Briar Rose (9 page)

As Briar moved along in a daze, she passed a bakery and a cobbler’s shop, then more strange houses. Despite the increasing darkness, she swore she could see the outline of a great stone
edifice in the distance, its turrets lifting high in the air.

A castle? No way. How cool is that?

There was a sound behind her and she whirled, desperate to find someone who could explain all this to her. A man dressed in peasant clothes hurried by, hunched down as if he hoped that made him
invisible.

‘Hey, excuse me . . .’ she said, trying to catch up with him. ‘Wait! I need some help.’ He fled down the darkening street, his terror evident. ‘Boy, thanks!’
she said, irritated.

What is it with this place? Why was he so freaked?

A deep metallic sound began to reverberate through the town, much like a gong, with each strike evenly spaced after the other. It must have been a signal of some kind as door bolts slid home and
shutters closed all around her. The town was closing down for the night, which meant Briar was going to have to sleep on the streets if she didn’t find help soon.

‘And I thought Bliss was bad,’ she muttered. She picked a house at random, but pounding on the door got her no reply. She tried the next place, then the next, her panic rising.

What are they afraid of?

As if in answer to her question, a tormented howl filled the air. Briar had heard coyotes before, but this sounded different.
Dogs?
A pack of them could do a lot of damage. Maybe they
were the reason why the guy was in such a hurry to get off the streets.

The first howls were soon joined by another, then even more. The hair on the back of Briar’s neck rose.

‘Wolves? No, it can’t be.’

Some primitive reflex urged her forward and Briar jogged back down the way she’d come. Perhaps if she kept moving she’d find someone who would take her in for the night. Or
she’d wake up from this nightmare and be in her own bed, safe and sound.

‘Yeah, that’s it. I’m going to wake up now and it’ll all be fine,’ she said.

The scene didn’t change, and instead the howls grew closer. When Briar took a quick look over her shoulder she saw them. They were wolves and somehow their eyes glowed unnaturally in the
twilight.

‘Oh, crap!’

Panicking, Briar took off at full speed, trying to avoid the muddy holes and the piles of manure. For a couple of streets she stayed ahead of them, but they slowly gained on her. Knowing she
couldn’t outrun them, she raced up to the nearest house and pounded on the door. ‘Help! Let me in!’

‘Go away!’ someone shouted from within.

‘But there are wolves!’ she cried.

‘You broke curfew – it’s your fate,’ was the stone-cold response.

Briar whirled to find the beasts trotting round the corner. One was sniffing the ground, tracking her. She took off at a run again, barrelling down a side street, only to find it a dead end.
Judging the height of the stone wall that blocked her way, she tried to find hand and footholds to climb it, but slid back to the ground and landed on her butt.

A throaty growl shot icicles into her blood.

The wolves lined up in front of her now, one in front – the leader – and four behind. She could better see their unnatural sparkling eyes, as if they were lit from within by some
nefarious magic. Their fur was patchy, and where it was missing metal had replaced it, cutting deep into their flesh. Perhaps that was why their howls sounded so tormented.

What are these things?

The leader’s growl grew in intensity as it took a step forward. Heeding the warning, Briar flung herself at the wall again, digging with her fingers, trying to find some handhold. Her
boots slid against the stones. She nearly cheered when her hand managed to reach the top, but she couldn’t gain any purchase with her feet. Reena would already be over this thing, racing
away, but Briar had never been great in gym class. Now that was going to cost her everything.

With a snarl, the lead wolf leaped forward, its teeth catching hold of the bottom of her dress, trying to drag her down. Briar yelped in fear just as the fabric ripped, setting her free, and she
frantically clawed her way higher on the wall, scraping her palms in desperation.

A hand clamped on to hers and tugged. Gasping in surprise, she pushed harder with her feet against the stones, trying to help. When she didn’t budge, another hand grabbed hers and she was
pulled on to the top of the wall. See-sawing on her belly against the rough stones, she tried to focus on her rescuer, but it was too dark to make out the face clearly.

‘Quickly, over the top!’ His voice was male and he was short of breath, like he’d been running.

