Twist: A Fairy Tale Awakening (Spindlewind Trilogy Book Two)

by Genevieve Raas

  I looked at it.

  Normally I would have pushed it away. I had no interest in the vices of man. But now, I wanted nothing else but what she promised.

  For once, I would not worry about fear or consequences. Of tarot cards, oracles, or Fate. I only wanted a taste of freedom.

  Taking the pipe I held it to my lips. I breathed fully and deeply.

  Sweet smoke filled my mouth and singed my lungs. A calm dizziness immediately washed over me, and the smoke curled prettily out of my nose. My world heightened. Sensation intensified. Drunkenness was child’s play in comparison.

  I looked at her, taken aback by her now magnified beauty. Her blue eyes burned bright against the thick black lining them. How vibrant they were.

  “Isn’t that better?” she asked.

  Laila’s curses drifted to the depths of my mind. Tristan existed only as a memory.

  I inhaled again.

  I laid my head back on the silk pillow and drifted into an enchanting place. A place of bewitching loveliness and serenity. Guilt, fear, pain…All of it dissolved until only she and I remained.

  She pressed her hand against my chest and flicked open a button. Air kissed the base of my throat, and my heart pounded. She lowered her lips to my chest and kissed my now exposed skin, leaving a trail of fire.

  I wanted more than the hashish. I wanted to feel her plump lips against my own. I wanted to feel the tight heat of a woman again. That base part of me I denied for so long was unraveling.

  I grew bold from the wine and smoke simmering my blood.

  I grasped her wrist. She clawed my cheeks and I took her lips, exploring her mouth. Sharp pricks cut into my lips as she bit and pulled. Metallic rolled over my tongue and I wondered if it was my blood or hers. I didn’t care. I wanted more.

  I dug into her hair, coiling my fingers within her curls.

  She pulled away, her gaze black.

  A roll of pleasure skated down my spine as she brushed my skin, untying knots and unbuckling belts. I was being unearthed. Resurrected from the sins I buried myself beneath.

  I always buttoned my sleeves tight. Sheathed my legs in thick leather and tied my collar until it was stiff. In covering and restricting my body, I fashioned for myself a barrier against weakness. Emotion. Any sensation that might shake me.

  My clothes were my armor. My defense. And now, I laid there naked and exposed.

  Awakened.

  She straddled my hips and peeled away her gown. Taking my hands she placed them over her exposed breasts. Her soft mounds were hot, and the two buds excited me to the edge of reason.

  Her blonde curls skated over my skin, and she appeared as a goddess. Still, she wasn’t my goddess. My Laila.

  But the vision of chestnut hair vanished as her searing heat surrounded me. A deep moan escaped my lips. My head spun, and the coil between my legs tightened. Every movement she made tore away at the residue of my guilt.

  I gripped her hips and pressed myself deeper into her, desiring to further lose myself in her warmth. To forget in her the only woman I had ever truly loved.

  Unable to hold back any longer, pleasure crashed over me in a wild torrent. I inhabited a world where nothing mattered. Laila no longer screamed. Laila no longer hated me. Laila no longer existed.

  For two heartbeats, I was free.

  Chapter Five

  Fleece:

  noun: The woolly covering of a sheep or goat

  verb: to swindle

  I woke.

  My head pounded and my stomach twisted with nausea. Sweat covered my entire body. I was naked. I remembered only bits and pieces. Bits and pieces were enough.

  I cringed opening my eyes, expecting to see the results of my stupid exploits. My momentary madness. But she was gone, and I sighed in relief.

  Swaying slightly I stood and pressed against my temples, trying to lessen the throbbing in my skull. I could still taste blood on my lips.

  Taking a deep breath I smoothed my tousled hair. I cursed myself. Hated myself. What had I done?

  The thought that I was still so weak after all this time was unbearable to me. Fate wanted me to understand something about this place, but what I had no idea. All I knew was I had to get out.

  Collecting my clothes I hurriedly dressed. I could sense time ticking towards whatever this “destiny” Fate wished for me.

