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Authors: J. A. Kazimer

Tags: #Fantasy

Curses! (9 page)

BOOK: Curses!
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Chapter 18

S
on of a biiiiii ...” Closing my eyes, I tried to swear once again, but without any luck. That rat bastard prince. He'd just stolen Asia's only chance at freedom and my best chance at seeing my princess naked.
What the hell was I going to do? I couldn't return to Asia empty-handed. I'd yet to solve Cinderella's murder, and now I'd failed to free her from her dreaded curse. Eventually, even a princess as dim as Dru would discover I wasn't the famed detective she'd hoped for, but rather a villain with impotency issues and credit card debt. Again, thanks to my former, bloodless wife. Who purchased an ice sculpture on credit? In summertime? During a heat wave?
I sat on the sheriff's dew-soaked lawn contemplating my options. Murdering Charming held a certain appeal. But how to do it? I could use the union's curse to my advantage and “nice” him to death. Start with listening to his every word, no matter how inane, and then move onto baking lessons and poetry. Finish strong with a manly pedicure and umbrella drinks. I shivered at the thought. On to plan B, or was it C? Math was never my villainous strong suit.
When the sun rose, touching the grey sky with swirls of pink and orange, I finally stood. A man with a promise to keep and a fairly good plan. Okay, a moderately reachable plan. As long as it didn't rain. And the union decided to lift its curse.
But a plan nonetheless.
I strolled down the street flipping through my mobile phone's contact list for my boss's number. She was the only person able to reinstate me to villainhood, and therefore, end my curse, so I could in turn kill Charming and end Asia's curse by stealing the Eye from his bloated corpse.
Lots of cursing going on, and yet, I still felt fucked.
I dialed the phone number and waited as it rang. Once, twice, three times, and then it went to voicemail. “Leave your number at the eek,” the computerized voice intoned. A loud eek followed.
“Hey,” I began, “it's RJ. Call me back as soon as you get this. It's a matter of—”
Eek. My vPhone call dropped, leaving me listening to dead air. Damn it! Foiled again by Villizon.
I ran my hand over my bloodshot eyes and considered my next move, sans reinstatement. My original plan was to bust into Charming's house and steal the mirror while Charming was otherwise occupied going about his princely duties, like listening to Liza Minnelli CDs.
The more I thought about it, the more worried I became of Charming's motives. Just what was he up to? Was it more than designs on my princess?
“Charming!” I pumped my fist.
“Not from my angle,” a woman's voice called from behind me.
I spun around, nearly slamming into the once slim-hipped redhead stalking me. Her pudgy thighs strained against the cotton of her black pants.
Asia smiled, reaching out to steady me. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
“Rough night?” Her eyes swept over me, narrowing a bit at my rumpled clothes and the grass stains on my knees. In fact, if I didn't know better, I suspected my sweet princess was a wee bit jealous, which, sick bastard that I was, made my day. A smile cracked through my lips. Asia frowned even more.
“Well?” Her foot began to tap. “Who is she? I bet she's skinny. Blond too. What is it with men? They see a skinny blond princess and it's ‘forget poor, fat Asia.' Well, I've had it!” With each statement her foot tapped faster until it became a blur of glass slipper and pink toenail polish.
I held up a hand to still her mounting fury. “No princess in the entire kingdom ... no, the entire world can hold a tiara to you.”
Her foot slowed, but her eyes remained narrow. “So where were you last night, then? I waited... .”
I smiled, oddly pleased by the dark circles under her puffy eyes. “Something came up.” Before she could ask what, I pointed across the street to Wendy's Darling Café. “Let's go grab a coffee and I'll tell you about it.”
With a frown, Asia seemed to consider my offer, finally acquiescing when I promised to let her sniff my vanilla scone. Which wasn't nearly as exciting or sexy as it sounded.
“I'm so hungry,” she whispered, patting her bulging tummy, which grumbled like one of Bo Peep's rabid black sheep.
My heart plunged. That damn curse. Asia deserved a scone if she so desired. Hell, she deserved a baker's dozen.
Hand in hand we strolled across the street and into the café. The place was the stuff of nightmares. Creepy dudes in their fifties strode around in tights sipping chocolate milkshakes at ten in the morning as if they'd never grown up. The tights took the Lost Boys' mantra a little too far.
A grey-bearded guy in skintight tights stood behind the counter. His nametag read: Pete.
Pete bowed low and then sprang up to face us from behind the cash register. “Come with me, where dreams are born, and time is never planned. Just think of happy things ...”
“Forget the happy things.” I frowned at the guy who probably still lived in the basement of his elderly mother Wendy's house. “How about you just take our order?”
