Curses!

by J. A. Kazimer

  “Which one are you sniffing after?” She looked me over with her filmy grey eyes. “Unibrow or the fat one?”

  “The fat one,” a voice said from behind me.

  I spun around, nearly colliding with the not-so-ugly object under discussion. Asia reached out to steady me. I enjoyed her touch more than a not-so-villainous villain should. Her fingers were warm and she smelled faintly of pumpkin spice.

  “Good morning,” I said, my eyes drinking in the sight of her. Damn, she was beautiful. Her red hair fell around her shoulders, covering the swell of her breasts under ... an extra-extra-large grey sweatshirt, and if I wasn’t mistaken, what looked to be super-sized maternity pants. Not a great look for most women, but Asia managed to pull it off. In fact, she looked good enough to eat. I smiled, running my tongue over my teeth.

  “Good morning?” she all but screamed. “Good morning? Is that all you can say?”

  “Not a morning person, huh?” I could live with that. I shot her a half smile and poured her a cup of coffee, adding two sugars and some cream. “This will fix you up right.”

  Pressing the cup into her hand, I awaited her gratitude, preferably in the form of plenty of spit swapping and inappropriate groping.

  It wasn’t to be.

  Asia smacked the coffee cup from my hand, sending the contents splashing over the tile floor. Her eyes blazed with the fires of a thousand tiny fairy hells. For a second, I pondered screaming like a girl and running for the hills, but only for a second.

  “What’s wrong with you?” I frowned at the coffee on the floor, and then at her. Of course, her screaming like the wicked witch gave me a small clue. PMS. Or rather the approved clinical term—Princess Madness Syndrome. A monthly occurrence long associated with the cycle of the Home Shopping Network.

  Asia’s face, a little softer in the morning light, grew red, as if at any moment she would explode into a pulpy mess of annoyed princess parts. “Wrong with me? Wrong with me? What the fuck do you think is wrong with me?”

  As suddenly as Asia’s rage appeared, it vanished, leaving her in tears. Big, wet ones. She sniffed once and mumbled something. Something that sounded like, “I cursed.”

  Wanting to comfort her, a relatively new feeling for me, but afraid her madness was the catchy kind, I stood a few feet away, my arms at my sides. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I curse all the time.” I paused to gather a vile string of swear words. “Fudge, poking, pig, poop,” I said. Damn union.

  Lips trembling, Asia glanced up at me through red-rimmed eyelids. Her face cleared, and for a few seconds, she returned to the sane princess I fell so deeply in lust with just yesterday. We stared at each other. Time slowed.

  “Idiot,” she said with a sigh before she twirled around and stomped out of the room.

  I glanced at Aunt Lizzie.

  She shook her head, lowered her meat cleaver, and walked away.

  Women.

  Chapter 12

  The rest of my day didn’t get any better. After a hearty breakfast of oatmeal, eggs, toast, and a half slab of this little sausage, I stalked around the castle questioning any random servant in my path. Most didn’t speak English, or so they told me in astonishingly decent English accents.

  One servant, a thin-as-a-toothpick boy with an extremely long, pointed nose, gave me a bit of information. “On the day Cinderella died,” he said, “the king was on a hunt. The queen was out shopping. And Princess Dru was backpacking through the Enchanted Forest.”

  Interesting. No one in the royal family had an alibi. Not even the troll-like butler. “What about Prince Charming?” I stroked my chin. “Any word on his whereabouts?”

  “How dare you!” The kid gasped as if I’d just called his mother an oak tree. “Prince Charming would never hurt anyone, least of all his intended. Besides, he was here, in the kingdom, the whole time. Ask anyone.”

  “All right, Pinocchio. I believe you.” I tossed the kid a couple of bucks. “Let me know if you remember anything else.”

  His eyes lit up as he stared at the cash. “Oh, you can count on it.”

  I smiled and patted the kid on the head. The poor pine-scented bastard. His nose had grown at least an inch in the time we’d talked.

  After my chat with the kid, my search for clues went south. Or north. Could’ve been east. Villains have a terrible sense of direction, and morals, but I digress.

