Fractured Fairy Tales: A SaSS Anthology

by Amy Marie

  He battled for three years but unfortunately lost his battle, leaving Gwen penniless and in debt up to her ears. That had been two years ago. The only thing of non-value he left her was his book of potions and concoctions. They had been passed down from generation to generation and now the grimoire laid in the hands of Gwen.

  Luckily, Gwen had been fortunate enough to finish three years of college before her dad’s death. Her tuition up to that point had been fully paid. One of the perks offered to family members of faculty members.

  She placed her hand in the pocket in her apron, palming her prepaid cellphone. She contemplated calling Ben, her current boyfriend as it just so happened, she was down to her last five minutes on her prepaid card. It was five days until her next paycheck. All she had in her emergency stash of cash was about fifteen dollars, including a few coins at the bottom of her jewelry box. Not enough to buy a prepaid card and eat next week.

  Second, she could use her phone for brief call and waste her minutes. Leaving her without a phone until she got paid. The draw back was she would be forced to listen to Ben ramble on about himself. Something she didn’t want to hear tonight.

  She needed more attention then what he was willing to give her. The two had met at college. He had been her professor, and she a lost, lonely student. They had hooked up a few times. Ben was her go to when she needed a pick me up.

  Even though she was no longer studying to become a chef, she often hoped that one day her dreams would come true. A fairy godmother would appear, wave her magic wand and poof her yearnings would be granted.

  Third option was to put out the trash, go home, and watch the next episode of Reign.

  She tied the two trash bags tightly and grasped them in her hands. Both bags were heavy. She balanced them between her hands, making the decision to make only one trip out in dark, instead of two. Soon she would lock up and be on her way home to an empty house and a lumpy sofa. Fabulous.

  She mustered up the energy for the trek and made her way outside in the alley behind the restaurant. Trying to balance herself and avoid toppling over with the heavy bags.

  Chapter 2

  Lance

  Leave the past behind me. ~Unknown quote.

  Candles flickered on the large wooden banquet tables prepared for Uther and his wife Igraine lighting the room for the banquet. The tournament of swords had just ended, and everyone was ready to fill their guts and feast on today’s kills. Dancing, drinking tons of ale, and unadulterated orgies for the next three nights were on the agenda. Lance heard the familiar clash of steel, could almost taste the venison on his tongue, and smell the perfume of maidens. Any vice in which he wished to partake was at his fingertips.

  The ring of Lance’s cellphone broke his thoughts and pulled him back to present time. He lifted his head to the sky and took in its hazy night air, shaking off the memories of the feast of swords more than fifteen hundred years ago. Shaking his head, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his cellphone. One missed call.

  He inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with the nocuous fumes of passing by cars on the busy city street below. Baltimore smog was nothing like the day he’d just remembered, not pleasing to his sense of smell at all. The stench of the city streets was enough to turn his stomach upside down. He took in another deep breath, willing the putrid smell away. As he breathed in, his nose acquired a totally different smell.

  A scent more recognizable…danger.

  The air became polluted with the malodorous and foul stench of rotting flesh. Only one creature possessed such a nauseating odor.

  Crocottas.

  These monsters had the people of Baltimore terrified. Part hyena, along with the strongest parts of the wolf, they only appeared at night with the intent to feast on the living. Only a rare few of the gifted could see these monsters. Lance being one of them. Crocottas were said to be extremely hostile to humans, hyper-muscular and vicious to the core. Their teeth long and sharp, the beasts often hunted in packs, luring humans out of safety with blood curdling howls and mimicked human cries in order to entice and stalk their prey. Though their creator, the devious Morgan le Fay, had been unable to make them invincible, she cast a spell binding them in service to protect what she deemed most worthy. Evil and mayhem.

  Deafening screams shattered his thoughts and memories. His pulse quickened. He looked around seeing if he could spot the creature. Using his powers to jump from the bridge and do what any knight would do.

  Lance charged headfirst into the dark dangers of the night. He released and pulled his broadsword from underneath his traveler’s cape and headed towards the foul cries.

  A girl’s screams grew louder as Lance approached the alley. Her cries echoed off the concrete walls and curdled his blood. The scary ugly Crocotta was quickly overwhelming the girl. The very fact that the Crocotta had not yet been able to kill the girl, gave testament to her will to stay alive.

  The Crocotta turned and pulled out his own sword and approached Lance. The sword shown from the glow of the moon bouncing off the steel blade. Lance knew, one failed move could end her life and his.

  The blade of the Crocotta’s sword was strong with black magic, evil, hatred, and blood. As legend told hundreds of years ago, it was the only thing that could kill a Knight.

  The large form of the Crocotta charged Lance. His unquenchable thirst for revenge made for one dual purpose. Taking the girl and killing Lance.

  Lance swerved at the last second as his blade connected with the monster’s arm, slashing him to the bone. The beast let a high-pitched scream as blood streamed from the wound, soaking its fur. Grunting and yelling, they wielded their swords slashing through the air. Lance let out a warrior’s cry. When the two blades crossed together, the force of their collision sent up sparks, showing just how powerful, sharp and deadly the weapons could be.

