Fantastical f-3

by Kristen Ashley

  Maybe I should go to sleep and I’d wake up at home.

  The problem was, I was far from sleepy.

  “I’m getting married to the man I love today, Aggie! Isn’t that marvelous?”

  Rosa’s happy voice entered my head and I closed my eyes tight.

  I’d fucked up. Big time. Of course, I had no way of knowing it but those around me, including Noctorno, Orlando and her beloved Dashiell (not to mention, Aggie, who I hoped was okay) didn’t know that.

  And now Rosa was gone. Disappeared with one of those things.

  I shook my head, opened my eyes and walked to the wood. Grabbing a stick, I moved back to the fire pit and carefully placed the split log on it while talking to myself.

  “Don’t think of that. Don’t think of Rosa, of Aggie, of Dashiell. Think of how to get home. Think of how to get the hell out of here.”

  I went back to the hides and tucked myself in, staring at the fire and thinking.

  What could I have done? How did I get here?

  I sifted through recent memories and all I knew about how this kind of shit happened in the movies.

  I had not made a wish for a fairytale life from a weird fortune teller vending machine at a creepy magic store. In fact, I’d never been to a creepy magic store mainly because they were creepy.

  I had not accidentally bumped into, therefore ticked off, anyone strange-looking, like a magician with white gloves and a top hat or a gypsy with long hair and flowing, jangly skirts.

  I had not happened onto any object, say a magic vase or an enchanted crystal, and taken it home.

  I had not sat by the light of a full moon on the banks of the Puget Sound and wished for a more exciting life surrounded by angry hot guys and birds that talked.

  I hadn’t done any of that.

  So why was I here? This stuff didn’t happen outside of the movies.

  And yet it did because here I was, in a cave, in a nightshirt, with no shoes and a hot guy who apparently hated me that I didn’t like all that much either out finding us food.

  Time wore on and I kept feeding the fire as I continued not to think of the sweet, singing Rosa being swept away, wondering if Aggie had been hurt, maimed or even worse while getting caught in that wind or contemplating why the Cora of this world married someone she clearly didn’t get along with while harboring, it would seem, a crush on her sister’s fiancé.

  Instead, I wracked my brain to figure out what to do next.

  Nothing came to me.

  What I did notice was that the wood Noctorno brought in was very dry. It went up like tinder and to keep the fire going I was using a lot of it. Not to mention, he’d been gone a long time.

  But the wood was dry, it was also split so someone had prepared it, so he hadn’t gone out into the rain and gathered it. And he didn’t have to go very far to get it so perhaps there was a stash somewhere. And if he was gone much longer, the supply he left me would be gone, the fire would go out and he’d get pissed.

  I didn’t like him pissed (which seemed to be his only emotion) so I didn’t want to make him more pissed.

  Therefore, since I needed something to do, and I didn’t particularly relish freezing to death in this world (or any world for that matter), I decided to see if I could find the wood stash.

  It wasn’t hard. I pulled aside the hides, noticed the thunder and lightning were gone, as was the driving rain, but the day was still gray, dreary and a persistent drizzle was falling. The mouth of the cave was huge, the preliminary space, though, was wide but not vast. There were two hide covered antechambers, the one I was in and another one I discovered which was full of split logs, kindling and more weapons – these, lances, knives, daggers, hatchets, hammers, clubs and a couple more swords.

  Hmm. Seeing as his cave was heavily armed, it seemed Noctorno earned that scar through his lifestyle.

  Picking my way carefully on my bare feet, five times (with much smaller loads than Noctorno could bear) across the rough surface of the main space of the cave and back, I replenished the wood stock, threw a couple more logs on the fire and climbed back under the hides.

  I barely got them settled over me when I heard the snort of a horse and hooves on the stones outside.

  Noctorno was home.

  Drat.

  Not long after, the pelt at the opening was thrown back and Noctorno was there.

  I looked at him. He looked at me.

  Then he looked at the fire.

