accidental 11 - accidentally ever after (7 page)

King Dick shipped Resplendant out like so much cargo. I mean, lock, stock and easily a hundred pieces of luggage right back to her furious mother’s arms.

Wow. That went over big.

Not.

Who knew the queen had so much shit to throw at the wall? It’s gonna take a team of people from
Got Junk?
to clean that mess up.

Anyway, Queen Angria’s grown suspicious about our newcomer Toni and her coincidental appearance in Shamalot. Could it be that hers is the visage of the fair maiden the Great and Wonderful Roz saw in her stupid mirror guide (her words, not this storytellers)? Could it be she is the true intended for the dashing prince?

Queen Angria’s decided to take no chances, and she’s handed down an edict of her own.

To her henchman.

Bring Toni to her or lose your 401K—oh and your life.

Cue evil music.

* * * *

“What the flying fuck gives, Flawless?” Nina barked, pointing upward with one hand while the other held the tattered hem of her yellow skirt. Her wings fluttered with erratic motion on her back as her lips formed a thin line.

Jon’s laughter rang through the forest, bouncing off the thick trees, their branches bowing from the heavy snow from the night before. “Bluebirds, of course, milady Nina,” he called with cheer as he saddled his horse Oliver and arranged for a village boy to tend his deer. “They help guide our way, milady.”

Nina stopped dead in her tracks and swatted at the circle of fluttering blue wings surrounding her head. They chirped a happy tune, occasionally sitting atop her hair, which, in the bluebirds’ defense, did rather resemble a nest.

“Dudes! Knock it the shit off. I can’t think with all this damn hair, the wings, and your racket!”

Toni, despite her lack of sleep, her uncomfortable shoes, and her Starbucks deficit, openly laughed. She’d woken up in Jon’s cottage at dawn and watched him as he’d gathered items for their journey to the castle, his large body moving in precise, fluid rhythm, captivating her.

Her heart had begun that wild fluttering again and her stomach had fairly tingled just looking at him.

As she’d hunkered down on the mattress made of straw he’d fashioned for her the night before, she’d tried to make sense of what was happening.

But she came up dry. Yes, she’d wished to be anywhere but the store, but why hadn’t the realm of Shamalot been listening when she’d wished for a million bucks? Or that Stas would die a heinous, painful death after what he’d done to her brother?

Was the realm like a random generator, granting requests with slipshod aim?

Stas…
He was one person she didn’t have to worry about here, and waking up with that knowledge had brought her great peace this morning. It almost beat that question in Jon’s eyes when he’d informed them he didn’t know what this “coffee” they mourned was, and he didn’t have any anyway.

She could find a way to live without coffee if it meant Stas would never darken her doorstep ever again. Everything was a trade-off as far as she was concerned.

But still, the happiness part of this boggled her. How could a realm and some king know what would make her happy? And why was she being forced to collect this happiness?

Now, as they made their way through the thick forest, the muted orange of the sun poking out over the vast mountain ranges surrounding Shamalot, she wasn’t feeling as peaceful.

“So this vampire affliction you speak of,” Jon asked Nina as they traipsed deeper into the forest through thick snow and chilling winds. “I’m afraid we have none of your breed here in our land. Do tell me more, won’t you?”

Toni bit the inside of her cheek. They weren’t supposed to have vampire afflictions where she came from either.

When the three women had explained whom—or rather
what
—they were and this crisis hotline they ran back in New York for the accidentally paranormal called OOPS, Toni had almost fallen face first into her bowl of gruel, or broth, or whatever Jon was titling that greasy mess he’d given them for dinner.

In fact, her mind had railed fiercely against what they’d proclaimed until they’d shown both she and Jon exactly what they were capable of doing with their paranormal abilities.

Jon hadn’t blinked a gorgeous eye while she’d shivered in a corner with Carl at her feet, nuzzling her hand to soothe her. Fur flew, teeth flashed, the corner of Jon’s cottage was lifted without even a grunt. Yet, he’d taken it all in stride, and she supposed if you grew up with ogres in your midst, vampires and werewolves weren’t such a stretch.

But for her? A plain old human? It was like watching a TV show come to life—special effects and all.

