The Twisted Fairy Tale Box Set

by Holly Hook

  And meanwhile, the itch grew a bit more intense. This place wasn't light at all. It was just as dark as the rest of it. The light was a lie. So was the carpet and the TV and even the scene outside.

  Footsteps crept in behind me. Grandma's bedroom door stayed shut. My pulse raced in my ears, and I could smell Tate's coppery fear again, and Macon's bark and armpits smell. We were all nervous.

  I reached the door.

  Paused and took in a breath.

  I pushed the door open just a tiny bit.

  It creaked, giving away its real age, even though the door never made noise in the other world. Grandma's lavender bedcovers came into view along with her pink curtains. Sunlight streamed in through them, casting the bed in a glow of the same color.

  The blankets were pulled over a large, sleeping form in the bed, completely covering it. The shape wasn't right. Not for Grandma. A low, scary breath came from under the sheet.

  Macon gulped. He raised his bow next to me.

  "Don't shoot," I whispered. I set the basket down on the ground, not sure why. Then I took out the knife just in case. I wanted something in my hand. Anything. The itch still covered my body, but I was nowhere close to changing yet. A migraine hadn't even started.

  For a second, I wanted it to happen. I could defend myself better in the other shape.

  With the knife raised and Macon at my back, I approached the bed, but then Tate pushed in front of me, grabbed the cover, and pulled it back.

  The sight was just as horrible as I'd imagined.

  No. Worse.

  The wolf lying there in the middle of the bed was the same one who had attacked the boar that morning. The dark brown one.

  Complete with eyes more red than black and an arrow wound in its leg that had already started to heal.

  I backed away and so did Tate, ramming into me. The wolf lifted its head.

  Growled.

  There was no other communication. The wolf stood on all four legs and glared at me with so much hatred that it withered my heart.

  It wasn't her. Not Grandma. It couldn't be.

  The wolf opened its mouth, revealing all its teeth. They were sharp. Very white, almost unused. Its brown fur stood on its back, and I wanted to scream at Macon to shoot. But the wolf jumped off the bed before I could and stretched as if some spasm had seized its entire body.

  Tate and I backed into the wall. The wolf grew in size, fur retracting into the skin, and I held my breath. It stood taller, molding into the figure of a human, and on the other side of a blink, a man stood there.

  A man in a red and black robe with the hood pulled over his face.

  He reached up. Dropped his hood, which collapsed around his shoulders.

  It was Alric himself.

  He trembled like he was in some internal struggle. The man stared me down with just as much loathing as he had in wolf form.

  I didn't understand. Alric wasn't--

  He took a step towards us. Macon dropped his bow. I still clutched the knife, but what good would it do me against the most powerful magician in Fable?

  "See what you've done to me?" he asked. "What you have taken from me?"

  I tried to smash into the wall, but it was no use. Macon made no effort to pick up his bow. He could shoot Alric right now. But either Macon couldn't move, or he was too terrified to attempt. Stilt had said something about Alric freezing you.

  "See?" Alric roared in my face. The cave smell hit me, and the cold magic wrapped around me, then wavered again. The magician trembled. Alric was having trouble controlling it. "Don't you understand, girl?"

  "Understand what?" I managed.

  Alric stepped back, not taking his gaze off me. He reached up and tapped his shoulder, his injured one. Then, disgusted that I still didn't get it, he rolled up the sleeve of his robe along with the sleeve of a red shirt that he wore underneath.

  The bite marks were still there, pink and angry and healing.

  Tate faced me. "You bit this guy?"

  Alric yanked his sleeve back down as if ashamed of it. "You gave me your disease," he snarled in my face. "Even I, an experienced shapeshifter, cannot resist it and the effects of the dark region." He lifted a fist and showed all his teeth. "I will not be a simple beast!"

  I wanted to throw up. I had caused this.

  "Where is my grandmother?" I asked.

  "She's run away," Alric said. "I was going to allow the two of you to serve me and invite you into my ranks, but that's changed now. You've destroyed my life. I will tear out your throat. Or better yet, I will make you tear out your gentleman friend's throat first. I'll give you a few moments to regret what you've done, to feel the evil taking over your body before I destroy you."