  His head turned and he looked at the reloaded stash of wood.

  Then his head swung back in my direction and he didn’t try to hide his surprise.

  Jeez, how lazy was I in this world? Only a moron, or someone really idle, would hang in a dark, damp, cold cave and not keep the fire burning.

  Noctorno moved to the fire and I noticed he was carrying something over his shoulder. He swung it around and dropped two small, bloody, skinless carcasses that were hanging on a stick to the stone floor by the fire.

  I stared at the carcasses.

  Holy crap!

  “Are those… rabbits?” I asked, sounding as aghast as I was.

  He had been moving toward the table but stopped, his gaze sliced back to me and his lip curled.

  “My deepest apologies, Cora, I didn’t bag your favored venison,” he stated sarcastically.

  I stared at him in horror.

  We were already having Thumper for lunch and he was apologizing that we weren’t eating Bambi.

  Ick!

  I couldn’t eat rabbit. And furthermore, I wasn’t hungry. Not for rabbit, not for anything.

  This was a first. I could always eat. But no way was I eating Thumper.

  He continued to the table, grabbed the iron rods from the bottom shelf and moved back to the fire and I decided not to share the state of my appetite seeing as he was wet, he looked (still) angry and he’d gone out to kill a couple furry critters so we wouldn’t starve to death in a cave. Therefore, I figured I should keep my mouth shut on that score.

  He set up the apparatus which was, essentially, a rotisserie, over the fire and he set this up with the rabbit carcasses on it. Then he added more logs to the fire. Then he left and came back (three times) with even more logs to reload the pile.

  I guessed this meant we were in it for the long haul.

  When he was done with his chores, he crouched by the fire probably for the same reason I stood by it, in order to get warm and use it to dry his clothes.

  What he didn’t do was speak to me.

  What he also didn’t do was rotisserie the rabbits. He didn’t turn the handle that was at one end of the iron rods at all. That meant one side would get roasted and the other wouldn’t. Furthermore, even though they were rabbits, which freaked me out, all their juices were falling into the fire. If they were captured and used to baste the darned things, they would end up more succulent and flavorful.

  I decided not to share this culinary expertise with him either. Instead, I got out from under the hides, went to get the frying pan and then moved to the handle by the fire. I gathered as much of my nightgown as I could in my hand (which was a lot, seriously, there was a huge amount of material covering me), used it to shield my skin against the heat of the rod and squatted as ladylike as I could by the fire while using the handle and holding the pan under the rabbits to collect their juices.

  I did this for awhile feeling his eyes on me before he spoke.

  “By the gods, what are you doing?”

  I didn’t look at him as I replied, “Rotisserie. You cook them like you were, one side will get charred, the other won’t cook. And everyone knows you need to baste meat.”

  This was met with silence.

  I kept turning then when I gathered enough juices I lifted the pan and poured them over the meat. Then I held the pan under again as I kept turning the handle.

  Truth be told, the actions were tedious, the pan was heavy and my arms were beginning to ache. But at least I had something to do.

  After awhile,
he called, “Cora.”

  “Yep,” I answered, lifted the pan, basted the meat then returned it under the carcasses, all the while turning the handle.

  “Cora,” he repeated.

  “I said, yep,” I replied.

  “Look at me, woman,” he ordered.

  I lifted my eyes to him. His face was blank but his eyes were alert and working and they were fastened on me.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “I told you,” I reminded him.

  “What are you doing?” he repeated and I felt my brows draw together.

  “Dude, I told you,” I returned.

  His face turned cold. “Do not call me this name,” he commanded. “I do not like it.”

  I stared at him. Then I sighed. Then I looked back to the fire and muttered, “Whatever.”

  “Cora,” he called again and my gaze cut back to his face.

  “What?” I snapped.

  “Explain yourself,” he demanded.

  “I already did.”

  “When did you learn this?” he growled, tipping his dark head to my movements.

  Uh-oh.

