With a Kiss (Twisted Tales) (17 page)

Hobs pulled himself up to his elbows, wearing a dark Army jacket. I wasn’t really surprised at his change of clothes. It seemed more a trick of the senses anyway. He stretched slowly to his feet, not bothering to brush off the snow as he looked around the dark forest. He slanted a look at me. “Hey, notice anything new, like you have a lot more energy now?”

Of course I did. I wasn’t dying anymore, and it freaked me out. What had the rest of the faery queen’s curse done to me?
One and two, midnight strokes. Break these bonds and end this hoax.
What would happen if I didn’t get Babs to her mom in two days after being in this place? I was in a new chapter of the curse. I ran my hands down the goose bumps on my arms. Now that I was more than awake, I was freezing and scared—though I’d never admit it to Hobs. I was glad for the arm warmers and boots. Never mind that I looked like a complete punk in faeryland. “What about Bugul?” I asked.

“Ah.” He dismissed him with a heartless wave of the hand. “He’ll find his way back on a moonbeam or a rainbow or something.” Somehow I doubted it was that easy.

I wondered what Hobs had packed for food. Being ravenous must be a side effect of reversing the curse. If I was hungry, my growing girl would be too. I searched the surrounding area for something to eat besides Skittles.

The Otherworldly can’t eat faery food. It’s forbidden
, the tiara reminded me. I took a deep breath. Seven rules. That was right. I had to keep seven rules. One might already be broken since it looked like I had trespassed sacred faery territory, I wasn’t sure, except—wait. I only knew six rules. “Hobs?” I hit his arm, startling him from surveying the area. “What’s the last rule?” He tried to look blank, but I wouldn’t let him get away with it. “Seven rules like seven days, remember?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it.”

I scowled, knowing he would’ve kept the real number from me if it hadn’t been for Bugul. We had lost the one person who could keep Hobs honest. Babs snuggled closer to me and I dropped an arm around her, trying to keep her warm. I was sure Hobs hadn’t packed us anything to shield us from this cold either. “Hobs! Tell me now.”

Hobs wove his fingers behind his head, staring up into the white sky. He looked tense. After a moment, he dropped his hands and stepped closer to me. I reminded myself I had asked for it, so I kept myself from falling back at his determined look. He put a heavy hand on the top of my head. I thought he meant to imprint the last rule, but instead, his fingers trailed down my cheek to my chin. I sucked in my breath, but forced myself to stay where I was.

He watched me closely as if trying to memorize the details of my face then he lightly touched my lips with his fingers. “Final rule. Remember this.” He tapped my tiara. “Never fall in love with a faery.” It gave me a start as his words buzzed through my head. Aside from the tiara’s reaction, his words had struck me dumb. I tried to think what he could mean. “It’s dangerous . . . especially for, uh, humans.”

With some difficulty, I managed to gather my wits. “Don’t worry. I’ve never fallen in love with any—”

“I know.” He cut me off and smiled at my shocked expression. “But love potions are the faeries’ favorite weapons, so be careful, for my sake.” Before he could go into detail, a gruff throat cleared behind us. Hobs let me go with an impatient look.

Something hid in the shadowy woods. I felt as helpless as Hansel and Gretel without the advantage of breadcrumbs. Next came the growling. “What exactly is in this forest?” I asked.

Hobs let out a misty breath. Dark forms circled us, and Babs jumped back. My arms jerked around her as the forest came fully into focus. Glittering eyes stared at us through the trees.

“Well, that’s inconvenient,” Hobs said. “For us, that is, not for them.”

Chapter Twelve

The faery forest glimmered

Beneath an ivory moon,

The silver grasses shimmered

Against a faery tune.

—Sara Teasdale,
The Faery Forest

“Y
ou lost, little girl?”

I stumbled back when they spoke. There were three wolves, dark and furry and menacing—with an attitude. Okay, maybe I really
was
asleep. “Hey, Lil Red, you on your way to Grandma’s?” The more they talked, the more they seemed like gangsters . . . in a faerytale sort of way. This would be the place for it.

