Fantasy Gone Wrong

by Greenberg, Martin H.

  “But the dragon,” Jed panted. “Where’s the dragon?”

  “Oh, it’s been put into the castle dungeon, it has.” She spat on the ground. “Foul creatures. Wanting nothing more than the spoils of kidnapping such a fine lady. The king’ll put it death, he will. Mark my words. Evil creatures—don’t deserve to live if you ask me.” And she bent her head and sent out a cackle that raised the hairs on the back of Jed’s neck.

  He kicked her cane out from under her. “I didn’t.”

  Rose!

  It took a few tight turns and twists, but Jed remembered the old passageways into the dungeons. He’d used them once or twice in his youth, before he’d tried to go on the straight and good path.

  Too bad that path had sent him straight back into breaking and entering.

  He found Rose in one of the larger cells. She was still too big to fit in properly, so it looked as if she’d been stuffed in, back end first, with her snout sticking out. Large horse-size manacles encircled her wrists and neck, and she was chained to the floor and walls.

  She looked miserable.

  A group of the king’s guards sat in a circle nearby, playing a game or two of Go Fish. Jed moved quietly along the side until he was right up beside Rose’s eye.

  “Jed?” came Rose’s snort.

  “Shhhhh!” He nearly had a cow right there at the sound of her voice. He glanced around to the side of the cell opening and made sure the guards hadn’t moved.

  They looked as if they hadn’t heard anything.

  “Jed—no one can hear me but you,” Rose said in a calming voice.

  That’s when he realized the voice of the dragon was in his head—just like the voice of the gnome. “Uh—” He turned and faced her eye. “Right. Didn’t know that.”

  She sighed, and a slight bit of black smoke came from her nostrils. “I’m afraid I sort of botched it.”

  “What happened?”

  “Well I fell asleep,” she said. “Little miss spoiled was in the back of the cave, twitching and turning, and making all sorts of racket into that gag, so I set up some nice chamomile incense—you know—to soothe things a bit. And well—” Rose focused her eye on Jed. “I sort of fell asleep myself.”

  “And that’s how Prince Charming captured you.”

  “I’m afraid so. Woke up and I was the one in chains. So—” She blinked at him. “They’re going to kill me in the morning. Oh Jed, I’m so sorry.”

  He leaned against her. “Why are you sorry? I got you into this. Me and my greed.” Well, not just greed, bub. “And the need to save my soul. I just wanted to be powerful, you know? To not be stepped on all the time—to be something more.”

  “Is that it?” Rose’s voice sounded incredulous.

  “Yeah, that’s it.”

  “Then kiss me.”

  Jed shook his head. “Ick. I can’t do that, Rose.”

  “Why not? Am I that ugly?”

  Jed looked at her. “No—it’s just that I’m supposed to get a reward, aren’t I? I mean, the gnome said he’d fulfill my heart’s desire.”

  “Then kiss me!”

  There was a noise at the end of the hall. He could hear the sound of marching feet. “I think someone’s coming. I think it’s the guards to kill you.”

  “Kiss me!”

  “NO!”

  “It’s my last wish!” She looked pleadingly at him.

  Well, she had tried to help him, though he could tell the poor creature didn’t have a violent bone in her body. She was a nice dragon, as far as dragons went, and she hadn’t eaten him.

  Yet.

  “You won’t eat me?”

  “The Gottis are taking your soul—would it really matter now?”

  He gulped. He guessed not. With a backward glance at the hallway and the approaching march of feet, Jed took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and kissed the dragon.

  “On the lips, you git.”

  Oh.

  He moved out and repeated his action, and kissed Rose on the lips.

  His world pitched forward, and then backward, as he felt his body explode beneath him and then move to fill the space where he stood. He could hear screams in the distance.

  What was all the ruckus about?

  Abruptly his vision cleared and he was looking down at the guards, who were all looking up at him, their eyes wide and their mouths gaping.

  “Handsome! You’re so handsome!”

  Jed turned to see Rose—only she was looking up at him.

  Up—at—me?

  Oh no!

  “Dragon! Two dragons!” shouted the guards and they were running here and there along the floor beneath Jed’s feet. He drew back on his hind legs—hind legs!—and watched them go.