  Lazy Cora of this world clearly did not know how to baste nor would she trouble herself to do it.

  Oh well. Never mind.

  I shrugged and said, “I heard it somewhere and if I have to eat rabbit, it might as well taste good.”

  He studied me then said quietly, “You are strange.”

  My hand on the handle stopped moving, I glared at him and bit out, “I’m not strange!”

  His eyes moved over me then came back to mine before he kept speaking in a soft voice. “You are not you.”

  Hmm. What did I do with this?

  It was the perfect opener. The problem was, I was guessing since he had lots of weapons, and none of them were guns, grenades or bazookas, he rode a horse and he didn’t have a camp stove but an iron spit, that this world also didn’t have movies. So he probably wouldn’t respond positively to the fact that the me Cora of my world might have been (a guess) switched with the Cora of this world that he knew.

  Then again, they had curses in this world that we didn’t have in my world so maybe they had magic. Maybe he’d get it.

  “Uh…” I started but couldn’t think of what to say.

  “It won’t work,” he told me and I blinked at him.

  “What won’t work?”

  “This change,” he stated.

  Oh dear.

  “Uh, Noc –”

  “What you did was unforgiveable,” he cut me off and I sucked in both lips and bit them at the harsh look on his face. “I will protect you, keep you safe from harm, keep you alive as I vowed to do as your husband and because your sister holds a place in my heart. But for no other reason. You cannot carry logs and cook meat and make me think you sweet. I know you. I know this is not you. What I also know is that the only energy you will expend is to connive and maneuver to take best care of yourself. Don’t make the mistake of thinking me a fool.”

  I swallowed then began, “I –”

  “Planned it from the beginning,” he finished for me. “Hunting,” he went on, “gave me time to think. You took me because you had no choice but also because you could not have Dash but it meant you could have what I could give you, your home, your life lazy as you like it. But you schemed the whole time knowing that you couldn’t have Dash but not wanting Rosa to have him either. So you got what you could from the arrangement but made sure your sister didn’t get what she wanted most in this world.”

  Wow. That hurt. And, obviously, it was totally untrue.

  “That’s not true,” I whispered.

  “I am no fool.”

  “It isn’t true.”

  “It’s pure you.”

  I held his eyes and he stared into mine, his handsome, scarred face a cold, blank mask.

  There was no way I was going to convince him. Apparently, the Cora of this world wasn’t all that great.

  And I didn’t like being her.

  This whole thing sucked, like a lot, but now it sucked even more.

  I broke eye contact, started turning the handle again and used the gathered juices to baste the rabbits.

  I looked at him again when he rose.

  “Call me when they’re done,” he ordered, turned on his boot, strode to the opening, shoved the hides aside and disappeared.

  I stared back at the fire and I told myself it was the smoke that made my eyes wet.

  But it wasn’t.

  Chapter Four

  Sleeping Arrangements

  I ate Thumper.

  What sucked was that Thumper didn’t taste all that bad.

  I ate him because I didn’t want to suffer malnutrition before what I hoped fervently would be my happy ending and I was returned to my world.

  When I used a knife from the wall to check the meat was done, I called Noctorno. He took the rabbits off the spit, carved them on the table and handed me the bowl full of meat. Then he watched as I ate my portion without a word (except to say, “Thanks” when he handed it to me which got me a heavy scowl indicting Cora of his world wasn’t polite either) as he ate his portion, tearing it directly off the spit. Then he disappeared again.

  This meant I was left to my unpleasant thoughts and not much else. I’d get up every once in awhile to feed the fire but other than that, I had nothing to do.

  From the small opening in the ceiling, I could see night had fallen. There wasn’t much light outside due to the bleak day but there was none at all when night fell.

  I was staring at the opening, half-asleep and hoping when I woke up I’d be back in my bed in my apartment.

  I didn’t think much of my life before I left it.

