1 The Bitches of Everafter (21 page)

39

Red, Red, Rose

Being magically delinquent sucks. For one thing, you can’t bespell anyone to do your dirty work like slap the newspaper boy when he tosses the daily into the bushes, throw coffee into a barista’s face when she gets the order wrong, or kill Snow White. Judge Redhood paced the room, chewing on a fingernail, and tried to come up with a good candidate for a murder for hire plot.

Giant Jerry might do it, but he’d be too conspicuous. Most people ran screaming in the other direction whenever they saw him walking down the street. Tink could probably be persuaded to do the job, loyal little sprite that she was, but the judge still had not heard word one from that girl. Her shadow was resting comfortably in a jar on the side table beneath a lamp. You would think she would have sensed it missing and come looking for it. Though perhaps not, since she wasn’t a complete version of her true self in this land. While the curse erased the memories of Enchantment, replacing them with memories of growing up in Everafter, people still retained the core of their being. Their nature, if you will. Which was why Robin Hood still believed in helping people and doing the ‘right’ thing. It was annoying.  

The judge certainly couldn’t kill Snow White herself. Not that she was opposed to murder, per say, but the manner in which the execution was to take place—or more accurately, the proof her conspirators insisted on—was far too gory for her tastes. The judge wasn’t fond of blood—if it was up to her, she’d just feed the privileged princess a poisoned apple. Sometimes the oldest ideas were the best ones. No muss, no fuss. But her orders were to deliver Snow White’s heart on a silver platter.

Royals. They were so dramatic.

The judge could feel Fang’s eyes on her as she took another lap around the room.

“Don’t do this,” Granny said. “You’ll regret it. It’ll squeal at you for the rest of your life.”

“Shut up, Grandmother. It’s your fault we’re in this mess. I had no intention of killing any of them. I just wanted them to suffer as I had. But I’ve been backed into a corner now, thanks to you.”

“You still have choices. There’s still time.”

Time. That word again. Although time had been on her side in Everafter. It was slower here somehow. An entire year had already passed in Enchantment. Had she known that when she signed up for this gig, she would have paid closer attention to the date. She had only just realized that tonight was the deadline for the curse to expire should the princesses find a way to break it. If they didn’t, they would be trapped in Everafter forever, living out their days as wayward women. But they were together now, which meant the magic could find them, and would, thanks to Granny’s meddling. It took some doing, but the judge had finally wrenched the truth out of the old woman. It was amazing how fast you could get someone to talk when you held their hand over a hot flame.

Granny, it turned out, had been stockpiling objects that represented the storybook worlds. All the worlds, in fact. Worlds that had nothing to do with Enchantment, and of course the ones that did. Her hope had been to find the one object that held magic strong enough to break the spell. It was ingenious really. But the judge wasn’t very worried about that. She had made certain that the place was void of magic, save for the little she had brought herself. And the largest threat—mirrors—she had eliminated upon arrival.

That didn’t mean that some magic hadn’t slipped through the veil. After all, Tink’s shadow shouldn’t have passed through at all, yet it had been there from the beginning, unbeknownst to the fairy. So there was the tiniest possibility that residual magic had attached itself to others as well.

Which meant the princesses could find it. And the judge suspected they were working on that very thing as she paced.

Why did Snow White have to set that fire! Animals don’t need justice. She and her highfalutin’ morals. They ruined everything.

Granny said, “It could backfire right in your eye socket, you know. Whatever puppet put you up to this could open its maw and eat you right up.”

The judge looked at her and smiled. “I don’t think so. You see, I’m not a princess, am I Granny?”

Granny winced as if she’d been slapped. “Quit festering on them open sores.”

“I think you mean don’t open old wounds.”

“What have you.”

“Well, you were right the first time. That wound is still open. But I intend to close it. I just need to figure out how.”

The judge did another lap and stopped in front of Tink’s shadow, sleeping so peacefully. She tapped the glass and the shadow stirred. An idea was forming.

“Why her? Why Snow White?” Granny asked in a solemn voice.

“Because she’s the queen. Everyone knows that when you take over a kingdom, you have to kill the queen.”

The judge didn’t think it possible, but Granny’s face took on more wrinkles. “They all be princesses. It’s in the treaty.”

The judge scoffed. “Oh please. Just because they insist they run a kind of democracy doesn’t make it true. There can only be one ruler, and that ruler is Snow White. The first princess.”

A bee flew in through the open window and the judge watched it fly around the room. She rarely opened the window in this room, but setting someone’s hand on fire gives off a noxious odor.

The bee landed on the desk and the judge watched it a minute longer. What happened to the rest of the colony when its queen bee died, she wondered? Did it appoint another? Or did one simply take over?

The bee flew towards her, and the judge reached out and grabbed it. She smashed it in her hand. Then she called Fang to her and unhooked his collar. She unzipped a pocket inside it and pulled out a tiny purple pill. She walked over to the table and picked up Tink’s shadow. Unscrewed the jar.

“No, don’t do it, Missy!”

The judge ignored Granny as she plopped the tablet inside the jar with the sleeping shadow. She twisted the lid back in place, held the jar with both hands and closed her eyes, softly chanting the instructions that would send her servant on its deadly errand.

She opened her eyes and watched as the shadow awoke, yawned and stood.

Then she walked over to the open window.

Granny shouted, “Snow White is still your sister! You can’t do this!”

The judge slowly turned and said, “She hasn’t been my sister for a long time. You made sure of that, didn’t you, Granny?”

Granny shook her head. “I did my best, Rose Red. I swear on a dictionary, I did.”

She shot the old woman an icy stare. “Don’t ever call me that again. My name is Red Riding Hood.”

She opened the jar and the shadow flew out the window.

