With a Kiss

by Stephanie Fowers

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  They stole little Bridget

  For seven years long;

  When she came down again

  Her friends were all gone.

  They took her lightly back

  Between the night and morrow;

  They thought she was fast asleep,

  But she was dead with sorrow.

  —William Allingham, The Fairies

  "I don't know what to do," Hobs said. "Can you hear me, Habonde?" He tried again. "Halley?" I felt his lips on mine, and my cheeks bloomed. It was the only way to describe it. "Let this crown you queen," he breathed.

  My memories came rushing back to me. Were they memories, or glimpses of the future? I didn't know why I still had one. I sat in my faded jeans on a cold park bench and crossed one worn fur-lined boot across the other and leaned against . . . Hobs? With a start, I realized it was him as soon as he put his arm around me. His heat put a jolt through me—it was warm. I never thought I'd feel any warmth again, let alone his.

  The snow floated down over us. Everything was white and beautiful . . . back home on Main Street. What were we doing in Omak? I didn't know Washington existed for me anymore. Piles of plowed snow took over the parking lot across the street from the cinema. I recognized the slush-covered roads, though I had never seen such a harsh winter in my hometown, not since my presence cursed it with too much sun. And now, it was a bleak wintery day, except none of this had happened yet. "Hobs?"

  He smiled at me, doing his best to pass off as a human. He had the hot metro thing down with his tweed winter vest and argyle scarf. "Hey look," he said. "We're here."

  Here? FasFoo, the hottest teen hangout in Omak, was just across the street, and my shadow passed me, heading that direction. I stood up in shock, staring after her. We were still the same age. Well, maybe my shadow was a little older than me now—she was halfway into her senior year. She was bundled up in a sleek white coat, her long scarf wrapped several times around her neck. It looked like she shopped solely out of town. She acted like she couldn't see me.

  Daphne talked a mile a minute next to her, her hands thrust deep into the pockets of her puffy jacket, her dark stocking cap pulled low over her blonde hair. My shadow's eyes were on the restaurant. It had been our favorite place to get burgers.

  "Kids grow up so fast." Hobs pulled me away from my spitting image and gestured to a blonde girl about my age walking out of FasFoo. Her hair was greasy and it escaped from a scraggly ponytail at the back of her head. She was in a filthy polyester number stained with mustard and ketchup over black leggings. The girl needed a shower. Maybe a brush?

  With quick movements, she polished the windows with efficient squirts of her glass cleaner. Mist from the cold came out of her mouth as she worked. She didn't wear gloves.

  I cocked my head to the side. "Wait a second, that's Babs! I mean, Halley, I guess." It felt a little surreal, since the last thing I had been doing was lying on the floor of a frozen ice castle, dying. My last thoughts had been of her. And here she was, alive in Omak!

  Hobs smiled broadly. "No, let's call her Holly. She's the princess of winter. It fits her."

  Our little Halley . . . Holly . . . whatever. I stared at her, barely believing she was so close that I could touch her. She didn't look like a princess. "I like the name Blest better," I muttered.

  "Bridgette!" someone called from the inside.

  "I'm coming!" She rubbed harder at the windows, her fingers red from the cold.

  "Bridgette?" we mouthed to each other. It sounded nothing like Cinderella, either—if that's who she was supposed to be. Maybe she wasn't.

  "I'm almost done." My heart dropped at the depressed note in her voice. Babs looked tired and drawn, as only a fast food job could do to a girl. Still, she was beautiful under all that filth. She'd fit in really well with my Otherworldly sisters.

  My hand made a fist. What had these people done to her? I wasn't going to take it. "This is her prison, huh?"

  Hobs shrugged. "Oh c'mon, it doesn't look that bad."

  "Bridgette!" This time the manager came out and shook an angry fist at her. "Why did I take a chance on you, huh? I'll send you back to the home if that's what you want! We have customers! I'm not warning you again."

  I felt Hobs tense up next to me. "Okay, let's break her out. That guy's a freak."

  "She's supposed to fall in love first," I said.

  "Then we'll shoot a love potion into the first guy we see. Get it over with."

