Americana Fairy Tale

by Lex Chase

  Corentin pushed from his stool and stepped between them. “Whoa, whoa, calm the fuck down, the both of you,” he said. He put his hands on Darlene’s shoulders and nodded at the burning donuts. “Now, Darlene,” he said softly. “You’re going to start a fire. Mind doing something about that?”

  Darlene grunted and snapped her fingers. The blackened donuts flew from the fryer and back to the prep table as fresh-cut rings of dough.

  Ringo peeked over Taylor’s shoulder and whistled. “Way cool.”

  Darlene hopped off her stool and then sank down upon it in defeat. “I can’t believe it. After all this time, no matter the centuries or space, he’d find her again,” Darlene said, holding her head.

  “Her?” Taylor asked and looked at Corentin for answers. “Her?”

  “Snow White,” Corentin said. He leaned back onto the edge of a prep table. “Your brother.”

  The panic stabbed into Taylor. “Is he going to kill him?” he croaked.

  “Worse,” Corentin said and then watched Darlene.

  “How the hell do you know?” Taylor demanded. “You only remember the last four years of your life.”

  “Hey,” Corentin said, his brows drawn low. “I know quite a bit about Charles Archer. He’s a frequent customer, you could say.”

  Darlene sighed. “He’s right. It is worse.”

  “Okay.” Taylor crossed his arms. “Just spit it out already. It’s not like I couldn’t deal with my whole family being princesses. I handled that pretty well.”

  Taylor noticed Darlene watching him. She reached up and took his hand in a gentle squeeze. Taylor didn’t know what to make of it and waited. “Idi the Witchking is Snow White’s lover,” Darlene said, never looking away from Taylor.

  Taylor jerked out of Darlene’s grasp and backed away. “No, no,” he said, his thoughts tumbling at the implications. “No. I’d know that about my brother. Charles is a guy. Atticus is a guy. There’s no way Charles would be doing that.”

  Corentin tilted his head and tapped his fingers on the prep table. “How well do you know your brother?”

  Fury bubbled up in Taylor with the accusation. “What kind of question is that? I know everything there is to know about him!” he snapped. He threw out an arm in anger. “He’s an officer’s candidate. He loves his country. He’s the top of his class!” Taylor looked to Ringo’s neutral expression, then to Darlene, and then to Corentin. “My brother studies so hard he doesn’t have any time to meet anyone!” He glared at Corentin as his face grew hot. “My brother is not gay.”

  Corentin blinked, seeming confused by Taylor’s comment.

  Taylor quickly redirected the topic. “And what is this bullshit about a witch being in love with Snow White? What is up with that? Snow White and Prince Charming hook up, and they have a ton of babies, and they all live happily ever after, and the effin’ end.” He threw his arms out, indicating the finality of his words.

  “Are you done?” Corentin asked with an even expression.

  “Yup,” Taylor said bitterly and let his hands slap into his thighs. “That about covers it.”

  “Because there’s more,” Ringo said from behind Taylor.

  “What now?” Taylor growled and threw his hands up in frustration.

  Darlene stood from her seat and tugged at Taylor’s shirt. “Come with me, boys. Let’s have some donuts and coffee. I need to tell you a story.”

  Ringo clapped his hands. “All right, donut time!”

  CHAPTER 16:

  THE QUEEN AND HER SOLDIER

  The Midas Citadel….

  Once upon a time, in the darkest winter….

  PRINCESS ZELLANDINE didn’t know where else to go. Idi’s armies moved like a swift pestilence across the kingdoms. The ogres stormed the north, the titans pillaged the south, and the dragons reduced the east and west to ashes. The princesses’ armies could do nothing to stop the siege. Zellandine burned with the dragon soul within her as devastation rolled over the Enchanted Forest.

  They would all die tonight. All but one.

  The child within Snow White’s womb.

  The Midas Citadel trembled with another volley of Idi’s enchanters. Zellandine braced herself on a column, waiting for the tremor to pass.

  “Zella!” Snow White squealed from the back corner of the throne room. “It’s starting!”

  Zellandine rushed to Snow White’s side, her footfalls heavy from her dragoon armor. She made it just in time as Snow White toppled into her, all the heavier from her own layers of enchanted steel and chain mail. Zellandine steadied her and then guided her into sitting upon the steps leading to the throne.

