Forbidden (A New Adult Paranormal Romance) (14 page)

Oh God, they’re all cannibals!

Just as she was about to turn frantic tail and bolt out of the stable window, Gretel spoke: “You’re an interesting person. Mantodea. I suspect there’s a lot more to you than you’re telling.”

Snow White paused. All her senses were still shrieking. She tossed off a nervous laugh.

“What makes you think that?”

“I’d like to see where you’ll lead my boys. Gustav, saddle me another horse.”

Gustav beamed. “See? I told you she’d come along if we ever made the run for it one day,” he smirked at Wilhem.

Snow White was aghast. “You’re coming along?”

“Oh yes. We’ll be sticking onto you like a leech on Mother Baron’s arms,” Gretel said smoothly. “You have a problem with that?”

“You can’t stick to me forever.”

“Not forever but until we get what we need. You’re not going to run out on my boys here, whatever you promised them.”

Her trepidation rising like steam on the horses’ flanks, Snow White watched the little family scuttle about to gather supplies. Her thoughts mirrored the frenetic howling of the storm outside. What had she gotten herself into?

#

With Gretel’s help, they made their escape on the fastest horses in the village before anyone could raise the alarm.

“Will someone come after us?” Snow White kept asking anxiously.

“If you don’t jinx us by repeatedly asking that question, then they won’t,” Gustav retorted.

By dawn, the ground was soggy as they galloped out of the forest into a clearing. Snow White was tired enough to fall asleep on her horse. She was now comfortably dressed in a tunic, leggings and a thick woolen cloak. A dank smell rose from the drying wool, only marginally less cloying than damp horseflesh.

Over the tops of the trees, she heard a roar like a thousand beehives. They cantered out to a cliff where a magnificent waterfall thundered into a river. Snow White peered over the edge. It was a sharp drop, more perilous than the tower.

“Let’s stop here and camp before the horses drop of fatigue,” Gretel announced.

Let’s camp here before I drop from fatigue, Snow White thought.

They dismounted and tethered their horses.

“Where are we?” Snow White asked Gustav.

He pored over a map. As she looked over his shoulder, land masses swirled amongst white clouds on the creased parchment. The effect was startlingly three-dimensional. The map zoomed in onto a section of green bordered by blue.

“We’re right here at the fringe of the Enchanted Forest,” Gustav said. “Across the river are the Barren Lands. We must go through them to reach the sea, where we board a ship to Lapland.”

“And this is a stolen map from – ?”

“Queen Isobel’s secret chamber. The Queen, as you know, is whispered to be a sorceress of great power.”

“You don’t say.” Snow White ran her mind through the contents of the Queen’s antechamber, wondering what else she had missed.

Gretel observed them from the campfire, her face as closed as a Russian box. She stoked the burning twigs with a stick. On a spit, a roasting hare dripped fat into the flames, sending up a volley of sparks and crackling. Its aroma sent Snow White’s thoughts floating to Aein.

She said in a low voice to Gustav: “Do you know of a place where there is a mountain surrounded by seven hills? A green lake that looks like a mirror supposedly sits at the bottom of it.”

“Does it have a name?”

“Not one that I know of.”

“Then the map can’t tell me where. You’ve got to give me a better lead.”

“Not that magical after all, huh?”

“Magic is only as good as the instructions you pump into it. Rubbish in, rubbish out.”

After they had eaten, Gretel said, “I’ll take first watch while the three of you sleep.” She smiled grimly at Snow White’s worried expression. “Don't worry, Mantodea. If I wanted to gut you like that hare, I’d have done it while you were passed out on your horse.”

“I was not passed out on my horse.”

The twins were already fast asleep by the fire as Snow White laid her uneasy head to rest. She couldn’t shrug off the premonition that she was being watched, and not by Gretel alone. Blades of moist grass tickled her ear, and the air was pregnant with spruce, pine, and fresh water. At least she didn’t have to smell horse. The drone of the falls lulled her to a dream-filled sleep where she and Aein were being chased by horned metal demons wearing wet cloaks.

