With a Kiss (Twisted Tales) (18 page)

Somehow it wasn’t as funny as Hobs’ answer—even the wolves groaned. “That’s awful,” Glasses said. “How about this one—what’s the difference between a little girl and her grandma?”

“One’s older?” the gray one guessed.

“Nope, about two seconds. Gulp goes the grandma. Gulp goes the little girl.” They laughed and I mussed Babs’ hair, trying to put her at ease. She looked very somber, but she had been that way as a baby, two days ago.

“Okay, okay.” Octavius pawed Hobs’ leg in his eagerness. “What has horse hooves, a monkey tail, and goes flap, flap, flap?”

“Dinner,” Hobs said.

The wolves exchanged looks. Apparently that was the right answer and I remembered the deal. Someone had to give Hobs something pretty important. Hobs looked more serious than I had ever seen him. “You owe me your paw, Octavius.”

Octavius braced himself. The charred wolf was way too cool to back out of the deal now, and besides, his friends were all watching. In the ensuing silence, he extended his paw. The other wolves watched tensely. I held my breath, not sure what Hobs was going to do with it. Lopping it off seemed a little extreme, but I had no idea how faeries worked. After a moment, Hobs took the paw and shook it. The wolves went back to their laughing and bantering, pleased that they could play with their dinner. Bunch of animals.

“So,” Hobs asked the wolves in a conversational tone. “Did you just happen on us, or did the hag
send you?”

Glasses looked at him like he was missing some brain cells. “Of course she sent us. I think she misses you, actually.”

“Oooooooh!” The chortling and snorting that followed the announcement didn’t make it sound good.

Hobs wasn’t ruffled. “Yeah, I’m sure every time she curses, my name’s somewhere in there.”

The wolves shared another laugh with him, but they didn’t offer an explanation. I got frustrated. “So, what’s your reward for
helping
us get to the hag’s place?” Hobs asked. The wolves fell silent. Hobs had effectively killed the moment, and true to form, he kept stabbing at it. “Medals? A free dinner with the nymphs?” So far, he hadn’t hit the mark. “I know. She’s
throwing a party for you because she’s so grateful for your help.”

By now the wolves’ heads were hanging. Gray—as I decided to call him—sullenly hit a tree with his paw as he passed. “No,” he grumbled. “She’s not doing any of that.”

“Well, the old hag’s got to be showing some gratitude for you? I mean, she’s sending you all the way out here in the snow and the cold. What? It’s like twenty minutes to the castle?” They avoided his gaze and I bit my lip. Hobs found their sore spot; the wolves weren’t appreciated like they deserved, though it seemed a little obvious that Hobs was working it. But watching the wolves, all I saw were disgruntled faces.

We trudged through another clearing, fighting through the deep snow with nowhere to run if given the chance. There had to be a way to get out of this, but before I could think of anything, we were back inside our crowded clump of trees. Birds chirped overhead, breaking the silence. Hobs lifted his shoulders. “Well, I’m sure she’s doing something nice for you.”

“Just drop it, okay?” Octavius said.

“You’re right. She’s not worth it. How about a game instead?” Hobs acted like he was doing the wolves a favor. “That’s always a nice diversion. I know, try guessing our names, if you can.”

“Guess your names?” Octavius eagerly picked up the change of subject. Gray snickered next to me.

What trick Hobs was playing now? I hoped it would work. His eyebrow sketched up at me. “Yeah, it’s a riddle. Bet you can’t do it.” If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was trying to tell me something in code.

“We know who you are for sure. Hobany,” Glasses said. I half expected him to push his glasses further up his nose like the intellectual he was. “Then we have the child of . . . uh . . .
Oberon—
for lack of a better name—and . . .” He glanced at the tiara wound over my head. “Her punk babysitter? We’ll call her the keeper, for the sake of the game. How’s that?”

Hobs smiled, slowing his steps to meet their eyes. “Nope to one of the guesses. The other two are spot on.”

They looked intrigued. “Yes, but who has the wrong name?”

“Not telling. And if you can’t guess, you have to let us go.” When did Hobs start calling the shots?

The wolves were confused too. “What for?” Octavius sputtered.

Hobs threw his hands behind his back to stretch, acting casual as if we weren’t prisoners, but friends out for a jog. “Because if you don’t guess now, I’ll never tell you the answer. And
she
won’t tell you either.”

“The hag?”

“It’s a carefully guarded secret. I wish she trusted you more, but you know how it is.”

The wolves’ eyes narrowed—not in anger, but in thought. “I know. I know,” Gray said. “It’s
you
we gave the wrong name—because you have so many. Puck, Robgoblin, Robin, Pixie . . .”

I laughed at the girly names. After a warning look at me, Hobs shook his head. “One name, even a euphemism—if it happens to be the right one—will do. I’m not tricking you this time.”

Glasses squeezed his yellowed eyes shut, thinking hard. “So, who’s not who they say they are? Oberon’s child or the keeper?”

There was no way Hobs was telling them, and he grinned broadly. “Is it she?” Octavius pointed me out with his snout.

“Of the three you mentioned?” Hobs hesitated, drawing out the suspense on purpose. “Nope, you were right about her name.”

Glasses gnawed on his lower lip. It seemed like it would hurt with those sharp fangs. “So, you’re saying that your girlfriend either has your name, she’s the daughter of Oberon, or she’s the keeper?”

Hobs snickered. “Excellent deduction. She’s one of the three names you guessed. Just admit it. You have no idea why you’re wrong. Are you ready to let us go?”

By now Octavius was wearing a smirk, too. He wasn’t about to give up. “But which one was right?”

“Nice try. I’m not saying a thing.”