  Around noon, exhausted from detecting, I returned to Cinderella’s pink bedroom for a long afternoon siesta. As soon as my head hit the pillow, I yelped in pain and jumped from the bed. Rubbing the back of my head, I glanced down between the headboard and mattress. There, stuck in the crack, was a small makeup mirror. The kind women “powder their nose” with, but in actuality use to catch their unsuspecting villainous husbands checking out the waitress at Hooters.

  I pulled the compact from the crack and wiped the dust away, revealing a shiny exterior with a large blue stone in the center. Pretty, but more importantly, the gem alone was worth $127 at the pawnshop. A vill-estimate. Of course, the union would take their 15 percent, calling it a “commission,” but in reality, it was extortion, which as a villain, I greatly respected.

  Pocketing the mirror, I stretched out across the bed and promptly fell asleep. Or maybe I passed out from the head injury. Either way, when I awoke a couple hours later, I was ready to tackle goal number two—ridding the kingdom of an unspeakable evil, also known as Natasha, my ex-wife.

  At two-thirty that afternoon, after a brief stop at the pawnshop, I stomped through the Enchanted Forest on my way to meet my ex. Overgrown fir and arrogant oak trees swept across the well-worn path. Dried dead leaves in an array of colors blanketed the dirt, swirling in the sudden brisk wind. I pulled my hooded sweatshirt tighter and grinned. The air smelled of rotting leaves, ozone, and a touch of evil.

  I loved the fall.

  About a mile from my destination, a small pond filled with lily pads sat under the shade of a copse of pine trees. Toads croaked and flies buzzed around the greenish water. But they didn’t capture my attention.

  Nope.

  A perfectly formed ass caught my eye. Bent over the pond, the woman attached to the butt appeared not to hear me approach. I stopped a few feet away, afraid if I startled her she would fall headfirst into the murky water, which of course would force me to dive in after her. Since I was more of the “make the damsel distressed” type, rescuing her might send the wrong message.

  The woman in question bent even closer to the water, scooped out a toad, and kissed it. Yuck. As perfect as her butt was, the woman had obviously lost her mind. I started to turn away, intent on escaping from yet another crazed chick from Maledetto. Damn kingdom bred them like blind mice. I took one step before the woman screamed. A loud splash followed.

  Using every ounce of evil willpower, I fought my body’s do-gooding desire to rescue her. Of course, my treacherous body ultimately won, and I dived in the cold, stagnant pond water. Green sludge oozed through my fingers as I dove deeper, searching the black waters for any sign of the chick with toad breath. My lungs began to burn and a low-pitched whistling reverberated inside my skull. Yet there was still no sign of the woman. I forced my body to continue the search.

  There. At the very bottom of the pond sat the toad-kissing lunatic. She wasn’t even struggling. Rather she sat on the pond floor, her hair floating like seaweed around her. In fact, she seemed to be waiting for something. Or somebody.

  I wrapped my arms around her waist and tugged her toward the surface. Her petticoats, about five layers of them, worked as counterweights, pulling us both to the bottom of the pond again. By this time, my body had lost the will to survive, or at least the will to save a crazy chick from a watery death. Of course, my cursed self failed to see my body’s point, and worked that much harder to climb back to the surface.

  When we finally broke through the skin of lily pads, the woman screamed and began to thrash around. Her arm smacked me in the nose, and I nearly let her go. “Stop it,” I sai
d as her knee collided with my thigh. “If you knee me in the bollocks I swear I’ll find a way to drown you.”

  Villain impotency be damned.

  My threat seemed to work, for the woman stopped fighting, and after a few minutes, we emerged from the water covered in pond sludge. I stood shivering at the edge of the pond. My clothes clung to my body, dripping wet with slime and water.

  The woman looked in worse shape. Her black hair hung in clumps around her head, obscuring her face. I winced, lifting what appeared to be a squished toad from a tangle of her curls. The woman brushed her hair away from her face, caught sight of the squished toad in my hands, and promptly burst into heaving tears.

  My reaction was similar when I caught sight of her face. “Ahhhh!” I yelped and quickly jumped away.

  Unfortunately, my recent swim had messed with my equilibrium, and I fell back into the slimy pond. The weight of my boots dragged me down, deeper and deeper into the slimy water. Water sloshed into my throat and down into my lungs. I sputtered, trying to swim and cough at the same time. The result wasn’t pretty. Snot bubbled from my nose, mixing with the toady water. Using my last shred of strength, I pushed to the surface, gulping in mouthfuls of fresh, urinal cake–scented air.

