Curses!

by J. A. Kazimer

  “Um ... Asia?” I prompted.

  Asia finally glanced up, her eyes burned with gluttony and mild confusion. “Am I missing something?”

  “Yes,” my traitorous mouth answered. I slapped my hand over it before it could say more. Asia raised her eyebrow in a perfect villainous arch. Damn beginner’s luck. I’d spent hours in the mirror trying to get my eyebrow to rise like that.

  Natasha appeared over Asia’s shoulder. “Is that you, Ru—”

  I cut her off. “Do I know you?”

  Her black eyes narrowed, but she caught on quick enough. The slashing motions I made across my throat probably helped.

  “My mistake.” Her smile grew as she glanced from me to Asia. “I thought you were a man I used to know, but I guess not.”

  Asia tilted her head at my former wife. “I haven’t seen you in the kingdom before. Are you new to town?”

  “Why, yes,” Natasha said. “I’m recently divorced and needed to get away from the city for a while. Some men just can’t accept it when the relationship’s over. They follow you around, from city to kingdom. It’s quite pathetic really.”

  Whore.

  “Oh,” Asia said. “Well ...”

  “Well, it was nice chatting with you.” I stood, smoothing an invisible wrinkle from my T-shirt. “The princess here,” I motioned to Asia, “promised to show me the rest of the kingdom, so we must be on our way.”

  Asia’s brow puckered, but she didn’t question me. Instead, she rose from the booth and offered her hand to Natasha. “Nice meeting you ...”

  “Natasha.” My ex smiled, showing off shark-white teeth and a penchant for fresh blood. “Natasha Stiltskin.”

  “Stiltskin,” Asia said. “That name’s familiar. Are you by any chance related to—”

  “Stiltskin is a really common name. Kind of like Smith. I’ve met tons of them in the city. Ray Stiltskin. Boris. Bill. Robert. So many Stiltskins,” I babbled like a leprechaun intent on escaping with his pot of gold. “Just last week, I met a dude named Barack—”

  “Anyway, it’s been a pleasure,” Natasha said to Asia, and then she turned to me. “Perhaps we’ll meet again. Soon.”

  Chapter 8

  “That was weird,” Asia said, crossing her arms over her ample chest. I tried valiantly to ignore the swell of her breasts, but failed. Suffice it to say, Asia had to repeat her statement twice before my mind caught up.

  “Weird?” I stuttered. Damn Natasha. She could ruin everything for me. Again. I should’ve locked her in a tower years ago.

  Asia grabbed my hand. “So you saw it too?”

  Saw what? My bitch of an ex-wife? Oh yeah, I saw every damn deceitful inch of her. Good thing for Natasha the union had rendered me impotent, at least fiendishly so. Otherwise, my shoelaces would be a necktie for her right about now. I pictured her bulging eyeballs as my shoelace tightened around her throat and felt instantly better. Ah, the power of positive thought.

  “I wasn’t sure at first,” Asia was saying as my mental murder fantasy faded from my mind. “But then he snuck out the back door, and I knew it was him.”

  I shook my head, clueless. “Who?”

  “Cindi’s childhood friend Hansel, of course.”

  Who the fuck was Hansel? “Of course. So what do you think it means?” I gave her my best sincere smile. The one that often made old ladies cry.

  “He’s hiding something.” Asia bit her bottom lip. “Why else would he duck out the back door?”

  I nodded sagely and hopefully detectively, and motioned for her to continue.

  “I bet he knows why she was killed.”

  “Could be.”

  “What do we do now?” Her eyes stared at me with such faith I almost felt guilty for my deception. Almost.

  I gestured into the dark forest. “Let’s go find this Hansel and ask him some questions.” I stepped forward like a man on a mission, consequences be damned. Asia grabbed my arm, pulling me to a stop. I raised a questioning eyebrow.

  “He lives that way.” She pointed in the opposite direction.

  “Of course.” I spun on my heel and started forward once again. This time Asia fell into step beside me, the gentle sway of her hips a pleasant distraction after the run-in with my ex.

