The Hunt for Snow (14 page)

Read The Hunt for Snow Online

Authors: S. E. Babin

BOOK: The Hunt for Snow
5.88Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

With little warning and a fierce grin, Maleficent brought her staff down on the ground. In a blast of light, I felt myself explode in a thousand pieces.

The sounds of gasping for air filled the next few moments with Maleficent laughing maniacally at all of us.

“A little warning next time would be awesome,” I said.

“Now where’s the fun in that, child?” Maleficent gestured with her staff, and my gaze fell upon a small cottage nestled in a picturesque setting. Who knew a villain like Rumpel would live in such a cute house? At my look, Maleficent chuckled.

“Do not underestimate him. You should know that illusion goes a long way into giving people a sense of peace. Remember the fate your father suffered for buying into it.”

Ouch. Point to Maleficent. I swallowed and nodded. After I felt I could stand without throwing up, I offered a hand to Belle, lying on the ground with a dazed expression. She grasped it and swayed unsteadily on her feet. Cyndi shook her head and continued to lie on the ground.

Robin got up by himself cursing up a storm and glaring at Maleficent. “Bloody balls! Magicians. Cripes. Hate the lot of them.”

At her raised eyebrow, he lifted his hands up in a supplicating gesture. “Sorry, sorry. But, cripes, Maleficent. I feel like my balls crawled up into my kidneys!”

Belle let out a bark of laughter and flushed. I grinned widely and shook my head. At least someone here had the chance for a happy ending. “I’ll go in first and do the talking,” I said.

Belle looked at me. “Flattery will get you everywhere with him. And, remember, there is no good deal with Rumpel. Only a deal that will get you out alive.”

I nodded, squared my shoulders and started walking to the devil’s house. As I stood on the porch, the smells of home cooked food and wood smoke made my stomach growl. I really couldn’t get over how much the house had surprised me. Either Rumpel was a master at illusion, or this was how he lived all the time. Maybe it was a little bit of both. I knocked on the door, surprised when it opened underneath my hand.

The inside was just as homey as the outside. Comfortably worn chairs circled the small living area. A small fire crackled cheerily in the hearth. Kitschy knickknacks littered the tables and the shelves, depictions of small town life. Very Thomas Kinkade. And very unlike the man I expected Rumpel to be. I looked into the kitchen area and saw a tall man stirring a pot. His clothes fell on his lanky frame, clean but worn.

He set the spoon down and turned to face us.

I couldn’t help it. I blinked, opened my mouth to speak, shut it, and then blinked again. Rumpelstiltskin was drop-dead gorgeous. I looked over to Belle and Cyndi and both of them had their mouths wide open.

A smirk appeared on his face. “Why is it everyone thinks I’m hideous?”

“Ummm,” I said eloquently.

He shook his head, said something under his breath, and gestured for us to sit around the large circular table in his dining room. It was made out of a dark wood, the surface scarred from years of overuse. We meekly sat down, amongst the disgusted grumblings of Robin Hood. “I swear,” he muttered under his breath, “you woman are all the same. Struck dumb at the sight of a pretty face.”

“Shut up,” I muttered in annoyance. Rumpel was not just another pretty face. He was reminiscent of an ancient warrior, an angular face highlighted with strong cheekbones, and deeply tanned. A thin white scar ran down from the side of his right eyebrow to the bottom of his lip, but it did nothing to detract from his beauty. Instead, it just enhanced it. His eyes shimmered with ancient magic, a maelstrom of pictures and images floating through them. One moment gray, the next moment a haunting tawny gold, they were the most fascinating thing about him. Jet-black hair hung around his face and settled at the tops of his shoulders.

He reached up to one of his cabinets, exposing powerful tanned arms, scarred from his upper biceps down to his lean hands. His face and body told a story of grudges and power plays and ancient feuds. He was both terrifying and gloriously beautiful.

“Stew?”

I glanced around at my friends, still struck dumb, then at Robin who was sitting at the table with his arms crossed looking pissed off at the world. I shrugged. “Yes, please. Thank you for your hospitality.”

“Do not thank me yet,” he said, his voice a deep rasp as if unused for years. “We haven’t begun to deal.” He looked over his shoulder at me, those haunting eyes seemingly piercing through my soul and unveiling my deepest secrets. “You are here to deal, yes?”

I swallowed and nodded.

“Good.” Rumpel busied himself with clattering around the kitchen and serving us up some of the stew he was making in the massive pot on the stove.

