“Refuse to wed you,” Karl muttered.
He had a point. But, I assured myself, once I found my wayward bride, convincing her to marry me would be as easy as selling a bag of magic beans to a ten-year-old. I was the Frog Prince. What woman in her right mind wouldn’t want me for a husband....
Right, Sleeping Beauty. Damn.
I guess I’d cross that troll-infested bridge when I came to it. My fingers brushed the wallpaper, looking for any sign of a secret passageway or other clue as to how my wayward bride and Spindle had made their escape. “I’ll search here.” I motioned across the room. “You check over there.”
“As you wish, sir.” He hesitated. “But can’t we just—”
“As far as wishes go, Karl,” I said, cutting him off, “standing in the room of my missing fiancée and searching for clues to where she’d disappeared to in order to stop her from murdering me in my sleep doesn’t make my top-ten list.”
Sadly, the top three wishes on my list today revolved around getting Lollie naked, keeping her that way, and a medium-rare steak. Not a mutually exclusive list, mind you. I wasn’t some kind of perv.
“Sir!” Karl shouted, drawing me from my musing. “I found it. I found a passageway.” He leapt up and down like a manservant on a pogo stick.
“Nice work.” I crossed the room to where he excitedly pointed. “Where is it?” I asked, motioning to what appeared not to be a passageway, but a solid wall.
“There, sir.” He again indicated the rock-solid wall. “Look at the wallpaper.”
I strained to get a closer look. Sure enough, the strip on the wallpaper didn’t line up. A fraction of a centimeter separated the two. “How do we get it open?” I pressed my fingers along the crack.
“You only asked me to find it, sir.”
I closed my eyes and prayed for patience, or, barring that, a really big hammer. When neither appeared in front of me, I asked for the next best thing. “Elly!” I shouted.
Poof!
My alcoholic fairy godmother materialized. Her dress hung off her shoulder, exposing her bedazzled bra. “What?” she yelled, burped once, which smelled faintly like ten-thousand-dollar scotch, and then crashed to the floor.
“Damn it, Elly!”
Karl winced. “Perhaps a cup of coffee.”
Elly let out a loud string of snores.
“Perhaps not,” I said, stepping over the puddle of godmother on the floor. “There has to be a secret lever that opens the passage.”
“Or we could try—”
“Hush, Karl. I’m thinking.” My eyes scanned the room, noting the high ceilings and fancy furniture, not to mention a bed big enough for an ogre orgy. If I was a demented, albeit sleepy princess, where would I install a lever?
Again, my eyes fell upon the bed. I frowned, trying to remember some urban legend about a princess, a mattress, and split pea soup. Or was that a porno?
Taking my time, I studied Sleeping Beauty’s pretty pretty princess bed. Everything seemed normal. The bed wasn’t too hard, nor too soft, but fit my butt just right. So I sat down, letting the fluffy pink comforter swallow me. After a minute I kicked my legs up, lay back against the feathery pillows, and closed my eyes.
Where the hell was the lever?
“Sir, this is no time for a nap.” Karl leaned over me, his breath hot on my face. “Why don’t you forget the passageway and we can—”
“Quiet.” I cracked one eye open. “How many times do I have to say it? I can’t think with your yammering on and on about absolutely nothing. I have a bride to save.”
“Sorry.” He let out a drawn-out sigh. “I couldn’t hear the rusted squeak of your brain from across the room.”
“Funny.” I opened my other eye. “If you were Princess Beauty—”
“I’d buy some No-Doz and head for less-green princes.”
Leaping off the bed, I stubbed my toe on the bed frame. “Ow! Damn it.” I rubbed at my throbbing appendage. “Are you making fun of me in this most dire of times?”
He hung his head, nearly blinding me with the sheen from his bald head. “My apologies, sir. I am a terrible person.”
“And?”
“I don’t deserve to live.”
“Bravo.” I clapped my hands.
A second later, a groaning filled the room. I glanced at Elly, but she was still fast asleep, a string of drool slipped down her chin. The stale air inside the bedroom grew mustier as the wall next to Karl opened up. A concrete staircase disappeared into the darkened passageway.