But then hello. She was in a place called Shamalot with the hottest guy to walk the planet, no phones, no electricity, no Internet, wearing a pair of purple shoes she’d inherited from some sloshed witch, and now she was on her merry way to a castle to find a happy ending.

The absurd really exists, Scully.

Yet, that wasn’t what she took away from their dinner conversations as Jon had blown out candles nestled in lanterns and they’d all settled in for the night.

What had stuck—or maybe the better description would be impressed her—was how much these women cared for each other. It went deep. You’d never know it by the way Marty and Nina bickered, but there’d been no denying Nina would have taken on Dannan for her friend, had he proven a foe.

While she stared in utter awe like some lovesick teenager at him, they’d shared tales of their crisis hotline adventures with Jon, who had some equally outlandish tales of dragon chasing and fairy catching, and what had stood out the most were the women’s enduring friendships. This bond they and their immediate families shared.

They were all fused together in one way or another by their paranormal accidents, but that they’d chosen to stay together, that they laughed about their alleged trips to Hell and genies in bottles as though they were nothing more than road trips to Vegas, made Toni feel very alone in the world.

She realized it didn’t matter where she was. Jersey or Shamalot, she was entirely alone. That stung just a little this bright morning.

“So, how are we this cold but lovely day, fair maiden Toni?” Wanda asked, looping her arm through hers. “You’ve had a lot to digest.”

Remorse pained her heart and guilt ate at her gut. “I’m really sorry about this, Wanda. Taking you from your families, especially at Christmas. They’ll be worried sick, and it’s not like we can call them or send a message to let them know you’re all right. Who’d have ever guessed throwing a random thought like that into the universe would produce this?”

Wanda patted her arm, her pretty smile clear and bright, her wings especially festive this morning. “I told you, we specialize in situations of this nature. It’s why we come off so unaffected. Marty wasn’t lying when she said we’ve seen some things.”

“How do you guys feel? I mean, okay, maybe you’ve had a crisis or ten, but usually the crisis is about someone else. Not you. You have
wings
because of me.”
Wings.
Wanda had wings
. She instantly apologized again. “I’m sorry. So, so sorry.”

“Oh c’mon. I have wings! I also have an amazing gown and hair so big I could probably joust with it. It’s every childhood wish come true. They make me a little giddy, to be honest. And this isn’t your fault, Toni. But I’m a firm believer everything happens for a reason. Care to share your reason?”

She swallowed hard, forcing one foot in front of the other as Dannan cleared a path for them with his large feet. “I can’t think of any offhand. I was just having a bad day at the store is all.”

“Ahh. You’re not ready yet. I understand, but I want you to know, when you are, we’ll listen.”

Wanda’s warmth and compassion were almost more than she could bear.

“Why are you being so nice to me? You should be pretty angry—and even though it was an accident, resentment is still up for grabs.”

“Because I get the feeling you haven’t had nice in your life for a long time, Toni. Everyone should have some nice to offset the unpleasant.”

No truer words. But she wanted the focus
off
of her and the lack of nice in her life. She didn’t know these people, and for all their goodwill—well, except for Nina—she wasn’t a sharer. She kept things close to her vest for a reason. Because you never knew who was listening.

She’d learned that the hard way.

“What do you think’s going on back home right now? Are your families calling the police, sending out search parties? They sound like a pretty tight bunch.”

Wanda grimaced, tucking her chin into a pelt of fur Jon had given each of them to keep them warm. “That’s the one thing that pains me most. Not being able to let my husband Heath know I’m all right. But I can’t fret over what I can’t change, honey. He knows me well enough to know I’m pretty tough. Besides, who’s to say the passage of time is the same here in Shamalot as it is in Jersey? Isn’t it always topsy-turvy in a fairytale? Anyway, enough about me. What about you? Any family who’ll be worried for your safety?”

A tear stung her eye, and she’d like to think it was the harsh wind that had picked up as they curved along the snow-covered path and entered a small patch of what looked like toadstools straight out of a cartoon. But it wasn’t the wind.

Still, she shook her head. “Nope. No one will know I’m gone. Except Bree, and my landlord when rent time rolls around. Wow, am I ever going to get my ass handed to me for this. I’m guessing a pink slip will be waiting for me when I get back.”

