by Cameron Jace
"Tell you what," Fable suggested, "I will feed Itsy and Bitsy in a while. How about I make you a big breakfast?"
Pickwick shook his head. He didn't seem interested in food, unlike the rest of the Crumblewoods and their animals. He pointed out at the fields beyond the window, but Fable couldn't understand what he meant.
Suddenly, Fable's bed started to shake. Pickwick hugged her harder, squinting his eyes. He was like a baby in need of all the love in the world.
"Shh," Fable whispered, waiting for the shaking bed to stop. She was used to it. Everyone in Sorrow was used to it. She could hear a trail of a distant and hollow sound, as if some giant wailed over the mountains. The bed shook for a few more moments before it stabilized and calmed like a ship against the tides of the ocean.
"See?" She smiled at Pickwick. "It's all gone. That's Sorrow's whale,
" she explained to him. "The whale which Sorrow resides upon. He likes to shake the whole town every now and then. We're glad as long as he never rolls over and drowns us in the ocean."
Pickwick pouted.
"I know it's silly." Fable put him aside, stood up, and stretched her arms. "We live in a town on the back of a whale." She rolled her eyes. "And that's the least of our worries, believe me." She pulled her towel and walked to the bathroom. Pickwick clung to her shoulders on the way in. "I'm not sure about that." Fable stopped. "I'm a girl, you know. I need privacy in the bathroom." Pickwick didn't move, and Fable had a sweet spot for animals. "Okay." She rolled her eyes again. "I'm only going to brush my teeth. Don't expect anything else."
Inside, Fable washed her face and teeth while Pickwick sat on the sink's side. He still seemed worried, but she had no idea how to help. She had her own worries, that strange feeling again. What was it?
Fable stood looking at the mirror for a while. She didn't want to think about any of the things she had to think about, like how to resurrect Charmwill, where Cerené was, or what would become of Shew. Hell, she couldn't exactly understand what all of this was about. She was sure Axel would have tons of suggestions and theories when she met him.
For now, she waved her toothbrush as if it were a sword at the mirror, posed like Loki used to do, and said, "My name is Loki Blackstar, and I'm here to kick your ass!"
Pickwick's eyes widened. So did Fable's. Why had she done that? It came out spontaneously. Was it because she missed Loki already? Was she trying to forget the fact that she might never see him again?
"That was weird," she told Pickwick, who nodded with utter agreement. "You think I'm weird?" She squinted. Pickwick nodded again. This time, he clapped his wings together. "So you like weird?" she said. Pickwick flapped his wings. "I always thought weird was cool." Fable looked back at the mirror, unable to explain that weird feeling she had. She felt so…so… She couldn't put her finger on it.
Fable left the bathroom and opened her wardrobe to put something on. She thought a new outfit was a good idea. She was sure today was going to be full of adventures. Then she found herself pulling on her tightest jeans instead of her casual dress. "Phew," she said. "I guess I feel feisty today," she told Pickwick, who shook his shoulders and curved his lips.
Fable put the jeans on then went for a plain white t-shirt, followed by a badass belt with silver buttons, which originally belonged to Axel. Dressed up, she looked at the wardrobe's mirror and was impressed. "I think this look suits me," she told Pickwick, who definitely wasn't sure about the look. Fable was too tiny to dress up like that. "I feel ya," she told the parrot. "I'm too small for this look, but guess what?" She dipped into her never-ending wardrobe, which was mainly a place to stack up books, not clothes, and pulled out a pair of heavy boots. "How about those?" She put them on, and felt a bit taller. "These are also Axel's boots," she said. "Now, all I need is a weapon." She strolled back to her drawer and pulled out a magic wand. Pickwick shook his head. "You're right," she said. "A wand doesn't fit. I need a gun." Pickwick nodded, pointing his wings like a cowboy shooting bullets. "But I don't have a gun. Maybe I could borrow Loki's Alicorn when we get down to the kitchen."
Fable scanned her look one more time in the mirror, and then pulled her glasses off and let them dangle from the chain on her chest. "No badass ever wears glasses," she commented. "Although I'm afraid I'd shoot the wrong guys this way." She snickered. "How about the pigtails?" she asked Pickwick. He seemed to like them. "Yeah, me too. If I let my hair loose will I be still girly. Pigtails make me look girly, but like a maniac." She posed like a gunslinger one last time and said, "My name is Gretel, and I will kick your ass!"
