Modern Wicked Fairy Tales: Complete Collection

by Selena Kitt

  Mae gasped, the realization too much for her to fully take in. “…no…”

  Lionel sneered over at Mae’s grandmother, her chin resting on her chest. “If this old bird hadn’t interfered, you and me’d be married right now, living happily ever after with all that lovely insurance money you’ve been living on.”

  Mae found her voice, her whole body trembling with rage. “How many times do I have to tell you no, you bastard?”

  “Bitch!” He hit her so hard the chair slid sideways and almost tipped with the force of it. “You’re going to start telling me yes!”

  Mae’s face burned, and she closed her left eye against the blood stinging it. He’d hit her with the hand holding the tool and it had cut her, she was sure of it. The pain was blinding, but she glared at him, seething, and screamed, “No!”

  Lionel turned and hit her grandmother. The old woman made a noise but didn’t actually awaken. A bruise bloomed immediately on her cheek and Mae screamed in protest, struggling against the ropes binding her to the chair.

  “Stop!” she cried, tears filling her eyes and then falling, tracking blood down her cheeks. “I’ll do whatever you want!”

  Lionel’s smile spread slowly. “I know you will.”

  “Please…” Mae begged. “Is she all right?”

  He snorted, rolling his eyes. “She’s a tough old broad.”

  “Please, just untie us. Let me help her. That’s all I’m asking.” Mae knew they were beyond trouble. She knew, if she was actually forced to marry him, that it wouldn’t be over. What would prevent him from killing them both then? There had to be another way out of this. She found herself sweating with fear and she continued to work on the rope behind her back, using it.

  Lionel leaned in close enough she could smell what he’d had for lunch—something with onions. “Not before we have a little fun first.”

  “But I said I’d marry you!” she protested, twisting in the chair as his hand moved over the front of her dress, cupping her breast through the material.

  “I’m afraid we won’t have time for much of a honeymoon afterward,” he said sadly, thumbing her nipple and then pinching it, hard.

  “No…” she whispered, closing her eyes, expecting him to hit her again, but the knock on the door surprised them both.

  “Shhh!” He clamped his hand over her mouth, staring at the door. The knock came again, more insistent this time. “They’ll go away,” he whispered, shaking his head. That’s when she bit him and he let her go in surprise, just long enough for her to let out a short, sharp scream.

  “Goddamnit,” he hissed, clamping his hand down over her mouth again, using his thumb and finger to squeeze her nose shut, cutting off her air entirely. Mae’s eyes widened, and she tried to turn her head, but he had tossed the tool in his hand aside and used that hand to grab the back of her neck, keeping her immobile.

  She couldn’t breathe. Her lungs burned.

  “Mrs. Verges? Are you all right in there?” a voice called from the other side of the door. It was a strange voice with a thick Italian accent, but it was somehow familiar to Mae, even in her panic.

  “Fuck.” Lionel swore softly, looking into her eyes and whispering urgent instructions. “I’m going to let go. If you scream, I will kill your grandmother. Do you understand me?”

  She nodded as best she could, gasping for air as he dropped his hand, her lungs pulling in the cool relief of oxygen. Her vision had begun to blacken at the edges and was just starting to come back.

  “Who is it?” Lionel called, grabbing a length of rope and fitting it between Mae’s protesting lips. He tied it tight behind her head, shaking a finger at her, whispering, “Not a fucking word.”

  She nodded, but she continued to work her hands in the rope. If she could just get free…

  “It’s the milkman,” came the response.

  “I’m sorry, but Mrs. Verges isn’t feeling well,” Lionel said. “Just leave it outside the door.”

  “Sir, I’m afraid I can’t do that—there’s ice cream in here!” The man with the thick Italian accent protested. “I’ll get fired for sure if I just leave it.”

  “Oh for chrissake,” Lionel muttered, grabbing the gun off the table and heading over to the door.

  Mae cried out around her rope gag as the door burst open, hitting Lionel in the chest, and she understood then why the voice had sounded so familiar as Griff threw a quick left hook, catching Lionel in the jaw and knocking him backward. The door swung shut behind them as Lionel lifted his gun, aiming at Griff’s head, and Mae screamed, the sound just a muffled squeak under the rope.

