Bayou Fairy Tale

by Lex Chase

  “If I can get through this evening without you pointing out how much you don’t trust Corentin, that would be awesome,” Taylor warned him.

  That was just it. Taylor didn’t know what to believe anymore. One minute, everyone was united for a common goal; the next, it was every man for himself. He was on this road, and it was quickly becoming only his to walk, but he had hoped it would work out for the best. Whatever the best was.

  Ray gestured for them to follow him into the dilapidated artillery tunnels. Corentin insisted Taylor go before him, keeping him safe from behind.

  They wandered through the darkened tunnels, seeing only as far as their flashlights touched. Taylor’s skin prickled with the chill and anxiety of walking straight into the dragon’s maw. He was uncertain he could slay this one.

  He wanted to trust Corentin. He did. Corentin had had his trust in the years they’d been together, but it wavered as bits of the truth came out. Taylor had let go of his preconceived notions about Corentin’s lineage as a huntsman. But since their arrival, he wondered if that was the wisest choice.

  He should have trusted himself all along.

  Taylor startled at the disturbing crackling underfoot as his feet sank into the cold muck.

  Corentin aimed the flashlight at Taylor’s feet, revealing hundreds of frozen rat corpses lying spread out before them like a macabre welcoming carpet. Their icy skeletons shattered with each step. Taylor didn’t look and pretended they were broken glass.

  “They must have gathered here to escape the cold,” Corentin said as he shined his flashlight down the long tunnel. “And met their fate down here anyway.”

  They walked on. Corentin reached out and pressed a hand to Taylor’s shoulder. Taylor understood he wanted to scout ahead and obediently fell back.

  Rows of cells lined up before them down the dank hall. They seemed to stretch into forever and vanish into the fog.

  “How many witches were imprisoned here?” Taylor whispered.

  “Some say hundreds,” Ray said.

  “Thousands,” Corentin interjected. “It’s on the entry doors.”

  “How did you know that?” Ray asked, his tone suspicious.

  Corentin gave him a frustrated look. “Because I read it.”

  He didn’t explain, and Taylor understood why immediately. His flashlight drifted over long lines of runic markings. Some of them were recognizable symbols—crosses, stars, moons—while others were abstract but seemed to have their own logic. Taylor decided to keep track of how often three of the abstract symbols appeared as they walked. Fifty paces later, Taylor pieced together that it was the witches’ language. Curse Word, Corentin had called it. That’s how Corentin knew how many prisoners had been held here. Ray was suspicious enough of Corentin, and Taylor didn’t want to add to the conflict.

  “How long do you think they’ve been down here?” Ringo asked, staying close to Taylor.

  “Some for years, others for lifetimes, a few before the Enchanted Forest was clear-cut for mundane civilization,” Corentin said.

  Whistling, icy drafts leaked through every crack and crevice in the ancient limestone. The humidity had slicked over the stone, then froze again in layers of growing icicles. Moans and groans echoed through the halls.

  Taylor’s knees quaked from the chill, but he knew it was also from the growing fear tensing his system.

  When Corentin and Taylor had faced Idi, Corentin imparted to Taylor the most valuable advice in their relationship.

  Make decisions. Just one decision after the next. Don’t get caught up if the decision was right or wrong. Just keep moving until there’re no decisions left to make.

  As his world had fallen apart back then, Taylor made the one decision that changed everything. And he swore by it now: Stop being afraid.

  Ringo, on the other hand, was not as helpful in being the stalwart Samwise to Taylor’s determined Frodo. His wings shivered with a nervous off-key trill as he fluttered along.

  “Scared?” Taylor whispered low.

  “C-C-Course not.” Ringo’s voice wobbled.

  A gnarled hand shot through nearby cell bars, and Ringo zipped away with a girlish screech, narrowly avoiding becoming a witch’s snack. Taylor didn’t make a sound as his warrior instinct took hold and he sidestepped the surprise attack.

  Ray flicked behind his ear, and a thick golden curl snagged the witch’s wrist, lashing her to the bars.

  She snarled and fought for freedom, determined to take off her own arm if need be.

  Taylor kept a stoic face, freaked out on the inside.

  Corentin slipped in front of him, his knife ready to drive into any target in the name of his princess.