  “Darling!” Rose said in a very sexy voice. “Please—can you free me so we can get out of here?”

  Jed looked back down at Rose. She was still tethered to the floor and walls. With ease he tore the chains away and broke the manacles, and then he helped pull her out of the cell, her lower half coming out with an audible “pop.”

  “What happened?” Jed was saying as Rose dusted herself off. He heard the crunch of something brittle and looked down to see he’d stepped on a few guards. Ew. “What did you do to me?”

  “You’re a dragon!” Rose clapped her hands together. “Oh, I finally got my wish. I’ve kissed so many toads in my day, and they’ve all been toads. But I’d never thought to kiss a human.” She shook her head. “Who knew?”

  “But, but.” He looked down at his own blue and green scales. He was also aware of how attractive Rose suddenly was. “I don’t want to be a dragon!”

  “But the Gottis can’t touch you like this,” Rose said with a long talon pointing at the dungeon ceiling. “Think about it. No one can touch you—ever again. You’re powerful.”

  He thought about the cave he’d found her in, and about the gold. It was dragon gold but hey . . . it was still gold. “And I’m rich.”

  Something stung on his left hip. Jed looked down to see Prince Charming sticking a spear into it. He looked over at Rose. “Will this last? I mean, I won’t turn back into a human just yet?”

  “No.” Rose looked hopeful. “You don’t want too, do you?”

  Jed looked back down at the Prince and with little more than a belch, set the Prince’s robes and hair on fire. The little man went screaming down one of the dungeon tunnels. He looked back over at Rose. “Nah. But let’s get back over to my place.” He looked down at the still-missing finger of his left hand. “I have a score to settle.”

  On Monday morning Jed sat beside a simple breakfast of dragon kibble and mulled wine with a copy of the early edition of the Goblin Globe. He read aloud to Rose the tragic torching of Farmboy Jed’s shack on Harmony Hill, another fiery event just on the heels of the drastic dragon escape of Saturday night. Two dragons, reportedly from the Enchanted Mountains, ravaged the castle grounds during their escape. Princess Vixennia was missing, and Prince Charming had declared an all-out hunt to find the dragons—but only after his hair grew back out.

  Rose clapped her hands. “How exciting.” Her eyes gleamed a brilliant gold. “Read the Nosey Nettle column on page three. It’s very interesting.”

  Jed flipped the oversize onionskin edition and glanced at the headline. “Oh ho! The King’s Wizard is perplexed over two yard gnomes reportedly seen appearing and disappearing in the palace gardens.” Jed blinked. “A witness claims one of the gnomes resembles Princess Vixennia.”

  “I told you the princess’s heart belonged to another.”

  He stared at her incredulously. “So the yard gnome was having an affair with the princess? That’s where he was going every night? To see her?”

  Rose patted his green-and-blue scaled knee. “That was how I was able to catch the princess. Oh, I love happy endings—even if they are a little out of the norm.”

  Jed agreed. As for Uncle Gotti and his nieces, Jed glanced up at the ceiling at the new three-globe chandelier, at the tiny light
s flittering about each of the globes. Every now and then, with his new super dragon ears, he could hear the Gotti fairies screaming to be set free with promises of fame and fortune.

  Oh, please.

  A DAY AT THE UNICORN RACES

  Christina F. York

  Christina F. York is a romance writer who can’t resist playing in science fiction and fantasy, and action /adventure. She blames it on being a Gemini. Her short fiction has appeared in the DAW anthologies Time After Time and Hags and Harpies. Her latest novel, Alias: Strategic Reserve, was published in March 2006, with another in the works. In addition to romance novels and Alias tie-ins, she has also published Star Trek short fiction and novels, the latter in collaboration with writer and husband, J. Steven York. Chris lives on the Oregon coast, where she can see the ocean from her office window.

  ALPHONSE LISTENED TO THE track announcer calling the end of the Meadowland Stakes race, as he watched from the rail. The thunder of hooves shook the ground under his feet and dust assailed his nose as the racers passed his position.

  Fairy Dust was one of his favorites, even though trainers weren’t supposed to have favorites.