“Who you got with you, girly girl?” another wolf growled at me. “A little piggy?”

The first wolf snickered. “No, bacon.”

The other wolves guffawed at this. I glared. They had better not be referring to Babs as bacon . . . or a pig. She wasn’t fat—just chubby and cute! I squeezed her like Charmin. “And who’s the little punk?” The wolves eyed my Capris, arm warmers, and boots get-up.

I rolled my eyes. For once, my latest style was completely Hobs’ fault. Since he professed to be a fashion guru, I suspected he had done it as a joke. For now that was the least of our problems. “What are these things?” I asked.
Bikers on paws?
It looked like they were afraid to get closer. I glanced up at Hobs and guessed he might be the reason. He looked more irritated than anything.

“Get lost,” he told them. “She’s with me.”

The wolves circled us. One of them had charred fur down the side of his body. It was probably from when he took a ride down the little pig’s chimney. “Aren’t you a little far from home, Hobany? Or are you headed to your mommy’s with your tail between your legs? Did you miss her?” They made blubbering noises, mocking him. First of all, just who was Hobs’ mother? And second of all, why were they calling him Hobany? “Hobs” was short for Hobgoblin.

A wolf sniffed at the back of my neck, sending cold prickles through my skin. He wore glasses and seemed somewhat intelligent in an unnatural way. Hobs allowed himself a small chuckle. “How’s your belly, Glasses? Those rocks digest yet?”

The wolf lifted his head, his lips curling up from his teeth, but instead of eating us, he growled out angrily,
“Ere the morn breaks, the twilight of gloom. The echoes of death encircle your tomb.”

I glanced at Hobs. The mat of fur just spouted poetry at us. It gave me chills. Hobs didn’t look impressed—he laughed instead. “Is it just me, or do these hairy rugs need new material?”

The wolves howled out their appreciation at the insult. The one Hobs called “Glasses” regarded me with accusing eyes, as if
I
were the one copping attitude. He growled out another line of a poem.
“The rustle of leaves, the crack of a twig, rouses the hunter. Your grave soon he’ll dig.”

“Is that Shakespeare or the Bible?” I asked, trying to distract Glasses from eating me.

By the looks of him, an intellectual conversation might do the trick, and it did. Glasses tilted his head at me, his ears flattening back. “The Bible? Shakespeare? That’s an inadequate comparison to my work.”

“Are you kidding?” Hobs hastily interrupted the next onslaught of poetry. “His stuff isn’t that poetic. He makes it up on the sly. Seriously, boys, is this what you do all day? Quote overdone poetry and wait around faery transporters to pick up lunch?”

“We like fast food,” the charred wolf cut in smoothly.

“So much for coming in unannounced, aye, Hobany?” the fluffy gray spat. “You actually thought you could sneak past us?”

“We can’t let you wander around out here in the woods alone.” The charred one gave us a wolfish grin. “You might get lost. You were heading for the hag’s place anyway, right? How about we do you a favor and escort you the rest of the way?”

 “Would you, Octavius?” Hobs gave him a warning look that they weren’t reading.
Apparently they don’t know him as well as I do.
“So clever of you to guess we were on a visit. We thought maybe we’d have a bite to eat at her place and talk about good times.” He elbowed me after I didn’t respond.

“Uh, yeah, right.” I could only guess he didn’t mean it. I just hoped that Babs’ mother was on her way to pick her up. I smoothed back Babs’ long blonde hair. My hand scraped over her wings and I jumped. Oh, not real wings. The kid was still wearing my fairy costume. Hobs didn’t have the decency to put her in real clothes. At least she had the outgrown sneakers Daphne gave her.

“We’ll travel together then,” Octavius suggested in a gravelly voice. “We could always use a bite. If you get lost . . . we’ll eat you. Always did like a good game of hide and seek.”