“Bree can stuff those damn scarves and her power trip up her tight, perky ass,” Wanda said on a demonic chuckle. “If your happily-ever-after involves going back to Jersey, I think Marty might be able to help you with a job if you’d be willing to relocate to Buffalo.”

Something lodged deep in her heart shifted a centimeter or two. Just enough to be noticeable. “You’re doing that nice thing again. You don’t even know me. Why would you consider me worthy of a job?”

Wanda shrugged her shoulders and smiled again. “It’s just a vibe I get. No one’s fooled me yet.”

“So what’s your vibe on Jon?” And she didn’t mean the sexy-smexy one. He had more than enough of that to go around. God, he was so delicious she’d considered reconsidering her vow never to become even remotely involved with a man again.

Wanda expelled a long breath, her eyelashes fluttering. “Oh, that man. He’s enough to make me reset my moral compass. If there was no Heath in the picture, I just might feign virginity and throw myself as tribute at his feet. Phew, he’s pretty phenomenal to look at, huh? But I haven’t figured him out yet, to be honest. Something’s just not jiving for me.”

A shiver of fear slithered along Toni’s spine. “Do you think he’s a bad guy?”

“Nope. Not necessarily bad. Not bad at all, in fact. His intentions all outwardly appear to be good. He’s a good host, if you could call whatever it was he cooked up in that big cauldron being a good host. He’s well-mannered and his cottage was adorbs…there’s just
something
. But don’t worry,” she said on a confident wink. “I’ll figure it out.”

“I have ears, milady Wanda,” Jon joked, slowing his pace to fall in step with them, his strong thighs eating up the distance they traveled. “I’m saddened you didn’t enjoy the toadstool soup. I let it simmer all day, too. I do not know where I’m going wrong.”

“Crow’s feet, lad. Ye must always use a healthy batch if ye wish to impart a hearty, savory flavor,” Dannan offered helpfully, brushing away snow like a plow as they continued to press onward.

Jon nodded his dark head, playfully knocking Dannan in the stomach with a light rap of his knuckles. “Of course, my friend. I should just hire you as my chef.”

Dannan’s tiny chuckle trickled to her ears. “Ah, lad, that would require roots. I’m footloose and fancy free, as ye well know. No ties bind ol’ Dannan.”

But Jon and Dannan’s good-natured chatter became muffled as a low voice calling her name caught Toni’s ear. She fell behind the group as they continued to talk, stopping in the middle of the clearing they were passing through.

Tree stumps sprouted everywhere, a light film of snow covering them. The trees surrounding the perimeter sparkled in the sun, ice dripping from the branches like glassy talons.

Colorful toadstools bowed in the wind, their multicolored, broad tops bending forward then back, as though waving her toward an enormous tree with a hole carved in the center of its base.

Now
here’s
where she should seriously rethink letting everyone else get so far ahead of her, but come on. Since she’d long passed fear and was well on her way to curious, she wanted to see all these amazing wonders that were things she’d only seen in movies.

If she stopped to think about this, really think about it, being here in Shamalot was every childhood fantasy fulfilled. Magical and serene. So she decided to take a quick peek and then she’d catch up with the others.

As she made her way to the snow-covered base, the scent of something familiar tweaked her cerebral cortex. Toni squinted at the tree, with its long, craggy limbs, and then she squinted again.

Was that a tendril of steam wafting from the tree?

It damn well was. And the scent drifting toward her nose, filling it with caffeinated bliss?

It was the scent of the nectar of the gods. The scent of a Starbucks white-chocolate mocha, extra whipped cream, please.

No. That couldn’t be real.

But a hand, supple and smooth, slithered from behind the tree, holding something. Something in a white paper cup with a label Toni knew well.

As she got closer, she saw a name in bold, black print on the cup. Just like the nice Starbucks barista Anthony would write on her cup every week when she treated herself to a grande on payday.

Shut the front door. What sorcery was this?

She almost couldn’t contain her joy when a weak voice said, “Toni?”

Oh my God, the voice even sounded like Anthony’s!

You’d think that should have been her first clue. But no. She wasn’t into clues or ominous warnings, like that gut feeling briefly reminding her this was too good to be true.