  And Bubbles, the elf jockey, was one of his favorites, too. He probably shouldn’t have favorite jockeys, either, but screw that. She looked good in the silks, and he could imagine what she would look like out of them. Hell, he’d even had a preview or two in the changing rooms, even though the women’s locker was supposed to be off limits to men.

  But Bubbles didn’t feature having him in her life, not by a long shot. Not as long as she was a unicorn racer. Just his luck to get all hot and bothered over an elf with a career that didn’t leave much room for a love life.

  It wasn’t like he hadn’t tried. He’d done all the polite things, made all the nonthreatening moves he knew.

  Both of them.

  But she’d been pretty clear. He couldn’t find a good answer to “Get your damned hands off of me.” She might be little, but dainty wasn’t a word that described Bubbles.

  Fairy Dust was moving along the rail, challenging for the lead, with only a few seconds left in the race. He seemed to respond to the screaming of the crowd, putting on a last-second burst of speed and moving into a photo finish.

  In the infield, the fiddling cat began a tune, providing his regular distraction for the crowd between races.

  While the crowd buzzed, waiting for the results, Alphonse slipped through the gate into the paddock, where the mounts were cooling down.

  As a trainer, he was one of the few people allowed near the unicorns. Only virgins could ride, but fortunately trainers didn’t have to be quite so pure. He’d thought about being a jockey once, but being human reduced his chances, in a career dominated by the lithe elves.

  And that whole no-sex thing had been the clincher. Who wanted to voluntarily spend the rest of his life in a constant state of frustration? He had seen firsthand how nasty the jockeys got.

  Still, the girls were hot.

  Bubbles was still astride Fairy Dust, leaning forward over his neck, stroking his horn, and whispering in his ear.

  Alphonse suddenly wished he were a unicorn.

  As she stroked the horn, Bubbles stood up slightly in her saddle, leaning forward. The tight silk of her riding pants stretched across her trim bottom.

  Was the woman deliberately torturing him?

  Bubbles glanced around the paddock, catching sight of Alphonse. Her eyes were bright with the excitement of the race, and a little unfocused, her face flushed. She smiled at Alphonse, and nudged Fairy Dust toward him.

  Sliding from the saddle, Bubbles dropped down next to Alphonse. “Did you see the son-of-a-bitch run?” She was buzzing with adrenaline. “Did you see?”

  Before Alphonse could reply, the finish photo flashed on the tote board. Fairy Dust, muscles straining, had pushed his horn ahead of the number-two finisher by a fraction of an inch.

  Bubbles cheered and jumped into Alphonse’s arms, wrapping her slender legs around his waist, and kissing him lustily.

  For an instant, passion flowed freely.

  Then Bubbles broke the kiss and dropped to the ground. Her face clouded, and frustration instantly replaced passion.

  “Dammit!” She stomped away. “Don’t do that to me!”

  As she moved off, Alphonse could hear a string of muttered curses. He shook his head.

  She was trying to torture him.

  The jockey’s changing room was a miasma of steam and sweat, the clash of a dozen different soap and shampoo scents creating a stomach-churning cloud of olfactory overload.

  Bubbles shoved her way to her locker, shouldering past the crowd of elves busily changing silks, shooting dirty looks at anyone who crossed her path.

  “Watch out,” called a tiny woman wrapped in a towel. “Bubbles is horny. Again!”

  “Am not!” Bubbles shot back.

  The retort was greeted with a wave of laughter from all over the room.

  “You sooo are too,” the woman replied. She stopped in front of a locker with the name “Rainbow” stenciled on the front, and pulled out a small silver flask. “Here,” she said, and tossed it to Bubbles, “drown your sorrows.”

  Bubbles tilted her head back and took a long swallow from the flask before tossing it back to Rainbow. “I don’t need to drown my sorrows, but I am not about to pass up free gin.”

  “Honey,” Rainbow said, stowing the flask back in her locker, “it may just be time to hang up your silks.”

  “Bullshit.” Bubbles stripped off the garments in question, and tossed them in a basket for cleaning. “Never happen.”

  “Listen to you, acting all tough,” called Sunshine from the next bank of lockers. “Keep this up, you’re gonna explode, I swear it.”

