Fairly Wicked Tales (21 page)

“How did she get the marks on her arms?” I pressed.

His grip tightened and he shoved me past the others.

I cried out as pain again lanced through me. I clamped my arms around my stomach, waiting for the pain to subside. The red-nosed dwarf laughed, as he stomped back into the cottage. The others parted way, giving me an unobstructed view of him striking Snow across the face. She fell backward, hitting her head against the mantel, before crumpling to the ground.

“You try that again, it will be the worse for you, understand?” He kicked her in the stomach, ignoring her howl of pain when she doubled up, her arms clutching her knees to her chest.

Fury enflamed me. My own pain forgotten, I called upon the power of Hecate. Magic licked my palms, its fiery tendrils curling into balls of fire. My disguise fell away, and my true form took shape, as I let loose the fury gripping me. Flames shot from my palms, strong and sure—then scattered in a useless shower of sparks upon reaching the cottage door.

The dwarfs turned as one. Their eyes widened before a look of cunning crossed each of their faces. The red-nosed dwarf approached the open doorway. “Your magic is not good here, your Majesty. If you wish your daughter to live, you will not come back.”

“You have no—”

“We have every right. She is a demon. Would you prefer we kill her now?”

“No!” My hand flew to my throat as the protest was wrung from me.

“Then leave now. Do not come back.”

I nodded though my acquiescence was a lie. I would not—could not—leave my darling Snow to the mercy of such cruel men.

***

My preparations took longer than expected.

After learning silver—not magic—drained a vampyre’s strength, I commissioned a smyth to forge silver bars across the clerestory windows in my tower, bolt a heavy silver plate to the inside of the door, and attach silver rings with chain to the wall.

I would keep Snow safe—even from herself
.

My fists clenched, remembering the things I had witnessed. Each morning, a dwarf drained Snow of blood, using a dagger to slash her arms. Then they sold her blood. For what purpose, I did not yet understand.

Now as I looked into the mirror, my hands shook. Snow White was curled in a ball. Each day, she grew weaker from lack of nourishment. More and more gashes scarred her arms—cuts crisscrossing from wrist to shoulder. Her beautiful, ebony hair was a nest of straw and twigs framing a filth-streaked face.

Anguish filled me, driving out all thought but one—saving my darling Snow. I swept off dust from the Book of Shadows then flipped through its pages, scanning the text until I came across a lethal potion. I gulped realizing the depths to which I had sunk. First, the huntsman. Now, the dwarfs. For I could not untangle the lines of magic keeping me from Snow if they lived. They had strengthened their spell. My death would be assured if I attempted to cross their threshold again. I dropped the necessary ingredients into a heavy cauldron, then added seven apples, and waited for the poison to soak through their skins.

I fingered the pair of silver combs the smyth had fashioned for me. Though small, they were made of the purest silver to be found. Strong enough, I prayed, to subdue my demon child, making the chains unnecessary.

The creak of the door made me glance up. The combs fell from my hands
.

A grim smile spread across Matilda’s face. “I thought I might find you here, your Majesty,” she said as I fished the combs from between the apples with a long handled knife. I set them on a cloth to dry while I recovered from my shock.

“You are surprised to see me. Perhaps you thought me dead?”

“On the contrary.” I forced a smile.

“Snow White killed those lads. You know as well as I. That is why you have not searched for her. Why you let the villagers blame me.”

My gaze flew to meet hers. “From the evidence, I thought you guilty. You have no proof to say otherwise.”

“You sent the Council in the wrong direction. You asked Jarrod to take Snow to the summer palace. He told me so before he left. Yet, they search to the south. As for the evidence?” She folded her arms across her chest. “We both know how the blood-stained cloak came to be found in my room.”

I arched a brow. “I should have you killed for your traitorous words.”

“The villagers tried, but I had witnesses to swear I was nowhere near the taverns in question. The same cannot be said for your daughter. If she is found, the truth will come out.”

“What do you want?”

“I suffered much because of you.” She straightened her skirts. “I also suspect you are behind Jarrod’s death, though I cannot prove your guilt. Still, a word to the Council and …”

“Perhaps we can come to an arrangement,” I said carefully.

“Shall we begin with these?” She slipped the combs drying on the cloth into her hair. “Then we can discuss …” The poison penetrated her scalp; she fell to the ground unconscious.