  I gave him an annoyed look. Sometimes guys were so clueless about love. "We want someone nice for her." I searched around for the perfect victim. Some guy walked out on the patio of FasFoo with a net on his head. It covered his ragged hair. He held a spatula in his hand, his other clutching the side of the door. He matched with Babs—their uniforms, anyway. It had to be one of her coworkers. He talked to her in an undertone. He was tall and mysterious. Well, in a slightly nerdy way, to be honest, but at least he seemed nice. "How about him?" I asked.

  "Yeah, right. That one isn't even interested in girls. Let's not get desperate for her." The kid went back inside and Hobs proceeded to study every guy that passed. There was a hippy guy with really long hair, a beer-belly guy who walked into the local tavern, and some creepy guy who walked into a store with shaded windows. None of these people could remotely pass for a good boyfriend, let alone a soul mate for our little Babs . . . Bridgette.

  Hobs sighed and rubbed at his eyes. "Have you ever noticed that curses are usually good for kids anyway?"

  "Oh, no you don't. We're breaking this curse!"

  Hobs took my hand in his and laughed, trying to reassure me. "I was just messing with you." He rubbed my cold fingers, his dark eyes turning serious. "It's okay. We'll work it out."

  "Oh no." My eyes were still on our little girl. "Things just got weird!"

  Puck—I mean Ren—the guy from my play stepped out of an old red sedan in the parking lot of FasFoo. As soon as he saw my beautiful Babs, he froze like he had always done with me. If I didn't know better, it looked like he was getting up the nerve to talk to her, but before he could, I noticed my shadow skip across the street with Daphne. Babs saw my shadow the same time I did and ducked her head nervously.

  In true Daphne fashion, my sister was oblivious to any unpleasantness. She brightened when she spotted Ren, who was the love of her life according to their girl talk. "Ren!" She smiled shyly. "Did you just get here?"

  "Well, I . . ."

  "Are you coming to our party Friday night?"

  Ren stalled, glancing over at Babs. As soon as Daphne noticed her, she included her in her generous smile. "Oh, hi Bridgette!"

  "Oh, gag! You're ruining my appetite. I'm hungry!" My shadow shoved Daphne into the restaurant. Daphne's lo-tops squeaked over the polished floor. My shadow glanced back at Ren, her dark hair flowing provocatively over her shoulder. "You coming?" He seemed reluctant, but after Babs refused to meet his eyes, he followed Daphne inside. As soon as they were both out of earshot, my shadow glared at Babs. "In case you get any stupid ideas, you're not invited, loser."

  My mouth dropped. Did my shadow just call Babs a loser? I made a fist. It was meant strictly for Babs' ears, but my hearing was magnified where my little girl was concerned. I shot up from the bench. "That's it. My shadow has gone and done it. I'm taking her out!"

  Hobs rolled his eyes and tugged me back next to him. "Later."

  "Doesn't she know who Babs really is?"

  He gritted his teeth before answering. "Yep. That's why our revenge is going to be so much fun."

  I froze at the implications. Why would my shadow treat her that way? What did it mean? Tugging on Hobs' scarf, I turned his head with it so he would look into my eyes. "Please tell me we have some memories that are useful?"

  He gave me a devilish smile. "Let's find out."

  Before I could argue, his fingers traced my jaw. It was the tender touch of someone who leads you in a dance and just happens to be crazy about you. He
was about to kiss me, and for a moment I couldn't wait. "Hobs," I said. "How is this supposed to save Babs?"

  "I promise we'll clean up this town. Clean her up. You can give her a make-over or wave some magic wand and give your shadow a black eye. Whatever. But first we have to get you back to where we're supposed to be." He tucked a strand of my dark hair behind my ear and leaned closer.

  I glanced around at the milling people, recognizing a lot of faces. It was the curse of a small town, and potentially embarrassing. "Hobs, we're in public. You can't just kiss me here!"

  "I can't?" He laughed, gazing so deeply into my eyes that I couldn't look away. "What did you expect from Cupid? That knavish lad."

  Before I could stop myself, I smiled back at him, and he planted another kiss on me.