  The forest closed in around us as we ventured down a rocky path to Hansel’s place. In the trees above our heads birds chirped to the beat of a familiar ditty, but I couldn’t place the song. A cold wind swept across my arms and I shivered. I was a city boy at heart. Enchanted or not, forests freaked me out. Too much nature, not enough graffiti. And what was with the smell? It stank like those pine-scented urinal cakes in the bathroom of Fairy Central Station.

  My cell phone rang. “What?” I answered without glancing at the caller ID.

  “Not your usual type. Too nice,” my ex-wife said, her voice muffled by static. “So how rich is she?”

  “What do you want?”

  “What makes you think I want anything?” She paused for a beat. “Maybe I just missed you.”

  I snickered, and Natasha joined me. The bitch. Once my peals of bitter glee ended, I took two steps away from Asia and growled into the phone, “Don’t mess with me. I’m not in the mood.”

  “Oh, but I am.”

  I closed my eyes and counted to ten. Then I counted to twenty. When I reached four hundred and thirty, I was calm enough to whisper, “Meet me tomorrow. In the alley between the Butcher and the Baker. I’ll be the guy wishing you dead.”

  Natasha laughed again, high and light, just like I remembered from our many nights of debauchery. “Till we meet again,” she said and hung up.

  “Who was that?” Asia stood next to me, a soft smile on her lips. Sunlight danced in her coppery hair. I stared at her, unable to draw my eyes away. She grew more beautiful with each moment, rounder, softer somehow.

  Yep, I was truly fucked.

  Her head tilted to the side. “Are you going to tell me?”

  I bit my tongue and shook my head no.

  Her smile grew wider. “Fair enough.” She patted her tummy. “But please stop gnawing on your tongue. I’m hungry enough as it is.”

  I saw an out and took it. “This morning you slaughtered an innocent egg, and now you’re on a crash diet. What gives?”

  “I’m thinking of auditioning for Neverland’s Top Model,” she said. “What’s it to you?”

  I shrugged. If she didn’t want to tell me the truth, I could respect that. I held a secret too. Many of them, in fact. If she wanted to keep one little one for herself, so be it.

  Not that it would work.

  I was a villain, for fuck sakes. How hard could it be to crack one little princess?

  A girlish scream ripped me from my fiendish thoughts. Asia glanced at me, and we both took off running toward the terrified shouts. I broke through the Enchanted Forest first, pulling to a stop at the sight in front of me.

  In the middle of the forest, a guy covered in caramel goo flapped like a marionette on a string. His puppet master was a seven-foot-tall chick dressed in a leather catsuit with a bulbous nose, warts, and a suspicious lump in her throat.

  “Hansel,” she screamed, yanking at Hansel’s sticky arms, “how many times have I told you no sweets before dinner!”

  Hansel yelped, but the corners of his lips curved into a devious smile. “I’m sorry, mistress. Please, please don’t eat me.”

  “Oh, you are a dirty, naughty boy.” The witch smacked Hansel’s bottom, much to his delight and my disgust. Sex games had a right time and place. Four o’clock in the afternoon, surrounded by malevolent maple trees, wasn’t it.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” I said.

  The witch dropped Hansel, and he landed hard at her feet. A cloud of dust and caramel circled him, nearly obscuring the gingerbread house behind them.

  But not enough.

  Asia stood transfixed by the decadent sight of white icing and rainbow-colored gumdrops. Her stomach gurgled, and then growled, and drool dripped from her pink lip
s. It slipped down her chin and onto her sweatshirt, leaving a big, round wet spot on her chest.

  I reached for her hand and squeezed. “Probably tastes like cardboard.”

  “Uh-huh.” She nodded, her eyes still locked on the gooey goodness.

  The dominatrix in spandex started to speak. “Your Highness, what a pleasure—”

  “Are those gummy bears?” Asia pointed to a row of multicolored bears lining the walkway. “I love gummy bears... .” With a heartsick sigh, she waved at an outcropping of rocks piled high behind us. “I’ll be over there.”

  Asia slowly walked, shoulders slumped, to the rocks and sat down, her back to the delicious gingerbread house. I returned my attention to Hansel and his mistress. Both looked up at me expectantly. “She’s dieting,” I said in way of an explanation. The couple nodded as if I’d unveiled the meaning of life. I decided to get to the point. “Hansel,” I said.