  Ray didn’t even miss a step. His unruffled nature was as admirable as it was absolutely aggravating. There had to be a secret to it.

  The witch shrieked with inhuman, bloodcurdling cries. She jerked her arm, truly determined to yank her shoulder from the socket.

  Ray howled back, and his voice tore through the dark halls.

  “What the fuck is your problem!” Taylor slapped a hand on Ray’s shoulder.

  The witch and Ray continued their intimidation game, screaming at each other, each louder than the last. She slowly quieted and fell into soft, submissive mewls.

  “She’s not an animal,” Corentin warned.

  “Really, now?” Ray snorted. “This thing eats children, and you say it’s not an animal.” He held up his hands in surrender. “Whatever you say.” The sarcasm bled from his voice.

  Corentin gave him a withering look that would melt the Wicked Witch of the West into a puddle. He slipped his knife back into his pocket and then held up his hand to the witch to indicate he wasn’t armed.

  Taylor held his breath as Corentin stepped closer to the cell. He held out his hand, and the witch tilted her head with curiosity. She snorted under her breath.

  “Corentin?” Taylor asked, then tried to swallow against the itchy dryness in his throat.

  Corentin held up a finger for Taylor to wait.

  The witch sniffed the air as Corentin slipped his hand through the bars.

  Ray shifted to jerk Corentin back, but Taylor snagged Ray by the shoulder. Taylor’s pointed glare did all the speaking for him.

  Corentin rumbled under his breath at the witch, and she blinked her amber eyes at his hand. She leaned toward his fingers and gave a cautious sniff. She brightened with a purr and then rubbed her cheek into his palm.

  “That’s it,” Corentin whispered. “Good girl. Good, good girl.”

  Ray drew his mouth into a slow, unamused slant. “Someone you know?”

  Amazingly Corentin didn’t snap back to defend himself. “Our kind recognize one another.”

  “Naturally.” Ray verbally jabbed in just the right spot.

  “Enough already,” Taylor warned him. He then addressed his questions to Corentin. “And what is it you’re doing, exactly?”

  “Getting us answers,” Corentin said softly, as if cooing to a baby, while he watched the witch. “Nac uoy pleh su?” he asked.

  The witch pressed against his hand, and he scratched behind her fuzzy feline ear. “Sey, sey,” she said. “M’i os ylenol.”

  Corentin smiled. “Ti lliw eb lla thgir. Ll’i teg tahw uoy deen fi uoy pleh su.”

  Ray snapped his gaze to Taylor. “What the fuck?” That was all he needed to say for Taylor to understand.

  “Curse Word,” Taylor said. “It’s their language.”

  “Fucking creepy Helter Skelter is what it sounds like.”

  Taylor said nothing, but he was inclined to agree with Ray. He had been learning a lot about Corentin in these few short days that had seemed to completely escape his notice for two years. And since he maintained Corentin’s journals, Taylor was certain he knew all there was; what a lie that had always been.

  “Shh!” Corentin hushed the two of them. He gave his best smile to the witch. “M’i Corentin. A Cronespawn.”

  She gasped in what sounded li
ke delight. “Ho ym drow!” She reached for him with her free hand through the bars. Corentin permitted the affectionate contact. “Er’uoy lufituaeb. I thguoht D’i reven evil ot ees rehtona eno.”

  Ringo finally peeked out from behind Taylor’s knees. “I suppose she said something nice.”

  Ray snorted. “Not to interrupt the bonding experience, but can we get a translation?”

  Taylor shrugged. “He has a point.”

  Corentin scowled. “Give me a minute.” He smiled at her. “Tahw nac ew od rof uoy?”

  “A llod,” she said wistfully. “Ruoy eixip dednimer em fo a llod yeht tel em evah.”

  Corentin nodded. “Fi I evig uoy a llod, ll’uoy tel em etalsnart?”

  The witch nodded eagerly, and Corentin snapped his fingers to get everyone’s attention. “Ringo, can you get me a doll?”

  “A doll?” Ringo asked.

  “A doll. She’ll help if we give her a doll.”

  “Okay.” Ringo clapped his mitted hands. “Just a heads up, I failed Toy Making 101 in college. Damned Northern Elves were so good at everything.”

  “Just try. Can you do a kitten?” Corentin asked, watching the witch smile through her cell bars.