The happy dog grins turned downward. “Well, she doesn’t have your name. We know that!”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!” The wolves snapped. They waited for Hobs to give them a clue, but from past experience, I knew they’d never get the satisfaction. They began to whine. “We’re almost to the palace. Just tell us!”

“We are?” As if Hobs didn’t already know. He lifted a hand to his eyes to block the light from the blinding snow. The spires of the castle rose over the forest like an elaborate ice sculpture. Nothing but magic could create such a thing. So much for letting us go if the wolves didn’t get the right answer. Stupid wolves. I felt myself panic—I wouldn’t surrender Babs to the hag. Hobs had to know that.

“Guess you’re out of luck, boys,” Hobs said. “You’ll never know the answer.” He threw in a careless rise of the shoulders.

Gray gave Octavius an anguished look. “C’mon, we’ve got ways of making them talk. We’ll stay out here and freeze it out of them.”

Octavius shivered. “We’ll freeze too! And
she’s
expecting us.”

Glasses added his argument to Gray’s. “She doesn’t know they’re in the Sidhe yet. He’s wearing that talisman—that’ll cover up their tracks pretty good. The hag won’t know the difference.” He watched me accusingly like I was the one keeping the information back.

I seriously had no idea. I mean, sure, I was Babs’ keeper, there was no mistaking that. But to be honest, I had no idea who Babs truly was, and Hobs? His name could be Rumpelstiltskin or Twinkle Toes for all I cared. We had more important things to think about, more immediate things, like escaping this hag.

The wolves growled amongst themselves. “We can’t stay here any longer,” Octavius said. “The hag always knows what happens in the Sidhe. If she finds out we’re hiding the prisoners from her . . .”

“And what if she does?” Glasses snarled. “We don’t get our fine steak dinner to show us the appreciation she never gives us? What a Cheltenham tragedy.”

I kind of wanted to hear what the other wolves said to that, but Hobs was already leading Babs and me away into the soft snow, though not away from danger like I wanted. No, we were heading straight for
her
place. The castle spires sucked in the mist around it like a shield against invaders. I complained, but it wasn’t satisfying in the least, since I had to keep it quiet. “What are you doing?” I hissed.

He glanced over his shoulder. “They’ll never expect us to go this way.”

“Why won’t they? They’re dogs. They’ll sniff us out, or just follow our tracks in the snow. We’re leading them straight to us!”

“There’s a difference between book smart and street smart, and baby, they haven’t been around the block—if you know what I mean.” No! They seemed pretty intelligent to me. And so was I for that matter. Hobs couldn’t do this to me again.
He sighed as if reading my mind.
“Wolves are easy to trick. All we have to do is act like complete idiots and already they’ve underestimated us.”

Well, he was doing a
really
good job of acting like an idiot, and if I listened to him, I’d be an even bigger one. “So, are you going to tell me?” I asked.

“What?” He dragged us further into the forest and closer to the castle.

I wrestled my hand from his. “Whose name did they get wrong?” Babs or Hobs . . . or me?
But that was stupid.
I know who I am.
“If Babs isn’t who you said she was . . . Well, you need to tell me everything. How else will I be able to help her?”

Hobs had on his half-smile again, the same one he used on the wolves. “If I told you, what would be the fun in that?” He dimpled at my outrage. “Ah c’mon, the wager doesn’t even matter. I was just trying to confuse them so we could get away. And it worked. See?”

“You were just playing with them?”

“Play? No, I never play.” He laughed when I made another face. “I’m telling the truth. I swear.”

He was swearing.
I should’ve known that meant more trouble. His fingers tangled through mine again, and without so much as an explanation, he led us straight for
her
place.

Chapter Thirteen

Around her throne, amid the mingling glooms,

Wild—hideous forms are slowly seen to glide;

She bids them fly to shade earth's brightest blooms,

And spread the blast of Desolation wide.

See! in the darkened air their fiery course!

The sweeping ruin settles o’er the land,

Terror leads on their steps with madd’ning force,

And Death and Vengeance close the ghastly band!

—Ann Radcliffe, 
Superstition. An Ode.

W
e tore through the forest until we reached a clearing, then hesitated at the line of trees. There would be no covering out there. Crystals of snow had fallen over a field of vibrant-colored flowers. They hadn’t wilted in the cold, which meant they had to be magic. Hobs hurried through the meadow and we trailed after him, trampling through the colorful melee. The flowers screamed out in annoyance. “Ow! Ow!”

“Get off me!”

“Stop it!”

“Walk somewhere else, you oaf!”

“Wait!” I stopped short, once again able to slip my hand from Hobs’ grip. “I think these things are alive.”

“Don’t worry. They’re nothing but a bunch of Anthousai taking up flower form to brave out the winter, and they can’t feel a thing. Believe me.”

I wasn’t so sure about that. I picked my way through, balancing on my toes to avoid crushing any more of them. I looked over at Babs. Her baby face was twisted in deep concentration as she attempted the same thing. “Babs, get on Hobs’ back,” I said.

Hobs laughed, but had no problem hoisting her up. She wrapped her short arms around his neck like a monkey. “Don’t drop me, Hobsh” she warned him unnecessarily.

“You’re the last one I’d drop, kid.” He gave me a meaningful look that I made a point of ignoring. “Now, some girls put up such a fuss that you’re tempted to drop them as soon as convenient. I’m too much of a gentleman for that. Well, right now, anyway.”

I grimaced. He’d better not try to lose me out here. The wolves would catch up to us, no matter how socially inept Hobs thought they were, and I wanted to make sure I had someone to hide behind.

I tiptoed past a tiger lily. It opened crazed eyes. “Beware!”

“Danger!” a gardenia hissed.

“Oh, what do you know?” Hobs asked. “Have you ever fought a war? No, you always hide behind your petals when there’s trouble.” He rolled his eyes at me. “Don’t listen to them—bunch of pansies!”