“Of all the places I could ask for alms, why on earth would I approach a peasant?” I chuckled. “I can assure you my reasons for being here are quite the opposite.”
With a shove of my shoulder, I pushed inside, having to duck to avoid a low beam.
“Do you have a death wish?” Hal asked.
I paid him no attention, taking a turn about his cramped abode. A boy and girl no more than eight years old played with cornhusk dolls near the fire. Their faces were clean, though moths and age disintegrated their clothing.
“What lovely children,” I said, facing him. “Though, your home could use a little upkeep. Dirt floors are quite wretched for such small lungs. Plus, that pesky plague is not doing them any favors. Not father of the year, are we?”
He grabbed my arm, his fingers squeezing into my muscle. Apparently he didn’t appreciate the truth.
“Get out,” he seethed.
His eyes locked on my own. Anger faded and recognition washed over him. He gulped, as if wishing to be a puddle on the floor.
“You…” he breathed. “Rumpelstiltskin.”
“Indeed,” I replied, pulling my arm from his grasp. “Perhaps that will teach you to treat your guests more kindly. Especially ones that can change your fortunes.”
His flame blazed hot. Begging me. Imploring me.
“I have prayed to God to rescue Adelaide from this cursed disease,” he said. “Her skin tears, and the boils cause such unbearable pain. There’s nothing I can do but watch her slip away into absolute torment. Now you’ve come.”
Red rimmed his eyes with relief.
“Take me to her,” I said.
He moved to show me the stairs when he stopped. His flame quivered. Unsure. Fearing…
He doubted me. My virtue. I hated I could not blame him.
“No,” he said, his voice cracking. “It would be wrong. Only God can cure her. I must keep strong and believe.”
A smirk befell my lips.
His flame spoke otherwise. It continued begging me deeply. Calling me to end its anguish. Heart and piety were at war in this man. It was up to me to convince him I was the only way.
“I find it odd putting such raw faith in the deity that caused your wife’s ailment in the first place,” I said.
“All I have is prayer, and I will continue until my knees bleed,” he said.
He dropped to the floor in front of a tallow candle glowing prettily beneath a crucifix. Touching his forehead he moved to his heart and tapped both shoulders. Mutterings issued from his mouth.
I neared the flame. It flickered wild and untamed over the face of Christ. I pressed my thumb and forefinger tightly over the wick, snuffing it out.
“If you haven’t noticed, God has abandoned you,” I replied.
He looked up at me, horror written on every line of his face.
“It’s not true,” he said. “If I say another Hail Mary, a miracle might still take place. There is still time.”
“Time is gone, and I am the only one here. I am the only one who has answered your prayers,” I said.
Hal clapped both hands over his mouth, muffling a sob of surrender.
“Are you going to take me to Adelaide, or shall we waste what few precious moments your dying wife has left jabbering about theology?” I asked.
He stood, wiping a stray tear from his left eye. He whispered prayers for forgiveness beneath his breath as I followed him up stairs that bent with each step.
The scent of rotting flesh filled my nose and mouth. He pulled back a worn curtain revealing Adelaide laying in bed.
It astounded me how the disease erased the woman I saw not days before. Her cheeks were hollow and eyes sunken. Blood trickled out of her nose. That was nothing to her hands. They were frozen like claws, the fingers crusted and utterly black.
She had hours at best. Perfect for what I needed.
“Can you save her?” Hal asked.
I could. But I wouldn’t.
Playing the part, I approached her and leaned down. Her eyes fluttered open, the life dimming behind them. I hovered my hand over her heart. Slow and labored. Even her flame was fading into death.
“No,” I replied. “I’m afraid the disease is far too advanced even for my abilities.”
He let out a wail that resembled a wounded puppy. I hardened my heart further to do what I must.
“But,” I continued. “I can provide her more comfort. A mattress of straw and sheets stained with puss is no way to die. That must be replaced by feathers and clean silk. As for her pain…I will ensure that won’t even exist as a memory.”
Reassurance threatened to burst out of him.
“God wouldn’t want her in pain,” he said.
“Of course, not” I replied, inwardly rolling my eyes. “However, before I do anything too laborious, there is one small caveat.”
“Name it,” he said.
How I loved it when they said that.
“Luckily for you, whereas most men prefer gold or silver, I am not quite so obsessed by shiny baubles. I prefer the singular. The unique. Something that will never be missed.”
Suspicion pulled at his features as if seeing through my lie. I stiffened, ensuring I remained stone.
“Such as?” he asked.
“Her breath.”
“What for?”
“My reasons,” I said.
His face reddened and he ground his teeth. He knew.
He grabbed my shirt and pressed his knuckles into my shoulders, causing my tendons to snap.
“You almost had me fooled. All that talk of God and prayer,” he said. “You can save her, can’t you? You just don’t want to, you bastard. You rather collect some morbid token at the expense of her life.”
I smiled. Conceding.
If he wasn’t going to surrender to me, then I had no choice but to make him. To cause further pain as I always did.
“Yes,” I said. “I could save your wife, but would you really want to give her that burden?”
His fingers coiled deeper into my shirt and his breath stank of ale.
