With a Kiss (Twisted Tales) (22 page)

I gave him my best pleading eyes, and after a moment of resisting, he growled out a complaint and tapped my head. Soon, I was wearing go-go boots with lots of black hair toppling over my head—completely covering the tiara I wore. I looked like a sixties dancer and I
wasn’t
any warmer, especially my legs. “There,” he said. “You’ll fit in perfectly with the nymphs now!”

I tugged at my skirt. “I refuse to believe that your nymph friends are stuck in the sixties!”

“It’s disturbing how well you know me.” Before he could change me back—and I could only give him the benefit that he had every intention of doing so—twinkling wisps of balled-up light looking suspiciously like Christmas tree ornaments flitted through the air toward us. More oozed from the frosty trees, making the leaves lose their glow. “It isn’t too late to run,” Hobs told Bugul. The goblin stubbornly stood his ground.

“Surprise!” I heard tiny voices shout. We were surrounded by the beautiful little things. It was like they had been waiting for us to join their big faery bash. “Oh, he’s back! He’s back!” the faeries shrieked as soon as they recognized Hobs. “Hip, hip, hurray!”

“So much for sneaking past quietly,” Hobs said through the cheering voices. One by one, the nymphs grew tall enough to touch the ground. For the record, they didn’t
look
like little sixties girls. They were elegant and perfect in slinky, form-fitting dresses in every hue imaginable. And they looked
very
happy to see Hobs. He didn’t bother to hide the fact that he didn’t return the sentiment. “Wow, we just stumbled on the most annoying place in all the land. I’m so happy.”

I elbowed him. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Look at them; they’re just so . . . beautiful.”

They giggled, completely entranced by his un-charming ways. Sure, Hobs was hot, but then I had always assumed he was tricking my human senses because he was a faery. But these glamour dolls were all over him. Some of them already slipped their hands into the crook of his arm and were batting their eyelashes wildly. “Hi Hobany!”

My eyebrows went up. Hobs forced a gallant smile as if knowing what had to be done. He pushed away from me and turned on his act. “Hi, girls! Glistenda, Sparkle, Bubbles . . . missed you too.” His pleasant front was a little too good and they wilted in delight.

“Take off that terrible cap,” a nymph sang sweetly, stealing the black beanie from his head. “It covers your glorious hair.” She ran her fingers through his blond hair, trying to put some order to it, but it was an impossible task. With an annoyed glance, Hobs tried to disentangle their hands, but they held tightly to him—he must have escaped them before.

“We’ve been waiting for you,” the one called Glistenda cooed. She was a tall blonde with white, almost transparent skin that glowed with an inner light. Her eyes roved over Babs and dismissed her as too young for competition, but finding me, she bristled possessively. “He’s way out of your league,” she sneered. “He’s a prince, you know.”

“A prince of what?” I asked. “Darkness?”

The others giggled. Hobs rolled his eyes, as if trying to pass the claim off as ridiculous, which instantly made me suspicious. He
was
a prince, wasn’t he? What did that mean here? What else wasn’t he telling me?

“Who is
she
?” Glistenda glared at me.

Before Hobs could answer, Sparkle had Hobs by the neck of his shirt, rubbing the back of his head with her sharp pink fingernails. “Tell us she’s nothing. I’m the only one you love.”

That started a catfight. Bubbles ripped her away from him. “It’s me you love. Tell me!”

Hobs ineffectually tried to defend himself from their loving attentions. “If my heart were free, you’d be the first to steal it, I’m sure.”

“Who? Who has your heart?” they cried all at once.

“It’s a secret,” he said with a wicked grin. “You know who you are.”

Most of the nymphs blushed to the roots of their silky hair. Bubbles wasn’t happy with his answer. “Why can’t you say you love me in front of everyone? Are you ashamed to be seen with me? Do you think I’m fat? Is that why?”

 Hobs looked positively hunted just as Sparkle dragged him away from Bubbles. “We never talk anymore!” she whined. “Tell me you love me. I’m wearing a new dress and you didn’t even notice!”

 “Why are you so quiet?” another nymph chimed in to join the chorus of complaining girls. “What are you thinking?”