  Griff deflected the shot, kicking Lionel’s hand aside, and a bullet buried itself in the sofa, a thick puff of stuffing rising from the hole. Mae twisted in her bindings, trying to call out to Griff, working the rope in her mouth, loosening it. The men were both on the floor now, fighting over the gun, and Mae realized she hadn’t heard a loud report when it went off—Lionel must have put a silencer on it.

  “Jesus, Griff!” Lionel wheezed. “Let go! We can share the damned girl if that’s what you want!”

  “We’re not sharing anything.” Griff slammed Lionel’s arm against the floor. The gun went off again. It still made a noise, a loud sort of popping sound, like a cork exiting a bottleneck. “The girl is mine.”

  “Listen old buddy.” Lionel wasn’t quite strong enough to throw Griff’s weight off of him as they tussled and even in her panic, Mae realized the men somehow knew each other. “I’m sorry I took the money and ran. Well, not sorry exactly. And the girl? Well she was a hot little ticket, at least the first few times. Then I got bored…”

  Griff shoved his elbow into Lionel’s throat and Mae heard him squawk with pain. She saw Lionel’s knee come up then, and heard Griff groan. His grip loosened on Lionel’s gun hand and she watched as they rolled again and again. The gun went off a third time and Mae screamed, seeing both of them lying still on the hardwood floor. She cried out Griff’s name behind her gag, turning her head from side to side, lifting her chin and finally working the rope out of her mouth.

  “Griff!” she gasped, straining to see any movement.

  And then Lionel rolled to the side with a disgusted groan, wiping at the blood on his shirt. Griff’s body was inert, sprawled on the hardwood floor, and she could see blood pooling beneath him.

  “No,” she whispered, watching as Lionel stood and made his way toward her. “Oh no. No, no, no.”

  “Well, that ties up that loose end.” He sighed, making a face at the red stains on his white shirt. “Ugh! What a mess!”

  “You killed him.” Mae still couldn’t believe it was true, staring at Griff, face down on the floor. She looked at Lionel, her body twisted in pain, and screamed, “You killed him! You killed him!”

  “I told you to shut the fuck up!” Lionel took a step toward her, clamping his hand over her mouth once again, smearing her face with the salty, copper taste of the blood on his palm—Griff’s blood—making Mae gag and try to scream. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t think, she just reacted, sinking her teeth deep into the side of Lionel’s palm, biting him so hard her own vision went black and she saw stars. From a distance, she heard him screaming in pain, struggling to free himself from her rabid grip, but she didn’t let go even after the first blow against the side of her head. It took two more before he knocked her head backward and he snatched his hand free.

  “Fucking bitch!” he howled, cradling his hand. He was bleeding badly, she noticed with great satisfaction, his own blood mixing with Griff’s. She waited for him to hit her again, to kill her this time—it didn’t matter anymore—and he looked for a moment like that’s just what he was going to do, but instead he turned and went into the kitchen, turning on the water and sticking his hand under the tap.

  “I am so going to enjoy taking your virginity,” he growled through clenched teeth. She could see him from this angle, through the doorway.

  “Too late,” she called hoarsely, the pain
of her lover lying dead on the floor so overwhelming she thought she might faint.

  “You fucking slut!” He continued washing his hand in the sink, swearing to himself, and Mae closed her eyes, waiting for her fate. She knew it was over, that there was no way out of this mess. Griff was dead, and she and her grandmother might as well be. She could hear her grandmother breathing beside her, deep and even, and she hoped it would end quickly for them, that she wouldn’t wake up after all.

  “I’m gonna need stitches!” Lionel groaned and she opened her eyes to see him wrapping his hand in a dish towel. She saw blood blooming on the white fabric and smiled. That’s when she caught movement out of the corner of her eye.

  Griff! She saw him crawling across the floor, leaving a trail of blood behind him. He met her eyes, shaking his head, and she saw the gun in his hand.

  “Mae?” Of course her grandmother chose that exact moment to lift her groggy head and look around with bleary eyes. “What happened? Are you all right? Where—?”

