Fate's Fables Special Edition: One Girl's Journey Through 8 Unfortunate Fairy Tales (Fate's Journey Book 1)

by T. Rae Mitchell

  Swooping up from behind, Finn curled his arms around her, pulling her close. The cool breeze washed over them as they sailed through the air. A euphoric thrill passed through her, and she would have lost her bearings had he not held her in his firm grasp.

  They slowed to a stop, hovering in the air. Adding her own buoyancy so he wouldn’t have to carry her, she ran her hand over the chiseled contours of his face. When she reached the irresistible curve of his mouth, he kissed her fingers, sending tingles up her arm. Sliding her hands into his thick hair, she pulled his lips to hers. He responded with unbridled passion, his fingers digging hard into her back with such fervor, it hurt.

  She pulled back, heart racing and breathing hard.

  His eyes gleamed a bright green, but his pupils were enlarging, swallowing the irises. He buried his face against her neck, kissing and biting ‘til she shivered with a bewildering mixture of desire and alarm.

  “Finn…stop.”

  His hot breath came hard and fast against her skin. His hand slid to her thigh, his fingers clenching the material of her dress, lifting her skirt. A bolt of fear shuddered through her. She shoved him back with all the strength she could gather.

  “Stop,” she said.

  He drifted backwards, his gaze downcast. He held every muscle taut, and for a moment, she feared he might pounce on her. But when he looked at her, self-loathing twisted his face.

  “Forgive me,” he said, his voice edged with regret.

  He continued to drift farther away. Afraid he might leave with his newfound wings, she dove against him, wrapping her arms around his waist.

  “It’s okay,” she said. “I overreacted.”

  His hands were on her shoulders, shoving her back at arm’s length. “No, you didn’t. I was losing control.” The muscles in his jaw tensed and his eyes narrowed. “It’s gotten worse since I killed Moria. There’s something savage inside me and each time I give into it, I feel chunks of my soul being devoured. I’m losing myself.”

  His silence stretched out for an eternity.

  “Fate,” he said, his voice becoming a determined growl, “I can’t be anywhere near you when there’s nothing left of me but the darkness.”

  Tears stung her eyes as she shook her head. “If you’re trying to say you’re leaving me again, I’ll just follow. You’re stuck with me, buster. Just think of me as barnacle…or one of those suckerfish. Better yet, duct tape.”

  He remained quiet. His gaze hardened as he stared past her into the dim night.

  “Don’t do this, Finn.”

  When his gaze flicked back to her, there was an unsettling, crazed glint in his eyes. “I said I’d help you with Old Mother Grim, and I will, but afterwards I have to put an end to this.”

  His words closed over her heart like a cold fist. Before she could say another word, he shot forward, following the incline of the hill leading to the forest. She sped after him as he flew through thickening patches of mist, losing him entirely when she hit a solid wall of fog. She climbed above it, looking down at the fog bank, a tumbling tidal wave that would soon flood the valley and engulf the streets of Shytuckle.

  Fate hovered over the dense sea of mist, searching with growing panic for any sign of Finn. She listened, but the silence was eerie in its totality. The hairs on the back of her arms and neck stirred. She glanced down and knew with dead certainty that something dreadful lurked somewhere within the fog.

  Icy fear shot through her limbs. She rose higher, feeling only a little safer as she scanned the rolling cloud below for what she knew it concealed. Then she saw it. A deepening shadow, where the fog parted and rippled like the deep waters of the ocean when something as large and powerful as a great white shark is skimming just beneath the surface. Old Mother Grim was moving toward the village.

  A hand clamped over her mouth. It took a few terror-filled seconds to realize it was Finn before she relaxed.

  He let go and took her hand. “Come with me. The tree’s over here,” he whispered.

  They landed a few yards away from the gnarled giant and crept toward the trunk through the shredding mist. Fate glanced up into the branches spreading over them like an ugly inkblot.

  The two large binding circles of stone and braided wood she’d written up earlier at the caravan were in place around the tree, their radius as wide as the sprawling canopy. Finn stepped over the stone circle, gesturing for her to follow. “Come on. We need to pass through both circles to get the clay closest to the trunk.”