  I refused to stop no matter what I encountered.

  Music throbbed my dehydrated veins and my muscles. I clenched my jaw and kept my pace. Forward, always forward I marched, cutting through the revelers.

  Champagne splashed my leather boots and hands tugged at my sleeves. I kept my eyes straight ahead. I kept moving.

  I needed to think, plot, plan. Use all my faculties to overcome what I feared. There was no other recourse but to think. And to think, I couldn’t stop.

  A couple slammed into the yellow wallpaper beside me, a painted urn splintering as it exploded across the floor.

  I pressed on.

  A man grabbed my shoulder, his square form showing a penchant for pastries.

  “You look like you could use some company,” he said.

  “You look like you could use a castration,” I spat back, waving my arm and throwing him hard into heavy red curtains.

  I retained my mantra.

  Keep walking. Keep moving. Keep thinking. Forward. Forward. Forward.

  Rage flowed hot through my blood. I plowed into a servant carrying a tray with a tower of eggs. The eggs spilled off the silver rim and rolled across the wooden floorboards. Shells crushed beneath silk heels.

  The hall twisted. The walls pushed in on me. The floor rose and the painted ceiling lowered. My chest constricted until I gasped for breath.

  I was trapped. For the first time I didn’t know what to do.

  I turned sharply to the right and bolted for the French doors that led out onto a veranda.

  The breeze was cool and I savored the slight chill. My heart stilled and my breaths once more filled my lungs without effort. Most importantly, the music splintered into oblivion. My mind grew clear.

  I was done with Fate’s games. This entire place was nothing but a manipulation. A game aimed to entrance me, throw me off the trail of what I wanted most: His destruction.

  My entire body ached, and my fingers hungered for blood.

  A bonfire rose high into the black sky, and numerous revelers were gathered around watching the flames. As they clapped and drank they didn’t notice the shadow in their midst.

  Staring at the fire, I pressed my hands into the space between. The flames roared as I took command of their chaos, and I demanded they answer only to me.

  Lifting my hands, the fire rose higher into the night until the spiraling flares formed into a great conflagration. Cups fell from the hands of shocked bystanders and several screamed as dream became nightmare.

  I pushed out with all my strength. The inferno raged and thundered, a surge of heat knocking them all to the ground.

  I stepped before the blaze, my blood throbbing with vengeance, and looked out at their terrified faces with glee. For once I had their complete attention.

  “I am going to give you a choice,” I said, my voice trembling the earth. “You can either choose to be incredibly stupid, or choose to make the right decision.”

  Some huddled together, trembling like rats in a gutter. Others folded their hands, praying to their gods they hadn’t remembered until fear reminded them.

  “Tell me,” I continued, “where does your host spend his time when he isn’t with you? Keep in mind, this a simple question that requires a simple answer.”

  I tapped my foot, turning my head and looking at them, their knees grinding into the dirt. Silent.

  “Answer me!” Flames exploded towards heaven itself.

  A coarse man removed his feathered cap and slowly lifted his gaze. His lips quivered, words desperate to fall from them.

  “He is inside the palace,” he said, twisting his hat.

  Hi
s comrades nodded, muttering beneath their breath the same useless information.

  “Yes, inside the palace!”

  I sneered, and shook my head. They were children who needed to be punished.

  “I see you’ve chosen to be stupid,” I replied.

  I raised my hands and wind whipped and raged. The blaze swelled, a sheet of flames snapping and spitting. Cyclones of orange glints twisted through the black.

  My arms shaking, I slammed my hands into the earth, the firestorm cascading onto their heads. Pellets of burning embers scalded their clothes and singed their skin. Their screams rang in my ears. I gorged on their torment. The entire lawn was ablaze in orange light, but it was nothing compared to the rage in my heart.

  “I’ll give you one last chance,” I roared. “Otherwise, I will be happy to grant you an evening in hell’s eternal fire. No doubt that’s where you’ll all be going sooner or later, might as well get used to the sensation of scalding flesh.” A burst of flame cast the world in brimstone and ash. “Where. Is. Your. Host?”