  “Shhh!” Mae cringed, seeing Lionel stiffen at the sound of their voices. He knew. But her heart soared at the sight of Griff kneeling up, his shirt red with blood, leveling the weapon and aiming as Lionel turned, coming through the doorway into the dining room.

  “Oh fuck.” That was all Lionel had a chance to say before Griff shot him in the head. He crumpled to the floor in a heap and Mae sobbed with relief.

  “Oh Griff,” she gasped, watching him go back down to his hands and knees, his head hanging low. “Are you all right? You’ve been shot!”

  “I noticed.” His voice was slightly slurred, as if he’d been drinking, while he crawled toward her, far too slowly. “It’s a belly wound. Nothing vital. Maybe my spleen. I’ll be fine if I don’t lose too much blood…”

  “Hurry!” she begged, twisting her hands over and over. The rope was getting looser, wet with her sweat.

  “Who is this man?” her grandmother asked, glancing between the two of them, confused. “And what is he doing in my house?”

  “I’m an apple peddler,” Griff slurred.

  “An apple peddler who just saved your life!” Mae reminded all of them.

  “Mae.” He put his head in her lap and she saw him smile. “I love you.”

  “Oh no, you don’t.” She nudged him with her knee, watching his eyes flutter closed. “This isn’t over. Untie me! Right now! You’ve got a lot of explaining to do. How did you know Lionel?”

  “It’s a long story.” Griff sighed, not opening his eyes. She didn’t like that at all. “He needed a magician. I didn’t know it was a scam…”

  “I get the picture.” Mae nudged him again. “Griff! Wake up!”

  “Is he all right?” her grandmother asked, blinking at the young man resting his head in her granddaughter’s lap.

  “He’s been shot,” Mae said, swallowing hard. “Are you all right, grandmother?”

  “Woozy. And my heart’s racing. I need my nitro.” The old woman sighed. “But I’m all right. Better now that he’s dead.” She shuddered at the sight of Lionel collapsed on the kitchen tile.

  “We’re all better off now.” Mae set her mouth in a firm line. “Except Griff. Griff!”

  He lifted his head, his eyes glazed. “Remember the last time we were like this? You thought I was going to propose.”

  “Griff!” she pleaded. “Focus!”

  “I am.” He met her eyes. “Will you marry me?”

  “Oh for pete’s sake.” She gave a short, hysterical laugh.

  “Marry the man, Mae.”

  They both turned to look at her grandmother, open-mouthed.

  “What?” The old woman blinked, looking between them. “He’s just saved our lives. He’s obviously in love with you, and you clearly have feelings for him. And if you say yes, I just might have a better chance of getting out of this position at some point before morning. It’s quite uncomfortable.”

  “Grandmother…” Mae looked at her with tears in her eyes, trying to speak.

  “I lost my son,” the old woman said, giving her granddaughter a tired smile. “I’m not going to lose you too. You do what your heart tells you.”

  Mae smiled down at the man in her lap. “If we all live through this, I’ll marry you twice.”

  He smiled. “Just once. Forever.”

  “Whatever you want,” she agreed. “Just untie me!”

  “So demanding,” Griff grumbled, reaching around to loosen the knots, but he was too late—Mae had just freed her own hands.

  “Like grandmother, like granddaughter,” the old woman laughed.

  “Ha! “Mae held her palms up in triumph. “I just saved myself!”

  She was just in time to catch Griff as he passed out.

  Epilogue

  “Hey Red.” He greeted her like he always had, with a sly smile and a wink, as if he hadn’t been gone for weeks.

  “You’re feeling better then?” she asked coldly. She had been to see him in the hospital several times, but then he had just disappeared.

  “Much.” He patted the wooden chair beside him. “Come on, sit down. I’m sorry. I had to wrap up some loose ends.”

  “You could have told me.” She had to admit, her heart lifted the moment she saw him.

  “I had to see a man about a horse,” he joked. “Forgive me?”

  She slipped into the chair beside him. “As long as you promise, no more disappearing acts.”

  “I got all the magic I need right here.” He held up a little velvet box and she gasped, her eyes widening as she took it from him. He couldn’t have… how?

  “It’s empty.”

  He grinned. “Look on your finger.”