  Heat, positive energy, and more screams fill the dark alley. The adversaries stood their ground, clashing their steel together like two fearless warriors, neither willing to give quarter. Lance landed several more blows to the Crocotta’s body, but none of them were deadly enough to end its life. The only thing that could kill the creature was a piercing blow through the center of his heart. Lance knew he had to outwit the creature, move in close enough to strike, and that would not be by out fighting him.

  In one jerky move, Lance stumbled to the ground landing hard on his back. The Crocottas screamed out in victory and straddled over Lance’s prone body. Thinking he’d just defeated the Knights Defender, the Crocotta seethed and snarled on top of Lance. Without hesitation, Lance swiftly thrust his sword straight into its heart. As the sword pierced the beast, it let out one final scream and all noise coming from his body stopped in a cloud of black dust which fluttered to the ground where the once mighty and courageous beast stood.

  Lance jumped to his feet and sheathed his sword underneath his black traveler’s cloak. “Victory for the Knight Defender.”

  “What the hell…was that?” the girl screamed. The moment he heard her startled voice, Lance recognized the opposition in her question. He was shocked that she didn’t know what had just attacked her. It wasn’t unheard of, the humans that lived here were usually so traumatized by Crocottas that no one ever could give a good description of what attacked them.

  He turned, immediately drawing his cloak closed to hide all his weapons hoping to avoid startling her any further.

  “Nothing to worry your pretty head over. He’s run off into the night.” Humans couldn’t see the ugly beasts all they could do was feel their presence. Before the Crocottas engaged with humans, they’d often spit out a harmless venom which temporarily blinded the humans who could see them from recognizing their enemy. They still heard their screams and howls but couldn’t see them. Just like no one has ever encountered a wolf before. Historians depicted images of what they should look like, and humans often painted a picture in their brains.

  “No,” the girl said, “I mean…that thing that attacked me, what was it?
”

  He clasped her arms and helped her up off the ground. She was thin, pale, and frail.

  “It was a mugger. Are you hurt?” He said, trying to persuade her.

  She strengthened herself, but her voice was shaky. Unbeknownst to Gwen, Lance was too busy looking over her beautiful body searching for any visible wounds that needed immediate medical attention. Fortunately, not a black hair on her head was out of place.

  “Don’t try to bullshit me. That was no mugger, and you know it.” She persisted. “And no, there’s nothing wrong with me or my eyesight either. I know what I saw.”

  Her feisty spirit excited Lance in all new ways. He watched as she brushed her mussed hair behind her ear and straightened her wrinkled clothes.

  Drawing in a long deep breath. Lance realized the assertive girl was still talking as she re-buttoned up her blouse but all he heard was babbling. His brain couldn’t process her magnificent beauty and listen to majestic music coming from her mouth at the same time.

  “And don’t give me any mugger horse shit. That was an ugly, smelly, foul beast.”

  Before he could interrupt her words, he realized she could see the Crocottas.

  “I’m going inside the diner and calling the cops.” She pointed to the back door of the diner which opened into the alley. “You’re welcome to come inside and wait. I’m sure they’ll want your story.” She walked to the back door and placed her dainty hands around the steel metal bars.

  Lance panicked. The police? I can’t let her report the crime for fear of being outcast. Hastily he grabbed at her arm to stop her.

  In one fluid almost automatic motion, she whirled back with her foot and kicked him square in the crotch.

  Five seconds later, he lay flat on his back on the hard cement ground. Hands wrapped around his junk, grasping for air, and staring up at the sky.

  “Oh crap, are you okay?” Wide, emerald eyes framed by black eyelashes peered over him worriedly. “I’m sorry, it was an automatic reflex to protect myself. Did I hurt you?” Her gaze raked up and down his body. “Perhaps we should get you to the emergency room? I can drive you; my car is around front.” She was obviously taking his nonresponse as a sign of severe injury.

  Wish me blind.

  Lance sat up and grabbed at his crotch. He’d fought every kind of creature over fifteen hundred years. Not one had ever laid him flat out like she had just done. All it had taken was a frail, tiny girl and kick to his crotch. A man wouldn’t have been able to get a jump on him like that. His lips twisted in half amusement at his choice of words. Thank God his friend Gawain wasn’t here to witness this brutal blow. He’d never hear the end of his hazing.

  Lance grabbed the back of his head with his right hand keeping his left hand firmly around his privates and let out a groan.

  “Did you hit your head? Can I get you some ice? I really think I need to call the cops and have them send an ambulance.”

  Lance forced his eyes to focus. “I’m sorry my lady, err…Miss.” He needed to get his act together: the blow to his head made him see stars.

  Gawain often said, “You need to play the part and not forget where you’re at.” His friend had always found it easier to adapt to the modern language than Lance.

  It was too late. She had picked up on his slip of the tongue. Trying to change the topic, he carefully got to his feet. “What’s your name?” He waited in silence and hoped she’d tell him her name.

  She smiled and a small dimple formed on her cheek, she stuck her hand out and said, “Gwen, Gwen Merchant.”

  Chapter 3

  Lance

  “Some journeys take you further from where you come from, but closer to where you belong."` ~Ron Franscell.