  Fate couldn’t go any farther. “You know this is the part in the horror movie where the audience is saying don’t go in, right?”

  “You’re not alone,” he assured, and pulled her along.

  As soon as she crossed the stone circle and stepped inside the circle of braided wood, her skin went cold and clammy. The perceptible shift in energy was jarring. Chills slithered up her spine as they crept over the mist-covered ground in search of protruding roots. Her foot found them first. She tripped and landed face-down in the damp soil next to where a depression in the ground deepened into a gaping cavity beneath the tree’s rootball.

  Finn knelt and lifted her up. “Are you hurt?”

  The putrid odor of death clung to the dank night air. She had nearly fallen into Old Mother Grim’s lair.

  She swallowed back the bile erupting in her throat. “No, but I think I’m going to be sick.”

  “Hold your breath,” he told her. It was too dark to see his face, but he seemed so unaffected by it all. She couldn’t fathom how he was able to distance himself so easily.

  “I can’t do this,” she said backing away. “You get the clay.”

  He went stiff, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “No. That’s not a good idea.”

  She was about to argue that he wasn’t the one ready to puke his guts out but something in his voice stopped her.

  Dropping to her knees, she hastily dug up the tainted clay and filled the small pouch she’d brought along. The moment she stood, a wave of nausea hit her. She doubled over, convulsing in pain with nothing to vomit. She’d expelled the contents of her stomach just before they’d left Asgar and hadn’t had enough of an appetite to eat since they’d arrived. Finn crouched next to her, holding her hair back and keeping her upright.

  When the retching finally stopped, she gasped for air and her lungs filled with stinging bolts of fear and misery. Grisly images flashed before her eyes: small grasping hands, gnashing, yellow teeth and dying gasps drowned in gushing blood.

  Her terrorized scream echoed into the night.

  Finn lifted her up and flew back toward Shytuckle. She thrashed and twisted in his arms, her cries unceasing. Unable to fly with her in such a state, he descended into a wheat field. Desperate to console her, he held tight, rocking her in his arms.

  He hated himself for making her dig up the clay. His need to shield himself from the overwhelming presence of the oak had kept him from manning up to the job. After he’d stepped inside the binding circles the darkness had expanded in him, snaking out through his soles into the foul earth to connect with its spawn. It had taken every ounce of strength and concentration he had to cut off the vile energy and keep it contained.

  But Fate was in real trouble now, and there was only one way to free her from the endless nightmare playing in her head.

  Closing his eyes, he probed her tortured mind, opening to her terror and the ghosts of all those murdered children. The awful gloom seeped deep into his core, riddling him with an unbearable pain.

  Fate collapsed against him, sobbing softly.

  “You’re safe now,” he said through clenched teeth.

  She opened her eyes at the sound of his voice. Her nerve endings were still raw, making it hard to stop the shaking. “Finn…I…I can’t face that monster.”

  “You leave that to me,” he said, his voice wooden.

  She leaned back to see his face. The fierce look in his eyes as he stared past her made her glance in the same direction. Every muscl
e seized with terror when she saw the massive fog bank spilling down the hill with ominous speed toward them.

  “We have to get back. She’s almost on top of us,” he said. Holding onto her, he stood up and leaped into the sky.

  The wind at their backs seemed charged with evil intent as they skimmed above the river, disturbing thin wisps of mist curling over the water’s shimmering surface, racing over Shytuckle’s quiet rooftops before coming to a smooth landing beside the caravan.

  When he set her down, he wouldn’t meet her gaze. She sensed guilt and shame, but there was something else brewing beneath the surface. Something menacing.

  “They’re waiting for you,” he said in a curt tone.

  His decision to shut her out of his life was still firmly in place. She wanted to talk him out of it, change his mind. But she could see stubborn resolve in his rigid stance as visibly as heat waves radiating off a sun-baked sidewalk.

  Too wrung out to rise to the challenge, she entered the caravan and dropped the pouch of tainted clay on the table.