I waffled, knowing I should take out the combs to save her. But if I did? She had knowledge she would use against me. I turned away.

“Your Majesty?” A dull rapping sounded on the door. “The Council requests your presence in the Hall.”

My anger spiraled. Was there no end to this wretched day? “Tell them they must wait. I have things to tend to,” I said through the closed door. “I will meet with them in the morrow.” With a scowl, I turned back to stare at the girl, lying on the floor. What she said was true. I had sent the Council in the wrong direction.

I grabbed Matilda by the hands and hauled her toward the mirror. I would leave her in the woods outside the cottage. Her unconsecrated soul would wander the earth forever for trying to blackmail me. I ran my hand down the familiar runes then stepped backwards through the mirror dragging Matilda across the heavy wood frame.

A hand landed on my shoulder. “I knew you would come,” a voice hissed into my ear.

My blood ran cold. I recognized that voice. I whirled around to face the demon from my past.

“This is your fault,” I edged back toward the mirror. “You turned Snow White into a monster. Killed her father.” I pointed at Matilda. “You made all of this necessary.”

“Do not blame me,” he said, his black eyes flashing at my words. “My kind should have raised the child when the Queen was killed. We would have taught Snow White to control her desires instead of—”

“Killed? Her mother died in childbirth. The King—”

“Staked her. He would have eventually done the same to Snow White if I had not intervened.”

“No! You tell me tales with no truth to them.”

He grabbed me by the arm. “The Queen was of royal vampyre blood, descended from the First. She was my betrothed before the King stole her from me. He killed her when he found out what she was.”

I pulled away. “Vampyres cannot have children.”

“The ones descended from the First can and do.”

“No!
You
began the change in Snow.”

“That is not true. You with your magic kept me away, and without a vampyre to guide her …” His jaw worked furiously. “A vampyre’s hunger can be all consuming, driving even the strongest among us mad. Snow White has gone weeks without food. Drained of her blood to feed those who prey upon her. I am afraid the torment she has suffered may be such that she will never regain her senses—if she survives.”

Survives?
Fear had me clutching his sleeve. “You must help me free her.”

His face hardened. “In return I want what was promised me.”

I stared at him blankly

“A child.”

His meaning sank in slowly. “You wish to wed Snow? Even in her … state?” I whispered.

He nodded. “I want my line to continue.”

“What about Snow?”

“She is of no use to me. Only our child.”

My eyes squeezed shut. “Then she will be your Queen, if you will help me.”

He made a guttural sound of assent, then pushed up his sleeve and bent his head. His teeth tore into his flesh. Blood dripping, he held the open wound to my lips. “You must drink. It will strengthen your magic. Allow you to break their spell. Then we can exchange her,” he nodded at the unconscious girl at my feet, “for Snow.”

I backed away. “I cannot.”

“You must,” he hissed. “We cannot penetrate the magic protecting their cottage unless you do.”

My mind balked at the idea. I would go back through the mirror to retrieve the poisoned apples and …

With a muffled curse, the Vampyre grabbed me around the neck. He thrust my face against his arm. “Drink!” he commanded. Despite my struggles, his warm blood seeped into my mouth. I gasped as life exploded on my tongue—expansive and vibrant. My hands came up to clasp his arm. Voraciously, I suckled, his blood singing through my veins.

“Enough.” He yanked his arm away. “Now you understand why the dwarfs sell Snow White’s blood. The magic in vampyre veins is intoxicating.”

I wiped a sleeve across my mouth. Energy crackled from beneath my skin. Glancing at the lines of magic surrounding the cottage, I scoffed at the puniness of them. This is what I had thought strong? I raised my hands and with a few deft flicks of the wrist, the lines lay broken on the ground.

The Vampyre gave a slight smile. “Well done,” he said. He picked up the girl. “We will exchange their clothing, but hurry, we must be quick. I hear the dwarfs approaching in the distance.”

I hurried into the cottage after him. Snow White crouched in a dark corner. I knelt down beside her, placing my hand lightly on her shoulder as the Vampyre set Matilda down. “I am here, my darling—”

She lunged at me. I fell backwards, caught off-guard by this feral creature snapping at me like a rabid dog. The Vampyre stepped between us. He held out a hand as he advanced on Snow. “Look at me.” He placed his hand beneath her chin to tilt her head up, forcing her to stare into his black eyes. As Snow quieted, he said to me, “Strip the girl and bring her clothes here.”

