Disenchanted

by Raven, C L

  "She truly looks like a Gothic princess," Zack remarked, tossing a rose onto the coffin.

  Her pale skin was a breathtaking contrast to her black dress and nails. One by one they placed roses on the coffin then stood guard as the queen came to pay her disrespects. Wind blew kisses on their skin, gently buffeting the roses. As dawn broke night's spell, they retreated into the cabin to sleep in their own coffins, leaving Bandit to sleep like the dead.

  Stars glistened in the night's satin skin like silver bullets to ward off the vampires. They again guarded the coffin, waiting for her to wake from her eternal sleep.

  "You should be out hunting," a voice spoke.

  They glanced at the tall, muscular guy dressed in black PVC. His long coat sashayed around him as he walked. His dark hair was spiked. He removed his sunglasses, his crimson eyes glowing.

  "Well if it isn't the Nocturnal Prince," Iolo smirked. "Run out of humans in your castle have you?"

  "I heard a rumour the king's daughter was dead, as well as rumours you'd taken in a warrior princess lodger and were approving her application to becoming a vampire. It doesn't take a genius to figure out they were the same person."

  "Suppose when you've been alive as long as you have, you pick up a grain of intelligence."

  The Nocturnal Prince's eyes glowed and a small fire erupted beside Iolo. He scuttled closer to Zack.

  "She's not dead," Carl explained. "Just in a deep sleep until the antidote kicks in."

  "Open the coffin."

  "Why?" Ryan folded his arms.

  "So I can show her my stamp collection." They glared at him. "Obey me or suffer the consequences."

  Tudor opened the coffin. The Nocturnal Prince lifted Bandit out. Her head tilted back, exposing her throat. His pale fingers glided down her soft skin then he lowered her to the floor. She coughed then retched, the apple piece hitting the floor by her feet.

  "Son of a bitch," she groaned. She suddenly struggled. "Get your hands off me, perv."

  "I can grant you something your queen will never have."

  "Great sense of style? Sorry, already got that."

  "Eternal life."

  She stopped struggling. He stroked her throat. She looked at each of the vampires. They were smiling, their fangs beckoning to her.

  "You'll stay forever young. People will tremble before your power. This country's never had a vampire queen. One bite. I promise, it won't hurt."

  "Finally!" She tilted her head. "Make me a vampire."

  He smiled and lowered his mouth to her neck. She gasped and tensed as he sank his fangs in, her body weakening as he drank from her. A ruby jewel escaped, snaking down her neck and chest. He bit his wrist then put it to her mouth.

  "Drink."

  She grimaced at the taste then suddenly craved it. Her body grew stronger the more she devoured his blood. He pulled his wrist away and she spun to face him, her lips scarlet.

  "The Nocturnal Prince." He smiled.

  "Could your parents not think of a proper name?"

  "Could be worse. They could've called me Snow White." She glowered at him then disappeared into the cabin, grabbed her weapons and marched away. "Where are you going?"

  "To kill the queen."

  "Not yet." He grabbed her arm. She whirled around. "You need to adjust. Learn to use your strength and speed first. You're not a vampire yet."

  "Do I need a membership card?"

  "You have to die."

  She glanced down and saw a dagger protruding from her heart. It was her last living memory.

  ***

  Bandit leapt from the tree, landing on the jogger. He hit the ground hard. She yanked his head back, sinking her fangs into his neck. He gasped as the blood drained from him, down her throat. She moaned at the quenching of her burning thirst. The Nocturnal Prince crouched beside the jogger and placed his lips against the wound, gently sucking.

  "How'd I do?" She asked, wiping her mouth.

  "You need more finesse."

  "It's killing, not dancing."

  "You've improved tremendously. Glad you've cut out the snarling. Nobody wants to hear a princess growl."

  "Can I kill the queen?"

  "Yes. But you must learn style and grace. Monarchs have the right to be murdered artistically, not butchered by some modern Jack the Ripper."

  "I'll work in some fancy moves."

  He laughed as they headed for the cabin.

  A week passed before the Nocturnal Prince decided Bandit was ready. She armed herself and gathered the vampires around her.

  "Nobody kills the queen but me. Her arse is mine."