  Sithias whirled around. “Oh, I’m ssso glad to sssee you back sssafe and––” He clapped his hand over his nose. “Ew, that clay smellsss atrociousss––like…” He coughed and gagged. “I sssimply do not have wordsss to describe it.”

  “It smells like death,” Gerdie said. She gestured to him. “Now, take it out of the pouch and put it in that there bowl.”

  Sithas went stiff. “I will not!”

  Gerdie picked up the blackthorn dagger and pointed it at him. “Unless you want blood everywhere, you’d better get over your prissy self and do it.”

  Sithias opened and closed his mouth in shock. “Are––are you threatening me?”

  “It’s for the bird, you nutter.”

  Wilting with relief, Sithias muttered a mild protest under his breath but picked up the tip of the pouch between his finger and thumb anyway. The clay slipped out, plopping in the bowl with a sickening squish.

  Staggering back, he dry heaved convulsively. After recovering, he glared at Gerdie. “Happy?”

  The arguing continued on from there, with Gerdie tossing out orders and Sithias following them with grumbling retorts.

  Gerdie gathered the dove in her hands. Fate couldn’t watch when she pierced the bird’s breast for the few drops of blood she needed to add to the clay. She’d seen enough blood to last her a lifetime. Turning her attention to the door, she wondered why Finn hadn’t followed her inside.

  Just as she decided to check on him, he stepped in and leaned against the wall. While Gerdie set fire to the cedar under the ball of clay, Fate watched him. Tension tightened his features, cording taut lines along the muscles of his arms. He looked ready to bolt at any second.

  She suddenly regretted using the Words of Making to give him the ability to fly. Of course, the power could be removed. Couldn’t it? There was no way of knowing unless she actually tried, but not without telling him first. And then she’d have to explain why. Best to let it go. After all, Tove had given him his speed, strength and elemental powers without taking them back.

  “There, that should do it,” Gerdie said, smiling with satisfaction as the flames died out. “The talisman now has the power to call upon the forces of nature to put things back in their proper order.”

  Finn picked up one of the many protective charms lying in the basket on the table. He strode over to Fate and tied it around her neck. It consisted of several crusty herb-covered twigs tied together in the shape of a crude pitchfork and smelled of mold, dirt, stinkweed and garlic.

  Pinching her nose, she questioned him with a look.

  His expression was controlled. “I need you to be safe.”

  The chill coming off him pushed her anxiety to the edge of anger. She grabbed a charm and shoved it in his hand. “Shouldn’t be a problem. This stench would have a skunk running for the hills.”

  “It’s not to keep Old Mother Grim away. It’s to keep us awake when she tries to put us all asleep,” he explained.

  “I know,” she answered, her tone sharp, “but it’ll keep you away, won’t it?”

  She regretted her words immediately. She hadn’t meant it the way it sounded, but he’d taken it in the worst possible way. Self-reproach fractured his carefully composed expression. But he was quick to reassemble his features into stone. Now there’d be no talking him out of leaving.

  Sithias watched the volatile exchange with alarm. “I agree, there will be no romance in the air with thessse hideousss sssmelling thingsss dangling under our nosesss, let alone sssleeping.” He gave Fate an encouraging wink as he picked up the basket of charms, holding them at arm’s length as he headed for the door.

  Gerdie grinned. “The smell is part of the charm’s charm,” she said, marking a starburst-shaped rune into the lump of clay before wrapping it in cloth and tucking it under her arm.

  “There’sss nothing charming about it,” Sithias muttered. “And I’m certain the villagersss will agree.”

  Gerdie’s lopsided grin vanished. “Now listen up,” she said. Her grave tone had everyone’s attention. “This here’s important. The only way this talisman’ll have any power over the old canker is if she’s lookin’ at it.” She held up the dagger. “When her eyes are fixed on it, stab the dagger into the rune, and go deep into the clay. I’d like to be the one who sticks it to her, but it don’t matter who does the deed, so long as it gets done.”

  The room fell quiet. There was nothing more to say. They were about to face the most unspeakable of monsters––from within and without.