Karl and I stared at the passageway, neither of us saying a word. I looked at my manservant and grinned. “After you.”
Chapter 39
I carefully maneuvered my way down the narrow passageway, pausing every few steps to squint past the circle of light illuminated by my p-Phone fairylight app. At best I could see a few feet in front of me. The air smelled like Old Spice and mildew, sort of like Beauty’s stepbrother. My face wrinkled at the thought of Handsome lurking in the passageway, watching my missing bride sleep.
“Damn it, Karl,” I yelled to my manservant, who’d refused to aid me in my, as he put it, “asinine quest.” Instead, he valiantly offered to wait right there until I, or rather if I, found my way out.
At the time, I’d chalked his reluctance up to pure cowardliness. After all, commoners were known for their weak minds and tiny bladders. Or was that the littlest piggy? Either way, wee, wee, wee stains were hard to get out of silk, so I’d let Karl off the hook and ventured into the darkness alone.
Twenty minutes and a face full of what I only hoped was spiderwebs minus the spiders later, I was lost somewhere inside the castle walls.
Dark, dank places like this were no place for a prince. Damn Karl. A buzzing sound echoing from somewhere mid-prince worried me until I realized I wasn’t losing my mind, but rather, my p-Phone was set to vibrate.
“Hello,” I answered.
“. . . me . . . and . . . try,” a female voice crackled through the speaker. I bent my head, hoping to get better reception, but only managed to smash my noggin on the brick wall.
Rubbing at my head, I said, “Lollie? Is that you? I can’t hear you.”
Suddenly the static stopped.
“Lollie? Who the hell is Lollie?” Sleeping Beauty’s voice screeched through the now-crystal-clear connection. Damn P-Mobile had it in for me.
I cleared my throat. “Mademoiselle, you misunderstood me.” I touched the end of my nose to make sure it hadn’t grown before adding, “You are the only princess for me.”
Unfortunately.
“Oh,” she said. “Well, that’s . . . um . . . nice?”
“Mademoiselle, where are you?” I asked.
“I can’t say,” she whispered. “But you have to stop . . .”
The phone cut out, garbling her words in an explosion of static. “Beauty?” I yelled into the mouthpiece. “Tell me where you are!”
“. . . No . . . Hurt... Wedding . . .”
“Beauty!” I screamed louder, but to no avail. The phone line went dead. I stared at my p-Phone, watching as Beauty’s phone number blinked, mocking me, and finally went black. I’d lost her. Again. A lump formed in my chest, directly under my B-shaped birthmark.
Serial killer or not, I’d made a vow to keep her safe, and I’d failed. Spindle would kill her, eventually, unless my sleepy bride killed him first. For a second I almost felt sorry for the fiancée-stealing assassin. Then I pictured Lollie’s face and something green and completely unfroglike filled me, something that felt a lot like jealousy, which was ridiculous. I was the Frog Prince. There wasn’t a chastity belt made that could stop me.
“Sir?” Karl’s voice called from somewhere above me. “Are you enjoying your adventure?”
“Oh, it’s tons of fun. Why don’t you come down and join me?” I yelled back, nearly tripping over my own feet as I staggered along, using the brick wall as a guide. Something that sounded suspiciously like bones crunched underfoot.
�
��Have you located Princess Beauty’s whereabouts yet?” He waited a beat. “Or should we just use the GPS to track her phone like I’ve been trying to suggest for the past hour?”
“Hey, Karl?”
“Yes, sir?”
“Once we find Sleeping Beauty, remind me to beat you to death with my shoe.”
He gasped. “Not the Ferragamos.”
“Princess Beauty should be just on the other side of this building.” Karl gestured to a towering red brick building with small gargoyle statues guarding the rooftop. I bit my lip. The neighborhood looked vaguely familiar, but so did a lot of Cin City streets. Tiny rows of houses with postage-stamp lawns sat on crumbling foundations of sand intermixed with run-down businesses and random degenerates. A merry old homeless soul carrying a pipe and a bowl staggered past.
I glanced at the device in Karl’s hand; a red dot blinked furiously. “Are you sure that’s Sleeping Beauty?”
“Sir,” he began, “as I’ve told you ten times already, it is Princess Beauty’s mobile phone, not the lady herself. If she still has her phone, we will find her.”