When Snow White awoke, the fire burned low. The roar of the falls was still omniscient in the background. The fluttering of wings rustled the leaves above her head, but other than that, all was still. She was alone. Gretel and the twins were missing. For a stark moment, a hand gripped Snow White’s chest, until she heard the soft neigh by the trees and saw that all four horses were still tethered. Surely they wouldn’t leave without their horses.

She almost laughed out loud. She – panicking because her pseudo-captors were leaving her behind! Now would be a good time run off and ditch
them
. But the twins’ faces floated up – good-natured and cherubic. What if they had fallen off the cliff?

“You’re not responsible for them,” she told herself sternly. “They wanted to come on their own.”

And yet, the thought of bolting away on a horse, leaving them to a possibly dire fate, rankled. Their mother was one thing, but the twins were innocent, uncorrupted despite their upbringing.
Or so I’d like to think.

“Gustav?” she called.

One of the horses pawed the ground. At Snow White’s feet, a twig moved. Then another. She saw that they were not twigs at all but fairly large stick insects, a whole family of them blanketing the ground.

“Plasmida,” she whispered.

The antenna on the insects collectively bristled but they did not answer. Some of them capered in a complex pattern.

“Are you trying to tell me something about the others? Are they nearby?” She took a step in one direction. The insects scrambled around her feet. “What is it? Are the twins in danger?”

The insects tumbled on top of one another in haste. Snow White could not tell if they were saying ‘Keep away’ or ‘Hurry, they’re about to die!’ She opted for caution, so she went back to one of the saddlebags on Gretel’s horse. Inside was a carving knife. She hefted it and felt the weight of steel in her palm.

“Try throwing this,” she muttered.

She set out on the path the insects were determined to keep her away from. It was obvious from the broken twigs and broad wheel tracks that someone had been here. Something heavy too, which had mowed the closely-knit shrubbery in its path. She walked on, the hairs on her arms rising with each step she took away from the waterfall.

On a low branch, she spotted something bright red. Immediately on guard, she raised the knife.

When the object on the branch did not move, she crept closer. It was an intricately woven lace ribbon, the kind she might have expected to see hanging from the Queen’s antechamber closet.

“Gretel?” she called.

When no answer came, Snow White cautiously stepped beyond the trees. She almost stumbled in surprise. The stick insects went into an ambulatory frenzy.

In a clearing, a caravan decked in gold, purple and crimson paint was parked in a sun-dappled area. Several horses grazed nearby, their blankets just as colorful. No one was in sight. In front of the caravan, several headless mannequins with tripods for legs displayed gorgeous gowns in ochre, indigo, orange, and shocking blue. The embroidery on the fabric was so intricate that even Snow White, who was not partial to dresses, was piqued.

“Gustav?” she called. “Wilhem?”

Instead of Gretel, an old woman appeared at the doorway. At first, Snow White thought she was a dwarf. Then she saw that the woman’s back twisted in some bizarre malformation that made her waddle as she walked down the caravan’s steps. The woman carried no crook or walking stick, and how she managed to move at all was a marvel. Untidy strands of grey hair spilled around her lined face. Her skin was a mottled yellow, and her clothes were seemingly thrown together without any semblance of pattern or style.

“Welcome, welcome!” the woman cheerily cried. Her voice was like air in a funnel. “Pretty things to sell. Very cheap, very cheap!”

“What are you doing selling things out here in the woods?” Snow White said suspiciously. “There are no customers around.”

“I’m on my way to Lapland, fair child.” The woman caught the glimmer of recognition from Snow White. “Ah, perhaps you are heading there as well? We’ll have many stories to share. I’m not selling things, dearie, but airing out my dresses. I am but a poor peddler woman on the way to see my youngest boy, a fur trapper in Lapland. Who are you going to meet, child?”

