The Twisted Fairy Tale Box Set

by Holly Hook

  The cave smell took over now. I crept closer to the basket, brushing Alric's leg. I'd never been this close to the guy. I knew Russet and Ebony were still out there, waiting. If I woke Alric up, I would endanger them both.

  I caught the handle of the basket in my teeth and lifted it. The wine bottle made it heavy, and it sloshed inside, but I didn't dare drop it. I turned and exited the tent, my stuff in tow. A sense of victory washed over me as I emerged into the night air. Ebony and Russet waited by the dying fire, and Russet's eyes lit up with amazement.

  That was too easy, I thought.

  The owl hooted again, and this time it was much closer. The sound of flapping wings met my ears right before the impact came.

  Feathers exploded in my face, and I dropped the basket. Claws ripped at my nose and pain flared. I smelled blood--my blood. The owl screeched, trying to alert Alric, and a groan came from the tent. He was waking. I had to grab the basket and get out of here. I backed away, flattening my ears, but the owl wouldn't let up. I retreated towards the tent, towards where Alric was rousing.

  Someone growled, and the owl let out another screech as they pulled it away. Russet had the owl by the wing, and it thrashed to get away, but it was making more noise. I grabbed the basket again, trying to ignore the burning pain all over my face. My nose. At least my eyes were okay, but every time I breathed, I felt like my nose was going to rip apart. The owl had done a number on it.

  Ebony brushed up against me. Run.

  "Ah!" Alric shouted. He cast off his blanket, and it landed next to me.

  It was too late.

  Alric blinked. He stood there in long underwear, and his cave smell grew overwhelming, washing over even the smoke. The owl flew off, disappearing into the trees and dripping blood while Russet stood there and watched. Feathers fluttered to the ground. Alric wasn't all the way awake yet. He'd been counting on his owl guard to alert him if we showed up.

  "You," he said, focusing his gaze on Russet. His voice grew darker than I'd ever heard it. "You hurt Peggy. Come here."

  Russet stared and then stepped closer. His black eyes glazed over.

  No! Ebony thought. She went to move in front of him, but Russet pushed past her. He was going right to Alric. Alric had him under his spell, and I had the feeling the magician had something else in mind than turning Russet to his side. The rage burned in the man's eyes. Somewhere, Peggy hooted in pain. Her blood mixed with Alric's scent and the smoke.

  My heart pounded. Russet was almost to him. The pain flared across my face again, but I ignored it.

  I dropped the basket and jumped at the magician. He turned too late.

  "Gah!" he shouted.

  I snapped at him. I didn't know what I was doing, but I had to keep him from killing Russet. Alric fell to the ground and raised his hands to defend himself, but not before I found his shoulder and bit.

  Wool and fiber parted, and I found his skin. Blood leaked out, and before I could finish, something rammed into me from the side, and I fell off Alric. Ebony stood there, pinning him down while he seethed and grabbed his injured shoulder. Russet brushed past her, free of his spell, and seized the basket which still lay on the ground.

  Run, he thought. Now.

  Russet bolted for the cover of the trees and Ebony followed. I took one more look at Alric, who lay on the ground with his face closed in pain, and I knew I had to take the opportunity.

  I ran after the others, leaving the evil wizard behind.

  Chapter Eleven

  We didn't stop running until we had passed the dark spot and gotten most of the way back to the settlement. Russet stopped and panted, dropping the basket on the ground. The moon had sunk lower in the sky, and I guessed it might be three in the morning. We had spent half the night going to Alric's camp and back.

  I could tell my cuts had swollen. My pulse pounded through them. I had taken a beating in the last twenty-four hours. The deer, and now that horrible owl that I had never suspected would be in the way. How could a bird have done this to me?

  Russet faced me. You shouldn't have done that.

  What? I thought. It was getting late. I had to get back to the cave before someone woke if they hadn't already. Attack Alric? He was about to kill you.

  Russet hung his head as if ashamed of this whole thing.

  I didn't kill him. Just hurt him.