“Yes!” The nymphs all agreed in their singsong voices. “Tell us what you’re thinking!”

He was thinking he wanted to kill me for getting him into this mess. I knew that look on his face. Before I could laugh, Glistenda pulled me aside, smiling with her perfect rosebud lips. “We’re having a party. Do you want to stay? We’ll make you our special guest.” Hobs’ eyes widened and he shook his head at me through the chaos.

Why not? I could find out what was happening around here. These girls might be overwhelming, but at least they talked. Speaking of, there was a wide berth around Bugul. Apparently jealousy wasn’t the nymphs’ only failing. They were shallow, too. Bugul didn’t mind at all. He rolled his club over his meaty palm, a small grin playing on his lips. Like me, he enjoyed seeing Hobs tortured and for good reason. Yeah, Hobs had a lot to answer for. I smiled at him through the chaos. “Sure,” I answered Glistenda.

Hobs shifted uneasily. “No. We couldn’t possibly stay.” He matched Glistenda’s smile. It was the war of smiles. “
She
can’t eat your food, you see.”

Glistenda giggled. “Of course she can. She’s an oaf. You can’t fool us, Hobany.” Now it was my turn to stiffen. Compared to
them
I was an oaf, but Hobs didn’t even try to defend me. He looked ready to bolt.

“Is she your girlfriend?” Bubbles asked.

“Why are you even with her?”

“She wears strange clothes.”
Yeah, because Hobs put them on me!

“You like her, don’t you?” Glistenda said in a dangerous voice.

“Of course not.” Hobs looked tense. “That’s a death sentence around here. Besides, look what she’s wearing. I could never fall for a girl dressed like that.”

I frowned angrily, but the girls giggled and led us deeper into the dark forest caked with snow. “Please stay.” With their nails digging into our flesh, we really had no choice. Babs and I trudged reluctantly behind. I was starting to regret my hasty decision to go party with them.

“We’ll give you gifts!” they promised. “That’s what people with manners do, isn’t it, Hobs? But you never do that for us. Why? You have something for us this time, don’t you?”

He muttered something rude and they giggled again. He could do no wrong. Bugul tickled the blunt end of his club with the tips of his stubby fingers. I felt a chill the moment I saw the murderous gleam in his eyes when they rested on Hobs. Why had I been so sure that Bugul was on our side, anyway? It seemed strange to entertain, but Hobs could’ve been right all along. We might have been better off with the green-skinned, sharp-teethed Merrow on Crystal Lake. So far, the nymphs hadn’t played their captivating music, but I knew that once they did Babs and I were done for.

The discomfort of a bad mistake settled in my gut the further the nymphs dragged us into their forest kingdom. This part of the woods was more captivating than a vision. They had garnished their trees and tiny houses with gauzy ribbon and splendid ice crystals (marquis, diamond, and princess cut, of course). The cold had ruined the décor, sadly, with the snow weighing down the branches and dragging down ribbons. One of the nymphs brushed snowflakes from her delicate shoulders in disgust.

An exotic spread of food was heaped over the long tables. Steam rose from it, and I took a deep whiff, hoping the smell would do me for the next two days. The nymphs had been expecting us. Meat and fruit, but mostly sugary concoctions (a faery favorite) were laid delicately across the table. My stomach rumbled at the sight. The tiara over my head buzzed over my ears in warning.
Never eat faery food!
I kicked at the snow, tempted to eat that too.

At least Babs didn’t have to starve. She scooted next to me and we sat down at the elegant table. Hobs took my other side. The other faeries fought and scrambled to take his left, dragging extra chairs around him once the opposite side of the table was full. Normally the comedy would make me laugh . . . if it wasn’t so creepy.

I could only assume the blonde beauty, Glistenda, was their leader. She glided—nay, floated—regally across the snow-kissed ground. After that, her table manners ended and she ripped a lid (made from ice) from the pudding and tilted the whole carton up against her mouth to gulp it all down. Hobs picked up a drumstick and I watched in pure torture. Babs waited for my lead. “Go ahead, eat!” I told her behind my hand.