  Just two months ago, I’d broken up with my boyfriend of four years, Brian, because he’d refused to take it to the next level, him telling me he surprised there was a next level. Why he thought we could date for the rest of our natural born lives was unknown to me. What stunk was, I loved him, I missed him and I wanted him back. He was fun. He was funny. He didn’t scowl at me, call me lazy or accuse me of scheming. Sure, the truth was, he was lazy, case in point, him thinking that he didn’t have to put more effort into a relationship beyond dating. But he was fun to be around and furthermore he’d been around for awhile, I was used to him.

  My job wasn’t all that great either. I got paid well because I’d been there for ages but the air was rife with rumors of layoffs, the agency wasn’t doing very well, and everyone knew that the people who got paid the most were the first to go. The economy wasn’t booming and even though I had good skills and my boss loved me so would give me a good reference, I’d been at the agency that long because the thing I hated most in the world was job hunting so I avoided it at all costs even though I was in a nowhere job that didn’t challenge me all that much.

  And I’d decided just before I broke up with Brian that it was time to get on the property ladder. I was still in the one-bedroom apartment I’d moved into when I was twenty-three. It was dinky, the landlord refused to paint it (so I did, on my dime), the appliances were old, sucked and broke down a lot and my bathroom suite was mustard yellow. I wasn’t big on change but I figured it was high time to move on. These plans were stalled firstly because Brian and I broke up and secondly because I wasn’t sure I’d be employed for very much longer.

  Even with all that, I wanted to go back. It was familiar. In my world, we had cell phones. In my world, we had plumbing. Okay, so the birds weren’t as colorful and the landscape wasn’t as splendiferous but that only was the case here when a curse hadn’t settled on the land.

  There were no curses in my world either, another plus.

  And I’d miss my folks. I was an only child (which, if Rosa was my sister here, and she seemed so sweet, it would have been awesome to get to know her better before she was swept away by malevolent creatures) but my parents were way cool. They were a little bizarre, seeing as they were screaming hippies (and I was so far from a hippi
e as to be not funny, how I sprang from their loins was anyone’s guess) but they were awesome.

  Not to mention my friends, who were also awesome. It didn’t seem Cora of this world was very friendly. Though, Dash seemed to like her.

  On this thought, I heard the hides being moved back and looked from the ceiling to the opening to see Noctorno arrive. Then I watched as he walked to the hides I was in. Then I watched as he lowered his big body to them and pulled off his boots. Then I watched as he loosened the laces at his collar. Then I watched as he lifted his arms and his long fingers curled into his shirt at the back between his shoulder blades. Then I watched him yank it off.

  Then my breath stuck in my lungs.

  Holy crap, his back was out-freaking-standing! I didn’t know a back had that many muscles. All of them defined, tight and hard.

  Yowza!

  Then I saw them. Puckered scars. Three of them. One on his right shoulder blade. One along the right ribs of his back. The last along his waist.

  This guy was either a regular at bar fights or he was a warrior.

  I was guessing with his demeanor, both.

  He stood, walked around and doused the torches. He dumped a couple of logs on the fire then I watched in the firelight as he walked back to me.

  Whoa! Freaking hell, his chest was even better (and more scarred).

  He also had great chest hair, all dark and sexy. I was not into chest hair, or I wasn’t until I saw his. It was not too little, not too much… it was just right.

  Holy crap!

  Then he bent low, threw back the hides and slid in beside me.

  I shot to sitting, screeching, “What are you doing?”

  “Preparing to sleep,” he replied calmly.

  “Here?” I asked shrilly.

  “Yes,” he answered, still calm.

  “You can’t sleep here,” I informed him.

  This was met with silence. He was on his back. I was on my booty with my torso twisted to look down at him and his eyes were on me.

  Then he asked, “Where do you suggest I sleep?”

  “I don’t know,” I replied. “Don’t you have a bedroll or something?”

  He got up on both elbows and returned, “No, I don’t have a bedroll. I left this morning on the errand of getting my brother to a church and dragging your arse out of bed. I didn’t come prepared to camp in the wilderness.”