  “Here,” Zellandine said quietly. “Let’s get your leggings off.”

  Snow White nodded and allowed Zellandine to move her in any way she needed. Zellandine did away with carefully unlacing the garment. Using a measure of her magic, a rose-colored crystal knife appeared in her palm, and she used it to slice away Snow White’s leggings.

  “Breathe, just breathe,” Zellandine said, barely above a whisper.

  Snow White screamed as another contraction surged through her. She flailed for Zellandine’s hand, and Zellandine accepted, carefully squeezing in her armored glove.

  Zellandine never raised her voice to Snow White. She was taught to never raise her voice or else she’d rouse the dragon’s soul inside her. The dragon, Zellandine was taught, must remain asleep. Should the dragon wake, her power would not discriminate against destroying all around her, including those she loved. Zellandine felt the dragon stir in her slumber in the back of her mind. She had to remain calm. She had unleashed the dragon just hours ago and held back Idi’s forces when they tried to take the Midas Citadel. Zellandine had been successful in holding them back, but they were quickly regrouping.

  The citadel shook with another blast. Snow White screamed. “You need to go,” Snow White said in a half cry. “We’re outnumbered, and the witches are coming! The armies are no match for them.”

  Zellandine furrowed her dark, bloodied brow. “Is he coming?” she asked ever so quietly. She gauged Snow White’s seemingly innocent reaction.

  Snow White’s eyes welled with tears. “Edmund is dead…. I lost him on the first wave,” she said, then curled into another contraction.

  Edmund…. Zellandine repeated the name in her mind. The true name of Snow White’s Prince Charming, but not the man she loved. The dragon stirred in Zellandine’s soul. Soon, she told the creature within her. “Snow,” Zellandine said. The command in her tone got Snow White’s full attention. “Is Idi coming? Is he coming for you?”

  Zellandine watched as Snow White stopped feigning innocence and showed the regret that she had been not only caught in her betrayal, but caught with the Witchking’s child.

  “Please… Zella…,” Snow White begged and gripped Zellandine by her bracer. “No one can know of this….”

  Zellandine jerked back as if she had put her hand in a child-eater’s oven. She stood over Snow White, and fury raged through her as the dragon roused to the forefront of her mind. “Here we are…,” Zellandine said in a terrible calmness.

  The citadel shook with another blast, and distantly timbers splintered.

  “You have united all of the princesses over the kingdoms into protecting the people from them,” Zellandine said, and slowly pointed toward the ruined horizon that lay beyond the window. “We protected the people from him,” she said, spitting the term. The dragon within her hissed. “All this time… all this time, you chose Idi over us. Over the people who loved you. You betrayed all of us. You line us up like pawns to play in your sick game and pretend to act like the forlorn princess when one of us dies.”

  Snow White squealed with another contraction. She reached out for Zellandine. “Zella, please… understand—”

  “What is there to understand?” Zellandine snapped, her voice rising. “You are carrying the child of a Witchking and a princess. You, the highest of princesses. Can you even possibly fathom what kind of
abomination that is?” She paced around the reclining Snow White, her armor plates clanking together like the hammer on an anvil. “They have ravaged the world,” Zellandine said in a growl. “They have poisoned our wells with corpses. They have plagued our crops with locusts….” Zellandine bent into Snow White’s face and rumbled, “They have eaten our children….”

  Snow White tried to push away from her, and Zellandine could smell her fear as well as feel the rapid beat of her heart. She was afraid, afraid of her second-in-command’s own power.

  “Please, please,” Snow White said, sobbing openly. “I love him. My soul can’t live without him.”

  Zellandine roared with the horror of it all. The citadel trembled from the rage ripping out of Zellandine’s soul. She reached out her right arm, and a bolt of rose-colored magic shot through her palm. She gripped the ethereal magic, and it solidified into the icon of her power, a multibladed lance. The swirls of blessings of the dragoons before her etched themselves over the blades and down the shaft. She snapped it forward, holding the blade point level with Snow White’s corrupt heart.