With tremendous effort, she went over the stones, landing directly in her rescuer’s arms. Claws ripped against stone on the other side of the wall as the wolves tried to climb the
barrier.

‘We must run,’ the man said, dragging her up on to her feet. ‘They will scale it soon. Hurry!’

Briar staggered after him, still winded. When she didn’t move fast enough, he caught her hand and pulled her along. Grimly, she knew she really had no choice but to trust the guy –
it was either go with him or become supper.

She barely noted their surroundings as he wove them through tiny alleys, over wooden fences and through abandoned houses. From behind came the constant howls as the wolf pack continued its
hunt.

When the noises grew distant, Briar was finally allowed to rest. She slumped up against an old building.

‘Those are really . . . strange . . . wolves,’ she said, finding it very hard to breathe. ‘They climb walls. They’re . . . metal. That’s not . . . right.’

‘They will hunt anyone on the streets, at least until daylight.’ The man pointed above her at a window set in the wall. ‘Up you go.’

‘In there?’

‘It is best we are both inside until the sun rises.’ His face was still in the shadows, so she had no way to judge his intentions.

Her caution took hold. ‘Look, you were great, but . . . I don’t know you. I don’t know if—’

‘I am trustworthy? That is a puzzle, isn’t it?’ he said, his voice harder now. ‘What shall it be – the wolves you know, or the one you don’t? That is a
difficult choice, is it not?’

In the distance, the howls rose again and Briar shivered in response. A single, high-pitched screech of agony carried through the night, following by silence.

‘What . . . ?’ she began.

‘Apparently you weren’t the only one breaking curfew tonight,’ the man observed. ‘So what will it be? Remain here and hope they don’t find you or go inside the
stable and sleep in peace?’

‘Why aren’t we going in the stable’s doors?’

‘It’s quicker this way.’

She knew what the wolves would do to her. This guy? Not so much. Unfortunately, there wasn’t any other choice. ‘You win. I’m inside for tonight, but I’ll need a lot of
questions answered.’

‘I shall do my best to satisfy your curiosity,’ he said, making a cradle of his hands.

Briar stepped up into them, then caught on to the bottom of the window sill. Pulling herself up, muscles straining, she straddled the opening and then lost her grip entirely. With a short cry
she plummeted down into a pile of something reasonably soft. It was hay, fragrant and fresh. She rolled out of the way so her rescuer could join her.

The young man landed with considerable grace, which told her he’d done this manoeuvre a number of times. Next to him, she had all the climbing skills of a whale.

‘Stay there. I’ll light a candle so you do not have stumble your way through in the dark.’

Briar lay back in the hay and tried to let her racing heart return to a normal pace. Was this part of the curse, like some giant role-playing game? If you survive the car-wreck dream, then you
move to another level, one with killer wolves?

The yawn caught her off guard, and before she had a chance to stifle it she found her eyes drooping. She fought them, desperate to stay awake, if nothing more than to have a chance to run if
this guy got creepy. Unfortunately, the desire for rest proved stronger and Briar fell asleep for the second time that night.

Something snuffled her hair.

‘Go away,’ she murmured, waving an arm. There was another snuffle, wetter now.

As her sleepiness ebbed, she began to recall images from the night before. None of them was good. She remembered the old clock striking the hour, her parents weeping, Lily whispering something
to her. The solid impact of the car striking her over and over. And then waking in a world where there were bizarre wolves and houses made of brass.

There was more snuffing near her right ear. Despite her pounding headache, Briar forced her eyes open and discovered something white and woolly staring back.

She shouted, scrambling backwards in the pile of hay as the ewe bolted away, just as shocked as she was. Briar wiped something off her face – sheep snot she guessed – then tried to
get a grip on her surroundings.

Looking around, she remembered climbing in through the window above her, helped by some young guy who’d saved her from becoming wolf chow. A quick glance proved her clothes were still
rustic and her boots covered in dried crap.

There were no Pearly Gates, no Saint Peter peering down at her and asking why she’d kicked Becca Fingle in the shins when she was three.

Maybe I’m not dead.
But she certainly wasn’t in Bliss.