  “You never swear, Sunny. And I am not even going to dignify that with an answer,” Bubbles said. She wrapped a rough towel around her, and marched off to the shower.

  Maybe a cold shower would just wash away the frustration.

  It wasn’t that she didn’t like Alphonse well enough. Hell, if she weren’t a jockey, and he weren’t a human, she might even give him a tumble, but it would mean losing her job, and for what?

  As Bubbles dressed, Rainbow and Sunshine continued to taunt her. Finally when all three were leaving the locker room, Rainbow threw a friendly arm over Bubbles’s shoulder.

  “You aren’t the only one, you know,” she whispered confidentially. “We’ve all thought about it.”

  “No shit. Like that’s a big surprise.”

  “No, really,” Sunshine said earnestly. “We do think about it. How can you not?”

  “But there’s nothing we can do about it. Not if we want to keep our jobs. One little tumble, and poof!” Bubbles waved her hands. “Remember Tatiana? She had some scheme that was supposed to fool Angel Heart.”

  Sunshine’s big blue eyes grew wide and a single, perfect tear formed in one corner. “That poor girl! She was in the hospital for months when he threw her!”

  Bubbles snorted in disgust. “Well, duh! Thought she could fool a unicorn? Hello! Magical creatures here, not gonna be fooled by some bimbo with a hormone overload.”

  Rainbow patted Bubbles on the back, as the three women made their way into the now-deserted parking lot. “You try to act like you don’t care, but we know better, Bubby. And Alphonse isn’t a bad guy, even if he is human. Hey, if I was ready to hang it up, I just might stash my riding boots under his bunk.”

  Sunshine’s mouth turned down at the corners, and she cocked her head to the side. “It’s all sad and tragic, you know. There just aren’t that many great guys out there, and most of the good ones are taken.”

  “It’s not all that. It isn’t love, it’s just a little roll in hay. Literally, if Tatiana is any example. And it’s way more than a job, anyway,” Bubbles shot back. “It’s like my entire life. Racing is everything.”

  Rainbow’s ancient Honda, painted in rainbow colors and covered with decals from all the tracks they h
ad visited, sat in the far corner of the lot.

  The three women piled in, and Rainbow headed for The Finish Line, the local track hangout.

  At a table in the jockey’s corner, they had a beer and the conversation picked up where it had left off.

  They were nearly shouting over the din in the bar, the blaring jukebox providing a base for the buzz of conversation, punctuated by occasional shrill, alcohol-fueled laughter.

  “I say go for it.” Rainbow was not going to let it drop.

  Bubbles shook her head. “Do I look like I am insane? Even if I am hot for his frame—which I am not, thank you very much—but even if I was, what am I gonna do? Throw away my entire life?”

  Sunshine asked dreamily, “I can’t think of a better reason.” She sighed, a drawn-out, dramatic exhalation. “It must be wonderful.”

  “Sunny, get a grip! It’s not like I’m in love with Al, like we’re making lifelong plans here.” Bubbles turned to glare at Rainbow. “And I am not hot for him, either.”

  Rainbow raised a skeptical eyebrow, but she didn’t argue.

  Across the bar Alphonse watched Bubbles. She hadn’t seen him when she came in, and he knew better than to approach a jockey in The Finish Line. The women jockey’s corner was strictly off-limits to men, both human and elf.

  She was a lost cause. Every time he got close to her, she turned as prickly as a cactus, all sharp points and attitude to spare.

  That was the thing about the jockeys. They might be virgins, and the women might be small and dainty. But they weren’t all sweetness and light, oh no, not by a long shot. Most of ’em were kind of nasty when you got right down to it.

  So why was he still watching Bubbles sip her beer?

  Maybe he was the lost cause.

  Bubbles paced the floor of her apartment. It was late, but she had a beer buzz, and she didn’t want to sleep.

  She stomped through the tiny area she laughingly called a living room, sidestepping her broken-down recliner and dodging a basket of unfolded laundry.

  She tried not to think about Al, about how it felt when she kissed him. Well, duh! She might be a rider—a virgin—but it didn’t’ mean she was dead or something. Everything worked just fine, thank you.