  "Bagsies her crown," Tudor said. The others looked at him. "This head was built for a crown."

  They left the cabin and headed for the castle. Night provided a sable shield against prying eyes. The moon hid behind a cloud.

  In the castle, a lone candle flickered. Guards patrolled outside, unaware this night was to be their last.

  "Ready?" Bandit whispered. The vampires nodded. She smiled and swung her sword. "Then it's off with her head."

  Tempting Fate

  Trees creaked, as though burdened by the suffering of a witch burned at the stake. Branches' bony fingers clawed Gypsy's hair, yanking her back to keep her prisoner for the monsters that prowled the woods after the sun's ruby blood was spilled.

  She tugged herself free then ran on, diving behind a tree before peeking around it. The derelict cottage was shrouded in darkness. The moon exposed her shadow, betraying her to watchful eyes. She ran towards it and ducked beneath the windows, listening. She crept around the corner, climbed the trellis on the wall, eased open her window and slipped inside.

  "If mum catches you, she'll kill you."

  Gypsy smiled wickedly. "Then it's a good job I have a spy." She tapped Harper's cheeks.

  "A muppet you mean. There're only so many times I can cover for you while you sneak off with Mr. Arse of the Year."

  Gypsy laughed. "I don't think his arse has won any awards. I would've seen his trophy."

  "You already have." He winked. "By the way, the parents are taking us on their annual 'Survival Skills and Orienteering' trip tomorrow."

  "You mean they're dumping us in the woods and leaving us for the bears. Why don't they just knife us in our beds?"

  "And ruin the Egyptian cotton?"

  Harper sneaked back to his own room. Gypsy unzipped her red tartan and black lace dress and slipped off her fishnet stockings before jumping into bed.

  "Harper! What are you doing out of bed?" Their mother demanded.

  "Getting a drink."

  "Why are you dressed?"

  "Because the woods are full of lusty princes waiting to catch a glimpse of a pretty young thing like myself."

  "Have you been screwing strange boys?"

  "Chance would be a fine thing."

  Gypsy winced as a loud slap echoed through the cottage.

  "Go and clean the cellar! You filthy man-whore!"

  "Honey, it's midnight, let the boy sleep," their father pleaded, his voice barely breaking a whisper.

  "If he's awake enough to have some debauched tryst with a woodcutter, he's awake enough to clean. Do you want your son shacking up with a woodcutter in the middle of nowhere?"

  "You did," Harper retorted.

  Gypsy heard Harper stomp downstairs. She was torn between wanting to rescue him, and not wanting to admit she had a boyfriend. If she confessed, her mother would probably chain her up in the cellar after ruining her face so no man would ever look at her again.

  "You dare talk back to me, you vile prick!"

  Harper tumbled down the stairs. Silence. Gypsy sat up. Harper swore then she heard the cellar door slam. She listened to their mother ranting and their father quietly begging before hearing another slap. She rolled onto her side, jamming the pillow over her ears to block out their father's muffled tears.

  She'd wait until their mother was asleep then she'd join Harper.

  A small branch tapped her window
, as if Death himself was knocking to steal her soul away into the night.

  ***

  "Hurry up Gypsy!" Her mother shouted. "If you want to be out there at dark, don't think I'll come looking for you."

  "Heaven forbid you'd ruin your manicure." Gypsy smirked as she zipped up her boots and joined her family by the door.

  Her mother grabbed her hair, yanking her head back. Gypsy grimaced.

  "I know you sneak out at night, you dirty slut," she hissed. "I can smell him on you. You think you can have your wicked way with him and I wouldn't notice? You're nothing but a cheap whore. No. You're worse. At least they get paid to spread their legs."

  "Leave her alone." Harper pulled Gypsy free. Gypsy gave him a small smile, feeling even guiltier she hadn't saved him last night. She didn't deserve him. She deserved to be the one locked in the cellar. He wouldn't have been punished if it wasn't for her.

  Harper and Gypsy followed their parents into the woods for their annual survival training expedition. Abandonment more like. The first time Harper had been eight and Gypsy six. Harper had stolen white stones from their garden and left a trail. Their furious mother forced him to live in the cellar with the rats for a week. It was the first time she'd dislocated his shoulder. Gypsy had become their mother's personal slave. Each expedition, their parents handicapped them. Sometimes they had their water taken off them, sometimes their food. Maybe this time they'd be hogtied and suspended from a tree above a pit of lava.