I sat there dumbly, staring at his powerful frame when Cyndi leaned over. “Close your mouth. You’ll attract flies.”

I closed it and glared at her. “You’re just as guilty,” I accused.

She smiled. “Hard to act normal around a vision like that.” Her gaze roamed over his body in a frank, appraising glance I’d never quite seen her use before.

“Stop staring at me, orphan, or I will tear your eyes right out of your head.”

Oh snap
.

Cyndi’s eyes widened and a brilliant, beatific grin spread across her face. I stared at her in horror. “Freak,” I muttered.

“He likes me,” she whispered.

I choked, started to say something, then thought better of it. Max and I were pretty dysfunctional. Who was I to judge her for living in crazy town? Half the time I thought I was living there anyway.

Once he’d filled the bowls, he unceremoniously plunked the bowls down on the table and growled at us to get our own damned silverware. Cyndi got up in a daze of happiness and rummaged through the kitchen drawers until she brought back enough spoons for everyone. I did not miss that Rumpel was staring at her, a half angry half amused look on his face.

I spent many years of my life with that look on my face while living with Cyndi. I smothered the smile on my face and picked up my spoon to dig in. A sharp slap on my hand forced the silverware out of my hand. It clattered on the wooden table as I looked up sharply at Rumpel.

“Lass,” he ground out, “you have the manners of a stable rat. Do ye not say prayers before meals?”

I blinked, tamped down the urge to shoot him in the face, and clasped my hands in my lap. Everyone else dropped their spoons and bowed their hands with alacrity. I gave him a long look and lowered my head.

“Good girl.”

My teeth ground together.

“Gracious goddess, we ask that ye bless our food with wisdom, light and love. And maybe add some humbleness in there for one of our guests.”

I lifted my head slightly and cracked one eye open to see everyone trying not to laugh.

“And, whatever it is they’re here for, grant me the patience to listen and not grind them into next week’s stew. So mote it be.”

My stomach turned as I opened my eyes and stared at the stew in front of me. It would be the height of bad manners to turn my nose up at it, but what the hell was I eating? Were these the ground up remains of some other poor bastard who’d come before me?

I felt someone staring at me and looked up to see Rumpel’s eyes twinkling with amusement. “Relax, lass. It’s deer, caught earlier this week.”

Ass
. I sighed, picked up my spoon and dug in. Not sure what to expect, I was pleasantly surprised when the first bit hit my mouth. Seasoned just right, the meat was tender and flavorful. The man could cook, that was for sure.

“Thank you for having us, Rumpelstiltskin. We’re here—”

He slammed his tankard down on the table. “Business is not discussed over meals.”

“But, we came—” My words trailed off as he glared at me. “Fine,” I muttered. “But, time is of the essence.”

His nose flared with exasperated patience. “It always is with you people.”

Robin winked at me from across the table. I stuck my tongue out at him and continued eating. Silence fell across the table as we shoveled food in our faces. When we were finished, Rumpel stood and gathered all of our dishes. Cyndi stood to help, but he pushed her back down in the chair. “No need,” he said gruffly. “I’ve been on my own for years. I can get this.”

Hurt flashed across her face, but she didn’t insist on helping any longer. Robin leaned across the table, a strange look on his face. “Snow, look outside,” he said under his breath.

Pitch blackness fell across the land. Weird. I could have sworn it was early afternoon when we got here. I turned a startled look to him. “Time falls differently here,” I murmured. I blew out a breath of air. “Well, shit.”

“It’s about time you noticed,” Rumpel said. “I was wondering. I can’t very well help stupid people plot to overthrow a powerful sorceress like Naomi.”

I sat back in my chair, pissed at myself. How much time had passed while we were eating stew? Was it still the same day? The same week? Hell…knowing Rumpel’s powers, were we even still in the same year?

“Call my friend stupid again, and you’ll regret it,” Cyndi said.

I shook my head at her and mouthed
shut up
. She frowned at me. Rumpel’s rich laughter rang out through the room. “Who are you people?” he asked in disbelief. When Belle started to speak, he held up a hand. “Rhetorical. I know who you are. A better question would be to ask how you all survived so long being so mouthy.”

“Can we stop the nonsense and talk business now?” I stood and walked over to him. Rumpel stood hunched over his small sink rinsing out our dinner dishes. The mundane task looked surprisingly good on him.