Besides the sheep, a mud-spattered cow was tethered a short distance away, methodically chewing its cud. A really big horse took up a position near the front of the structure, the sturdy kind of
beast farmers used before tractors were invented. Four riding horses were tethered on the other side.

This did not qualify as heaven unless you were a member of the Future Farmers of America.

She started at the sound of voices coming from just outside the barn. One was quiet, with a hint of a rustiness to it, the other higher-pitched, aristocratic, enunciating each word with precise
care, as if they were bladed weapons. As Briar peered round a stall, two men entered the building. The first had dark hair that ended at his broad shoulders, and an aquiline nose. He was tall,
wearing homespun clothes along the same lines as hers, and held the reins to a horse that would never be used for ploughing if the fancy saddle was any indication. Briar smiled in recognition
– this was the guy who’d saved her butt the night before.

The man next him was blond and better dressed, clearly from a higher rung on life’s ladder and eager to flaunt it. Once the horse was secured and the saddle removed, its owner began to
issue orders.

‘I’ll need my mare to remain here for today only,’ he said, giving the stablehand a condescending glance. ‘I’ll send for her after I have completed my business at
the castle.’ He tossed a coin in the air, one the groom caught with some dexterity. ‘Don’t scrimp on the hay, or you shall feel the bite of my sword.’

‘Is it your intention to visit the princess?’ the young man asked, brushing aside the threat.

The nobleman blinked at the bold question. ‘Yes. Why do you ask?’

‘I wouldn’t advise it.’

‘I do not need the advice of those beneath me,’ he replied crisply. ‘I hired you to tend my horse, nothing more.’

The stablehand gave a half-hearted bow. ‘I apologize, my lord. No doubt, you know what is best.’

The man seemed mollified. ‘Perhaps there will be a position for you at the royal stables when I become king. Providing my mount is well cared for, of course.’ Then the imperious
fellow spun on a heel and strode out of the barn.

Once the noble was gone, Briar’s rescuer patted the horse’s flank. ‘Your master’s a glittering fool. If he tries to see the princess, he’ll be dead before sundown.
I’ll be sure to find you a smarter owner the next time around.’

Princess?
Briar slumped back into the hay, stunned.
Ohmigod. I’m inside a real fairy tale. You have got to be kidding me.

The young man walked to where she was located, and leaned against a timber support, arms casually crossed over his chest. His raised eyebrow hinted at amusement.

‘So you’re awake,’ he said, his voice richer now than when he’d been talking with his customer. ‘It is not often I find young women curled up in my hay.’

Briar’s headache made her cranky. ‘Where are they normally curled up?’

The roguish smile on the young man’s face gave her the answer.

‘You’re not from here.’ He hadn’t posed it as a question.

‘Why do you think that?’

‘Because you were out after curfew. Those who live in the village know that’s a death sentence.’

‘You were out after curfew,’ she said.

‘I heard you pounding on one of the doors, trying to gain access. I knew you wouldn’t.’ He leaned closer and pointed at her face. ‘You should not allow yourself to be
seen in such a manner.’

‘What’s wrong with me?’

‘Your hair, it’s the colour of gold.’

Apparently he didn’t like blondes. Even worse, he was watching her more closely than Briar preferred.

‘What is your name?’

‘Briar . . . Rose.’

He was older than her, maybe eighteen or so, and his eyes were a deeper brown. He was quite handsome in a rugged kind of way, and reminded her of an older version of Joshua, but that was
probably because he worked with horses.

‘You have yet to tell me why you were alone on the streets,’ he said.

How was she going to explain this? If she told him the truth, they’d probably roast her at a stake for being totally crazy. ‘What is your name?’ she asked, hoping to buy
time.

‘Ruric,’ he said, executing a full bow with a great deal of expertise.

‘Good to meet you, Ruric.’

‘Why are you on your own in such a place?’ he asked, moving a step closer. Clearly he wasn’t going to let it drop.

‘This is going to sound strange, but where am I?’

‘In the town.’

‘And the town’s name is . . .’

‘Kursian, though hardly anyone refers to it as such.’

‘Oh.’ That didn’t help. ‘I was sent here . . .’ She trailed off. ‘And I don’t know how to get back to my home.’