  Pulling myself to the edge of the pond, I crawled to dry land and collapsed in a heap at the woman’s feet. She sat on the ground crying, ranks of horny toads surrounding her.

  “Don’t cry,” I said. “I’m all right.”

  She sniffed, but didn’t raise her head to look at me. Which I was grateful for. It wasn’t that she was ugly. No, that was too kind a word to describe the horror plaguing the poor, shapely girl.

  I stumbled to my feet and wrung my T-shirt out. I owed the woman an apology. After all, it wasn’t her fault she had six inches’ worth of pubic hair running across her forehead in the shape of an eyebrow. “Hey, listen,” I began. “I’m sorry about ...”

  “Forget it,” she said, scratching the nearest toad on its wide head. The toad’s leg bounced up and down in ecstasy.

  Now I felt ten times worse. Sure, I was a villain, evil to the core, in fact, but I wasn’t heartless. Growing up, I had my fair share of bullying and insults. In elementary school, kids called me Tiny, which didn’t sound that bad. But when you’re ten years old and only three feet tall it leaves a few lasting scars. Thank God for puberty. By the age of fifteen, I sprouted to six feet and came into my villainous own.

  I glanced at my watch. Ten minutes until three. Damn. “Ummm ... have you tried waxing?”

  She frowned, her unibrow puckering like a squirrel tail across her forehead. “What’re you talking about?”

  Oops. “Nothing,” I said, reaching out my hand. “My name’s RJ.”

  Her toad-coated fingers wrapped around mine. “Nice to meet you,” she said. “I’m Dru.”

  Shit. Asia’s uglier stepsister. I’d now alienated, insulted, or pissed off every member of the royal family. Hell, by nightfall, I could annoy every man, woman, and child in Maledetto. It was good to have goals.

  Dru lifted the closest toad to her lips and gave it a smacking kiss. I tried not to cringe, but failed. “Hey, Dru,” I said. “What’s with ...” I waved my hand in the direction of her and her new beau.

  Dru carefully placed the toad on the ground and wiped her lips. “I’m searching for a prince.”

  “I see,” I said, but really didn’t. Hell, I was searching for a princess killer, but I wasn’t sexually harassing every pigeon in town.

  “No, you don’t.” She shook her head. “You see, for some reason, men don’t find me attractive.”

  Oh, I could guess why. “I’m sure that’s not true,” I said instead.

  “I can’t stand being single anymore.” She sighed. “A princess’s life is just too short.”

  Truer words were never spoken. Just ask Cinderella.

  “So I’ve taken matters into my own hands.” Her fingers brushed the toad again. His throat bulged and I’d be damned if the green guy didn’t smile. Dru sighed. “A legend swears that somewhere in this pond, a frog prince lives, a frog prince who waits for a kiss from a sweet, smart, beautiful princess like me.”

  “I don’t think that’s gonna happen,” I said. For one thing, Dru wasn’t all that smart, and definitely not beautiful in the legendary sense. Secondly, that damn frog prince had run off with my ex-wife, and more importantly ... “Umm, Dru,” I said. “Those are toads.”

  Her blank eyes met mine.

  “All you get from kissing a toad is warts.” With true amazement I watched as my words filtered through her pea-sized brain. It started in with a wrinkle in her forehead, and then slowly slipped down until her lips curled and she let out a scream followed by a barrage of spittle. “Ptui ... Ptui ... Ptui.”

  When Dru finally stopped spitting, I shot her a small smile. “Listen, I have an appointment right now, but I’ll help you snare a real prince later. Okay?”

  “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why would you help me?”

  This was where things got tricky. Helping Dru might help me find Cinderella’s killer, which might help Asia out of her pants, which would help me immensely.

  But I couldn’t admit that to Dru.

  Moreover, I felt a little sorry for the clueless princess. It must be hard having a baboon eyebrow and an IQ of 75, on a good day. So I decided to lie, or rather, tell Dru the absolute truth. “I’m a villain on leave from the union. I can’t do anything fiendish no matter how much I try. Therefore, I have no choice but to aid you in your quest for true love, if you only ask.”