“What burden could that possibly be?” he asked.
“The knowledge that her life came at the expense of the lives of her husband and children,” I said.
“Nonsense.”
“Is it nonsense?” I asked, grasping his wrists and pushing him off me. “Don’t be a fool. You know her coughs have infected you and your children. In a matter of days, it will be your lungs liquefying. I do hope for your sake your children die quick. Would be a shame to watch them cough up all sorts of nasty bits and pieces knowing you could have stopped it.”
His skin flushed white, though his large frame trembled with rage.
“It’s your choice,” I said, smoothing the wrinkles from my doublet. “Your wife’s life, or your own and those of your children.”
Adelaide’s flame sparked beside us.
“Hal,” she rasped, her lips cracking. “He’s right. It were better I were dead. Take his deal, and I can rest in peace knowing my last action on this earth was to save my family.”
“Adelaide, are you hearing him? His words are vile. Against God.”
She shook her head, the thinning skin of her cheeks splitting. The trickling blood mingled with her tears.
“The truth is often vile,” she said. “Hal. Please.”
A fit of coughs took her over. They were deep and violent, crimson splattering her sheets.
Not much time remained.
“You better listen to your wife,” I said.
Hal’s lips tightened into a straight line. His gaze locked on mine.
“You’re insane,” he spat to me.
I laughed.
“I’m not the one securing a gruesome death for my children,” I replied. “All because papa fears the wrath of God. I assure you, God does not care.”
A roll of desperation flooded out of his soul. I often found what one says and what one feels are always at odds. Hal was no exception. I craved the
fire within him and my prey was ready to be consumed.
“I will give you so many delightful things,” I said, nearing him, his flame blazing hotter still. “Protect you from this disease. Make you not have to watch your children cough blood,” the heat from his skin rolled through me. “You will have riches. Titles. Land. Thomas and Emma will have grassy meadows to play in instead of ash and smoke,” I hovered my hand over his chest, wanting to touch him. “I give you the world all in exchange for an insignificant bottle of breath.”
More fire. How it burned! I couldn’t wait any longer. I needed to feel him, the flame.
I ground my fingers into his chest. The entire ocean of his soul rushed over my skin. Heavy and soft it rippled, pulled, and thundered. Through me. In me. I traveled deeper, the black thoughts he would never admit bursting to life. Visions of his little brats flashed through my mind. They were happy. Smiling. His inner turmoil was absolute beauty.
Still deeper I pressed, passed hope and wish, until I found desire. He drank fine Madeira wine and ate roasted quail on silver plates. A woman, fresh and healthy, stroked his thigh. He wanted what my pretty words promised. That’s all I needed to know.
The vision ripped and I was blown back to the surface. Back into their dingy room surrounded by the putrid rot of his decaying wife. He stood in front of me, my wrist grasped firmly in his hand.
“This is what I feared from you,” he said, tears welling in his eyes. “Always vile choices that lead to further suffering.”
I tore my hand away from him.
“Life is suffering,” I said.
“Hal,” she said. She wheezed for breath now. “Let me go. Take the life he promises.”
Hal scrambled to her side and stroked her hair. He kissed her bleeding lips. I turned away, the ghost of Laila’s lips on my own haunting me.
“I can’t accept this is the only choice,” he replied.
“If there is one kindness you can show me,” she whispered, “let it be this. Grant me the peace of knowing who I love is protected.”
I closed my eyes as an ache coiled in my chest.
If there is only one kindness you ever show me, let it be this, Laila’s voice echoed in my memory. My hands tingled as I felt her wrist slipping from my grasp as I let her go.
I let her go.
I forced a breath into my lungs, demanding the ghost disintegrate. I wouldn’t lose my only chance of rescuing her. Of ending Fate’s game.
Hardened, I turned and faced them both.
“Do we have a deal or don’t we?” I snapped. “My patience is wearing thin. Otherwise, I will happily provide a shovel for you to dig your own graves.”
Hal’s flame was an inferno as was her own. He looked up at me and nodded his head, resigned. Beaten.
A roll of parchment appeared in my hand and I pulled out the glittering black quill that bound so many to me.
“Sign,” I said, handing both to him. I pointed at the blank space at the bottom.
Wiping his eyes, he pulled the quill along the contract, the shimmering lines of blood rushing within me as I gorged on his despair. He didn’t complain about the pain in his fingertips as so many others, though his cheeks flushed and hand trembled. He probably believed it a right punishment from God for accepting my darkness.
“It is done,” he said, throwing the quill down.
“Excellent,” I replied, waving my hand vanishing the quill and contract. “The next part will not take long.”
Reaching into my coat pocket I pulled out a small glass vial. I removed the cork stopper and leaned it against the woman’s split lips. She rasped for breath now, her lungs filling with liquid.
“On your next breath, exhale into the bottle,” I said.
She nodded in understanding.
Hal held her blackened hands, her fingers so stiff they could snap off if you weren’t careful. Adelaide closed her eyes as if concentrating on the little stream of air she blew into the vial.
A silvery substance took shape, curling and twisting within the confines of the glass. I removed the bottle and pressed the cork back into the opening, congratulating myself on trapping the rare mist within.