  “How did you do that?” There was a diamond on her ring finger sparkling in the sunlight that was going to make her grandmother very proud.

  “Magic.” Griff laughed as she threw her arms around him in the middle of the street.

  And it was.

  ALICE

  “You’re not listening!” Mattie’s voice jolted Alice out of her daze.

  Her head snapped up and she clutched her iPhone, pressing it closer to her ear and mumbling, “I am, I’m listening. Something about neuropeptides being responsible for pair-bonding in humans…”

  “That was two paragraphs ago.” Mattie’s mouth sounded like it was barely moving. Alice knew that meant her sister was really mad.

  Alice snuggled deeper under her mountainous down comforter and decided to try to lighten the subject a little. “So you’re telling me Wade and I are together just based on brain chemistry?”

  Maddie sighed. “I’m trying to finish my dissertation and you want to talk about your boyfriend? Where are your priorities?”

  She grinned. “What priorities?”

  “Grow up, Alice!”

  “I’m sorry,” she apologized, although now she was thinking about Wade—about his big smile and big eyes and big hands that turned her this way and that way, and his big…

  “Can I just finish this chapter?” Maddie interrupted her thoughts again.

  “Go on.” Alice assured her, “I’m listening.”

  And she tried, she really did, but distraction came easily to Alice, always had. Once when she was young and Maddie was babysitting, Alice had wandered off at the beach chasing a lizard across the sand, panicking her older sister to tears and, when she finally found Alice on her belly staring at the rock the lizard had disappeared under, to a sub-zero sort of anger as well. They hadn’t spoken for the rest of the day. Alice hated when Maddie was angry and tried to do everything she could to avoid it. If that included listening to the latest chapter in Maddie’s dissertation, well, certain sacrifices had to be made.

  But Alice couldn’t help it—her eyes were already closing, her mind drifting. A faint mew from somewhere way down there on the floor made her smile. Then Dinah jumped up onto the bed, her motor running, rubbing her white head against the hand Alice was using to hold the phone. Alice petted her with the other hand, scratching behind th
e cat’s ears, tracing the line of her spine, making her tail rise. Wade says I do that when he pets me. The thought made her shiver.

  Dinah mewed indignantly at Alice’s distraction, nudging her phone hand again. Maddie was still reading, something about oxytocin and g-protein coupled receptors. Gah! How was she supposed to even feign interest? Dinah gave up on being petted and curled into a white ball of fluff on the covers, tucking her pink nose under a paw to sleep, and Alice gave up on trying to listen, settling down and drifting naturally into thoughts of Wade.

  She had eight months of memories to flip through in her head, but the reality of Wade made him so much more of an immediate experience. Memory didn’t do the man justice. No matter how much time she had with him, she craved more. They’d spent plenty of time together—movie dates, the theater, a heavenly weekend trip to Bermuda, and whenever he stayed over, he would make her waffles or French toast while Dinah did figure-eights between his feet in the kitchen—but that wasn’t the best thing about Wade for Alice. She kept the best thing locked like a smooth, secret heart tucked inside of her beating one.

  She hadn’t even told Maddie. Not that Maddie would understand with her belief that love was nothing more than biological instinct and brain chemistry. Alice knew better. Love went deeper than those things. It burned like a laser beam through to her core and broke her heart wide open. Love made her do things she never would have considered before. Love was silk and softness, but love was also leather and the bite of a riding crop and Wade’s commands. She hadn’t told anyone about the ropes and bindings, the endless cycle of pain and pleasure that forced her to her knees at Wade’s feet again and again.

  Not that she had anyone to tell, besides Dinah and Maddie. Dinah didn’t care, and Maddie would reduce it all to hormones and endorphins before declaring her sister insane and having her committed. Or calling the police. Or insisting Alice move back in with the responsible Maddie and stop her work as a freelance writer, a profession that barely kept Dinah in Meow Mix and Alice in Lean Cuisines, but one that Alice couldn’t give up. For her, imagination was everything. To Maddie, it was practically the root of all evil. Even Maddie had wondered aloud how two such different souls had managed to come from the same DNA. For Alice, it proved that the world was bigger than scientific explanation.