  “You are my sister…,” Zellandine whispered. “You are my sister!” she bellowed. Zellandine stared deep into Snow White’s eyes. She tightened her grip around her lance. The weapon trembled in her hand. “You are my sister…,” she croaked.

  Snow White swallowed. Zellandine jabbed the lance forward, the spear point at Snow White’s throat. The apple of Snow White’s throat bobbed, and a trickle of blood dribbled down her neck from the prick.

  Zellandine trembled. The dragon thrashed inside her, barely contained. Do it, Zellandine told herself. Do it!

  The citadel rocked hard with another blast from Idi’s enchanters, and beams from the throne room tumbled to the ground. Zellandine had the sense to draw away the lance just in time as she stumbled for balance.

  She turned back to Snow White, who once again seized into a contraction. Zellandine looked out over the horizon. The enchanters were nearing the drawbridge. She looked at her sister one last time, overcome by the despair of Snow White’s betrayal and the love she still had for her.

  She released the dragon’s spirit within her in a terrible howl and rushed to defend the citadel until her dying breath so the child of Snow White and the Witchking could take his first one.

  Randy’s Donuts, Los Angeles, California

  The Present, June 7

  TAYLOR DIDN’T touch his donut. Or his coffee.

  Ringo didn’t either.

  Neither did Corentin.

  Taylor stared at Darlene as she told the story of Snow White’s betrayal of Zellandine and all the other princesses. In the back of Taylor’s mind, he assumed Darlene was using some kind of spell to conjure the images of what the citadel looked like, Zellandine’s elaborate dragoon armor that would make a gamer drool, Snow White… who strangely had long white curly hair and not ebony, as the fairy tale stated.

  Despite the blockbuster visuals, Taylor shivered with the cold. The temperature gauge hanging off the back of the donut shop read upper eighties. But he hugged himself, and his teeth chattered. “S-so,” Taylor said and then bit his lip. “What happened to Princess Zellandine?”

  Darlene frowned and nudged the coffee toward Taylor. “Here, drink this. My spell is what’s making you feel cold.”

  Taylor nodded and eagerly accepted the coffee. He sipped and watched Darlene over the rim of the Styrofoam cup.

  “Zellandine sacrificed herself so Snow’s baby could be born and her legacy could continue,” Darlene said, lacing her thick fingers together as they all sat at a picnic table.

  Corentin shivered as well and sipped his coffee. “Witches call Snow White the Witch Butcher,” he said. “She captured, tortured, killed, and committed wide-sweeping atrocities against witches and their kin.”

  Darlene pushed a bottle of water at Corentin. “Drink this too, hon, you’re dehydrated from being sick.”

  Corentin grumbled and uncapped the bottle.

  Taylor looked down into his coffee. “I can’t see how that would be all bad if she was devoted to exterminating witches….” He blinked, realizing his error. “Present company excluded.”

  “That’s exactly it,” Darlene said, pointing a finger from her laced hands. “Not all witches are evil. We have the usual bad apples like any lot of a population does, but Snow White didn’t discriminate. She hunted all magic users.” Darlene seemed to hesitate and glanced at Corentin. Corentin nodded. Darlene turned her attention to Taylor. “My great-great grandmother was descended of child-eaters. She owned a bakery not unlike this one,” she said and smiled up at the giant fiberglass donut. “She enchanted the pastries to make her customers feel joy. She wasn’t evil. She loved making people happy.” Darlene’s lip trembled, and she dabbed at her eye. “Snow White locked her in her own enchanted oven and let her burn….”

  “I don’t understand,” Taylor said. “Snow White was in love with Idi…. Wouldn’t she be lenient to witches?”

  “Idi may be the Witchking, but he’s a monster,” Corentin said, then reached across the picnic table and squeezed Darlene’s hand. “His way of ruling is to enslave us all. Anyone allied with Enchants would be executed. Anyone that looked upon him with favor would be exploited. They say he could strip someone of their power and it would leave them a withered husk.”

  Darlene nodded. “We contained him once, but he must have gained enough power to seek out Snow again.”

  Taylor slapped his hands to the table. “Hold the phone. Contained him? As in, not killed? As in, just tossed in a dungeon somewhere and forgotten?”

  Darlene swallowed. “No one can kill Idi. No one. We can only capture him.”