  He nodded, his silver eyes seeming to peer into my very soul, but not in a girly way. I crossed my arms over my chest, flexing my biceps to intimidate the smaller man. “Her Highness,” I nodded to Asia, “thinks you might know something about Cinderella’s death.”

  “I—” he began.

  A smack to the back of his head delivered by his loving leather-clad “lady” stopped him.

  “Ouch,” Hansel squealed.

  “He don’t know nothing,” the witch said, flexing her own biceps. Biceps twice the width of mine. “Neither of us do,” she added with a sneer.

  I winced at the grammatical slight and tried another approach. “Are you sure? There’s a pretty big reward for any information leading to Cindi’s killer.”

  “We don’t need money,” Hansel blurted. “We live off love.”

  Ew.

  “And the wonderful bounty the good forest provides,” added the witch. She lifted her hand and waved toward her gingerbread house. My eyes followed her wave, pausing briefly on the boiling cauldron on the porch and the ruby red slippers sticking from its depths.

  “So you see,” the witch’s eyes narrowed, “mister, we don’t need your reward money.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “Not even for a new roof?” I motioned to her gingerbread house with a six-foot hole where the frosted ceiling used to be.

  “What?” The witch spun around. “No!”

  But her cries were in vain. Asia sat atop the house, munching away like a gerbil. Her cheeks puffed out and a string of saliva coated the rooftop. She swallowed prettily and then glared down at us. “I skipped lunch!” she said.

  While the witch staggered to her half-eaten house, Hansel stood next to me, shrugging as if to say, “Women. What can you do?” I nodded in silent understanding.

  “We just had it reshingled,” he said. “Cost us a bloody fortune.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Where’d you get the money?”

  Because, let’s face it, love, even the dirty truck-stop kind, wouldn’t raise nearly enough to shingle a gingerbread house, not in the current frosted economy.

  For a second Hansel looked like a dwarf caught in headlights. His wide mouth formed a perfect circle, which, on a guy as pretty as Hansel, wasn’t attractive.

  “Come on,” I said. “Confession is good for the soul.” Or so I’d been told. My own soul consisted of black goop, so a bottle of bleach and lots of elbow grease seemed more appropriate. “Whatever you say stays between us.” I made the sign of the cross over my chest, watching the sky for any sign of lightning. When I didn’t burst into a fireball of villain parts, I added, “Nobody has to know.”

  “Gretel did it!” he said, and then quickly slapped his hand over his mouth. Overhead a bird squawked, causing Hansel to jump around like a marionette.

  Damn, this was easier than I first thought. Maybe I had a knack for the detective biz after all. “Gretel, huh? Where can I find her?”

  “I don’t know.” He burst into tears. Thick, drippy, wet, man tears. The kind made from puppy-dog tails and snails. Snot slipped from his pointy nose, sprinkling the ground around us. A glob landed on the toe of my boot and slid to the ground with a wet splat.

  Feeling uncomfortable, disgusted, and not particularly villainous—damn it—I unwillingly patted Hansel on the back. “There there.” I needed to get back into the union, and soon. Either that or beat myself to death with a gummy bear. “When did you see Gretel last?”

  Hansel wiped his eyes and glanced at the witch, who was busy trying to stop Asia from eating the snickerdoodle chimney.

  She wasn’t having much luck.

  “Two weeks ago,” Hansel said. “We took her to the market. Missy,” he nodded to the witch in leather, “told me not to sell her, but ...”

  Any sympathy I’d felt for Hansel dried up instantly. Selling his sister? What the hell was that about? Not even a villain would stoop that low. Okay, one might stoop that low for the right price. “But what?” My fingers dug into his shoulder until he winced.

  “He gave me beans!” Hansel started to cry once again. I rolled my eyes. At this rate, the gingerbread house would have a six-foot-deep moat before he finished his damn story.

  Enough was enough.

  I grabbed his shoulders and tried to shake him. Of course, with my evil impotency, the shake turned into a hug. Stupid union.

  Pulling away, I sighed loud enough to stop Asia mid-bite. From the rooftop, she gave me a thumbs-up and continued to shovel sugarcoated shingles into her mouth. I smiled and waved back, watching her until Hansel got a grip.

  This took about ten minutes.

  Hansel blew his nose, and like a little kid, he used his sleeve as a tissue. I’d known trolls suffering from a cold with better hygiene.

