The Hunt for Snow

by S. E. Babin

  She squawked. “You cannot ask me to put you in a gown without heels! It’s fashion heresy.”

  “No heels,” I repeated.

  “Two-inch,” she countered.

  “No.”

  “Boots, then.” She gave me a smug smile. Cyndi knew I had a boot fetish.

  “I hate you.”

  She fist pumped. “Yes! This is so exciting. I can’t wait to tell Belle!” She sprung out of the chair, dumped her mug into the sink and then rushed out of the room.

  I had a feeling I was going to regret the freedom I’d just given my friend. Visions of Ru Paul and Miss America mixed around in my head. I shuddered and got up to fix myself another mug of coffee. This time with booze.

  If one more person screamed, “Yeti, yeti, yeti, yeeettiii,” during my presentation I was going to shoot them. I might be in my mid-twenties and not so far away from the age of the students in this auditorium, but as far as I was concerned I was light years ahead of them in maturity. How many of these people could say they were chased from their kingdom in the middle of the night and almost stabbed? Zero, that’s how many.

  I glared at all of them, feeling super stabby myself, and adjusted my spectacles on my nose. I rarely wore them, but when you had a class like this every single thing to make you look smarter helped. Being petite, young, and not physically hideous gave me less cred. Ridiculous, I know, but that’s how Earth worked. As a matter of fact, that’s sometimes how home worked, too, except quite a few of us openly carried weapons. That tended to cut down on the sexism in the Enchanted Forest.

  “If one more person does that, I will personally throw you out on your ear. Does everyone understand?” That was the good thing about college. You didn’t have to be so PC with everyone.

  “Yes, Professor Snow,” came the dutiful echo throughout the room.

  “Good.” I cleared my throat and focused back on the task at hand. I used my laser and pointed to the arm span of the yeti. “Twelve feet wide is what we suspect the arm span to be. And powerful enough to crush your tiny little brains into pudding.” I grinned at my class, my teeth bared enough to show just how much patience I was losing with them.

  A few students shifted uncomfortably in their seats. I turned back to the slide show. “While many scientists believe the origins of the yeti might be from the ancient ape Gigantopithecus, others believe the creature is an entirely separate species, perhaps even related to the myth of Bigfoot.” I turned to study the class.

  “Sightings of this beast date back to the eighteen hundreds, but don’t expect to find it anywhere in America. The yeti appears to live solely in the Himalayas. As of now, that theory has never been disproven, so if you’re mentally packing your hiking bags, stop. Interestingly enough, the government of Nepal has declared the existence of this creature real, even with a startling lack of evidence. The beast’s existence provides important income to Nepal and is now the country’s national symbol.”

  I spoke for about another half hour about the beast, and watched as some of the non-interested students began to nod off. Those kids would be dropping my class in about another two weeks. I wrapped up class with the dire warning to never engage the yeti in hand-to-hand combat but, if they did, to always carry Jelly Bellys because it was the beast’s favorite candy—the last one completely untrue, but it amused me to watch everyone’s face light up with a mix of suspicion and interest.

  Once the clock hit 3:00 p.m. the students scattered like cockroaches when the light came on. I leaned against the podium and tried to rub some tension knots out of my neck. Tonight was the last night I’d have at home. The conference started tomorrow. I still had time to try and talk my friends out of it. I practiced the speech I hoped to give them as soon as I walked in the door, beginning with my irrational fear of conferences (completely untrue), and my phobia of dirty hotel rooms (also untrue). I planned to end with a sob story about the state of my romantic affairs, and end with my burning desire to sign up for an online dating service so I could find my soul mate. This was the most untrue statement, but if it got them off my back, I’d do it.

  I grabbed my purse, anxious to get home, out of my business clothes and into a nice comfortable pair of jeans. But a shadowy figure leaning against the door made my footsteps falter. How in the world had a student managed to sneak up on me? I straightened my spine, not wanting to show fear, especially to someone barely out of their teens. But as I got closer to the person my heart began a dull heavy thud inside my chest. That was no teen. I still couldn’t see his face, but those long lean legs were awfully familiar. My footsteps slowed and I could feel my face burning with familiarity.