  The blaze continued to crackle and pop. Orange and red flashed hot and quick as lightning.

  A woman dressed in purple silk and white pearls jumped up. She shrieked patting her bodice and arms as sparks tore into the fabric.

  “Try the North wing!” she exclaimed.

  “We aren’t allowed there,” another added.

  I smiled.

  I closed my hands, and with them the flames retracted to a smolder. The smoke cleared. Relief breathed out of them as I marched back towards the palace and the North wing.

  Doors burst open before me and I threw the revelers to the side. They flung against paintings, and toppled into bookcases. Some moaned of injury, while others sobbed. I didn’t care. The time for pleasantries was over.

  All that occupied my mind was deciding how best to filet my enemy. Fate deserved slow torment. One that would cut his tendons and slice his muscle so he could feel every sliver of pain he caused.

  As I approached the North wing the air chilled. There were no more dreamers or servants carrying tarts and goblets. There was only silence.

  I kept my pace, passing through rooms and halls that seemed more befitting for ghosts or ghouls. Cobwebs hung from chandeliers and golden filigrees. I no longer could make out my reflection in the mirrors, thick dust clinging to the cracked surface.

  Fallen plaster snapped beneath my boots. Broken sconces and chipped paint littered the marble floor. Candles extinguished. Only the sliver of moonlight sneaking through broken windows illuminated my path.

  Clouds of hot breath rolled out my mouth now.

  I noticed a closed door. While all the rest fell from their hinges, this one remained strong. I jiggled the frigid handle. It wouldn’t budge. I waved my hand and the brass crumbled.

  Pressing the door open, I entered and snapped my fingers causing a flame to light. More shambles and ruins. The parquet floor was split. Curtains hung haphazardly, and strips of wallpaper peeled from the walls. My skin prickled with excitement.

  There must be a reason this room was locked. It hid a secret. One I would soon uncover.

  I immediately started to stomp the floor, splitting back any board that wiggled. Nothing. I turned my attention to the walls. Mildew disintegrated onto my fingertips as I tapped for concealed compartments or passageways. Still, nothing.

  A chill ran down my spine. I turned around, but there was no one there. Ignoring it, I continued with my mission, tearing apart a chaise that had several springs popping through the worn fabric. I was done with ghosts.

  I turned on my heels, aiming for the mantel piece, when a wave of despair rolled over me. Through me. My heart quickened and so did my feet as I returned to the crumbling hall.

  The despair was familiar, yet different. Like if it had been an old friend I hadn’t seen since childhood. The further I walked the stronger it became. It radiated in my chest and caused my breaths to cease. Voices gnawed my mind and ate at my nerves. The hall started to sway but I kept going forward.

  “It’s just a game,” I told myself.

  I must be close.

  A door at the far end vibrated. The hinges creaked. Wood splintered. Light seeped through the crevices along with an echo of misery.

  Despair rippled my soul. It wanted me. Needed me.

  I concentrated putting one foot in front of the other, my head wanting to crack like an egg.

  Whispers. Pleadings. Hushes. Hopelessness surrounded me and I thought I would be ill from its heaviness infecting my soul.

  I stumbled to the floor, pressing into the dirt and grime to lift me back to my feet. I expected no less than a challenge. If it were easy, then Fate would not have been as formidable a foe as I imagined.

  Gripping the handle I pressed it down. It clicked. I pushed. The door swung open and revealed a room I thought I’d never lay eyes on again.

  The dungeon where it all began.

  Chapter Six

  Water dripped from the cracks in the mortar. Straw lay piled high along the walls and over the floor. Several torches burned low, causing the dried twigs to sparkle like gold.

  None of this made me shudder as the spinning wheel sitting in the center of the room. It waited for my touch as it had nineteen years before.

  Memories rose like ghosts.

  The baskets Laila brought to me were strewn across the floor. Empty bobbins were piled in a corner waiting to be filled with golden thread. I could still recall the sensation of smooth metal spinning between my fingers.