He sighed. “Fine. What'll it be?”
My eyes scanned the chalkboard menu, settling on a coffee, black, and two scones. As I ordered Asia let out a whine. I smiled and squeezed her hand.
“Make that three scones,” I told Pete.
He nodded, and Asia and I went to find a quiet place to chat. We sat down at a table in the back. Deep red and blue crayon drawings of alligators, fairies, and pictures of lost boys marred the tabletop. I set my napkin down on one particularly disturbing image of a pointy-eared Pete engaged in a song-and-dance number with a group of “boys” old enough to know better.
“Wanna tell me about it?” Asia asked when I sat down with a sigh. I quickly glanced down at the table and blushed. She shook her head. “No. Not that. Tell me about last night.”
I took a sip of coffee, enjoying the bitter burn as it slid down my throat. The acid bite reminded me of the smug expression on Charming's much-too-pretty face as the sheriff handed him the Devil's Eye.
I broke the first scone in half and placed it in front of Asia. A trail of saliva slid down her chin. She shoved the scone away. I grinned and pushed it back.
“How much do you know about Charming?” I asked.
Asia's forehead furrowed, but her eyes never left the vanilla-coated pastry. “Why?”
“I don't trust him.”
She gave a small laugh. “You're joking, right? I've known Charming all my life. He's a good prince.”
“No. I'm dead serious.” I frowned. “Charming's the devil in a lace shirt.”
“Are you insane?”
Until three days ago, I would've answered straight away, but now I wasn't so sure. After all, I'd followed a demented stepsister to an anything but normal kingdom in hopes of solving a homicide, but instead I found myself charged with killing my own ex-wife. My decision-making ability was questionable at best.
“Hear me out.” I raised my hand for quiet. “Charming isn't the perfect prince that everyone would like to think he is. For one thing, he had me arrested for Natasha's murder.”
Asia grinned. “Why would he do that?”
“Who knows? I'm not a freaking mind reader.” I took a sip of my coffee. “Maybe he's jealous?”
“Of what?”
I scowled. “Me. Of course.”
“Of course,” she said, hiding a smile.
“I'm serious. Who knows why.” I sighed. “There's something going on between Charming and the sheriff. Something sinister.”
Asia didn't try to hide her smile this time. Instead, she laughed so hard she grabbed my arm to steady herself. Which, let's face it, fifty pounds ago wouldn't have meant a thing. Together, we toppled to the floor, coffee and scones covering us in a hot mess.
I staggered to my feet, slipping on a bit of soggy scone, and landed flat on my back next to my pretty princess. Asia knelt on the floor next to me, tears streaming down her jiggling cheeks as peals of laughter burst from her lips. I grinned in spite of my messy self.
Again, I stood, this time without catastrophe, and reached down to help my caffeine-drenched princess to her feet. A dribble of icing stuck to Asia's pert nose. I grinned and lifted it from her skin with the tip of my finger. It felt warm and sticky against my fingertip. Asia's eyes grew hungry. I moved my finger and the glob of sugary confection toward her plump lips.
Her tongue flicked out.
I smiled, knowingly.
“I—”
“Shh,” I said, moving my finger closer.
Asia's lips parted, accepting and ready. I swallowed, the blood in my head heading far south. The tip of my icing-whitened finger brushed her bottom lip. Soft. Gently. I leaned down, our mouths inches apart.
“Ow!” I yelped and jumped back. Blood dripped from my wounded finger. “You bit me!”
Asia shrugged, not an ounce of guilt on her cherub-round face. In fact, her smile lit up the café. “Sorry?” she said with a decided lack of sincerity.
Wrapping my finger in the bottom of my shirt to squelch the flowing river of plasma, I grimaced and shook my head at my princess. God, she was perfect, with just enough of an overbite to make all my fairytale fantasies come true. “Let's get you cleaned up, and me a rabies shot.”
Asia flushed, the sugar-rush haze lifting from her gaze. “I am sorry.”
“Uh-huh.”
She batted her eyelashes. “Really. What can I do to make it up to you?” Her voice turned husky and hot, much like the coffee dripping between the fabric of my Levi's and my skin.
My blood flow changed direction once again. My heartbeat accelerated, flipping around wildly in my chest. My breath came in short, heated gasps until I thought I might die.
“Well, there is one thing.” I licked my lips.
“Oh yeah?”
“Oh yeah.” I leaned in, my breath against her neck. She smelled like pumpkin pie and vanilla. Two of my favorite things. “Come with me.” I held out my hand, and she took it into hers. Her skin was warm, soft, like the rest of my pretty, ugly princess. Our fingers locked, mine rough against her soft ones.