The wooden boards started to vibrate followed by pings of coins spilling onto the floor. Hal gasped.
A trunk filled with gold coins stood by his side, its wealth overflowing.
“It will never empty,” I said. “Nor shall you, or your children, ever suffer another illness.”
He fell to his knees, dipping his hands into the coins. He laughed, his tears of sadness turning into ones of relief.
Adelaide smiled weakly through her agony. Even with her dying request she wished only the best for her family. My stomach tightened.
Standing beside her I waited until her eyes left the rejoicing form of her husband, and met mine. Gratefulness filled her dimming pupils. I waved my hand over her, the pain and fear tearing at her tissues vanishing. Her sheets became silk and her features relaxed. She would know absolute peace for her final hours.
That is what I told myself to ease my guilt as I vanished back into the darkness.
TRISTAN
The passage stretched on and I wondered if I’d ever reach the end. Cold water dripped from the cracks in the rock and fell onto my hair and ran down my neck. A rat skittered by my feet. Shadows overtook the gray light, and I resorted to running my hands along the rough walls. My fingers froze stiff, but I would not turn back.
A pale glow illuminated a black rock ahead. I made sure to keep silent as best I could, avoiding stepping in the few puddles that collected in the grooves of the floor. He might still be there.
Pressing against the wall I listened. Nothing.
I peered through the open doorway. Empty.
Letting out a breath I entered, waving a cobweb out of the way. I would have to be quick, there was no telling when he’d be back. My mission was simple: Find a way out of his enchantments.
I wove around a large cauldron, ducking as I passed beneath hanging herbs. A human skull stared at me on a bookshelf. I turned and faced a jar containing severed bat wings. I used to think the trinkets upstairs were bizarre. These contained an aura of darkness that sent goosebumps over my skin.
Reaching a table I found myself awed by the collection of vials and brass pistils littering the surface. Lacquered rings of past experiments and potions stained the wood.
I picked up a large jar, fascination and horror mingling within me as an odd appendage floated in yellow water.
A tongue.
I placed it back down quickly and wiped my hand on my trousers. What was he up to? On second thought, I didn’t even want to know. His concerns were no longer mine.
Besides, I doubted what I needed would be contained in his vials of terror. It would be tucked away. A spell or potion that would grant me freedom.
Turning my gaze, I saw what I needed. I stood before an absolute tower of books. The shelves seemed ready to break at any moment from the weight they held. More vials and jars containing morbid artifacts were stuffed between rotting volumes with strange titles.
Book of Shadows
Blood Bonds and Blood Magic
Pixies of the Northern Isles
I pulled down Transfiguration and Shapeshifting. A stack of papers started to slide from their position, knocking a bottle filled with green sludge over the side. I caught the bottle, but the papers spilled over the filthy stone.
Sighing, I gathered them and shoved them back as best I could. A book of red leather caught my attention.
It wasn’t a disintegrating brown like the rest. This one was special. A coating of white hid the title. I wiped away the dust with my thumb, the vibrant red even more beautiful beneath the dirt. A royal emblem of a lion gleamed against the soft grain. I furrowed my brow.
I pulled it out, carefully this time. Turning it over I read in gold letters:
A History of the Heraldry of His Royal Highness, King Edward
Edward? That was impossible. I knew all th
e royal seals. Read all the histories and heraldry books. But this monarch, I’d never encountered him before. I knew our kingdom had one great family. Surely this was a mistake.
I cracked open the binding, curious of the identity of this mystery monarch.
Whispers murmured behind me. My skin prickled. It came from Pater’s desk. I snapped the history closed and placed it back with the other books.
Stepping before a clean desk a book of spells laid open and waiting. I couldn’t help but smile at my good fortune.
The binding pulsated as I moved closer. Beautiful illuminations and handwritten spells and potions covered the fragile parchment. I paged through, careful with each turn to not damage the delicate paper.
Remotionem Verrucis: A spell for the removal of warts
Aeternae Pulchritudinis: A potion for youth eternal
Visus: A spell of sight
I’d never seen such a book before. It continued to pulse, as if it had its own heartbeat. This was a book of possibilities. I could remove warts from a pig or create eternal youth with a few dashes of snake scales and sage.
But which one would solve my problem? Pater always told me magic was like harmony. Understanding it is the only way to control it. Names are power. Once you name a thing, you have power over it.
I dove deeper in, ancient names passing by, absorbing me until only the light tremor up my legs pulled me back into the present.
A low rumble rattled the vials and jars on the other table, even the tongue wagged in its yellow fluid.
I stepped back, and to my horror Pater appeared standing by the cauldron. His back faced me.
Heart pounding, I ducked beneath the desk and held my knees against my chest. I prayed he couldn’t hear my veins throb.
He neared me, his leather boots pointing right at me. Another inch and he would have stepped on my toes for sure. I scooted farther back, pressing myself against the wall as much as I could.
All I could do was hold my breath and hope he wouldn’t discover me.
RUMPELSTILTSKIN
The silver streams of Adelaide’s breath continued to curl as I held the vial.
Twist: A Fairy Tale Awakening (Spindlewind Trilogy Book Two) Page 5