She picked up her spoon and carved out some ice cream for herself. I was never more jealous of faeries than at that moment. Bugul wouldn’t touch the food. I put a staying hand on Babs before she could get the ice cream into her mouth. “What’s wrong with it?” I asked Bugul.

Of course, he couldn’t answer. “He prefers slugs and grubs,” Hobs explained.

“. . . and eating small children,” a nymph suggested with a mouthful of food. She giggled and some of her soup slid out her mouth. She didn’t bother to wipe it off her chin.

“No, he doesn’t,” Hobs began. For once his need for accuracy overcame his need to joke.

“And he smashes small villages with his club and kills cattle . . .” the beautiful nymph said.

“Not really.”

“Don’t argue with me.” The nymph attacked the ice cream next and it dribbled onto her chin and neck. “How could he not? The Leprechaun is hideous.”

“And of course that means he’s bad,” Hobs said sarcastically. The girls nodded, a few heads disappearing into their bowls of food. Hobs gave Bugul an apologetic shrug of the shoulders.

A Leprechaun? I never imagined a Leprechaun would look like Bugul. No green outfit or shoes, no pink cheeks, no perpetual smile. He just sat there, giving us all a cynical look. I wasn’t sure why Hobs even bothered to talk sense into these nymphs anyway. I suspected they liked his attention, even when it was negative.

“Oh, but you’re different,” one of them said, batting her thick lashes at him. “You’re bad
and
beautiful, Hobs.” They all giggled. My mouth dropped. Sure, he was annoying, but bad? Like evil?

After gauging my reaction, Hobs introduced a change of subject, “Ever heard of Merrow?” Now,
that
I was interested in. “Not only are they bad and beautiful,” he said, “they prey on the fancies of their victims. Just like some girls I know.” He yelped. One of the nymphs gave him a benign smile in return. His eyes turned cold and he rubbed at his knee. “Like I said.”

“Yes, don’t judge a book by its cover,” I recapped quickly.

“You were talking of Merrow?” the mischievous nymph reminded him. She narrowed her sparkling emerald eyes at me. “C’mon, eat, you oaf! It’s the finest food in the Sidhe.”

I was sure that it was. My stomach growled, which reminded me. I turned aside to Hobs. “Is the food okay for Babs?”

He shrugged, only picking at it. Still it couldn’t be poisoned since he had chanced a few bites. “The nymphs cooked it. They aren’t much for domestic skills. They have other skills, of course . . .”

I didn’t want to hear it. “Go ahead,” I told Babs. She lifted the ice cream to her mouth and Hobs casually jerked her spoon away from her before she could get it in. He flicked the ice cream over his shoulder, spoon and all. Her mouth fell open.

“Don’t bother. It tastes like dirt,” he said.

I doubted it. There was something wrong with it. The girls were hanging all over Hobs, their hair getting into his food, and that ruined my appetite too . . . in a lot of ways. They also seemed genuinely interested in what he had packed from the Otherworld. A few of them found the backpack and rummaged through it. “What did you bring us, Hobany?”

He brought his eyes up to the sky, easily playing the role of martyr. “Oh, I don’t know if I can bear to part with this stuff.”

True to form, they giggled. Glistenda stole the backpack and overturned it onto the messy table. Everything tumbled out: cotton—we needed that for earplugs! A blindfold that was for the much dreaded love potion, my book of faerytales that still in no way resembled the faeries here, ugly pink lipstick, crystals from our chandelier. I stiffened. How did he get those? My mom would be furious! Did Hobs pack nothing useful? The nymphs hunted through the useless items, gasping in pleasure. Bubbles held up the only useful thing, the blindfold. “What about this?”

Hobs heaved a long and dramatic sigh and I knew the bartering was about to start. “You’re not getting that off me. I’ll need it if I see something I can’t resist.”

Bubbles looked angry. “Why don’t you need it now?”

“I like what I see.”

What a liar!
But it did the trick and she simpered. “I’ll give you faery dust for it. It’ll do the same thing.”

“Faery dust? C’mon, I can just shake that off a sprite.”