  “Beans,” I said, reminding him of where our conversation had left off. “Who gave you beans?”

  Hansel shrugged. “An old man. Or at least I think he was old. He had white hair and smelled like feet. Oh, he also had a tail and a hump.”

  Great. My one and only suspect was an old man with a tail. Put out an APB.

  Hansel paused to scratch his whiskerless chin. “Of course, Missy has a hump too, and she’s only twenty-seven. You wouldn’t believe what she can do with that hump. I remember this one time—”

  “Forget Missy,” I said, ready to strangle Hansel, which was frustrating since I’d probably botch his murder and end up in some kind of man-on-man hugfest. “Why would this old man with a tail and a hump want to buy your sister?” My voice grew louder with each word.

  Hansel frowned. “My sister? What does Greta have to do with any of this?”

  “What? Who’s Greta?”

  “My sister.”

  “Then who the hell is Gretel?”

  “My bluebird.” Hansel sighed loud enough to rattle the windows of the gingerbread house. “I sold my bluebird, Gretel, to the old man for a bag of magic beans. Not my sister. What kind of dirtbag do you think I am?”

  Missy, the witch, interrupted before I could comment. “He’s not the villain here,” she said, stabbing the broom in her hand in my direction. What could I say? The witch was right. She was also far from finished. “Cinderella, that little bitch,” Missy growled, “deserved exactly what she got. She was the wicked one.”

  For a supposedly widely adored princess I’d yet to find one person, besides Asia, in mourning for the squashed Cinderella. Hell, the queen had barely acknowledged her existence. “Oh yeah?” I gave Missy my best smile. “Why? What’d Cinderella do to you?”

  “She used to—” Missy began.

  This time Hansel slapped his hand over her mouth. Not an easy feat since she was at least two feet taller than he was. I smothered a laugh watching as he dangled in the air. His fingers locked on her red-stained lips.

  “Nothing,” Hansel said. “Missy doesn’t know what she’s saying. The heat,” he waved his other hand in front of Missy’s face, which nearly toppled them both, “it gets to her. We loved Cindi like a ... sister. Everyone did. If you search the entire kingdom
, not a soul will say one bad word about Cinderella.”

  From behind Hansel, Asia gave a small groan and clutched her stomach. Cookie crumbs and frosting stuck to her sweatshirt and her knees were stained cotton-candy pink. “I feel sick.” She whimpered again.

  As much as I wanted to finish interrogating the odd couple, a peek at Asia’s green face changed my mind. The poor princess appeared ready to spew her pretty, pretty guts. I took her arm and led her toward the forest. Pausing, I did my best Peter Falk impression and turned back to Hansel. “One more thing.”

  “Yes?” He blinked at me.

  “Don’t leave the kingdom.” I waited a beat and nodded toward Missy. “Either of you.”

  “Are we suspects, then?” Hansel looked excited by the prospect. His eyes widened, as did his smile. Missy, on the other hand, appeared to shrink under the accusation. She swallowed hard, her Adam’s apple bobbing in her throat like ... well, a transgendered warlock suspected of smashing a princess under a bus.

  Chapter 9

  “Thanks,” I said to Asia a few minutes later. We walked hand in hand through the enchanted darkness, our path lit only by the occasional flutter of brightly lit fairy butts.

  “Thanks?” Asia stopped. “For what?”

  “The distraction, of course.” I grinned. Asia’s ploy to distract Missy so I could interrogate Hansel had worked perfectly. “We make a pretty good team.”

  “You think?” Her head tilted to the side, begging me to stroke the pale flesh of her throat. Helpless to resist, I stepped closer to her and trailed a finger down the curve of her neck. Her skin felt so soft under my fingertips, like the finest of Mary’s sheared little lambs.

  “I do think,” I said, my voice barely a whisper.

  “Somehow I doubt that.”

  “Hey—”

  Her index finger pressed against my lips. “Shhh ...” She followed her command with a kiss. It started out soft and sweet, but quickly twisted into an explosion of lust. I wrapped my hand in her hair and deepened the kiss. Our tongues met in the middle, fighting for control, mine, hers, ours. The intensity of heat burning inside me nearly drove me mad. I wanted Asia, wanted her more than I ever wanted anything else.