  She nodded as if my story made complete sense. “Will you help me find my prince?”

  My stomach recoiled at the thought, but I nodded. Be careful what you wish for, I wanted to warn to her, but wasn’t sure the poor, dim princess would understand. “If a prince is what you want, a prince is what you shall get.”

  “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” Dru jumped to her feet and wrapped her toned arms around me, warming my chilled body with hers. Her breasts pressed into my chest, and for a minute, I thought finding her a prince might not be that hard. Then of course she pulled away, and her furry forehead wrinkled.

  “Yeah.” I stepped back. “Just promise me something.”

  She nodded.

  “Before your first date with Prince Not-so-charming, you’ll buy some Compound W.”

  With those parting words of wisdom, I bid Princess Dru adieu and headed off to save yet another princess from finding out I was not a famed inspector, but instead, the biggest, baddest villain around.

  Chapter 13

  I walked the rest of the way from the pond to my meeting with Natasha without further incident, my waterlogged Levi’s squishing with each step.

  The streets of Maledetto were nearly empty, odd for a bustling kingdom in the middle of the day. But I was used to the craziness of New Never City, a city that never slept unless it was fed an apple filled with roofies. I missed the sounds of sirens late at night, of kittens yelling for their mittens, and homeless fairy godmothers wrestling over the last shot of Mad Fairy 20 / 20 wine.

  I passed a group of schoolgirls playing ring-a-round Rosie. They squealed with delight when Rosie fell down and burst into tears. I shook my head, remembering my own childhood games, most of which ended up with a trip to the ER. Suffice it to say, I didn’t have many childhood friends, at least none who survived the last round of Red Rover Extreme Slaughterhouse Edition.

  Shaking off my vivid and disturbing childhood memories, I glanced at my watch as I entered the alley between the Butcher and the Baker. Three o’clock on the dot. Where was Natasha? I sighed and squatted down to wait. Story of our brief marriage. I was always waiting on Natasha—waiting for our first date, for our first kiss, for the first time she slept with my worst friend.

  By three-thirty, with still no sign of my evil ex-wife, I’d worked myself up into a wicked lather. When I got my hands on Natasha I would show her how villainous I coul
d be.

  Or not.

  Fucking union.

  “Hello, lover.” Natasha sashayed into the alley like a prom queen. Her short black hair and blood-red lips looked almost out of place in our drab surroundings.

  Slowly I straightened, brushing straw and toad slime from my Levi’s. “Where’s your Frog Prince?” I asked about my former worst friend and Natasha’s latest victim.

  She shrugged. “He croaked.”

  I rolled my eyes. “What do you want, Natasha?”

  “I want to help you,” she said, sounding almost sincere. I didn’t buy it for a second. My expression must have said as much because she started to add, “Rum—”

  “RJ,” I reminded her.

  It was her turn to roll her eyes. “RJ, I never meant to hurt you. I love you. I’ve always loved you.” Tears sparkled prettily in her black eyes.

  “Enough.” I stepped toward her, intent on causing her grievous bodily injury, but my legs froze before I reached her. I took a calming breath. “Let’s just get this over with. What do you want in return for your silence? Cash? Jewels?”

  “Fine.” Her tears instantly dried. “I need your help.”

  “For what?” I smirked. “Because of you, the union pulled my villain card. I’m impotent.”

  She shook her head. “It happens to every man at one time or another.”

  Bitch.

  “But don’t you worry, sugar.” She patted my arm, her fingers dancing along my skin, loverlike, as they had a million times before. A shiver ran through me. A part of me still wanted my treacherous bitch of an ex. But a bigger part of me wanted her dead, so I felt somewhat better.

  “I can make it all better,” she said, her fingernails scraping across my skin just hard enough to leave a red welt, but not draw blood. Sort of like a fisherman chumming the water to tempt a great white.

  “I doubt you can make anything better.” I jerked away. “Least of all my impotent state.”

  Anger flashed in her eyes, turning her pupils even darker, almost obsidian in the sunlight. “It’s because of her, isn’t it? You’re in love with that ... that ... princess.” She sneered the last word, her beautiful face twisting into an ugly mask.