardrums, Shayera grimaced. “I’ve got nothing. I don’t even know where I am. I don’t… I’m sorry…” She shook her head, feeling more discombobulated than ever and strangely on the verge of tears. Leaving her parents and the only home she’d ever known hadn’t been as terrifying as suddenly finding herself dropped in a strange and foreign land full of people she didn’t know.

This had to be Earth. It had to be, which begged the question what had Rumpel done to her? Why had he sent her here? Was this part of the game?

The girl sighed. “You’re nuts, ain’t ya, lady? Escape from the loony bin or what?” Her hard eyes glared at Shayera.

“What? No,” she snapped. “Where am I?”

The girl’s eyes grew wide and then she planted her hands on her hips. “You running from somethin’? How could you not know where you’re at? Look around, isn’t it obvious?” A dirty finger pointed at a spot over Shayera’s shoulder.

Twisting, she followed the girl’s gesture and spotted a giant green figure—statue more likely—perched on a massive island in the middle of the murky, bluish-gray water. Racking her brain for the niggling worm of a memory, she knew she’d seen that statue somewhere before. In one of Mother’s picture books, but where? From what?

“New York, lady! Damn, you really is nuts. Look, sorry I ever bothered you.”

The girl turned to go and Shayera couldn’t just let her walk away, this was the first human contact she’d had that was somewhat helpful. “No, wait!” She held out a hand. “Please, I’ve got nowhere to go. I don’t know how to get back to where I’m from. I need…” Feeling a sense of disgust at her current predicament, she thinned her lips. Was she really going to beg a child for help? One who’d just admitted that her mother was off somewhere, doing Goddess knew what, and here she was begging for money so that she could feed them?

She couldn’t throw herself on the girl, but she did need help.

“Police!” She smiled, so thankful her mother had taken the time to teach her of this land’s strange customs. “Take me to the police and then I promise I will leave you alone.”

The little girl narrowed her eyes. “Why you wanna go to the police? They’ll just throw you back in the loony bin.”

“I swear, I’m not escaped from an asylum.” At least that’s what Shayera thought the girl meant by loony bin. “But I’m lost and have no cash,” she said, hoping she was using the correct wording.

The little girl seemed to consider it for a bit before finally nodding. “Yeah, okay. Just to the po-po, after that you’re on your own.”

A sense of relief like she’d not felt since arriving here washed through her and Shayera beamed. “Thank you.”

“Whatever. C’mon.” The girl turned and walked toward the smarmy-looking Paco.

Shayera nibbled on the corner of her lip because she had the terrible sense that she should not for any reason trust this Paco character, but knowing she was literally at their mercy, she followed.

Up close Paco was even more off-putting than he’d been from her earlier vantage point. Covered in pockmarks, his burnished bronze skin gleamed with sweat. His stench was carried to her on the stiff, briny breeze and it was all Shayera could do not to gag at the odor of his unwashed body.

“Who are you?” he asked in a thick Spanish accent.

Opening her mouth, Shayera meant to answer, but the girl interjected. “She’s mine, that’s what she is. We ain’t filching off her—she ain’t got nuthin’ no ways. We’re taking her to the pigs. You got a problem with that?” She shoved her finger into the boy’s bird chest.

Rubbing at the sore spot, he glowered but shook his head.

In that one exchange Shayera realized she’d been lied to. Paco was most definitely
not
the one in charge.

“What is your name anyway, lady?” The girl turned.

“Shayera,” she said, wiping her palm across her dress once more.

“I’m Brenna,” the girl said, and then before Shayera could move away, she grabbed hold of her hand. Bracing for the transference of power, Shayera’s entire body stiffened up. Brenna clearly noticed because her gaze widened. “Don’t like to be touched, yeah? That’s fine, I get it.” She dropped Shayera’s hand but didn’t act in any way like the touch had affected her.

Curling her fingers to her furiously beating heart, it dawned on Shayera that mother had mentioned Earth was not full of magic. Obviously her powers were void here and as much as that was a relief, it was also a worry, because if her siren call didn’t call it also meant her only form of protection was nullified.

“Yo, Frankie,” Brenna called toward a redheaded, skinny mass of gangly knees and bony elbows sitting beside a Dumpster.

The teenage boy looked up, and he too had a hard glint in his eyes. “What, boss?”

Brenna snorted, obviously realizing that Shayera knew the truth. “You stay there. I’ll be back, keep doing what you supposed to, got it?” She all but growled that last bit, and ten or not, Shayera had to admit to being slightly intimidated by this hard-as-nails girl.

The boy gave a thumbs-up and then went back to gazing around the park.

“C’mon then.” Brenna jerked her head. “Cops this way.”

They turned and Shayera pointed. “Just us? No Paco?”

The girl laughed, finally appearing as young as she actually was. “Nah, the sentries stay. They can do without me for a bit. So tell me bout yourself, Red, ’cause I know you ain’t from round here.”

Running her fingers through errant strands of curls, she sighed. “That obvious?”

Once again they were back on the sidewalk, but now that the girl was by her side, Shayera noticed people were giving them both a wide berth. No more were people just rushing into her as if she were invisible. Another thing she noticed was the way women hugged their purses to their chests and how men kept a hand glued to the pocket where they kept their wallets when the girl walked past.