“No! You can’t un-ring that pot!” Granny cried.

Red Riding Hood looked at her grandmother. “Too late. Snow White dies tonight.”

Then, with the bit of magic left on her fingertips, she waved her hand toward Granny’s mouth, gluing the old woman’s lips shut.

“I never could stand the way you talked, Granny.”

40

Meanwhile, Back at the Ranch

Robin Hood clutched the papers in his hand and slowly turned around. “Easy there, boy.”

The dog’s head hung low to the ground and his hackles were on point. Robin almost always had something to munch on in one of his pockets or beneath his hat, but a quick search found no food source that he could bribe the dog with. He stuffed the papers into an inside pocket.

Beast let out a growl that sounded more like a bear than a canine. Robin backed up as Beast circled over to him, his fierce eyes locked onto Robin’s. He wasn’t that far from the front door. If he could only inch backward, he’d be close enough to make a run for it.

As if sensing Robin’s plan, Beast changed direction, herding Robin away from the door. A few more stealth maneuvers on the dog’s part, and Robin found himself facing the parlor.

“Come on, Beast. You know me. You see me every week, buddy.”

Beast roared, and Robin nearly soiled his pants.

Of all the grief and turmoil this house and its inhabitants had brought him, none of them had injected this level of fear. He found himself re-thinking his entire career path. Perhaps thieving really
was
his calling. He hadn’t ever broken into a home or a business with a dog the size of a dump truck inside. He was careful back then—cautious. Every job was mapped out ahead of time, and if there was so much as a floodlight, he would pass on the opportunity. Marion would understand if he went back to that life. Perhaps he could even partner up with Aura.

Beast grumbled, and Robin wondered if it was possible Bella had trained the dog to attack him specifically? Of course it was. Robin eyed his surroundings as Beast stood there, drool pouring from his sharp fangs and pooling around his lion-sized paws. One of the doors beyond the parlor led to that bizarre clock room. The other, Robin hadn’t checked out. What if it was locked?

He looked at Beast. The dog gave him a savage stare. He tried to calculate the time it would take him to reach the door and how long it would take the dog to reach his backside.

Six of one, he thought. He cracked his knuckles. Should he attempt it?

Robin hadn’t yet made his decision when Beast advanced on him, jaws snapping. Robin ran faster than he had in his entire life, not caring that he was screaming in a most undignified pitch. He wrenched the closet door open, flew inside, and slammed it shut behind him just as Beast jumped up, batting his giant paws at the heavy wood. The dog barked as Robin fumbled for a light switch. He finally found one and clicked the light on.

Beast’s howls subsided and Robin put his ear to the keyhole. He heard the dog grunt, take a deep breath, then flop onto the floor just outside the door. He snorted, grumbled, and let out a sigh like a diesel engine braking.

Robin was trapped. Terrific, he thought. Marion would be worried sick.

He turned around to assess his new temporary home. The room was the size of a small office or a nursery, and painted a pale blue. Piles upon piles of Granny’s treasures were neatly stacked against the walls, as if someone had been in here recently taking inventory. It was clean too, not nearly as dusty as the closet he had explored earlier or the room with the numbers and timepieces. He spotted a spinning wheel, stacks of books, various tea sets, boxes of shoes, a scarecrow, and in one corner, a mountain of playing cards. He knew that Granny used to play bingo often. Perhaps the cards were prizes she’d won.

Robin stepped over a picnic basket and grabbed a deck with a picture of a forest on the box. He may as well play solitaire, since he would likely be stuck here for a while. At least until one of the girls or Granny came home. He dragged a folding table and chairs from against the back wall, plopped the cards down, removed his hat, and sat.

He took the crumpled papers from inside his jacket and started reading. He found himself looking at a property abstract for Granny’s house. It contained a survey of the land, the address, tax identification number, and the deed. He flipped through the pages, expecting to find a list of owners over the years, as all abstracts contained, but oddly enough, only one was listed.

Judge Redhood.

Robin scratched his head. That couldn’t be right. He flipped through the pages again and again and not only were there no previous owners listed, but Granny’s name was nowhere to be found.

Robin sat back in the chair and set the papers on the table. He stood up and walked the space, examining the chipped woodwork, the faded carpet peeling up from the hardwood floors, the antique brass doorknob etched with roses.

He tapped an old typewriter that was anchoring a leaning stack of books. There was a thought, an idea, maybe even a memory knocking at the back of his brain, but he couldn’t reach it. It might be feasible that Granny had fallen behind on the mortgage and perhaps the town had taken over the home for use as government housing. But then why would it be in the judge’s name?

More disturbingly, it made no sense that a home well over a hundred years old had no previous owner except a judge who was barely thirty. What was going on? And what was that bitch up to?

Robin sat back down and sifted through the papers, looking for more clues as to what was happening in Everafter and specifically, this house. He read them backwards and forwards. He flipped them over and laid them back on the table. It was then he noticed something printed on the back of the deed in letters so small that he couldn’t make them out.

He had nothing but time. He searched through the piles of antiques, collectibles, and utterly useless junk until he uncovered an old medical bag with a magnifying glass tucked inside. He grabbed it and sat back down to examine the fine print.

It read, “In lieu of deed, exemption is granted to Granny from the curse.”

Robin sat back and scratched his head.

What the heck did that mean?
Curse?
He was beginning to wonder if anything—or
anyone—
in this town was what they seemed.

Something rustled in the left corner of the room, and he thought he saw movement. A trick of the light? He went to investigate anyway and discovered a brown mouse perched atop a quiver of arrows next to the most beautiful bow he had ever seen. It was hand crafted—a work of art, actually—etched with leaves and vines, and hand-painted in shades of green, maple, and coffee.

He picked it up.