“In due time, Snow. Patience is a virtue.” He continued his methodical washing. I huffed but knew I was beat. I sat back down at the table, craning my neck to see what was in the back of his cottage. Whereas the rest of his home was lit by candles and some other light source I couldn’t find, the back of his home rested in shadows. It was most likely where he performed his magic.

I stared at his back and watched his powerful shoulders move under his leather clothing. He was an enigma, but so far I’d yet to see proof of the terrible tales about him. Were we seeing the real man or was this entire thing some elaborate illusion to get us comfortable around him?

We waited in a tense silence while he washed the rest of the dishes. A few minutes later he grabbed an old worn towel from the counter and dried his hands. He busied himself straightening things and turned to us once he was satisfied. “Coffee?” he asked.

I sat up a little bit straighter. “Coffee?’ I echoed. “You have honest-to-goodness coffee here?”

“Calm down, crazy,” Belle murmured. “We’d love some, Rumpelstiltskin.”

His lips twitched as he saw my eager puppy dog look. “Honest-to-goodness,” he said. “Fair trade medium roast from Colombia.”

I fluttered my lashes at him. Right now I’d throw myself into bed with him for a cup of it. I nodded, trying not to embarrass myself any further. “Yes, please.”

He chuckled and with one small gesture produced a coffee pot from thin air. I take back everything negative I ever said about magicians because right now I found Rumpel to be absolutely brilliant. Beautiful, beautiful caffeine, come to mama. He produced a canister of beans from his cabinet and ground them with his powerful hands in a mortar and pestle.

I felt lust wash over me until Cyndi pinched me. “Don’t you even think about it. Go chase your serial killer boyfriend. Leave mine alone.”

Good gracious. Cyndi stared at him with something akin to worship, and I felt a knot grow in my stomach. Yes, he was gorgeous. Powerful, intelligent and had awe-inspiring taste in coffee. But he was a ruthless killer and mad sorcerer. Right? Staring at him, it didn’t seem so. I blew out a breath, unsettled about some things.

I’d wait until after we’d dealed to judge him. Rumpel brought over the steaming mugs of coffee to the table and produced a cream and sugar set. I wanted to weep with joy. Once we were settled in sipping happily, Rumpel began the negotiations.

“So you’re here to talk about Naomi?” We nodded and waited for him to continue. “I’ve tried to kill her several times, but I haven’t succeeded. Obviously. My methods are straightforward. My enemies know I’m coming for them. However, Naomi needs special handling. She’s vicious and intelligent. But, she’s also vain. I can give you what you need to take her out, but what will you do for me?”

I stared at him. “We get rid of Naomi for you.”

He gave me a wolf’s smile. “Not enough.”

I racked my brain, trying to come up with something he would want. I had an entire stockpile of weapons back home, some magical, some not. Belle had equipment out the wazoo, but what use would Rumpel have for it?

A soft voice spoke up. “You can have me.”

I felt dread settle in my bones. “Cyndi. Shut up. Right. Now.”

Rumpel looked surprised. “And why should I want you?”

Cyndi met his challenge. “You’re lonely. Scarred. Reviled. You need me.”

His eyes flickered with an unnamed emotion. “Let me rephrase. Why should I want a scared, lonely little orphan girl when I can have my pick of any beautiful woman in this realm?”

“Because I could love you. Eventually. Perhaps. If you let me in.” Her voice grew thick with tears.

Rumpel sucked in a deep breath. The tension inside the room spiked up a hundred percent. My fingers itched to reach my weapon just in case he decided to turn us all into dust.

Cyndi kept her assault up. “Has anyone ever loved you?” She stood up from her chair and crossed over to Rumpel’s side of the table. She touched her fingertips to his shoulder and let her fingers run through his ebony hair.

We were intruding on an intimate moment. “Cyndi,” I whispered, “please don’t do this. I,
we
, can’t lose you.”

She leaned down and whispered something private into Rumpel’s ear. His entire body stiffened, and he looked at her with a new appreciation and a disturbing gleam in his eyes. The silence in the room was overwhelming, and I shifted, uncomfortable and nervous with the turn this deal had taken.

“You can have me,” I blurted.

“What the—Snow!” Robin shouted. “Are you a complete moron?”

Other books

Keeping the Moon by Sarah Dessen
The Moon Pool by Sophie Littlefield
Mountain Lion by Terry Bolryder
John Saturnall's Feast by Norfolk, Lawrence
Ocho casos de Poirot by Agatha Christie
The King's Man by Alison Stuart
Sleep No More by Iris Johansen