It was obvious to Shayera that this girl, though acting a savior at the moment, was likely not someone she wanted to hang around for long. There was a nagging feeling in the back of her mind that as helpful as Brenna was being right now, she wouldn’t always be.

“Couldn’t be more obvious even if you was wearing a sign around your neck.” Brenna laughed and picked at her thumbnail.

Just then a woman with a stroller walked slowly by. The woman was thin and had streaks of salt-and-pepper hair and wore a plain black dress, and her skin looked aged and very brown. She kept her head down and was chattering away under her breath at the baby inside the carriage.

Likely a grandmother out for an afternoon stroll. Shayera smiled, at least until Brenna kicked her foot out, tripping the poor woman who hadn’t been on the lookout. With a cry she lost her balance and as she fell, the stroller toppled with her.

Terrified for the child’s safety, Shayera rushed forward, nearly breaking her neck as she leapt, stretching her arms out desperately to right the vehicle before the babe fell out.

But she was too far and it crashed right on top of the old lady. The bundle inside smacked hard against the concrete. There was a quick cry of breath and then nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Shocked, stunned, Shayera could only stare on because this couldn’t have actually happened. This young girl couldn’t have deliberately and violently caused the death of a little one. The baby was fine, it had to be. The thought of an infant finally spurred Shayera into motion.

Brenna’s constant guffaws was a grating, awful noise in the back of her head. The bundle on the ground still did not move.

Panicked, Shayera grabbed at the cloth-swaddled body that lay lifeless on the sidewalk. No one stopped to help, but plenty of eyes were looking on in bright-eyed disbelief. Shayera patted the child’s back, afraid to turn it over for fear of what she’d see. But there was no response.

“Why did you do that?” Shayera snapped as she patted the baby’s back harder.

The old woman was screaming as tears fell from her eyes. “My baby! My baby!” That’s when Shayera noticed that the poor woman’s left foot was tilted at an odd, gruesome angle.

Her hands were frantically waving at the bundle in Shayera’s hands and Shayera’s heart shattered as she finally turned the swaddled child over. Then her eyes swam with tears because there was a large purple bruise on the side of the babe’s head and blood slid from its ears.

“Oh, baby, no. No.” She moaned and feathered her fingers along its dented little skull. “Oh no, child, sweet child. Oh please, baby,” she choked out between tears because she knew there was nothing that could be done.

A fall like that should not have killed the little one. It should not have. How had this happened?

“Give me my baby!” The grandmother screamed, and blinking herself back to reality, Shayera handed the beautiful little girl to the sobbing woman, who crooned and cradled its head to her breast. She rocked back and forth, completely oblivious to the pain of her broken foot.

Brenna’s laughter was growing louder; she was braying like an ass and hugging her arms to her chest. “Did you see that, Red? I only tripped them. Wow, what a freak show, yeah?”

Fury filled Shayera so that she was washed in it, bathed in its deadly glow. “You killed that baby!” She pointed back at the huddled woman.

“Oh c’mon, Red.” Brenna held up her hands. “It was a fluke, I just tripped her. You can’t be mad at me.”

There was no thought or reasoning to what Shayera did. One second she was standing, shaking with the heat of her anger, and the next she was on top of the girl with her hands wrapped around Brenna’s neck.

The girl’s eyes were bulging, but not with fear—no, with a horrible smugness like she knew, knew Shayera wouldn’t do it.

“You’re not bitch enough to kill me,” Brenna gasped out as Shayera’s fingers squeezed just slightly tighter.

Tears streamed down her eyes for the loss of the child, for the loss of that innocence to this horrible little monster underneath her. The cries and taunts of the boys of her village, the ugly faces of mother’s whose expressions said she was a whore no different than her dad had been, all that hate, hurt, it mingled with this moment and Shayera knew that she could kill Brenna.

She could end her. Her own hate was passionate and strong and it would be nothing, to choke the life from the girl.

“Do it,” Brenna snarled, trapping Shayera’s hands back against her throat despite their loosening. “I ain’t got nothing in this life! Nuthin’.” She spat, and when the wet slime landed on Shayera’s nose, the red of fury tried to come upon her once again.

But in that moment she thought not of her mother or her father, but of Briley and how he’d feel if he ever discovered what his Shay Shay had done.

Deserved or not, the dispensing of justice wasn’t something that Shayera could ever take upon herself. The girl would have to pay for her actions, but not because Shayera was her judge, jury, and executioner.

“I hate you for what you’ve done,” she gritted out and her hands shook as finger by finger she released the girl’s slender throat. “But I won’t kill you either.”

The second she released the girl, and just as she made to stand, Brenna’s hand reached out and smacked her so hard and fast across the face that she cried out in pain and humiliation, grabbing hold of her cheek.

“You lose, bitch!”

And then the scene disappeared and she was in back in the room of stone. Her cheek was on fire and the wetness of Brenna’s spit was still on her nose. Wiping her face with the back of her hand, she gasped, completely overwhelmed by the experience.

And as the adrenaline pumped through her system, she covered her eyes and kneeled, and then, pressing her face to the cold stone, she wept.

BOOK: Rumpel's Prize
5.29Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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