  Ebony butted in. Red saved your life.

  I know she did. Russet faced me. Alric will come after us. He is a very vengeful man. And now, perhaps a more powerful one.

  Russet picked up the basket and continued. I followed and realized we were passing the pile of bones. We weren't heading back down to the settlement. Instead, Russet was taking me back to the cave.

  Thanks, I thought. I still didn't know what I needed in the basket, but I'd trust Gray's judgment on this.

  We walked for another couple of miles and at last, came to the same cave where Macon was still snoring away, and Tate was passed out from exhaustion. They had no idea where I had gone all night, and I'd have to explain it to the two of them when they woke.

  I wasn't sure I wanted to tell Tate I'd attacked a guy, even if it was Alric.

  And I didn't want to tell Macon. He might decide to put an arrow through my heart.

  You can sleep now, Ebony thought. I hope we will see you again.

  The two of them vanished back into the trees before I could thank them again.

  I found I was disappointed that they were gone, that I might not get to meet them in human form, ever.

  My muscles still sang from the long run through the woods. I set the basket down next to Tate. I tried to lie down and close my eyes, putting my body between the basket and the cave entrance, but I couldn't calm down. I kept watching the darkness and waiting for something to emerge from the underbrush or the trees, but nothing ever came. Alric and that horrible owl were miles away, and I wasn't sure if they could find the way here. They must have known we were camping close to the edge of the trail.

  There was no trace of him in the wind. Him, or the injured owl.

  But at last, I closed my eyes.

  I ran through the woods, freer than I had ever felt in my life. There was no one to tell me what to do or that what I was doing was dangerous.

  It had almost been enjoyable.

  The pain on my face faded as darkness pulled me into its depths, and at last, I think I fell asleep.

  * * * * *

  "Red, why are you on the ground like that?"

  Tate shook me, and I woke. Daylight had come, and I breathed in, but there was very little pain around my nose now. I rubbed my face with my hand and blinked. Tate stood above me, leather jacket squeaking as he shook me again.

  "I'm awake," I said.

  Macon yawned next to us. "I'm tired," he said. "Someone had to keep watch all night. At least we have only one more day of this."

  "Then maybe you can tell us how this basket got back here," Tate said. He held it up. "Since you were awake all night."

  Macon seized the basket. "This is a trap."

  "It's not," I said.

  But he took it out of the cave as if it were swarming with poisonous spiders. He checked inside and pulled out the bottle of wine with the knife, but nothing else except a crumbling biscuit.

  "It's fine," I said.

  Macon said nothing. "You never know here in Fable," he said. "Alric could have planted something terrible in here." Then he put on his lecture face. "Here's what might have happened. Sometimes, in Fable, animals help out with quests. It appears to be the case. Perhaps some fox found our basket and brought it back during the night."

  I sat up. I still wore my red hoodie. It was the color of blood. Alric's blood and that deer's blood. Last night seemed like a distant dream, but I rubbed my nose and discovered a small scratch there, left over from the owl attack. I was healing fast. I took a deep breath and couldn't even feel my busted rib anymore.

  On exiting the cave, I searched around for Ebony and Russet but found
no trace of them. They had gone back to the settlement far back in the woods. Maybe they had even evacuated it. I couldn't blame them. Alric was in the area, and he could catch all of them at home if he wanted.

  I didn't want Gray and the others to go dark.

  Not like my parents. My eyes welled thinking about them and what they might have been like before that.

  And today was the day. I would face my grandmother in a state she had worked her whole life to avoid.

  Macon looked down the road and handed the basket to Tate. "We need to walk several more hours," he said. "Then we'll be at her cottage. The forest will get darker and darker on the way there. We're at the start of the transition zone."

  "The what?" Tate asked.

  I shrunk back. If Macon thought some cute fox had brought back our basket, I would let him believe that. His vow to defend himself from me if needed still rang through my mind.