  Tate backed away. This plan was why they wanted him. He was here to turn me bad.

  The cold magic wrapped around me and the horrible itch spread across my body. Alric was forcing me to transform. A migraine exploded across my face. The magician trembled as he held his transformation back and the magic wavered again. He was losing concentration. A bit of hair sprouted on his face, then retracted again.

  I could move. I grabbed Tate's hand and dodged out of the room, pushing past Macon. Macon picked up his bow and fired a shot. The arrow hit something with a thunk.

  The pain faded, but the itch stayed as bad as ever. Tate and I stopped in the kitchen to wait for Alric.

  A growl sounded from the bedroom, and I knew Alric had lost control again. He would destroy us all. It was my fault.

  Macon bolted down the hallway, bow in hand. His face had lost all color. He'd closed the bedroom door, but claws scraped against it. Growling cut over everything. Alric couldn't use magic in that form, but he didn't need to.

  "We need to go," Macon said.

  "But my grandmother!" It would do no good to go without her. She must still be alive and not all the way dark. The whole forest--and I--would have gone dark if she had died.

  "We can't look for her now," Macon said. "Alric said she ran off."

  The clawing got worse on the door. Alric had lost his ability to use doorknobs. He'd break out soon. Even if we got out of here, he'd hunt us down.

  He might even kill my grandmother.

  And then he would win.

  I gulped. "We need to fight Alric." My headache was creeping back. Alric's magic had brought me closer to the change. He couldn't turn me evil while in wolf form, could he?

  Tate got in front of me and grabbed my arms. "You're not thinking about it. Please say no." Behind him, Alric rammed into the bedroom door.

  It cracked.

  "It's the only chance we have." I handed Tate the knife. "You need to cut Alric. It should remove his curse. And then Macon needs to kill him."

  Macon reached for his ax. He said nothing. Tate hesitated.

  My migraine intensified. I might not survive this.

  And then the world blurred together and every sound exploded in my ears.

  It was upon me. The change.

  Joints popped. Pain rippled. Tate shouted something. I fell to my knees and dropped the knife. A blob that might have been Tate picked it up.

  The world snapped back into place, and the house was taller around me. The cracking sound exploded from the door as I took a step forward, getting used to my legs. I was smaller than Alric. Less fierce. More crazed. He'd been in this semi-dark area for longer than me.

  I looked up at Tate and Macon. They held their weapons ready, and Macon swallowed. I nodded to tell them that I had this, but I wasn't sure.

  The door splintered down the hall, and a dark brown wolf snout came out. A scent like burning wood came out with it. Alric's rage. It mixed with Tate's fear and made a smell that I would never forget.

  The snout retracted, and another thump sounded, and then the door fell right off its hinges. Alric, the wolf, jumped through and a bit of blood seeped out on his snout. He faced us. His eyes had turned even redder. Soon he would forget he also had a human form and that he was the magician who wanted
all of Fable. But he would be no less dangerous.

  And he walked towards us, step by step.

  Macon backed up a bit. Alric was expecting me to make the first move. It was there in his eyes. They were bloodthirsty. He wouldn't kill me fast. I would be like the boar, suffering while he tortured it.

  And then Alric lost all control and lunged.

  I moved out of the way and let him slide across the linoleum and into the fridge. He rammed into it so hard that the door popped open and a package of kale fell to the floor. Alric stood there and shook his head while Tate held the knife out, drawing closer. But Alric turned his head and faced him. Growled.

  I took the chance. I leaped at Alric and snapped at the back of his neck. My teeth found flesh and Tate jumped back as Alric thrashed, trying to throw me off. Macon shouted at me to move, but I couldn't. Already the darkness of this area crept into me. It made me want to snap and keep my grip. Alric had done something terrible to my grandmother. He needed to pay.

