Fairy Tale Blank, Part 25

Brett stopped so suddenly at the foot of the stairs, Charles and Jo Ann ran into her. “I can't...” she gasped... “I can't go up there. The magic...the roses...black magic...”

Jo Ann suddenly appeared in her human form, breathing harder. “She's...she's right,” she groaned. “Malade cast another spell. The rose vines are tainted.”

“You can't,” Charles whispered with more courage than he felt. “I can.” He put an arm around Brett. “Here. Stay with me. We'll go up together.”

Jo Ann nodded and grabbed his coat tails. “I'll bring up the rear.”

“Thank you, Charles,” Brett croaked as they started up the steep stairs. “Even if you are an idiot with bad hair.”

He grinned. “And even if you are an old lady in a wig, you're still a decent magician.”

“Is it me,” Jo Ann muttered as she shoved a thorny vine out of her face, “or are the roses getting meaner the further up we go?”

Charles ducked as one sharp vine swept over his head and nearly took off his toupee. “It's not you,” he whined. “These things have no respect for a guy's hair!”

“Or anything else,” Brett muttered, sending a green light over the vines that wound around her legs. The vine curled tightly as it pulled out the window. “This is just my mother's style. She knew someone would try to come for Marcia!”

“Owww!” Bill the wolf howled and bit into one vine, only for two more to grab at his legs. “Who invited the killer flowers to the party? They really hurt!”

Betty and the frog flung themselves against the door at the top of the stairs. “The password is 'strong,'” the frog yelped. “The roses are holding the door closed!”

“Stand back!” Jo Ann lifted her redwood wand. “This is where I come in. Flowers are my domain.”

Brett nodded. “Yeah, I'll help. Nature's my turf, too.” She put her hand on the door and focused her green light as the vines wound harder around them. Charles tried to push them away, but they scratched his arms and caught in his clothes.

Bill wasn't interested in the vines. “Marcia!” He scratched at the door as hard as he could, but even his claws barely made a dent. “Your Majesty, could you get the door open? I can't open door knobs with claws!”

Betty jiggled the knob, shaking her head. “It's locked, or the vines are blocking it.”

“Let me handle this,” the frog proclaimed gallantly. “I can get under here,” he rasped as he slid under the door, “where human hands can't reach!”

They listened for the frog's croak as he hopped over vines and around sharp thorns. “There's a bolt,” he gasped. “I can...just...lift...oww!” His wailing joined the sound of a small thump on the other side of the door. “Mistress Fairy, can you increase your magic?”

“It's full throttle as it is!” she muttered as beads of sweat formed on her pretty face. “But I'll do what I can.” Brett nodded and pushed harder, joining the red waves in twining around the thorny vines, making them green and supple.

“H...here!” With a loud gasp, the frog squeezed back under the crack. “You'll have to turn the knob, Your Majesty. I don't have the hands for it, either.”

No sooner did Betty open the door than Bill sprang into the room. “Marcia!” He howled as he scrambled onto the frilly canopy bed in the center of the room. “What did she do to you?”

Marcia lay peacefully in the bed, a silk coverlet covering most of her. Roses twined around the bed and one nestled in her tight ginger curls, but the vines never touched her. Thick dark eyelashes remained closed over high cheekbones and her long face.

“Marcia,” Bill insisted, “I wanted to tell you how I felt, but I never...I tried, but I guess I never said the right thing. I mean, I asked you, but you didn't believe me. I hope...I hope you somehow hear this, and you believe me now.”

“Kiss her,” Charles yelped, “you furry goof!”

Bill finally leaned his muzzle into her pale face for the closest thing he could manage to a kiss. It only lasted for a few minutes, but for him and the others fighting off the vines in the bedroom, it seemed to go on for hours.

Finally, Marcia's blue eyes fluttered open. “Yeah, Bill. I think I like you, too,” she finally admitted. “But could you get off? Dog breath isn't the most pleasant thing to wake up to first thing in the morning.”

Brett laughed and pushed past two more vines. “You're gonna be just fine."