Would I ever be good enough for her? Maybe, but it depended on my solving Cinderella's murder. A task I was having a hard enough time completing without the added distraction of a sharp-toothed princess with a cursed complex.
“Where are we going?”
“To break into Charming's house.”
Asia jerked away. A wrinkle formed on her forehead. “What?! Are you crazy?”
Didn't we just have this conversation? Apparently, the curse was affecting more than my princess's waistline. “Just come with me. I promise it will be worth your time.”
“Fine.” Her hands moved to her abundant hips. “But if we get caught ...”
“We won't.” My bloodied middle finger rose in the Villain Scouts oath. “Villain's honor.”
Asia's eyes narrowed, but she followed me from the café just the same, my aching finger pointing the way.
Chapter 19
W
e stood outside Prince Charming's bungalow at a little past noon. The house looked quiet. Too quiet. A tuffet sat on the front porch, a web dangling from the corner. Along came a spider, spinning its way down the web. I shivered, not a superstitions villain by nature. Add a chick, a tuffet, and a spider, and terror all too often filled my black heart.
I swallowed hard and studied Charming's house. With the exception of the tuffet, the bungalow looked like many others on the block, white with pink trim. A sturdy oak front door stood between us and the end to Asia's curse.
Not for long.
I grinned, my eyes sliding to my pretty, pretty princess standing so sweetly beside me. She looked amazing in a kimono a few sizes too tight. Her breasts heaved against the silk material outlining the imprint of her braless nipples.
Earlier when we dropped by the palace to change our coffee- and scone-coated clothes, I raised an eyebrow in villainous appreciation. She said, “Nothing else fits,” and then stormed from the castle. I had to jog down the yellow brick sidewalk to catch up. Suffice it to say when we arrived at Charming's that Asia was far from pleased.
“Door's locked,” she said, rattling the doorknob of Charming's bungalow.
Damn.
I peeked in the window. The bungalow appeared empty. No sign of Charming. “Wait here,” I told my princess as I strode around to the back. Flowerpots lined the walkway in an array of colors that reminded me of Saturday nights in Easter Village.
Peering into the kitchen window, I noticed a sink full of dirty dishes and empty wine bottles lining the countertops. Either Charming had recently thrown a party and forgot to invite me, or he was one lousy housekeeper. Interesting.
What could a recently almost-widowed prince have to celebrate? The recent acquisition of a Devil's Eye, perchance? Maybe the sudden and tragic murder of Mrs. Nearly Charming, a.k.a. Cindi-flat-as-a-pancake-rella? Just how devastated by Cinderella's murder was His Annoyingness?
One way or another I needed to get inside his bungalow to, at the very least, locate the Devil's Eye before Asia nipped off a far more important appendage from my body. I jangled the kitchen door, but it was locked too. Damn. What kind of prince locked his doors? It wasn't like Maledetto was a hotbed of villainous activity. Hell, before Natasha's killing, the worst crime in Maledetto was a boy who cried wolf in the middle of a crowded movie theater.
I stroked my chin for inspiration. The window over the kitchen sink appeared sturdy and large enough for one tall, currently impotent villain to squeeze through.
Stepping on the nearest flowerpot, I stuck my hand through the opening of the kitchen window. Of course the union's curse quickly kicked in. My other, free hand closed the window above me, nearly ripping my arm in two. I screamed and fell from my flower box perch, landing in a patch of rosebushes that would make a porcupine insecure.
“Pig, poke, peanuts!” I jumped around yanking thorns from my ass. Pain, like a thousand bee stings, burned my backside. “Ow! Ow! Ow!” I screamed, pulling at a particularly large thorn in my inner thigh. An inch to the left and the thorn would've ended my quest to get into Asia's panties, and my will to live.
Asia stuck her head around the corner. “Are you all right?”
“I'm just peachy,” I said, yanking the thorn free and tossing it to the ground.
“You don't have to be a jerk about it.”
Guilt rose inside me. I'd asked Asia to come along, after all. It wasn't her fault I was now legally considered a villain / rose hybrid. “Sorry,” I said, gesturing to my now-holey jeans. My princess gawked at the torn fabric so long that I considered forgetting about Charming, tossing Asia over my shoulder, and making her scream my name. My real name.
Asia suddenly snapped from her staring contest with my crotch. She blushed a pink color at odds with her coppery hair and quickly ran back to the front door.
I watched the sway of her hips until she disappeared from view, and then got back to work. I needed to get inside Charming's place, if only to prove he wasn't the prince Asia believed him to be. In my impotent state, breaking in was impossible. But what if the door was already open? My lips curved into villainous grin.