Pickwick almost choked. His eyes met Fable's. Hers darted up and to the left, and she looked at a light bulb of her own thoughts, hanging like a cloud in the air. "Did I say Gretel?" she asked Pickwick.
The parrot nodded, looking more worried and confused.
"Why would I say Gretel?" She had her hands on her waist.
Pickwick didn't say anything, but he seemed to know more than she did.
"Oh, silly me." Fable waved her hand. "It's just all those fairy tale stories that surround me." She turned back in the mirror and said, "My name is Fable Crumblewood, and I'm going to kick your ass," then shot imaginary bullets from the imaginary gun in her hands. "Crumblewood doesn't sound right," she remarked. Pickwick agreed. "You can't be scared of a girl named Crumblewood." She folded her hands. "Look," she told Pickwick. "I don't need to tell anyone that I will kick their asses." Pickwick cocked his head. "If I'm really badass, why would I tell someone I'd kick their ass when I can just go and kick their ass?"
Pickwick took a moment, as if trying to solve a puzzle. A curvy smiled shaped his face, and then he agreed.
Fable pulled the parrot up. "Just because I feel so feisty and manly today, that doesn't mean I will not make you breakfast," she said. "You need to eat to grow stronger." She opened the door and walked out, still wondering about that unusual feisty feeling, as if she wasn't quite herself today. As she stepped down the stairs, a strange tinge of pain hit her eyes momentarily. She wondered what it was; maybe it was because she took off her glasses. Her eyes itched again as she reached the open kitchen downstairs.
2
Down in the kitchen, Fable was surprised Axel wasn't there nibbling on some food. In fact, the kitchen had been cleaned and dusted like it had never been before. Everything was organized in place, shiny and inviting, as if they had been visited by fairies. Even the alphabet magnets, which had previously shown Charmwill Glimmer's True Name, now read:
I cleaned the house, took out the garbage, and cooked meat and vegetables for lunch. Feel free to eat as much as you need.
Shew
Fable took a moment to grasp the fact that Shew had cooked and cleaned Candy House after all she had been through—let alone the fact that she knew how to cook and clean in the first place.
"You think she cooked and cleaned because it's in her blood?" Fable said to Pickwick. "I mean, she is the Snow White. You think this has to do with the part in the tale when she finds the dwarves' cottage in the forest and starts to clean up?"
Pickwick folded his wings with skepticism.
"You're right, we don't really know all the facts yet." Fable checked the food in the refrigerator. Not bad, she thought. "But we know a few things." She rummaged around, looking for bread. She didn't know why, but she felt she wasn't hungry enough to eat Shew's food. She craved bread today. "For one, there are no dwarves in the real tale. They turned out to be young peasants called the Lost Seven, or the Pilgrimms." Pickwick counted from one to seven on his wings. "And two, the night at the cottage in the forest was so different than the tale. Shew ran from Loki after Carmilla weighed her heart and made sure it was twenty-one grams. Then Loki was about to kill Shew when Cerené helped her escape to the cottage. Loki followed them, played Big Bad Wolf for a while, and managed to enter, but they escaped. Finally, Loki chopped off Cerené's hands and she ended up killing him to survive."
Pickwick, after some silence, scratched his head.
"I know it's a c
omplicated story, and it brings up questions more than it gives answers." Fable couldn't find any bread, so she closed the refrigerator. Pickwick's eyes looked like he was asking about the questions the story raised. "For instance, did all of this really happen to Shew in the Dreamory? Was it an accurate memory, or blurred by Shew's action in the Dreamworld? If Shew turned out to have changed the past in the Dreamory, how does it affect the future?"
Pickwick looked like he knew the answer to that. He hopped on the kitchen table near Loki's Alicorn and kicked it twice.
"I see," Fable said. "You mean if Shew changed the story and killed Loki in the past, then it does make sense that he is dead now. It also means he is going to be dead for good."
Pickwick lowered his head and shoulders and approached Fable slowly, as if he were a lazy penguin, then gestured for another hug. She embraced him as usual, still craving bread.