  “Kitten, kitten,” Ringo said as he cracked his knuckles.

  “Why a kitten?” Taylor asked.

  “Tell you in a minute.” Corentin’s evasion of such a simple question didn’t do him any favors in Taylor’s mind.

  Ringo hummed a little song to himself as he waved his fingers and spun into a bobbing twirl.

  Taylor recognized the tune. “The Meow Mix jingle?”

  “Storyteller,” Ray groaned.

  Finishing the jingle, Ringo clapped his hands with an explosive puff of gold glitter.

  They all stared at him expectantly.

  Nothing happened.

  Taylor jerked back. “Ringo!”

  “Give it a minute,” Ringo said. “The server froze when I was submitting the order.”

  “What server?” Ray asked.

  “What order?” Taylor gaped at him.

  “You might want to hold out your hands, boyo,” Ringo said to Corentin. He addressed everyone else. “I told you, I failed Toy Making—” A cardboard box puffed into existence and landed in Corentin’s open palms. “—so I order from Amazon. Can’t beat the Prime shipping.”

  Taylor wilted in exasperation. “You used magic. To order from Amazon.” He couldn’t believe it, but it sounded like a perfect Ringo move. “Did you do it with magical money too?”

  Ringo snorted as Corentin pulled open the box. “Pssh! As if. I used your credit card. One-click ordering makes it so easy.”

  “You shit!” Taylor snapped.

  “Anyway.” Ringo shrugged. “I got a doll, didn’t I? Golly, Ringo, you’re so useful and cool!”

  Ringo often danced the line of awesome and inappropriate. Taylor had a hard moment deciding which side he was on today.

  Once Corentin pried the box open, he felt around through the air packs. The witch wiggled in excitement, and Taylor paused when he caught sight of her tufted lion tail swaying behind her.

  “She’s—” Taylor said, pointing a finger as he tried to piece it together.

  Corentin pulled out the plastic-wrapped Grumpy Cat plush and tore open the plastic with his teeth.

  Taylor narrowed his eyes at Ringo. “Don’t think for one second I don’t know how expensive those are.”

  Ringo shrugged and batted his lashes. “Haters gunna hate. But you know, I’m just gunna shake it off.”

  “Ray, let her go,” Corentin commanded. He held up the plush as a prize before the witch.

  “You’re serious?” Ray grunted but agreed anyhow by running his fingers over his bald head. The lock of hair loosened from her wrist and then vanished.

  The witch rubbed her wrist and smiled brightly at Corentin. “Esaelp,” she said, reaching out to Corentin. “Tel em dloh reh.”

  “Od uoy kaeps Common?” Corentin asked as he slipped the plush between the bars.

  She nodded. “I speak Common. A bit rusty.”

  “Common?” Ray asked.

  “It’s….” Corentin hesitated and watched Taylor arch a brow. “It’s what witches call English.”

  “It’s what the commoners and peasants speak,” she said as she pressed her new plush tight to her chest.

  Taylor’s eyes widened and then narrowed. “You don’t say….” Oh, they would definitely be having words later. Just how much had Corentin kept from him all this time?

  As the witch cuddled her new kitten, Taylor stepped forward. She didn’t seem all that dangerous, but as he raised his hands to rest on the bars, Corentin latched on to his elbow. Taylor startled, and Corentin shook his head once.

  She was in here for a reason.

  Taylor retreated to a safe distance, with Corentin in front of him. “Can you tell us what happened?”

  The witch nodded. “I heard the snow.” She shivered. “Cold. Very cold. It didn’t last long.” She looked at Corentin, her eyes round and questioning. “Can you understand?”

  He smiled. “Excellent. Keep going.”

  “Storm came very sudden. The wind was shrieking.” She covered her feline ears. “So very loud.”

  “Do you know what caused it?” Taylor asked.

  “No.” She shook her head. “But when it was over, a man came. He had the mark of a princess. He took the Skinners.”

  Taylor shot a wide-eyed glance at Corentin. Finally, the confirmation he needed.

  “Skinners?” Ray asked, crossing his arms.

  “The most savage of child-eaters. They wear the skins of children,” Corentin explained.

  “Funny you know that,” Ray said, adjusting his beanie. He nodded at Taylor. “And you’re in a relationship with this guy.”