  It couldn’t be him. How did he find me? And what did he want?

  “Hello, Snow,” the voice said as the figure stepped into the light.

  I wanted to throw my purse at him and run screaming out of the room. The Huntsman stood in front of me, his face smirking as he took in my attire. I forced myself not to bolt like a scared rabbit.

  I couldn’t stop myself from wishing I’d brought my gun to class today.

  He looked much the same as when he tried to kill me. The same tawny-colored hair brushing against the tops of his shoulders. The same rugged growth of five o’clock shadow, and the same mocking expression he’d been wearing as I ran for my life through the woods.

  He was just too pretty to hate. But I was teetering on the edge between lust and heavy dislike.

  “What do you want?” I asked when my voice could finally function.

  One eyebrow rose. “Is that the kind of greeting you reserve for an old friend?”

  I wrinkled my brow and snorted. “An old friend? Friends don’t chase each other through the woods with a twelve-inch hunting knife.”

  He grinned. “Some friends do. And besides, I hear I’m not the only one with an unhealthy fascination for sharp toys.”

  I fumbled for a response as my mind worked to figure out who’d been feeding him information about me. “If you were me, you’d sleep with your weapons, too.”

  Something unrecognizable flashed in his eyes and his mouth turned down. “Touché.” He spread his hands out. “I am not here to fight.”

  “Could have fooled me,” I mumbled.

  “You will be at the conference, I take it?” He stared at me, but I couldn’t look at him without falling all over myself.

  I shrugged. “Maybe.”

  He sighed. “Snow, you need to be there. I cannot go into details.” He looked around, and if I didn’t know better I would have bet he feared something. “Naomi is up to her old tricks. She will compel me to come after you.”

  I made a sound of disgust. “If you’re standing here telling me that you’re going to come after me again, why in the world would I show up?”

  “You will show because your subjects need you.” He stood up to his full height. It pissed me off because I had to tilt my head to look up at him.

  “I’ve been away from the Enchanted Forest for years. Why is there such a big need now?”

  He chuckled softly. “Even as a child you underestimated yourself. They’ve always needed you.”

  I didn’t believe him. Something else was up here and it wasn’t just about my subjects. “Tell me why you’re really here,” I said and crossed my arms as I glared at him.

  He stepped forward and gripped my forearms tightly. “Listen to me,” he said with urgency. “I’ve broken the compulsion briefly. Naomi is out for blood. She will tear your kingdom to shreds in her search for you. Do not allow your people to suffer her wrath because you want to stay safe.”

  I wrenched myself out of his grasp. “How dare you!” I glared at Max, any feelings I had for him evaporating as the enormity of what he just asked me to do sank in. “You’re asking me to sacrifice myself for the people who willingly pushed me into her grasp. Do you understand how that sounds?”

  A confused look spread across his face. “You do not speak truth.”

  “Of course I speak the truth, you idiot!”
My heart raced as I struggled to control the urge to shoot him. I wished again for the comforting weight of metal against my shoulder.

  “Your people would never allow something like that to happen willingly, Snow. You are assigning blame to a wronged party.” He turned away from me, shadows falling across the lean lines of his body.

  “Why should I believe anything you say?” I wanted him to leave so much, but I was disturbed at just how much I wanted him to stay.

  “I was the one who saved your life when the magic coursing through my veins compelled me to slit your ivory-white throat. The hell I went through after letting you slip through my fingers is one you will never understand. You might be running from hell on earth, Snow, but I live it every day with Naomi.”

  Guilt flooded my body as I watched him slip away from me. For the second time.

  2

  My hands shook all the way home. Guilt wracked my body, the familiar sensation sliding through me like a stiff drink. I tried to assuage my guilt every day I lived on Earth, but seeing the Huntsman again made it all flood back. I’d spent so much time assigning blame to everyone that I never really stopped to think about who was ultimately at fault. Naomi. While I knew she was the one who ran me out of the kingdom, I blamed the townspeople for letting it happen.