  Alric growled and raked his claws on the kitchen floor. He thrashed so hard that I couldn't keep my grip. He was bigger than me, almost twice my size. I flew back, sliding against the floor, and Tate moved in with the knife. He stabbed, but Alric recovered just in time and closed his jaws around his forearm.

  Tate swore and dropped the knife. Blood leaked out. The smell filled the room. He was going to kill my boyfriend. Going to tear his arm right off. I jumped, landing on Alric's back again, and he let go of Tate's arm. Macon shoved Tate out of the way, and blood dripped. Tate seethed. I snapped at Alric again, but he thrashed so hard that I couldn't land another bite. I fell off and landed on my side. Alric swiped at me with a massive paw and pain streaked across my nose.

  And then he focused all his attention on me.

  The world became all growling and canines and fur and blood. Tate's cries grew far away. Alric swiped at me again, and the world exploded, then went black.

  Joints popped. More pain spread through my body. My shape was changing again, back to human form. Sounds amplified and Tate's cries of pain mixed in with cursing and Macon telling him to keep the pressure on the wound. Alric growled. I'd been knocked out for a second, knocked out as I had with the deer.

  No, I thought.

  I needed my wolf form right now.

  Alric leaped on me. Claws dug into my shoulders. I was dead. I blinked and saw nothing but red eyes over me. It was death. It was evil and agonizing and bloody.

  Glass shattered.

  And then another form rammed into Alric from the side.

  A lighter colored wolf, smaller than him but just as fierce.

  Alric yelped and toppled away from me. The second wolf snapped at him while Macon and Tate dodged out of the way. I must be dreaming. Maybe I was dead already, and this was just my brain shutting down.

  But I climbed back into full consciousness, aware of the throbbing across my nose. I was alive. The pain meant life.

  And the two wolves wrestled: one dark brown and the other grayish-blond. The gray-blond wolf was smaller, with eyes halfway between red and black.

  It was Grandma.

  It had to be.

  I sat upright when Alric bucked her off in his craze. She landed against a chair and yelped. He turned his attention back to me and leaped again. Macon ran forward with his ax, but slipped on some blood on the floor and went down. Grandma struggled to her feet, and the weight of the wolf landed on me again. I held up an arm to defend myself, but he bit right into it, bringing his teeth down with so much force that I felt my bones crack.

  There was no pain. Only shock. I wouldn't live long enough for the pain to register. I flailed around as Tate screamed my name and appeared above me, beating at the wolf with his fists. He was just as injured as I.

  My hand met bone and iron.

  The knife.

  I wrapped my hand around it and jabbed it right into Alric's side as hard as I could.

  He yelped and fell away.

  I got up, cradling my arm. It was hanging at a strange angle. Alric turned in a circle on the floor, trying to dislodge the knife from his side with his teeth, but it was no use. Dust rose from him. Then smoke curled up from his wound. The blade fell away as his skin peeled back, revealing black and red underneath--the colors of his robe.

  His wolf skin crumbled and fell away, turning to dust.

  And Alric was left lying there, curled up into a ball like a baby. He was out. Unconscious. The knife with the bone handle was lying next to him without so much as a trace of blood.

  I had removed his curse.

  I stood there, arm hanging at a strange angle just under my elbow, with blood seeping out and dripping onto the floor. Shock overtook me. Macon rushed over and opened kitchen drawers until he found one with Grandma's towels. He took one out and wrapped it around my arm, then tossed one to Tate. Behind us, Grandma growled. She advanced on the unconscious Alric like she was about to tear out his throat, then stopped.

  She looked up at me.

  "Don't kill him," I begged her. "He's human now. You'll turn dark."

  Grandma turned away and took another step towards him. I lunged forward and grabbed her by her shoulder blades. It was no easy feat. My busted arm screamed, and I dropped the towel. "No!" I shouted. "I'm sorry I went to Disney World. I am. Let's get you out of here before the Watchers get back and then Macon's going to shoot Alric. We're almost rid of him."

  "Actually," Macon said, advancing. "I don't know if arrows will kill this man. He's too powerful. King Henrik was immortal due to all the gold and magic that he had and now that Alric has all of that--"

  "Just shoot him!" Tate shouted. "Then we need to go!"