We’d been hot on Beauty’s trail for the last thirty minutes, ever since I’d squeezed my way out of the passageway and into the rose-covered garden. We were close. I could feel Sleeping Beauty’s annoyingness like a noose around my neck. “What happened to my life?”
“Buck up, sir.” Karl pulled his eyes off the GPS to meet mine. “All will be well. You’ll see.”
I snorted. “I have to marry a girl who wants me dead in order to stop a curse that started before I was even born. I’ll have to wear Kevlar on our wedding night. How will all be well, Karl? How?” Slumping down in my seat, or as far down as one could get in a Ford Princess, I bemoaned my soon-to-be-married fate.
“That can’t be right.”
“Oh, but it is. I have no choice, remember?” I rubbed my eyes. “You really need to pay better attention.”
Karl scowled as we turned the corner, checked his GPS again, and frowned some more. “Sir, not your situation. The GPS coordinates.”
“What are you talking about?” I glanced up to see what he meant. His finger pointed to an overly familiar two-story brick building complete with a barbed-wire rose on the front window. I glanced from the building to Karl and back again. “What the frog? Why is Beauty at the Rose?”
Karl waggled the GPS in his hand. “Perhaps the princess wanted a tattoo?”
Yeah, right. I started to say as much when the Rose exploded into a ball of flames that reached high into the desert sky.
Chapter 40
“No!” I screamed, leaping from the car and running toward the burning building. Smoke billowed from the structure, but the flames for the most part had faded after the initial explosion, leaving a wake of broken glass and charred debris. The air tasted thick with grit and smoke.
“Sir,” Karl yelled from behind me. “Wait! Don’t—”
I ignored his warning and pushed my way through the shattered front door. Black smoke blinded me, choking the sunlight and leaving only darkness inside the building. “Lollie?” I screamed, my heart in my throat.
A faint cough sounded from overhead.
I ran toward the spiral staircase, or what was left of it, carefully picking my way up the steps. They groaned and creaked underfoot, threatening to send me falling to my death. Adrenaline rocketed through my body. The building moaned, shifting on its foundation. A loud crash somewhere toward the back of the shop, followed by what sounded much like footsteps, sent blackened bits of burnt wood raining down on me. A lump of smoke, snot, and bile clogged my throat. But I pushed on. “Lollie!” I screamed again.
Another faint cough echoed up ahead. I ran toward the sound. “Lollie, where are you?” I yelled. The coughs grew louder. The apartment door hung loosely on one hinge. I kicked it free and stormed into the room.
Thick smoke lingered in the air. The room, or what was left of it, was in shambles. Broken furniture and glass littered the scarred floor. My eyes scanned the ground, searching for signs of life.
In the corner, buried under a charred wooden beam, was a trim ankle. Heart in my throat, I shoved away the timber, revealing a soot-coated woman. For a second I thought it was Sleeping Beauty lying on the floor, and then I noticed the familiar tank top and tattoos.
“Kermit?” she croaked in a weak voice.
“It’s okay, Lollipop. I’ve got you.” I bent down next to her, gathering her up in my arms. Her body felt so fragile against me. Each breath she took racked her body as if it would be her very last. “Just take it easy. I’ll get you out of here.” I lifted her up and rolled her over my shoulder in a frog-prince-carry. She weighed less than the little piggy who ate roast beef for every meal. My eyes and throat burned from the acidic sting of smoke, or so I told myself.
Staggering blindly, I knocked Lollie’s head against the doorway, causing her to cough. “Watch it, Kermit.” I gave a grateful laugh. “Oops.” Relief filled me. She’d be all right. With her tightly gripped in my arms, I maneuvered my way down the battered steps, surveying the damage around us. I shook my head, amazed Lollie had survived the explosion.
“Sir,” Karl called from the front of what used to be the tattoo shop. “Help is on the way.” Distant sirens emphasized his words.
“It’s okay, Karl,” I said with a cough. “I found her.”
Karl’s hand flew to his heart. “Oh, thank God. I was so worried about the princess.”