  We were suddenly in a beautiful land, lush and green. This was how I imagined the Sidhe, except it wasn't real, was it? Nothing had been restored yet. I tried to get a better look at it, but Hobs was running too fast. He had me by the hand, and the Sidhe sped past us like a blur. There was an urgent look on his face. "You've got to get out of here!" Why? What was happening?

  I looked down and saw that I was barefoot. Somehow I knew what had happened. "Babs has my slippers," I cried out.

  Hobs didn't care. "But they're after you." He leaned over to kiss me farewell from this potential future, and it sent me on my way.

  "Habonde, can you hear me?" His voice echoed in my ears, and I found myself back on the frozen floor of the Snow Queen's castle. Only moments had passed since Hobs had first crowned me a princess with his kiss. So much had happened in between. Then again, nothing. Not yet. I just had to make sure I survived so I could save Babs.

  I blinked up at Hobs. His hands slid down the gauzy material of my red sleeves. "Habonde!" he whispered gruffly. He hugged me, and I felt the scruff of his cheek against mine. "I didn't think you would wake up."

  I felt so safe in his arms, except . . . the bells were still tolling the midnight hour. The wolves were snarling, and the Otherworldly was coming for me with a horrible-looking sword. It had to be one of the lost treasures of the faery kingdom. I sat up hurriedly, seeing a puddle of the purest water on the floor. Hobs averted his eyes from it. I knew who it was—his mother had died so I could live. Cyclops whimpered inconsolably behind us. Still, I didn't feel much different.

  "Why don't I have my full power?" I asked through groggy lips.

  Hobs nodded at the Otherworldly, keeping his voice low. "He has it."

  He may have the treasures, but he didn't have everything. The witch was dead, and he didn't have her power. I wondered if Babs did. I leaned heavily on Hobs and stood up, feeling my blood pump evenly through me. I was no longer frozen and helpless, and the Otherworldly didn't have to know that I still wasn't strong enough to face him. Bugul ran into the courtroom, wiping his club clean against his trousers. His tie meant for the coronation hung loosely around his neck.

  "Bugul!" I ordered. "Smash the mirrors!"

  Without any argument, the Leprechaun lifted his heavy club and cleaned house. Glass flew through the air as he smashed the mirrors covering the far side of the room, making his way to the mirror in the center of it all. The Otherworldly hesitated. If he was going to do something, he'd better do it fast before he lost all his escape routes.

  Glasses spewed out more poetry: "The flutter of snow, the snap of a bow, the man in the mirror will breathe no more."

  Hobs brought his eyes upward. The near rhyme was the best Glasses could come up with at the spur of the moment. "How about . . ." Hobs said, raising his bow, "He soon will be dead once you tear off his head?"

  The Otherworldly cringed. The sword trembled in his hand. It wasn't the warm welcome he had expected to take advantage of. It wouldn't be so easy now to swoop in, kidnap me, and wipe out the rest of my people. I hoped that we were enough of a threat to keep him back.

  Glaring at Hobs for being such a critic of his poetry, Glasses growled and turned his wrath on the Otherworldly. His posse of wolves attacked in a flurry of snapping jaws and howls, but they were still too far away.

  The Otherworldly's eyes were on me. He stabbed the sword into the vine and wrenched something out of his bag of tricks that he had slung over his shoulder. He glanced over the line of mirrors. Like all mortals on this side, his reflection was missing, but that wasn't what he was looking at. He was studying me through the glass. I took a deep breath and faced him with all the courage I had left. He glared, and his hand landed on the strange contraption he had brought with him. It looked like a wooden spinning top.

  "What is that thing?" I asked.

  I turned to Hobs, and saw that his face had gone chalky white. "Why isn't he using the sword?" he asked.

  Honestly, I had no idea what the Otherworldly was doing, but before he could turn that wooden spinning-thingamajig on us, he ducked and cried out. Bugul came at him with a club. The wolves nipped at his heels. He scrambled back against the mirror, dislodging the sword from the thick vine. He snapped his fingers at the beanstalk, and it wrapped around him. After scorching me with a longing stare that set my teeth on edge, the Otherworldly flew through the glass, heedless of injury. The rest of the vines sucked inside with him moments before Bugul smashed the mirror, sealing it shut forever.