  Chapter 25

  TENDRILS OF MIST THREADED BEWTWEEN the stone huts as they walked the short distance between the caravan and the oratory. Finn lagged several steps behind as Fate, Gerdie and Sithias approached the men standing guard outside the building.

  “I should conjure up some swords or something,” he heard Fate whisper when she saw they were armed with nothing more than farm tools as weapons.

  Gerdie shook her head. “Nothin’ but powerful magic and a whole lot of luck is gonna stop vulture face now.”

  “Oh, that’sss reassuring,” Sithias muttered. Clearing his throat, he lifted his chin and smiled at the harried looking men as he explained why they should wear the protective charms he offered. They appeared doubtful when the smelly sticks were passed around, but they wore them all the same.

  Finn caught Fate by the arm as they neared the front doors of the chapel. “I’ll stay out here with the men.”

  She shook her head. The instant terror in her eyes tore at him. “No, please stay with me.”

  He swallowed hard, clamping down on his need to ease her suffering. He didn’t want to refuse her, but he’d made up his mind to keep his distance after he’d lost control earlier. The way she’d opened to him while they’d drifted together through the air, kissing him with such wild abandon had awoken something frightening inside him. The urge to possess her had flared hot in him like never before. If she hadn’t stopped when she did, he didn’t want to think about the damage he might've wreaked.

  She put a hand on his chest, her touch penetrated deep into his heart. “Please stay.”

  If he had any decency, he’d tell her to go inside without him. “For a while,” he conceded.

  Upon entering the chapel, the thick wooden doors closed behind them with a heavy thud as two men hoisted a large, thick beam across them. The fear inside was palpable. Several men stood with anxious, gritty expressions along the periphery of the large room, each posted in front of a boarded window. The women sat with the hollow expressions of mothers who’d either lost a child or feared losing the warm bundle in their arms. The older children sat as still as their parents, while the toddlers, who could not grasp the danger they were in, squealed with glee and raced across the stone floor.

  Sithias held up the basket of charms. “If I could have everyone’sss attention. We’ve made thessse protective charmsss for you to wear.”

  “How’s one of them charms going to protect
us from marauding, underhanded thieves?” one of the men said, while others nodded in agreement. “I’ve seen them smelly sticks before and they never once stopped our youngsters from being stolen out from under our noses.”

  Sithias stared in surprise. “You think it’sss maraudersss?”

  “What else do you think stole our babies?” the man said with a snort. “Ghosties?”

  Gerdie yanked on his sleeve. Sithias bent down as she spoke in a hushed tone. “They never believed me about Old Mother Grim, and they didn’t like me givin’ their kids charms neither. Just say it’s for good luck.”

  Sithias stood straight. “Did I sssay protective charmsss? I meant good luck charmsss.”

  Faces turned hopeful, and everyone surrounded him with outreached hands. The anxiety lifted somewhat, but after an hour of boredom, mixed with the noise of restless children, the mood grew strained again. Finn could hardly stand the tension building in the room as he sat next to Fate and the others in silence, each of them waiting for the impending doom.

  Gerdie’s patience ran out first. She jumped to her feet and joined the fidgety youngsters, distracting them for a short time with a few magic tricks. She pulled pebbles out of their ears, which she juggled and turned into fleeting butterflies that vanished into puffs of smoke. For a girl so young, she handled the toddlers in a practiced, levelheaded manner. Unfortunately, her tricks only served to excite, rather than quiet them.

  “I guess the charms are working,” Fate said, her voice low. “If Old Mother Grim was going to do something, she probably would’ve done it by now.”

  “Don’t be fooled, she’s out there,” Finn said. He’d been feeling her formidable presence for some time. His skin prickled as if she lurked directly behind him, fouling his air with her fetid breath. Strangely, he wasn’t afraid. He looked forward to making her suffer for her unspeakable crimes. When he thought of the innocent lives she’d taken, vengeance swelled and collided with the dark power coiled tight inside him, ready to strike snake-quick when the time came to destroy the abomination. He looked at the others. “Be ready for anything.”