"Then there are a number of questions in case Shew didn't change anything in the Dreamworld." Fable walked with Pickwick on her shoulder. She assumed he'd like to eat bread too—if she managed to find some. Didn't birds always nibble on breadcrumbs? "Like, where in the timeline of Shew's story will she meet the Lost Seven? I thought she'd meet them the night of her sixteenth birthday, when the Queen sought her heart, but that didn't happen. And when exactly did she split her heart among them, and how did she do it?"
Pickwick shook his shoulders. He seemed sincere about not knowing the answer.
"And if she did kill Loki, when the heck did they fall in love?" Fable stopped when a thought hit her. Her boots were heavy anyway. She preferred not to walk around much. "This question boggles my mind, Pickwick. I mean, between Loki as an evil huntsman and Loki as Shew's True Love, there seems to be a huge gap that needs to be answered," Fable said as she felt drawn to Loki's Alicorn on the table.
She stepped closer to it and held it in one hand, thinking about the weapon she needed to complete her badass posture. Although she had been fascinated with Loki's Alicorn—the horn of a unicorn—the feeling was different this time. She was really drawn to it, as if by some magical force, as if she had a special connection with the horn in her hands. She lifted it up and said, "What were the words Loki used to say to make the Alicorn turn into a whipping snake?"
Pickwick seemed frustrated he was mute this time. He definitely knew them.
"Doesn't matter," Fable said. "It's only him who can use it, anyway." She put it back and shook her head. "Where is everyone?" She realized they must be awake by now.
Fable walked to the front door and opened it to see if Shew and Axel were maybe sitting on the front porch. Instead of finding them, something else caught her off guard. A chill swept over her body as if she had been hit by an invisible force. The pain in her eyes returned as she found herself looking at her feet. Something at the porch's floor summoned her in the strangest way.
Fable looked and saw a trail of breadcrumbs leading out to the field.
3
The trail of breadcrumbs led all the way to Carmen, Loki's red car, parked at the edge of the hill leading down to Sorrow. Fable's own trail of weird feelings intensified. Again, she wondered if those were only aftereffects of the forbidden spell she'd used to briefly possess Loki's soul in yesterday's Dreamory.
What really bothered her was that feeling of being pulled from the gut toward the trail of breadcrumbs. Maybe it was only her curiosity. Maybe she just wanted to check on Carmen. But it surely was an uncomfortable feeling.
She couldn't help but kneel and grab a handful of breadcrumbs and nibble on them. After all, she'd been craving bread since she woke up.
"Want some?" She passed a few to Pickwick, who seemed irked she'd picked them up from the ground. Fable never knew Pickwick was such a picky parrot when it came to food.
Closer to Carmen, she saw someone hiding inside the car behind the foggy windows. She doubted anyone would want to steal Carmen. That would be some unlucky dude, as there was no doubt Carmen could defend herself.
"How are you doing, pretty girl?" Fable patted Carmen. She caught Pickwick rolling his eyes. The parrot must have thought Carmen was just a car, Fable thought. Was she weird thinking she should treat her like a girl? Fable didn't care. Somehow, she seemed proud of all her weirdness today.
"There you are!" Axel wailed, kicking the door open from inside. "It's about time you woke up, lazy sis."
"What are you doing inside Loki's car?" Fable folded her hands, careful not to spill the breadcrumbs.
"Trying to get it started?" Axel pouted. "Doesn't it show?"
"Why would you try that?" she said. "You know no one can drive Carmen but Loki."
"I know. I know," Axel said, wiping black oil from his smudged face.
Fable laughed. "See? That's what you get when you piss off Loki's car."
Carmen wriggled once, forcing Axel to get out.
"I was just trying to park it in a safe place," Axel said, holding back from kicking Carmen in the trunk. "Now that Loki's dead."
Pickwick squealed.
"Don't say that in front of Pickwick," Fable demanded. "Loki was supposed to be his new master."
Axel stopped to look at her to see if she were real for a moment. He stared at Pickwick again and looked like he wanted to scream. Fable watched him sigh, pulled a few breadcrumbs from her hand, and swallowed them. "Don't go nibbling on my Bluebeard Bread," he warned her.