Hobs laughed with them and I gave him an annoyed look. He shrugged off his jacket. “Wolves just love games,” he said sarcastically. I knew exactly what kind of games they wanted to play. Babs shivered next to me, and Hobs wrapped his jacket around her, imparting a comforting smile. Her wings gave her a hunchbacked look. “It’s okay.” I caught his whisper to her. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.” I probably wasn’t supposed to overhear that—it would blow his
cool
cover. He took our hands to peel us out of the snow, leaving an impression of us behind.

The wolves nudged us deeper into the woods, surrounding us in their protective ranks. The branches sagged with mounds of white snow and hung threateningly over us. The one called Octavius sniffed Hobs’ backpack. “What do you got in there?”

“It’s for Grandma.” Hobs looked much too secretive. “Leave it alone.” That only made the wolf more curious, though I couldn’t recall anything particularly amazing that Hobs put in there.

“Got food in there?”

“Yeah, human food. Ever eat that?”

Octavius licked his lips, his gaze fastening on us. “Yep. It
is
a delicacy.”

Hobs followed the wolf’s meaning with obvious self-reproach. “What? Are you kidding? You’ve got to plump them up first before they’re any good. Don’t you know anything?”

“I don’t like my food full of fat—just nice and juicy.”

Hobs stepped around me to walk between us and the wolves. The birds sang an elaborate ditty, seemingly unaware of the threat below them. How had they survived this cold weather? The wolf with the glasses tipped his ear at the sound.
“Birds of blue and birds of red, flutter free and soon are dead.”
Couldn’t the poet say anything pleasant?

“That’s three for sparrows,” Octavius said, walking companionably next to Hobs, “and five, no, six for bluebirds.”

Were they playing I Spy now? They did like games. Next to me, the gray wolf lunged up on his spindly legs, shivering with excitement and dancing a little too close to Babs for my taste. I dragged her to my other side and she tried to hide behind me. Her little hand felt stiff. I tried to adopt Hobs’ calm attitude. “Don’t worry,” I mouthed down to her.

“Oh, I just spotted an owl.” The gray wolf smacked his lips. “That’s the first one of the day.”

I couldn’t see the owl anywhere. “Wheresh the birdsh?” Babs asked.

“What? Your little sausage link don’t believe me, Hobs? You know what that means, right boys?”

Babs’ fingers clenched harder over mine as if she were afraid they were going to tear us apart. The gray snarled at her. I stiffened, my other hand forming a fist. Hobs gave me a warning look to stay out of it before he plunged to her defense. “Yeah, your stories are getting worse, you pig dropping. What kind of lies are you trying to feed us, anyway?”

Octavius nodded in agreement. “Didn’t you eat all the owls last week, Caesar! What are you pulling?” I glared at the gray wolf too, smarting from his attack on Babs. I didn’t know if my ninja skills worked on this side of the world, but I was ready to try them out.

The gray wolf shrugged at us. “What? There were leftovers.”

“Maybe some feathers,” I seethed under my breath.

Octavius’s wolf ears pricked up and he snorted. “Alright, little girly. You’re so smart, let’s see you make a wager. Tell us how many birds are in these woods between here and the castle and we’ll give you your freedom. How about that?”

The wolves snickered. It was completely unfair. There was no way to come up with that number, let alone judge it. But they hadn’t offered any ultimatum if I failed, so glaring, I chanced a guess. “One-thousand-and-thirty-two.”

They chortled again, but this time with grudging respect. I had always wondered what was going through animals’ minds before this, but I shouldn’t have bothered. They were just as lame as everybody else.

“Okay,” Octavius said. “If you can figure this next one out, I’ll give you my right paw.”

I wasn’t sure if I wanted to play this game, but Hobs’ eyes danced at the offer. “Sure, I’ll take it,” he said.

“What do you and my breakfast have in common?” Octavius asked.

“Nothing. I’m smarter.”

Octavius chuckled. “Wrong. You’ll both be digested . . . uh, but at different times.”