  After an hour, they stopped.

  "Blindfolds," their mother said.

  "Why not just retreat ten paces and shoot us?" Gypsy muttered.

  Their father blindfolded them and bound their wrists, keeping his gaze lowered. They were led deeper into the woods. Gypsy stumbled but her mother yanked her up by the rope. Its fibrous teeth gnawed her wrists.

  "Ow! Dad, Mum's hurting me. Can you tell her to loosen the rope?"

  "Don't even think about it, Malcolm," their mother snapped.

  Gypsy sighed. Snakes had more of a backbone than their father did.

  Eventually they were dragged to a stop.

  "You know the rules," their mother said.

  "Count to one hundred then remove the blindfolds to see what we've won," Harper recited, impersonating a game show host. "A date with destiny…or death. Ooh."

  She rooted through their pockets, removing their mobile phones, money, cards and the extra phone Gypsy had hidden in her bra.

  They waited, counting out loud. Trail bikes started and roared away. The woods became eerily silent, as though harbouring a sinister secret that would still haunt them when the nightmare ended.

  "Most kids moan when their parents disable their Internet," Harper said. "At least they don't have to contend with Rambo wannabes." They pushed their blindfolds off and untied their ropes with their teeth. "We've won first prize – a date with Death on a scenic woodland walk. Knew I should've picked the other box."

  He winced and rubbed his shoulder. Gypsy saw the ugly bruise on his cheek and looked away.

  "Is your shoulder ok?"

  "It popped out when I landed. I put it back in. It's fine."

  "I'm sorry."

  "It's my fault. I backchatted the bitch. Maybe I'll get lucky and find some deadly nightshade to put in her soup." He smiled then rooted through his bag. "Shit, my compass has gone."

  "I don't suppose you left a trail of breadcrumbs to lead the vultures to our dying bodies?"

  "You're never going to let me live that down. I've left a trail of ten pences, but ran out a mile back."

  "At least the squirrels will be able to make a phone call."

  Harper glowered. "I don't see you contributing to the Save Our Lives Foundation."

  "I texted Brandon earlier and said 'if you don't hear from me by midnight, send out search and rescue. If I'm captured and eaten by cannibals because you didn't come, you can forget about me wearing that PVC catsuit'."

  "Thanks for spamming me with that image."

  "Aw I'm sorry, did I chase away your fantasy of being rescued by Johnny Depp on a white charger?"

  "It's not his horse I want a ride on." He winked. She laughed. "This way."

  Beneath the corpses of leaves, concealed roots crouched to trip them. Trees extended their gnarled arms to ensnare them and keep them captive until new life sprouted from their decomposing remains. Birds watched as the forest lured them to its dark heart.

  After an hour, Gypsy sat on a fallen log and folded her arms. "Admit it, we're lost."

  "We're not lost if we can still be seen by satellite."

  "Harper, we're in woodland, satellite can't see us."

  "Why d'you always have to be a gloom cookie? We were walking for two hours, which means we're halfway home."

  "Unless we're heading in the opposite direction. I haven't seen any of your ten pences, Moneybags."

  "Maybe Robin Hood took them. If you're so smart, you pick the route. Then I can whinge about wanting to be in bed with Mr. Arse of the Year."

  "He doesn't like boys." Gypsy poked her tongue out.

  Harper tossed a stick at her then trudged after her.

  Night seeped across the sky, spreading its poison through the light. Its toxins were felt throughout the woodland, silencing the birds and awakening the creatures of the dark.

  "Now we're lost," Harper said. "Though I'm pretty sure your foul temper has been picked up by NASA's thermal imaging."

  Gypsy slapped him. "My feet hurt."

  "So do my ears. At least you haven't been up all night, trying to clean a cellar with a dislocated shoulder."

  "I said sorry. You can't make me feel any guiltier than I do already."

  "I'm not trying to make you feel guilty. I'm glad one of us can escape that shithole. Besides, big brothers are supposed to protect their wayward little sisters."

  "There's a light over there."