"It's called Bluebeard Bread?" Fable asked.
"It's a new brand I found at Belly and the Beast," he said, cleaning his face with his sleeve. "It's a play on Bluebeard's Beard."
"At least it sounds better than that Dead Bread you bought last week."
"At least admit it's delicious." Axel pursed his lips. "Besides, how could you pick the breadcrumbs from the ground and eat them? I just spilled them on my way to the car. I have the whole bag here with me."
"I like the breadcrumbs," Fable said. Pickwick nodded.
"And what's with the outfit?" Axel said. "You look like a boy."
"A tomboy, you mean. I like it."
"As long as it makes boys not approach you, I am happy," he said.
"Can I try?" Fable slid past him and entered the car. She wasn't about to have this conversation with Axel again, him insisting she was too young to date.
"As if you're gonna be able to drive it yourself," Axel mocked her. "You know Carmen doesn't work with keys, right?"
"I know, Axel. You have to kick it to get it started," Fable said, still munching on the breadcrumbs. "But I don't have the heart to kick you, my little red coochie-boochie car." Fable snuggled the wheel.
Pickwick and Axel looked at each other and rolled their eyes. Fable was aware of that, and tried not to laugh. But then that feeling inside her rose again. She felt she was too mature to say these things anymore. She felt she was more manly. She was supposed to be badass, and more heartless. What was she doing eating breadcrumbs and chatting with Axel after all the hardships Shew had been through after Loki died? How could she be so irresponsible and childish?
As much as she liked her thoughts, it was as if someone else was speaking inside her. Should she tell Axel about her calling herself Gretel this morning?
"So where is Shew?" Fable felt the responsibility to ask.
"In the cellar," Axel said, as his phone rang.
"What is she doing in the cellar?"
"What do you think?" Axel pulled the phone from his back pocket. "Mourning Loki's corpse."
"Oh." Fable stopped nibbling. Pickwick's face knotted.
Axel read the name of the caller. His face changed. Fable couldn't read it, but was sure he was excited.
"I have to take this," he said, walking away. "Don't even start to use Carmen's radio. The whole car shakes violently if you do. Talk to ya later, sis!" He took off to answer the call in the fields.
"In the cellar?" Fable whispered. "You think we should be with her or leave her alone with her True Love?" she asked Pickwick.
Instead of Pickwick answering, the radio di
d. A song started to play from the speakers, leaving Fable's mouth agape and eyes widened. The radio only played in the presence of Loki. How was that possible?
When the song finished, the host announced a special thanks to Fable Crumblewood and Pickwick the Parrot for listening. The host announced the next track was going to be a special farewell song for the one and only Loki Blackstar, performed by the one and only Pumpkinheads. As the song played, something happened to Fable's eyes. They weren't itching this time. These were tears. A lot of tears, from finally realizing that Loki was gone, probably for good.
4
Fable trotted toward the cellar's door, noticing she'd dropped a few breadcrumbs behind her. She dismissed her unusual clumsiness, and decided to forget about what was happening to her for a moment. She stepped forward, took a deep breath, and then opened the door to the cellar.
Carefully stepping down on the creaking wood of the stairs, she glimpsed the rusty oven at the bottom, which had been here since long ago. Only Fable knew it was the same oven Cerené had used to get fire for her art in the Dreamworld. Every time Fable thought about their house originally being Baba Yaga's dungeon in the past, her pigtails rather prickled—totally absurd, she knew; it felt like she had two Pinocchio noses in her hair. It was such an unsettling thought that she and Axel lived in a house where thousands of girls had been kidnapped and sent to the Queen of Sorrow two centuries ago—plus thousands of boys who had been eaten and cooked in that oven by Baba Yaga.
Candy House, although it looked enchanting, was simply a horror house.
"Shew?" Fable called. She was a bit uncomfortable with the dimly lit cellar. "Are you there?"
No one answered.
Slowly, Fable stepped down, still leaving breadcrumbs behind her, as if she were afraid she'd lose her way back up. She reached the last step down, where the shadows of a few candles shimmered upon the walls.
"Shew?" Fable repeated.
This time, she got something back for an answer. Not words. Only hiccups and sobs.