Snow White hesitated. The woman gaited to her in that awkward one step-swing that looked simultaneously painful and cruel. She lowered the knife.

“I’m looking for my friends, a woman and her twin sons. Have you seen them come this way?”

“Twins? No, no, haven’t seen the likes of those for a long time.” The old woman paused to rest a bit, propping herself against a mannequin. She began to wheeze.

“Are you all right?” Snow White said in concern.

The old woman waved her hand dismissively. “It's the vapors in this forest. So hard on my poor lungs.” Her wheezing worsened.

“I think you should go back into the caravan and lie down, old mother,” Snow White said, afraid that she might have to witness another death in the forest. She laid down her knife and went to the old woman’s side. Up close, the old woman smelled very strongly of old goat’s cheese. The mismatched clothes didn’t look too clean either. Snow White tried to temper her distaste.

“Just lean on me, old mother,” she said, trying not to inhale too deeply.

“Bless you, child.” The old woman’s eyes were very bright, almost as if they belonged to a far younger person.

They slowly trudged up the steps of the caravan. The old woman clutched at the doorway.

“Here.” Snow White tugged the old woman into the caravan. The scent of roses filled the musky interior. The caravan was cramped, full of aging furniture and unused mannequins. A Chinese screen hid one corner.

“Where’s the bed?” Snow White said.

“Behind there, dearie.” The old woman gestured to the Chinese screen.

Was it her imagination or did the old woman’s voice take on a more masculine timbre? Before Snow White could move the screen, something loped around her neck. Snow White gasped, her breath suddenly cut off. She clutched at her throat. Below the constriction, she couldn’t feel her body.

No, no, no, she thought desperately. The insects were right. Green zigzags swam before her eyes.

She tried to elbow her assailant, but the excruciating squeeze around her throat tightened. Now her head was beginning to black out.

Out of the corner of her diminishing vision, she saw something burst through the caravan’s only door. With movements so quick they resembled a blur, it sprang upon her tormentor.
Wild beast?
she wondered feebly. The vice around her throat loosened. Choking, she sank to the floor.

As though from a distance, she slowly became aware of two shadowed adversaries scrambling on the floor, knocking over lamps, chairs and the Chinese screen. Something heavy, possibly a mannequin, fell on Snow White’s back. She was too winded to do anything but clutch at the air around her.

A figure rushed to her side. Snow White took a deep, harsh breath into her burning lungs. Light crept back into her eyes, and she clasped at the figure holding her, unable to believe what she was seeing.

“Aein!” she could only whisper.

“Wait here,” he said, and ducked as a sword flashed above where his head had been.

Snow White watched through hazy eyes; so swift were Aein’s movements that she could hardly blink for fear of missing him. The old woman’s wig had fallen off. Her short hair was pinned flat against her scalp, which was bald in patches. She wielded a sword in one hand and a leather whip in the other.

“Who the hell are you?” the woman snarled in a man’s voice. She swung her head round the caravan.

Aein appeared behind the old woman and garroted her with a red, blue and yellow lace band. “Someone who hates bullies.”

The old woman’s eyes bulged as she struggled. The sword and whip clattered to the wooden floor. Snow White’s trembling hands raised the object that had been around her own neck – a red lace ribbon entwined with a steel band. The old woman’s face slowly turned purple. Finally, she hung limply from Aein’s grasp.

He let her go with a thud.

Snow White gazed at Aein, taking in his fine, sweaty face and the taut lines of his body beneath his tunic.

“I thought you dead,” she said hoarsely.

He knelt by her. “Can you stand?”

“H-how did you do that? How did you move like you did?”

He couldn’t take his eyes off her, nor she him, so glad was she to see him alive again. She wanted to reach out and touch his face so she can be assured he was really here and not some mirage caused by air deprivation. His large hands were warm on her arms. The image of him choking the faux old woman with them fleeted through her mind.