  "The border of the dark region. There's no line on the ground and no sign to tell you when you're in it. It'll just grow more and more foreboding the farther we go. Fable is fluid that way. There are no hard borders anywhere."

  And Macon picked up his bow, put it on his back, and led the way.

  I linked my hand with Tate's, and he kissed me on the cheek. I couldn't detect his scent too well now. I'd been back on two legs for too long. I didn't bother to remove the red hoodie. It would continue to follow me until I saw this through.

  I might as well own it.

  The morning started out bright, but as we walked, the sky seemed to get more overcast until I swore it was about to rain, but no drops ever came down. The trees' leaves grew a darker and darker shade of green. I'd seen this process starting late yesterday, and Macon was right that we were in some transition zone. A feeling of dread slowly crept in under my stomach, and Tate's hand grew colder in mine. He might be feeling it, too.

  We were heading right into Alric's lair. The region that he did have control over.

  "Look," I told Tate. "You can turn back. I don't want to hurt you when we get to the dark region." If that dark spot had made me transform, the whole region would for sure. It could turn me evil. I could attack Tate, and I'd never deal with myself if that happened.

  He tightened his grip on my hand. "I'm in this with you. Besides, I'm not part of this story. It's time to shake it up a bit."

  "But Grandma and I are supposed to be consumed by evil before our curse gets broken," I told him. "What else could Mary have meant? And if I don't attack you, Grandma could."

  Tate went quiet. He glanced down at the knife the basket held and pulled it out. The bone handle looked worse than ever, and the details of the skulls and eyes popped. Maybe it was because we were getting closer to the dark region. "This both casts and removes curses," Tate said. "It freed Macon from his. Maybe this can work for you, and you don't have to transform anymore."

  You are not cursed. Gray's words rang through my mind. I'd been born like this. "I don't know if it's going to happen that way. Maybe it can reverse the spell of turning evil?"

  "Red, if you don't have a curse, I don't know what it is."

  I went silent. Macon didn't even say anything. I'd expected him to launch into another lecture, but maybe the foreboding sense of doom was keeping him quiet. I almost missed it. Things were different today.

  We could all die today.

  Or worse--become Alric's slaves.

  I hoped the guy was injured enough to slow him down and he wouldn't be there when we got to the cottage where Grandma was supposed to live.

  But I knew that was a long shot.

  * * * * *

  "This is getting worse," I said.

  The forest had taken on a dark green hue, and the sky looked like it was going to open up with rain for sure, but still, no drops came down. On closer inspection, I realized the color wasn't from clouds at all. It was the natural color of the sky.

  Some of the trees had turned skeletal, and pale beams of sunlight still managed to make it to the ground in places. The flowers had grown duller as if we were walking into an area where someone was draining the color. It still wasn't as bad as the dark spots, but the more we walked, the more the dread feeling rose in my gut. I didn't like this.

  "I agree," Tate said. "Even the animals are gone."

  All through our journey, we had seen foxes, hares, squirrels, and birds all over the place and not a single one of them had tried to attack us. Now there was nothing except for some occasional crows and ravens hopping around on the ground or calling to each other in the trees. I expected to find them feeding on some dead body somewhere, but at least that didn't happen. I kept rubbing my hands over my arms to make sure no itch was exploding across my skin. Check. At least I wasn't in danger of a transformation here because if that happened and this place turned me aggressive, things would go downhill quick.

  We passed a couple of tulips growing along the trail. The red had been leached out of their blossoms as if they were in a TV where someone had turned down the saturation. A crow landed in the middle of the road, cawed at us, and flew off as if warning us not to go any further. Macon got out his bow and aimed at it.

  "Come on, man," Tate told him. "It's just a bird."

  "Birds can be dangerous in the dark region," Macon said. "You have to watch out for them."

  I said nothing, but I agreed. I rubbed my nose again, but the small scratch was gone.

  A twig snapped somewhere.

  Macon turned, bow ready and freaked out. But at least we had someone with a weapon, even if he was no good at shooting it. Heck, it might be better if I took the bow. I'd at least shot those arrows they made us fire at targets in high school. I might do a better job.