  Macon trembled.

  Pulled an arrow back and let it fly.

  It plunged into Alric's chest with a sickening sound. Alric gagged and then thrashed on the floor, still unconscious but in pain. His cold magic flared as he rolled over and grasped at the arrow in his chest. Did the man have a heart?

  I didn't want to stay to find out. I grabbed the knife and turned away. I couldn't watch this.

  Grandma seemed satisfied. She turned away and led me back towards the door. Why wouldn't Grandma talk to me? She could. I knew she understood me.

  I grabbed the towel off the floor and wrung it back around my ruined arm. It would heal. I knew it would. But Tate had a matching injury, and he was human. His wouldn't stitch itself up anytime soon.

  Or would it?

  Macon looked ready to throw up. We piled out the front door and onto the perfect lawn. It was wavering now, and I caught flashes of tall grass and prickly weeds. Alric's magic was going haywire. He might be dying. Or not.

  But we had to leave. Grandma bounded across the lawn and towards the trees as if she didn't want us to see her this way. She was partly dark. We had to get her back to the light region and out of the border area.

  "Wait!" I shouted at her. "Come with us. Please. I'm sorry."

  She stopped and faced me.

  A bit more black crept into her eyes.

  "I know why you did all those things you did," I told her, running to catch up. I tried to ignore the horrendous pain in my arm, but it was hard. The sleeve of my hoodie was bloody. Torn. The itch was returning, too, but I didn't fear it anymore. There was nothing I could do about it, anyway. "And I still love you."

  She stood there. I waited for her voice to echo in my mind, but it never did.

  She was ashamed of this. She always had been, and that wasn't going to change.

  I turned to Macon. "I think we need that sleeping draught. She needs that." It would make her change back. I needed to speak to her.

  Macon nodded and ran back to the cottage. He must not have run into any problems with Alric, because he came back out seconds later, basket in hand. "Alric's still," Macon said. "He might be dead after all. We should have her drink this, and then we'll take her back into the light region."

  But Grandma was turning away again, stalking back into the forest, head lowered.


  She felt like a failure. Like she had screwed up and let me down.

  "Stop," I begged, trailing after her. I didn't know what would happen to her if she just wandered around. "It's okay. I know it's not, but it is. I'm just glad to have you back."

  And then she finally spoke.

  I only wanted you to have the life I always wanted. But instead, I made you live in prison.

  She continued walking. I had to stop her. "Grandma--I told you it's okay. I don't blame you for doing what you did. You knew Alric was here and that he'd come after us. You did the right thing. All this was just the story catching up with us."

  I wanted you to have the life of an ordinary girl. One I never had.

  "I never did."

  And she stopped and looked at me again. The red fought against the black in her eyes.

  Could I go back to that prison made of kale and glass? That world without anything wild?

  The thought was unbearable now.

  "And this is okay. I had a good adventure here."

  And besides, I could think of no way out of Fable right now. Tate was here with me.

  I think I need to sleep for a bit.

  Grandma walked towards me. Macon uncorked the wine bottle with the knife, and the bitter smell came out. I could see the grimace in Grandma's eyes.

  Macon leaned down. Let the red liquid pour. Grandma lapped it up, lay down, and closed her eyes. She breathed slowly, and I sat down next to her.

  "We had better go," Macon said. "As soon as she changes back, we'll need to carry her. Tate and I should make a blanket sling so she can sleep while we get her out of here."

  The itching grew a bit worse again. The change was trying to creep back, but the fear was gone. Alric might be dead. I had no reason to obey anymore, to stay on the narrow little trail. My story had finished the way it should.

  I was free.

  Macon took his ax out and ran back inside the cottage. Tate shuffled closer to me. Grandma grew more relaxed and breathed more slowly.

  "You know," he said. "I got bit."

  "I know you did. Your sleeve looks horrible."

  He held it up. Blood had crusted around the tatters of his leather sleeve. His steampunk jacket. "I'm sure the elf guy can fix that. But I got bit."