  The only difference was the spinning wheel itself. This one was larger. Older. A great wheel crafted from walnut, consisting of curves and sharp angles.

  Reaching out my hand I ran my fingers down the wheel and gave it a spin. The spokes stormed and rocked, clicking a rugged tune.

  I couldn’t silence the memory of Laila’s labored breaths as she brought me heaps of straw interspersed with the whirring of the wheel.

  The torches exploded with light, the flames spiraling up towards the ceiling. A heartbeat thundered in my skull, despair in every strike. I covered my ears even though I knew the sound was within.

  My palm scorched with agony.

  Then all at once it stopped. Fate secured the door shut behind him.

  “What sick game are you playing?” I asked. I squared my shoulders and lengthened my body. I refused to reveal even a glimmer of the alarm racing in my veins.

  He sighed, shaking his head.

  “I haven’t been here but a minute and already I’m accused,” he said. “For once, this is not my doing. You’ve brought us here. This is dream, remember? Is something in your past still bothering you?”

  A twisted smile formed on his lips. He bent down and picked up a piece of straw, proceeding to twist it around his finger.

  I recalled how I had picked a piece of straw out of Laila’s hair and done the same.

  “Only you,” I spat.

  He chuckled, flicking the straw away. He stepped forward until his chest nearly pressed against mine. I remained firm.

  “Always upset,” he cooed, laying the back of his finger against my cheek. He trailed it down and traced my jaw. “You are wasting so much of your life thinking about what has already happened. You should focus some of that energy of yours on what can happen.”

  He turned away and leaned against the stone wall, crossing his arms.

  “I’m not interested in anything you have to say,” I said. “You’ve been nothing but deceptive from the start.”

  His chest contorted as laughter burst out of him. For a glint his beauty turned ugly.

  “Like you have always been a model of honesty.” He raised an eyebrow. “Funny how you came back to this spot. So much happened here. Talk about honesty. That poor girl. If only she knew what she was getting into, maybe she might have preferred a sharp blade and a quick chop.”

  He pushed off the wall and strutted to the spinning wheel. He placed his hand in-between to spokes and cranked the wheel into a
spin. The wheel rocked and rutted, producing a violent resonance. Turbulent. Pitted. He quickened the pace, the gears rotating, spinning into a storm.

  “If only you could have made her make the right choice, all this internal suffering could have been avoided.”

  I grabbed the wheel, stopping it.

  “Yes, if only,” I snapped.

  “Unfortunately, it goes against the natural order to make a choice for someone. Humanity retains the freedom to make their own path, even damn themselves as she did. Although I am fate, I am bound by limitations. But,” his lips bent into a sneer and he lowered his chin, causing him to take on an air of exuberant derangement, “not for much longer. I am ringing in a new age. A new order.”

  A cold chill rolled down my spine. He looked pleased with himself. Too pleased.

  “What lunacy are you talking about?” I asked.

  “Free will,” he said. “The greatest deception of all.”

  “What rubbish.”

  He cocked his head.

  “Is it? Tell me, have you particularly enjoyed your time here?”

  “No,” I said.

  “Of course not. Because this place is ruled by free will, Rumpelstiltskin. The very beacon of freedom humanity finds so alluring. And yet, you were miserable, as I knew you would be.”

  His lips stretched into a vicious smile. My heart thrashed in my ears.

  “What are you saying?” I asked.

  “As I’ve already mentioned, you are a hard man to convince. You needed to experience first hand the truth of free will, what it does to man.”

  “I am well aware of man’s stupidity.”

  Fate laughed.

  “You’ve only seen man at his most desperate, diminished to a pleading mouse. This place was my experiment. I let them gorge on free will and whatever wishes they wanted. And as they feasted, they descended into chaos. Virtue disintegrated.”

  “And what possible conclusion did you hope I reach with your experiment?” I seethed.

  “That you would see them as I see them. What they truly are. Diseased. Base. Creatures that can only kill, shit, and fuck. I wanted you to understand that free will creates monsters.”