“Ummm ... Asia, honey,” I said. “Do you smell that?”
“Smell what?”
“Smells like,” I sniffed my sleeve to keep my treacherous tongue from blurting the truth, “vanilla. I think Charming's baking cookies.”
“Cookies? I love cookies!”
Two seconds later, Asia burst into Charming's kitchen via the now-destroyed front door, hope and hunger burning in her eyes. She glanced around, her nose sniffing the air like a bloodhound. “There's no cookies.” Her tone was both accusing and sad.
I winced, but assured myself the end justified the means, especially if at the end, Asia and I lay naked in a vat of cookie batter. I tapped on the kitchen door. “My bad. Can you open the door?”
Her eyes narrowed, but she did as I requested. Once inside, I took stock of Charming's abode. The place wasn't palace size, but it wasn't a size-eight shoe either. The kitchen, living room, and library took up most of the first floor.
I searched each room quickly while Asia helped herself to a box of pink-coconut-covered snowballs. I checked under the couch, in the entertainment center, and even through a stack of CDs. Plenty of adult contemporary bullshit, but not a Devil's Eye in sight. Damn.
I did find a picture of a much younger Charming, his arm wrapped around a little fat girl, her cheeks puffed out like a balloon. They looked happy. Like kids enjoying the last days of freedom before Charming School started. The round girl looked familiar. I peered closer. My beloved stared back. I smiled and ran my finger along the edge of the photograph.
The second floor looked like a replica of the first except it housed a bathroom large enough to fit the Jolly Green Guy. On the countertop sat soaps that smelled of exotic lands and enough hair products to coif an army of gay rats. Of course, the Eye was nowhere to be found.
My next stop chilled my blood.
Like Alice in the porn version of Wonderland, I found myself in a place I never wanted to be. Charming's bedroom. All decorated in gold. Not the color but actual gold. My better, villainous half itched to relieve Charming of his lighter and easier-to-carry golden knickknacks. I shook my head. His pillow was even gold-plated. What kind of douche slept on a golden pillow? Guess that ruled out greed as motive for his murdering Cinderella.
I scanned the room for secret hiding places. A wall painting of a wolf in a tiara that looked suspiciously like the wolf corpse in King Maledetto's library caught my attention. A wall safe maybe? My fingers slipped along the edges of the painting, but I found nothing but an annoyed dust bunny.
With teeth.
I jumped back and grabbed my dust bunny–chewed fingers. “Bugger it,” I said.
“Problem?” Asia stood in the doorway behind me, pink marshmallow clinging to her fingertips. She stuck her index finger into her mouth and sucked the goo from it.
I nearly swallowed my tongue, but managed a manly “Ummmmammmammaaaa.”
“What?”
I cleared my throat. “I can't find Charming's safe.” He had to have one. It was like a princely rule or something. That and unnaturally white teeth.
“Oh.” Asia strolled into the bedroom, yanked the bedspread from the bed, and tapped a few buttons on a console under the frame. A metal door popped open from a hidden panel. Without glancing inside the now-open safe, Asia walked back out of the room and down the hall. I stared after her, a sick feeling in my stomach. Just how well did my princess know the effeminate prince?
A minute later, the Devil's Eye safely in my pocket, I headed down the staircase and into the kitchen. Asia sat at the table, a glass of wine, a bag of cheese doodles, a bowl of porridge, and a half-eaten cake in front of her. I snatched a cheese doodle from the bag and popped it into my mouth.
Asia growled.
“Let's go.” I pulled my ten-pound heavier princess from her seat. The chair whined and started to crack. I caught Asia before her bottom hit the floor. “We're done here.”
“But I haven't finished my cake.”
Before I could comment, a high-pitched, girly shout came from the front of the house. The prince had returned. Asia glanced at me and then ran for the door, surprisingly fast for a chick wearing slippers made out of glass.
I ran out the door after her, tripped over one of said slippers, and landed face-first on the cement. Blood poured from my nose. I wiped it away with the back of my hand. Shakily I stumbled to my feet, grabbed the slipper, and limped up the block. My ankle ached like Dopey after a binge.
Over the thundering of my heart, I heard Prince Rotten exclaim, “Someone's been eating my porridge!”
I winced.
“Someone's been sitting in my chair!”
I limped a little faster.
A minute later, Charming yelped with fury. “Someone's been messing with my bed!”
Sprained ankle be damned. I took off running at full steam, not even slowing as I passed Asia, who stood on the side of the road, puking her pretty, pretty princess guts up.
BOOK: Curses!
13.26Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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