  "Something is out there," he said, "and it might be getting closer."

  I went silent. I hated that we had to trust Macon right now, but my senses weren't as sharp as they'd been yesterday. Perhaps moon phases had to do with how good they were, and they'd continue to wane right along with it. Still, I searched the forest around us and heard another snap. There was no other sound.

  And then I spotted a large, dark shape somewhere in the trees.

  "There," I said, pointing.

  Macon turned and pointed his bow at it. The blob moved, and I couldn't tell its shape from all the underbrush around it, but it was getting closer. And bigger. Yes. The animal was headed our way for sure.

  "It's a boar," Macon said. "Quick. Climb a tree. I'll deal with this. I've dealt with many boars, and they can be very aggressive. Especially here."

  The boar broke into a run and slowed again. At last, it emerged onto the road, and Macon still didn't shoot at it. And then I saw why.

  The boar wasn't a threat to us. It bled in multiple places. On the back of its head, streaming from a bite wound. On a leg. And on its face.

  I winced. This boar was in no shape to attack us. It looked up at Macon with big eyes, almost as if begging him to shoot the arrow and end its misery. It took another step, and collapsed on the road, leaving a blood trail behind it. Its side heaved up and down in agony.

  "It's dying," Macon told us as if we couldn't figure that out. "I don't think I need to shoot it."

  But then something else charged into the clearing.

  A dark brown wolf, with hackles raised and red-black eyes.

  It wasn't a wolf I had seen before. It charged the boar, growling and snapping its teeth. The wolf bit at the boar's back over and over as if trying to inflict as much pain as it could to the animal. The boar moaned in pain as more open wounds appeared on its back, spurting blood. Tate and I backed up into the weeds.

  Stop, I thought to the wolf.

  But it didn't respond. It raked its claws across the flesh of the boar. Why wasn't the wolf just going for its throat? It was the fastest way to kill it and put it out of its misery. But this wolf was taking its time. Maybe even enjoying the torture. Macon stood there, bow raised, not sure when to shoot. The boar continued to groan.

  And was this a regular wolf or
a werewolf caught too close to the dark region? Its eyes weren't as red as the ones on the wolf Alric had enslaved. This one inhabited the middle ground.

  I rushed up to Macon. The wolf, absorbed in the torture, didn't even notice. I seized his bow and caught Macon glowering at me. The weapon was heavy in my hands, but I drew back the arrow and aimed at the boar on the ground. I let the arrow fly, which pierced the boar's chest with a thunk. There was one final groan from the animal, and then it went silent.

  The wolf stopped and glared at me.

  It was almost as if it was saying you spoiled my fun.

  Then the wolf stood. It made no effort to eat its prey. This wolf had killed it for enjoyment, just as Macon had wanted to kill the deer for its antlers.

  It may or may not attack me.

  “Shoot it!” Tate shouted at me. But I couldn't move. Macon was silent. Shaking. Scared. I had the idea that he’d never faced an actual evil wolf before.

  A low growl sounded in the wolf’s throat. It didn’t try to communicate with me after that. I stepped forward. I might be the only thing keeping this wolf from attacking Tate. And Macon.

  “Stop,” I said. “You don’t have to be like this. If you go down the road the way we came, you’ll feel better.”

  The wolf took one step closer to me, a low rumble sounding from its throat.

  And Tate seized my shoulder from behind.

  He pulled me back, and I went flying into him. The wolf jumped, all sharp teeth and claws. It didn’t care what I was or what any of us were. It was so crazed that nothing mattered but killing anymore.

  The bow snapped, and an arrow flew. This time Macon’s aim was good. The wolf jumped over Tate and me and yelped as a point shot right through its hind leg. Droplets of blood flew as the wolf landed on the other side of us in a heap. It scrambled to its feet and limped away through the trees, growling the whole way and leaving the dead boar behind. The air smelled of metal. Its blood and the wolf’s blood.