  Dictators squash uprisers. I knew that. I’d always known that, but for some reason I thought I was different…special. They should have done something, right? Wrong. I pushed the palm of my hand against my eyes, feeling a long overdue headache pounding there. Men, women, children; who were they to stand up against the power of a woman like her?

  I pictured Naomi’s face. Red hair, ruby lips…she was a cold, cold beauty. A cruel beauty and one who wouldn’t hesitate to crush anyone who got in her way. I was a teenager when I left. An immature teen who felt sorry for herself and instead of fighting back, ran away and stayed in hiding.

  I should be ashamed of myself.

  I whipped the vehicle into the driveway and slid out of the car. Cyndi and Belle were already here. When I turned the key in the lock and pushed the door open, I heard both of their excited chatter filtering through the house. I’m glad they were happy. It made two of us. I sat my briefcase down and walked the short distance into the kitchen.

  Cyndi tossed back her long blonde hair in laughter, and Belle’s grin stretched wide across her face. They’d always been happier than me. And I loved them for it. The laughter died when I stepped in and they saw my face. Belle opened her mouth, decided against saying anything and instead grabbed a glass and poured me a healthy serving of red wine. I accepted it gratefully and snagged a seat at the bar.

  “So…” Cindy said. “Anything you’d like to tell us? You have your angry face on.”

  I frowned as I sipped the Syrah Belle poured me. “I’m not angry.”

  Belle snorted. “And I’m Rapunzel.”

  “Ha,” I said. “Rapunzel wears makeup and bothers to brush her hair sometimes.”

  Belle rolled her eyes. “I work in IT. Makeup is a perk.” A self-conscious hand rose to her wild mane of unruly hair. “And I do brush it. When I remember.”

  Cyndi giggled. “She didn’t remember today.”

  I grinned behind my glass. “I’m really not angry.” I paused, wondering what their reaction would be if I told them who showed up in my office today.

  “So what is it?” Belle scratched her nose and leaned forward in anticipation.

  I wasn’t going to get out of telling them. I set my glass down. “Max came by today.”

  Silence fell in the kitchen, the only sound the ticking of the wall clock. Belle cleared her throat. “My. And how does that make you feel?”

  Cyndi snorted. “Okay, Doctor Phil. Let Oprah take over.” She leaned toward me. “So…how does that make you feel?”

  I grinned. “You both are idiots. He claims I need to be at the conference because my people need me.”

  I watched my friends as their faces registered what I’d said. Belle’s face shuttered and she leaned away from me. She didn’t want to tell me Max was right.

  “He’s right,” I said.

  “Oh, thank God,” Belle said.

  I glared at her. “I spent too much time blaming everyone else for what went wrong. Only one person was responsible.”

  Cindy patted my arm. “Naomi.”

  I nodded. “Max believes she has plans to come after me at this conference.”

  “The Accords—” Cindy shouted.

  “Are useless,” I concluded. “She will attempt something. I need to be prepared for whatever it is. And Max is under a compulsion.”

  “He fought it once,” Cinderella murmured.

  Shock ran through my system. “How did you know that?” She looked away, but not before I saw the guilt there. “How did you know?” I asked her again.

  She bowed her shoulders, and I noticed the sympathetic look Belle gave her from my peripheral vision. “He came to see me afterward.”

  I sat up straighter, but Belle shook her head. “Not like that,” she said. “He knew you were my friend. Max grieved for you, Snow.” She looked at me. “He didn’t know if you survived because he couldn’t remember much under the compulsion. The fact that he was able to break it says volumes about the way he feels about you.”

  I wanted to scoff. To tell her not to be ridiculous. But I could tell she believed every word she was saying. She believed Max had feelings for me. And from the look on Belle’s face, she believed it, too. I was in way over my head. Tomorrow I’d be walking straight into a viper’s nest.