Marcia sighed and rubbed her head. “Where the hell am I? How did I end up here? Last thing I remember was Malade grabbing me...and draining my magic...and Bill, she sent you away with one of the trolls...big ugly sucker, too...”

“These guys got me loose.” Bill leaned into her as she scratched between his ears. “Marcia, I wanted to tell you this before, but...I love you. I tried to tell you at the Summer-Winter Castle, and I think I did, but you didn't believe me. You're so smart, and pretty, and brave, and I've liked you for a while, ever since I first wrote you, but I...”

“Could you let me get a word in for once?” Marcia interjected as she put a finger on his snout. “You came for me. That's enough. I guess...I guess I kind of like you, too. A lot.”

She lifted his muzzle and gave him a the best kiss she could manage. The moment they separated, brilliant gold light suddenly consumed the room, throwing back the darkness and making all of the rose bushes bloom at once. When they subsided, Marcia found herself surrounded by sweet crimson blossoms and holding a short, fairly good-looking middle aged man with wide blue eyes and light brown hair in her lap.

“Um, who are you?” she asked, her lips dropping open in shock as she jumped to her feet. “What the hell is going on?”

“I think I'd better explain fast, before someone figures out we're up here and you're awake and I'm not a dog anymore,” he rambled on his knees. “My name really is Bill, but a lot of people call me Prince William, or sometimes Will. That's how I signed myself when I first wrote you.” He tugged at the shredded remains of his white silk blouse. “I wrote the letters, Marcia. It was me. No girl ever really told me how she felt about anything before, and it was...it was really nice.”

He took a deep breath before continuing, his voice sadder. “I'm sorry I stood you up. Four hours before we were supposed to have our date, Malade stormed into my suites with those walking fur coats of hers just as I was finishing a letter asking you to marry me.”

His eyes dropped to his worn boots. “What I told you at the Castle was true. She did try to make me marry her and find other people with magic.” He gulped as he looked into her eyes. “Including you. I couldn't do it.” His voice trembled. “That's when she...she...did what I told you about in our dreams. Turned me into a wolf and everyone else in my castle invisible or into more trolls. They should all be visible or human now, by the way.”

“Those dreams at the Summer-Winter Castle!” Charles exclaimed, wide-eyed. “I knew there was a reason we all had them at the same time!”

“Yes and no.” Bill sighed. “I could only be human at night, in people's dreams. I tried to tell you guys what was going on, but that nasty magic of hers kept getting in before I could say much.” He looked up at Marcia, who rubbed his back gently. “Malade told me I needed a kiss from someone who would see me as more than a fur coat with legs. She shoved me in a collar and muzzle and used me as a pack dog to sniff out magic-makers. I bit off the collar and escaped.”

“And then,” Brett finished, “you found Sarah Red Riding Hood and the rest of us.”

“I kept trying to tell you what happened,” Bill groaned, “but she wouldn't let me. Every time I talked, her magic made me howl instead of talk.”

“Look,” Marcia started as they scrambled to their feet, “I don't care what you look like, or if you can't spell, or how much you talk. The truth is...well,” she smiled a little bit, “if you'd given me a letter asking me to marry you on that date, I would have written back and said yes.” She lifted up his chin for a kiss. “You know,” she added, “you kiss much better without the dog breath!”

“It's about time you spit it out!” Brett brayed with a big grin. Charles dabbed at his eyes behind her.

The frog buried his wet eyes into Betty's green gown. “That's so beautiful!” He looked up at her. “You know, maybe we could...”

“Shh!” Betty rubbed his back. “Don't spoil the moment!”

“I think you two should go to the ball,” Jo Ann sighed happily. It took a wave of her want to give Marcia a golden gown like the one she wore at the Summer-Winter Castle and Bill a blue velvet jacket and trousers. “There,” she said, beaming. “You both look wonderful!”

Marcia swirled around in front of a mirror wreathed with roses. “Hey, not bad. Almost as nice as your mother's dress at the Castle.” She grinned at Bill as tugged at his jacket. “You were talking about your mother, weren't you?”