  Taylor drummed his hands on the table. “Okay. And so…. He’s basically broken out from where-the-fuck-ever and tracked down my brother. And now he’s going to kill all of us.”

  Ringo thumbed his chin. “Well…. When you put it that way….”

  “And Idi, who’s in the body of our childhood friend, a dude named Charles, is in love with Snow White, who is currently my brother, Atticus,” Taylor said, and his irritation grew with each passing second.

  “Yes,” Darlene said without hesitation.

  Taylor shoved his way from the picnic table, and Corentin grunted with surprise. “It’s bullshit,” Taylor growled while looming over Darlene. She didn’t move.

  Corentin shot to his feet and towered over Taylor. “Hey,” Corentin said in warning.

  Taylor pointed sharply at Corentin’s chin and scowled. “It’s bullshit!” he roared. “Come on, Ringo,” he said and started to stalk away.

  Ringo remained at the table, watching Taylor with sadness in his eyes.

  Taylor spun on his heel and saw he hadn’t moved. He snarled his frustration. “Fuck you!”

  Taylor stormed away from the three of them and around the corner of the donut shop. His mind was a shambled mess of emotions, and he didn’t know where to begin. He didn’t know which emotion to experience first; instead, he experienced all of them. The tears wouldn’t stop rolling, and he embarrassedly wiped them away as he kept his certain path to the busy intersection. He had to get out of here. Away. Anywhere.

  He had to get his thoughts together. How was he going to save Atticus? How was he going to defeat Idi? How was he going to do anything? How was he going to even get out of Los Angeles?

  He paced frantically, holding out his thumb and hoping to hitch a ride. Taylor brushed his hair back from his eyes, and his face became wet again with tears. He paced the other way. He thought if the motorists saw his desperation, they’d stop.

  “Hey,” Corentin called behind him.

  Taylor ignored him and tried waving at the passing cars.

  “Hey!” Corentin barked and captured Taylor by the wrist.

  Taylor twisted and snapped his arm out of the grasp. He ignored Corentin and tried waving at cars again.

  Corentin paced behind him, following his path, but Taylor shoved by him time and again. “
Talk to me,” Corentin said in a firm tone.

  Taylor pressed his lips together and continued waving at cars. And motorists pretended not to see him at all. Maybe they didn’t see him. Taylor wilted, but he wouldn’t let Corentin see his helplessness.

  “Okay, I’ll talk,” Corentin said as he stood aside and let Taylor pass. “Look. Taylor. Can I call you Taylor now? I think we’re on good-enough terms now that it doesn’t sound weird. I get it,” Corentin said behind him, and Taylor paced in the other direction. Corentin followed after, annoyingly talking the entire time. “Look. Enchant history is not what a cartoon mouse drawn by some advertising genius would have you believe. It’s messy. It’s twisted. And it’s not all that beautiful or magical. There is no fucking ‘wishing upon a star’ shit.”

  Taylor lowered his hands and listened as Corentin continued.

  “You know,” Corentin said. “Even the goddamned Grimm Brothers put a somewhat happy spin on our history. If you can call it that. Fuck. My ancestors are greedy teenagers who ate a damned gingerbread house, and one of them got horny, fucked the witch, and let her cook his sister. You know. He probably ate her too without knowing. You know why we couldn’t figure out on the seventh day why he remembered everything and I forget? Well, fuck yeah, I’d want to forget eating a roast made of my sister.”

  Taylor spun on his heel to face Corentin. “What is this? We’re having some heart-to-heart now or something? We’re buddies now, huh?” Taylor spat. He stalked a circle around Corentin. “Why am I supposed to believe you? You’ve been ordered to kill me, say you won’t, and then you drive us off the fucking Golden Gate Bridge!”

  Corentin arched a brow. “FYI, you’re alive.”

  “I’m talking!” Taylor screamed, and Corentin watched him with a stoic expression. “In case you just missed it, you’re half witch. Look at you, Cronespawn. In the flesh. And Darlene over there is a damned child-eating witch with a bakery.” He craned his neck toward the giant donut on top of the shop. “This is a fucking gingerbread house, isn’t it? Hiding in plain sight? She really does have a wood chipper, doesn’t she?”