  “Knock it off, or I’m tossing you in with her and leaving you.” Corentin scowled.

  “Yeah? How dangerous can she be with a stuffed animal?”

  The more Ray maintained his clashing attitude, the more Taylor was inclined to let Corentin punch him in the face.

  “Trust me.” Corentin’s warning hung heavy in the hall.

  But Taylor wanted his own answers. “Do you know which princess it was? The princess was a man. There aren’t that many in the world. Does he look like me? His eyes would be purple.” He pointed to his face.

  “I didn’t see him,” she said, then kissed the top of her toy’s head. “My kitten,” she cooed.

  “You’re lying,” Taylor growled and Zee rumbled with him.

  “Taylor.” Corentin took him by the wrist.

  “She’s lying!” Taylor barked.

  “She said she didn’t see anything.” Corentin’s voice remained irritatingly calm.

  “How do you know that? She could clearly understand us the entire time, and you chose to speak to her in Curse Word,” Taylor said in a low tone, his eyes narrowed.

  “We are honestly going down this road again?” Corentin asked, just as irritated.

  “We’ve been down a lot of roads, you know that.” Taylor challenged him. Zee whined, concerned at her master’s anger. He didn’t understand her fear. All of Zee’s reactions had been defensive and dangerous.

  Corentin wasn’t having it. “This is not the ven—”

  “Core—” Taylor gasped as Zee wailed inside him and then went silent. He crumpled to his knees and clutched at the cell bars as Zee’s power evaporated. His world went silent and his vision went blind. He knew he had to have been screaming—his mouth was open and his vocal cords were vibrating—but he heard nothing. He saw nothing. Only terrifying darkness and painful stillness.

  Corentin’s familiar touch was on him, and he felt himself being rushed out into the cold. He cried out for Corentin and hoped the sounds he made were something like his name.

  I’m alive! I’m alive! Taylor tried to scream.

  Zee’s dead.

  Zee’s dead!

  Chapter 16: Rocking the Cradle

&
nbsp; May 8

  The Valentine Home on the Westbank

  IT WAS a small blessing that Ray delivered on his promise to let them stay in his home for the night. He didn’t hesitate when he led Corentin and Ringo into his home. Taylor convulsed in Corentin’s arms as he laid him out on the bed. Struggling to make Taylor comfortable, Corentin failed at keeping his fear at bay. His hands wouldn’t stop trembling as he smoothed away Taylor’s wet hair from his forehead.

  “C’mon, c’mon,” Corentin whispered. “You need to stop doing this, yeah?” He chuckled in a broken croak while crouching over him. “You need to be strong, okay? You’re the strong one.”

  Ringo fluttered in worried circles, at a loss for what to say.

  “Why don’t you help Ray out, okay?” It was the first thing that left Corentin’s mouth. He slipped straight into autopilot mode to hide his meltdown from those around him.

  “On it,” Ringo said and zipped into the living room.

  Corentin pressed the back of his hand to Taylor’s forehead. “He’s burning up,” he called to Ray in the living room.

  Contrary to his fever, Taylor’s teeth chattered and his lips and nose took on a blue cast. His muscles contracted as he seized in Corentin’s grasp.

  “You’re going to be okay. You know that, right?” Corentin whispered to him and pulled him into a protective hug. “Stay with me. Please, stay with me.” He placed a kiss on his wet temple. “Please, please wake up.”

  Corentin blinked and then eased Taylor back onto the bed. Taylor’s eyes darted wildly under his closed eyelids. Pushing his dark hair from his face, the obvious answer practically mocked him.

  Ray hurried into the bedroom with a bucket of snow and wet blankets. “Bless New Orleans being covered in snow right now. We can get his temperature down in no time.” He pressed a wet cloth to Taylor’s head. “Was it his magic going wrong again?”

  “He fell asleep.” Corentin stood aside and let Ray apply the cold blankets.

  “He’s what?” Ringo furrowed his brows.

  Corentin shrugged. “I know. It sounds crazy. But look.” He took Taylor’s cheeks between his palms. “See his eyes? He’s dreaming.”

  “I’ve heard crazier,” Ray said and handed a washcloth to Corentin. “If you told me New Orleans would be rendered into a frozen wasteland, I would have laughed in your face.” He glanced out his window. “Well. Joke’s on me, I suppose.”