  Lance looked down at her delicate hand in his. The noble thing to do would be to bring her hand up to his lips and bow in reverence. He chuckled to himself, knowing that wouldn’t be ideal in modern times. Instead, he squeezed his hand around hers, taking in the moment, filling his soul with the joy of holding her hand.

  She smiled again and said, “And you are? I should at least know the name of my good Samaritan.” He grinned at her use of the moniker.

  “It’s Lance, err…short for Lancelot Bennett.” He waited for her to ridicule his name which often happened when he introduced himself.

  She was no different. “You’re joking?”

  Lance pulled his hand from hers. She had just cut him to the core with snide remark.

  ” Hey, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to insult you. It’s just, you know… such a coincidence.”

  If his friend Gawain had heard her bantering back and forth, he sure would have his balls for acting non-chivalrous.

  Patiently, Lance refused to dwell on his unforeseen disappointment. He was losing his mind over Gwen and he only had been in her presence for thirty minutes.

  “My dad was an Arthurian historian: he lectured all across the country,” Gwen said.

  He pushed down his misgivings surrounding Gwen’s revelation. He already knew everything there was to know about Gwen and her parentage. He smirked and watched a blush form on her cheeks.

  “Gwen’s my nickname, I thought about changing it when I became an adult because of all the razzing I used to get from kids in school and from my dad’s colleagues. But somehow, it just didn’t seem right. So, I kept it.”

  “Your nickname is Gwen, what’s your real name?” Lance felt his heart pounding in his chest.

  “Guinevere. Like I said my dad had a thing for Arthurian legends. He thought it was cool to name me after King Arthur, the legendary ruler of Britain. She was portrayed as everything from a villainous and opportunistic traitor to a fatally flawed but noble and virtuous lady of her time. I like to think of myself as fatally flawed, not the noble virtuous lady. I know it really sounds silly.” She giggled.

  Nothing seemed to register after she spoke her real name. White noise filtered through the alley. How can this be possible after searching for centuries, have I finally found her?”

  He cut her off, grabbed her around the waist, and pulled her tightly to his chest. He bent his head and ignored her soft squeak of protest, swallowing the small sigh that escaped her mouth with his lips. She immediately tried to pull away, but he tightened his grip, and finally she surrendered in his arms. Her taste was the sweetest succulent moisture ever to hit his lips. Their tongues tangled together as if they were dancing to a medieval tune.

  Footsteps sounded in the alley. Lance knew danger still lurked in the night. He pulled Gwen closer and instinctively redrew his sword at the intruder. In every effort to protect her, he vowed silently to do just that until he drew his last breath.

  “My Liege?” Rene dropped to his knee facing Lance’s sword. The reaction was automatic and unscripted. Lance cursed under his breath. Just as he had done earlier Rene’ had forgotten where he was and acted as if her were in medieval times.

  Lance quickly sheathed his sword. Gwen stared at him as if he had two heads.

  “Are you crazy? You can’t go around waving swords in Baltimore City, Lance.”

  Rene’ looked helplessly at Lance. He shrugged his shoulders in disbelief.

  “Guns are far more dangerous. I chose to carry a sword instead for protection. I’ve trained many hours on how to effectively wield it.” He tried to deflect her reaction by telling her the untruth.

  “Yeah, right. You want me to believe that?”

  Rene’ stood immediately and bowed to Gwen. “My lady.”

  She narrowed her eyes, “OH I get it…this is a joke you guys are playing on me. I just got Punk’d. Come on boys you can come on out now, I’ve seen your show several times. This is where the camera crew and Ashton Kutcher come out saying,” You’ve just got Punk’d.”

  Lance struggled with his insecurities and didn’t respond. Unfortunately for Lance, he’d hadn’t heard of the show Gwen was referring to. Court jesters perhaps? Yes, making the King and Queen laugh all the time. She must be referring to something like that which exist
s in modern times.

  Gwen promptly put her hand out in response to Rene’. “I’m Gwen and you are?”

  “Rene’.” At her sudden look of surprise, he grinned. “Yep, I know it’s a girl name. Crazy parents. Hoping for a girl.”

  Gwen laughed, “Lance and I were just discussing our parent’s shortcoming by naming us after Arthurian people. Can’t say that statement is true for you.”

  Suddenly she realized Lance still held onto her tightly. She straightened and withdrew from his tight bond. She took one step to the side positioning herself so that both men faced her.

  A sense of empowerment settled on her face. “It’s very nice to meet you both, but I think I still need to call the cops and report my attacker. I’d hate for other defenseless women in our community to be attacked.” She paused for just a second rethinking what she had just said.

  Something did sound off with the way she thought about it further. She turned to Lance and said, “Why don’t you explain it to the cops. I think they’ll believe you.”

  Lance shook his head. “You and I both know they’ll never believe either of our stories. I bet they’d lock us both up and throw away the key.”

  “I know what I saw wasn’t a human. It was a big scary, ugly beast. And no, before you suggest different, it wasn’t a rapid dog either. This creature wasn’t from around these parts of the city.”

  Lance took a step towards her, closing in on her personal space. “Maybe we can go inside and discuss this over a cup of coffee.”