“Yeah, I was.” Bill added as he straightened the white lace ascot. “Mother would have loved you, Marcia. She would have loved us, come to think of it. She wanted me to marry for years.”

Betty joined them at the mirror to fix her hair. “I'm glad you two are together, but I think we'd better go downstairs. Malade likely knows we defeated part of her magic. She may send people looking for us.”

“I agree,” Brett added eagerly as she headed for the door. “I need to get into the rock garden and free my husband. He's still under that statue spell.”

“Good.” Jo Ann waved her arm, restoring her human size. “Maybe I ought to go with you, just in case...”

Brett waved her off. “I'll be in and out of the garden before Malade knows I'm there.”

“I'll go with her.” Charles rolled his eyes. “Make sure she doesn't get lost.”

“Lost!” Brett squawked as they went downstairs. “I know my way around a lot better than you do!”

Charles smirked. “But how long has it been since you were last here? Not to mention, there's all those trolls."

“Aww, they're pussy cats if you know how to handle them." The thorny rose vines had retreated, now clinging to the sides of the tower where they belonged. She snickered and picked a rose, tucking it behind Charles' ear. “There. That'll scare them off. Real trolls that weren't originally humans don't like pretty things that smell nice.”

“Then you'll attract a million of them,” he snickered. She made a face, but he tucked a delicate pink rose into the sash of her apron. “You don't need for them to be going after you, either!”

He followed Brett back into the main hall. “At least it's quiet,” he observed as they ducked into an alcove. “I don't see trolls. Or anyone else, for that matter.”

“They must all be in the ballroom.” She made a face as they tip-toed down the hall. “I hope the others are all right. Not only are there a lot more trolls and guards than there are of us, but my stepmother could burn them all or poison them in an instant!”

“Don't be so negative,” Charles scolded as they ducked out a back door and into the garden. “As long as they stay away from her lips, they should be fine!”

Brett's face fell the moment she saw that craggy-faced statue. “Jack! Damn it, you'd think she would have let him go by now. Well,” she added softly with an oddly reserved sigh, “I can't leave him like this. Our children need him.”

Her lips were about to meet the statue's granite ones when he heard footsteps. “Someone's coming!” Charles wailed. “We have to get out of here, before they catch us and toss us in the basement!”

Brett's head shot up, searching the lengthening evening shadows for the person who came in. “Hello?Who's there?”

“Hello there, my dear.” He barely noticed the hunched-over figure in the black velvet cloak at first, at least until her scraping cackle reached their ears. “I'm trying to find the kitchen.” A basket loaded with juicy red apples swayed under her arm. “Want to sell these beauties to the cook.”

“Well,” Brett croaked as she rubbed her head, “the kitchen isn't far from here. I'd give you directions, but I can't help thinking something's wrong...”

“Wouldn't you like to try one?” Gnarled fingers shoved one glistening blood red apple at her nose. “Just picked them today from my own yard.”

“Brett,” Charles whined, “I think this is a really bad idea. Doesn't she remind you of the old lady at the gingerbread house, and the one who gave you the comb at the Summer-Winter Castle?”

“Would you stop annoying me?” The old woman threw off her hood, revealing Malade's charred face in all its horrifying glory. “You've been a thorn in my side for weeks, worthless minstrel!” She threw fire at him, sending him scurrying up a tree. “That should keep you busy for a while.” Malade grabbed Brett's arm before she could reach for the well bucket. “Oh no, stepdaughter. You're very hungry. I can see it in your eyes.”

“No,” Brett wheezed, “I'm not. I ate a lot of bread and water this morning, and I...”

“Shut up, you bitch!” Her stepmother yanked her chin upwards. “You will eat this apple.”

“I...will...no...” Brett blinked several times before Malade thrust the apple to her lips. “I'll...eat the apple...hungry...very hungry...”

“Brett!” Charles shrieked from the top of the tree. “Please, don't eat that! Put out the fire! I don't want to burn to a crisp, and I'm sure your husband doesn't, either!”