  "Ooh, a strange hut in the middle of the woods. That can't possibly be hiding cannibalistic inbreds." He gasped. "Maybe it's housing Snow White and the seven dwarves! Pervy, Sleazy, Spanky, Humpy, Gimp, Bondage and Striptease."

  "I'm having Spanky. You want to get eaten by bears, please yourself." Gypsy stalked towards the light.

  "I'd rather be eaten by bears than inbred cannibals! Haven't you learnt anything from horror films? It's never an easy death!" Gypsy turned and poked her tongue out. "Gypsy! They have hooks and chainsaws! Fine! I'm having Striptease!"

  Harper growled then jogged after her. The trees parted, revealing a gingerbread house. They walked across Love Heart stepping stones to a wafer biscuit porch supported by red and white candy canes. The roof was covered in a thick layer of icing and chocolate sprinkles with a Flake chimney. The decking was laid with Kit Kats. The window lead was liquorice, the door a Penguin bar. A windchime made from sticks of rock swung in the breeze.

  "You've got to be kidding me." Harper laughed. "If a little old lady lives here, you're on your own."

  "Relax, it's plastic." Gypsy knocked the door. "See?" She removed the candy necklace doorknocker and bit it. "Son of a bitch!" She cradled her teeth.

  Harper laughed. "Looks like the money for your tattoo will be paying your dental bill. This is seriously messed up. I bet a paedo lives here." He adopted a creepy voice. "Oh chillllldrennnn, don't you want to lick my candy cane?"

  "There's an offer I can't refuse." They jumped. A young man stood in the doorway. He had short, dark hair, a five o'clock shadow and enticing silver eyes. He wore ripped jeans and a frayed black t-shirt.

  "I wonder if he'll let me suck his gobstopper," Harper whispered. Gypsy smirked. "Be still my beating heart."

  "Hi. We're lost." Gypsy smiled. "Do you know the way to Grimley's cottage?"

  "Sorry, I don't. I only come out here for a break. I'm in the middle of doing this place up."

  She stepped back and looked at the house. "Thinking of adding a Smarties ball pit?"

  He laughed. "I was going to build a chocolate fountain but I like the ball pit idea."
>
  "D'you have a phone we can use?"

  "Sure, come in." He turned and walked away.

  Harper grabbed Gypsy's arm. "I'm not sure about this."

  "He's gorgeous."

  "Exactly. When have you ever seen someone that hot in real life? It's clearly the work of witchcraft."

  "Why aren't you in a secure institution yet?" She shook her head and entered the house.

  "They rejected my application. Anyway, Queen of Tarts, you're taken."

  "That's like saying because I have a car I can't admire the shiny new ones in the showroom."

  "He could still be a cannibal."

  "At least he's not inbred."

  Harper hesitated then followed. Astro Belts carpeted the floor. A large ring pop chandelier with Easter egg lights swung from the ceiling like a condemned man on the gallows. The stairs and bannisters were crafted from Cadbury's Fingers. The guy passed Gypsy a phone made out of candy lips.

  "How long have you lived here?" Harper asked.

  "It's been in my family for generations. This is my first visit. My mother didn't want it so she passed it on to me. This sweet theme's a bit...creepy. I keep expecting to find Oompa-Loompas lurking round the corner and bursting into a song like I'm in a demented musical."

  Gypsy dialled Brandon's number. She held the phone away as piercing static assaulted her ear.

  "Sorry, the reception's terrible. Try that room down there." He gestured to an Animal Bar door.

  She opened it and walked down steps, through another door into a barren room. The door shut. She whirled around. There was no handle on the inside.

  "Do you want something to eat? Drink?" He asked Harper, leading him further inside.

  "We brought supplies."

  He eyed Harper. "You need fattening up."

  "I have a great metabolism." Harper self-consciously hitched his jeans up. "What's it like living in a gingerbread house?"

  "Embarrassing. Kids and pot heads try to eat it. A hose usually sees them off."

  Harper smiled. "I'm Harper. My sister's Gypsy."

  "Nice names. Very unusual. I'm Drake." He gestured to a candy necklace hammock.

  "Is that gonna break?" Harper sat carefully.

  "It's never snapped. No matter how hard I try."