Princess? Oh shit! I nearly dropped Lollie. I’d forgotten all about Sleeping Beauty. “Here.” I pressed Lollie into Karl’s arms. Bits of charred ceiling crashed down around us. “Hurry. Take her outside. I’m going back upstairs to search for Beauty.”
Lollie grabbed my arm. “No, Kermit. Don’t . . .” She broke into a coughing fit. “It’s . . . too . . .” Her soot-coated face grew even paler, and her eyes fluttered shut.
The building groaned and more debris fell, nearly whacking me in the head. I ducked, pushing Karl to the door. “Go,” I ordered. “I’ll be right out.”
Karl looked to Lollie. “Please, sir—”
“Just keep her safe.” I took a deep breath of soot-filled air and headed back upstairs to find my bride. I prayed I wasn’t too late.
An hour later, exhausted and covered in ash, I staggered into my hotel room. My mind replayed the emotions of that morning—terror followed by relief, and ultimately total and utter confusion. What had happened to Sleeping Beauty? I’d searched for her for an hour, shifting through piles of burnt debris, finding no sign of my bride except for a slightly melted arm floatie.
“Sir.” Karl handed me a towel. “I’ve started your bath water. It’s a perfect 102 degrees. Just the way you like it.”
“Thanks,” I muttered.
He cleared his throat. “If I may speak freely?”
Like he’d shut up if I said no. “Very well.” I wrapped the towel around my neck and motioned for him to continue. “What’s on your mind?”
“Ms. Bliss, sir.”
Unfortunately, she’d weaseled her way into way too many of my thoughts as well. At a time when my only concern should be for Sleeping Beauty, I found myself unable to concentrate on anything except for the injured woman asleep in the room down the hallway. “What about her?” I asked, glancing to the closed bedroom door as if it was an omen.
Taking a deep breath, he said, “Do you really think it’s a wise idea for her to stay here? You being . . . well . . . you.”
“Hey,” I said. “What kind of prince do you think I am?”
“I prefer not to answer that, sir. I would like to keep my job, such as it is.” He let out a drawn-out sigh. “Anyway, back to Ms. Bliss.”
“Why the sudden concern for Lollie? Two days ago you couldn’t stand her, and now you’re playing Mother Goose. What’s that about?” Too tired to wait for his answer, I waved him off. My mind filled with images of Lollie’s soot-coated face and singed hair. I could’ve lost her, I thought, terror clogging my thro
at. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter. Lollie will be staying with me, whether she likes it or not.”
“But—”
“It’s not up for debate.”
“Very well, sir. You’re the boss.” His lips curled into a sneer, unsightly on many a manservant, but especially on a bald one with delusions of grandeur. “Shall I unpack the handcuffs? Perhaps tie Ms. Bliss to the bed so she doesn’t escape?”
“It’s a little early for the kinky stuff.” I scratched my ten forty-five o’clock shadow. Flakes of signed hair and ash rained down. “Let’s at least wait until she’s awake.”
Chapter 41
“Going somewhere?” I flicked on the lamp next to the couch, and the hotel suite burst to light. Lollie froze, hand on the doorknob. Anger flashed in her eyes, but her face remained impassive, cold. “Oh, I didn’t see you there,” she said with a hard smile. “Sitting in the dark. Like some creepy pervert.”
I motioned to the drink in front of me. “Care to join me?”
Her eyes darted between the doorknob and me, as if gauging the distance. Finally, she nodded and released the knob. She crossed the room and poured herself a glass of something amber in color, much like the color of her eyes in the moonlight. She raised the drink in salute. “So what are we drinking to?”
I picked up my own drink and twirled it in my fingers. The warm liquid lapped at the sides of the glass. “How about we drink to ever after? The not-so-happy kind.” The kind of happily-ever-after where you develop a craving for flies and licking your own butt.
Lollie gave a little laugh, but didn’t drink. “What’s going on in your very small mind, Kermit?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. A chest covered in one of my oxford button-down shirts that hit her mid-thigh. Various swirls of ink climbed along her tanned legs, disappearing into a pair of soot-coated combat boots. Tattoos of faraway places and exotic languages. Places and things I would never experience once I was locked away inside my amphibian prison. Anger seethed inside me. Damn her and damn this curse.
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