Brett didn't listen. Her eyes closed, and she opened her lips as Malade pushed the apple into her mouth. “Yes, that's a good stepdaughter. Take a nice, big bite.”

As soon as she swallowed, she gasped and fell back, clutching her stomach until she fainted. Pale skin became nearly translucent and as dry as old scroll paper. Her narrow cheekbones sunk in until they were shells of themselves. The wig fell off, revealing tumbled curls turned pure yellow-white.

“Yes!” Malade giggled as green light jumped to her hand. “Yes...so strong!” It wreathed around her as she threw off her hood. Her fingers lengthened, and her burned face filled out. Crackling flames appeared in her palms. “I'm afraid I'm going to have to get rid of you and your friend. Nothing personal, dear. You served your purpose.”

“No!” Charles screamed as he clutched the dead tree. “Leave her alone!” He sang “The Toreador's Song” from Carmen at the top of his lungs, trying to distract her, even as a flash of green and brown-gold ducked over to the well from the door.

“Stop!” She screamed, throwing her hands over her ears. “It was bad enough in the ballroom. I almost fainted in there! But this is too much!” Suddenly a stream of water splashed down on her from behind. “Ahhhhh! Who in the hell did that?”

“Oh, why don't you take a bath?” Betty scolded as she tossed water on her with the bucket from the well. “You've needed one for years.” The frog stuck his tongue out at Malade's black satin dancing pump, tugging her ankle until she toppled to the ground.

“Betty!” Charles gasped. “Your Majesty! Oh, thank heavens! I've never been so happy to see you in my life!”

She dumped water on the fire as the frog hopped around Malade, avoiding her angry grasp. “Grab what's left of Brett and get out of here!” she ordered

“One thing before we go.” Charles jumped down from the tree the moment the fire died and leaned over Malade with a nasty glare. “How can we bring Brett back?”

“Only an act of love and compassion can restore her.” She smirked evilly. “The man she loves is still covered in stone. I doubt anyone else will step in to champion that bitch. Possibly not even him. They argued like two wet hens every time they looked at each other.”

The frog stuck his slimy tongue out at her cheek, licking her down to her chin and letting slime drip off her nose. “That's not a nice thing to say about someone!”

“She wouldn't know about that.” Betty dumped one last bucket of water on Malade's head as the angry witch shrieked at the top of her lungs. “That should keep her occupied.”

“Where are we going?” Charles fussed. It was pitch-black in the passage. He clutched Brett close to him, squinting at Betty's faint outline in the dim dusty light.

“Back to the ballroom.” Betty explained as she moved along the wall. “This place is riddled with secret halls leftover from the castle that was here before they built this one. Only the royal family knows where all of them go.”

Charles made a face. “If there's phantoms and freedom fighters running around down here, I'm leaving.”

“Oh, stop.” Betty swiped at what she could see of his arm. “Don't be a baby. I know where I'm going.”

“If you know where you're going,” the frog croaked from her shoulder, “you'll remember we should be at our stop.”

She felt along the crumbling stone wall, brushing cobwebs and spiders the size of her knuckle away. “Yes, this is it. This should take us close to the ballroom. By the way,” she added as she coughed at a cloud of dust, “how did you know that? As far as I know, there's no frogs in the royal family.”

“We hear things, remember?” He hopped off her shoulder, sliding under the door with a wet squish. “It's all clear!” croaked a muffled voice from somewhere beyond the stones. “Everyone's busy in the ballroom.”

Betty pressed her finger on a loose stone. The door swung out, allowing them to stumble into the empty servant's hall that ran next to the ballroom. “Good. Now we just need to get in there without being noticed and find the others.”

“Maybe you ought to give me a kiss for good luck,” the frog rasped in Betty's ear. “You know, just in case.”

She waved him off again. “After we find the others.”

“What are you doing?” Charles fussed as she ducked through the door and into the passage.

“I have to find more help.” A hand with long slender fingers pushed Charles out as the frog hopped up her skirt. “Go find Richard and distract Malade!” The door slammed shut in his face before he could protest.