  I grimaced. We could talk about Max much later. Right now I wanted to glean as much information about Naomi as I could. I put my game face on, reached under the granite bar and unstrapped one of the many guns I had hanging around. I laid it on top of the bar and smiled.

  Cyndi and Belle groaned. “You are the only woman on Earth who has guns in every room in the house. You’ll never get married and have children if you keep threatening to shoot people.”

  “Exactly,” I said. “I’m too busy running to get pregnant.”

  Belle drained her wine glass. “Well, the difference between you and me is that I’m never too busy to practice.” She grinned and set her glass in the sink.

  “I wonder about her sometimes,” Cyndi said. “She’s scary brilliant, but a complete man-izer. Is that even a word?”

  “I don’t think so,” I said, “but it’s an apt description.”

  I watched as Belle walked away, her long tangled chestnut hair swinging against her waist. “Buy her a hairbrush, would you, Cyndi?”

  She grinned and bowed. “Your wish is my command. Now…” She pulled me up out of the seat. “I have a dress for you to try on.”

  “Right now?” I whined. “But I have lots of weaponry to clean.”

  “I just saw you clean them the other day. Stop complaining. You promised.” She led me by the arm into the living room.

  “If it’s bedazzled I might become homicidal.”

  She paused a beat in her step. “Belle!” she screamed. “Hide the guns!”

  A chortle of laughter rang out that made me very, very nervous.

  I managed to balk at trying on the dress, giving the lame excuse that I wanted to save it as a surprise for the ball, and that I had too much to pack to spend even five minutes trying it on. Now, the morning of the conference had arrived. I hated it when the weather didn’t match my mood. I stood outside staring up at the sky surrounded by luggage and my bad attitude. I frowned. It was beautiful outside and yet all I could feel was a lingering sense of dread. I couldn’t put it off any longer, so the faster I rushed everyone out of the house, the faster we could get to the conference…and the faster we could leave.

  The taxi pulled up right on time. The only thing we were missing was Cyndi. I shouted at her to get a move on and lugged my suitcase and small duffel over to the wizened old driver. Belle rushed out of the house behind me, carrying a laptop case and a small duffel. I eyed it dubiously
and gave her a curious look.

  She flushed. “I don’t need that many things.” She gestured to my suitcase. “You can say you’re low maintenance but from the size of that suitcase it looks like you’ve brought some things for dressing to impress.”

  It was my turn to flush. Normally I was a light packer, but I wasn’t sure what was going to happen over the next few days. Plus, Cyndi made me pack all kinds of shoes, makeup and other things I didn’t understand. I glared at Belle. “Shut up,” I finally said when I couldn’t think of an appropriate response.

  Belle snorted and tossed her duffel on top of mine in the trunk. I started to walk back up the drive to drag Cyndi out by the hair when a shrill whistle startled me. I spun around and saw Belle holding two fingers between her teeth.

  “I forgot you could do that,” I said, trying to calm my pounding heart.

  The front door flew open and a frazzled Cyndi stumbled out. “All right, All right,” she said. “I’m not a dog.”

  My mouth dropped open. Cyndi was lugging one hot pink suitcase beside her. On top of it was a matching duffel, but behind her three more suitcases were piled on top of each other. Her eyes dared me to say anything about it so I just raised my hands and stepped away. I wouldn’t say a word, but I also wouldn’t help her get her luggage to the car.

  “Cyndi! I thought we agreed that you’d cut some of this crap out. No one needs three ball gowns and a suitcase full of shoes!” Belle wasn’t as agreeable as I was trying to be.

  “Everyone needs ball gowns and shoes. You only—”

  “Get one chance to make a first impression. Yes, we know.” Belle cut her off in a whiny, mimicky voice. She lowered the volume and leaned in. “But we don’t live in the Enchanted Forest anymore. We live in Mystic Falls.” She spread her hands out to gesture at the small suburban neighborhood. “People watch football and eat hot dogs. They shuttle kids to and from extracurricular activities. If you can name one ball you’ve been to in the last two years, I won’t say another word.”