I hurried to do his bidding. After we had finished switching the clothes, the Vampyre wrapped his long fingers around Snow’s neck and squeezed.

“What are you doing?” I cried, grabbing at his hand. He tossed me from him as though I were of no consequence.

“Your blood calls to her,” he said, “and she is hungry. My blood in your veins would give her power that would be difficult for even me to contain.”

“Oh,” I said as Snow stopped struggling, and her body went limp. The Vampyre lifted her into his arms.

I followed him through the door. When we reached the mirror, he stopped. “You must invite me or I will not be able to enter.”

“At the cottage you—”

“Shh …” He held up a finger in warning. Startled, I turned around. The dwarfs emerged from among the trees. “We were just in time,” he said quietly. “To answer your question, I do not need an invitation to enter when vampyre blood has been spilt.”

A loud curse split through the air. With a satisfied smile, I invited the Vampyre through the mirror.

***

I set the glass jar on the planked table amid the herbs and potions. The dark red liquid sloshed against the sides, tempting me. I hesitated. Carefully, I wiped a bit of cloth across the dagger I had used until the blade gleamed in the weak light filtering through the high windows between the silver bars.
Just a taste
, I told myself as I lifted the container to my lips. The thick liquid hit the back of my throat, set my mouth aflame.

One gulp turned into another until I had drunk my fill and fire flowed through my veins. I found resistance to this magical elixir more and more difficult. Snow’s blood brought strength and vitality to me. Despite the worries I faced, I felt younger and more vibrant than I had in many years. I set the container aside and turned back to my Snow White. She had grown stronger from the pig’s blood I fed her, but her mind had not. Despite bleeding her to rid her of her vampyre blood, I had not been able to release her from the silver chains binding her.

I sighed. Her behavior had necessitated the removal of her fangs. In fits of rage, she would not keep from slashing her arms, trying to release the blood slithering through her veins—as though my bloodletting was not doing the job fast enough even for her.

Guilt pricked at my conscience at the thought of that poor surgeon. I avoided glancing at the basket of apples—now minus one—as I brushed past the table toward the door. His sacrifice had not been in vain.

“Bye, my darling.” I blew her a kiss before opening the door. She paid me no heed as she howled, tears flowing down her cheeks, her arm cradled to her chest. I closed the door gently behind me. Only the Vampyre could quiet her with his black eyes and commanding voice. Still, not even his power subdued her screams when he paid his husbandly visits. I shuddered. I would be glad when that was done.

“Your Majesty?” A round-faced servant girl looked up at me from the landing. “I have news from the Council.”

“Oh?”

She nodded. “They believe they have found Snow White. One of the scouts heard a strange tale of seven little men who—”

“Excellent,” I said with a small smile. The pressure from the Council would ease when they found Matilda dead.

“That is not the best part, your Majesty!” Her face glowed with pleasure. “He returned with news that Snow White is alive. She is being held captive. The Council leaves in the morning to retrieve her. They wanted you to know the joyous news.”

My hand pressed against the stone wall, the rough surface digging into my palm.
Matilda was alive?
That would not do. It would not do at all.

A slight crease marred the girl’s brow. “The wind must be blowing furiously tonight. How can you stand the howling coming through the tower windows? It would drive me quite mad.”

“One becomes accustomed to it, I suppose.” Lifting my skirts, I headed back up the stairs. I had need of another apple. Come first light, I would pay
Snow White
a visit.

About the Author

Laura Snapp
is an emerging writer living in Albuquerque, New Mexico. Born and raised in Minnesota, she mastered the art of procrastination by treading down several, diverse educational paths. When financial necessity compelled her to put away her coursework and make a living, she discovered that wicked witches, volatile ogres, and flighty fairy godmothers were alive and well in the Land of Enchantment. Armed with her new knowledge, Ms. Snapp’s desire to explore the realm of fairy tales soared, giving rise to the glorious challenge of writing. Now, with her couch potato Chihuahua as her muse, she is involved in several book projects that draw upon her harrowing experiences working and interacting with the enchanted masses.