Storykiller (3 page)

“Mean and strong and fast,” it said and then pushed her off with a powerful blow to her chest. Tessa toppled backward off the creature but rolled into a crouching position, and when it came at her again, she reached for the legs of the heavy iron chair nearest her. Digging deep within herself, she swung the chair upward as she lunged forward into standing position. Whatever bizarre strength she was sporting plus her momentum was indeed a force to be reckoned with, and when the chair connected, the creature flew a good dozen feet into the air and almost seemed to pause there for a split second before crashing down again. The weight of it hitting the ground sent a tiny shockwave through the yard. The thing stayed down for a moment. Tessa watched to see if it was dead.

She wasn’t sure if she wanted it to be dead or not.

She’d never killed anything that wasn’t some kind of bug before, and she didn’t feel great about it. At the same time, she thought it might eventually kill her if she didn’t kill it first.

Tessa’s heart hammered in her chest as she waited for it to move. Or not.

Finally she saw it take a breath, and it lumbered to its feet but didn’t come any closer to her. She watched it, unmoving, still holding the chair by one leg. “Mean and strong and fast and smart,” it said and then turned away from her and ran at full speed toward the tall wood fence at the back of the yard. When it was a second from crashing headlong into the fence, it reached long arms up, grabbed the fence tips and pulled, launching itself almost gracefully into the woods behind the house. Tessa saw a rustle of trees and a few birds fly into the sky, crying out in protest, and then nothing. It was as if nothing had happened at all. Just Tessa and the stupid, torn-up yard.

And then a small cough behind her alerted her to someone standing there.

Two adorable someones, in fact.

Tessa turned around, knowing even before she did so that it was going to be Micah and Brand.

Sure enough, they were both standing, just on the other side of the wooden gate, staring at her with their mouths hanging open like fish.

“Um…hi?” Brand offered.

Micah looked at him like he was insane.

“What…what was that?” he asked, not even missing beats. “Am I, am I having a stroke?” He looked at Micah now who turned back to face Tessa. “You saw that, right? Tell me you saw that!”

Micah just nodded, her eyes wide.

“Tessa?” they asked as one, as if her name itself was the question.

Tessa looked at them. She had no idea what to say. Her mind was utterly blank. She didn’t know how much they had seen, and she didn’t understand a lick of it anyway so what could she say?

Her mind raced, but somewhere deep down she felt sure that the best thing she could do for them was to get them away from her.

Something was happening to her.

Something bad from the looks of it.

And they didn’t need to end up as collateral damage. Innocent bystanders. And super nice ones at that. All she could think was that she had to get them out of there and away from her no matter what, and if boarding school had taught her anything it was deny, deny, deny. Admit nothing. Oh, and how to be mean. She’d learned that too.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. And you’re on private property, kindly get off it,” she said, a cruelty in her voice that made her cringe inside. But they didn’t move. They just stood there, gape-mouthed and confused. So she looked at them for just a moment, making her eyes hard. “Get out of here, right now.” She didn’t even watch to see their shoulders sink, their expressions fall, she
just picked up the bat, stepped through the broken picture window, and disappeared into the house.

Tessa sat on the kitchen floor for a while listening to them argue in hushed tones. They finally gave up and left and then Tessa burst into tears. She curled up on the hardwood and sobbed into a dishtowel until she fell asleep.

Tessa woke to the sound of the doorbell buzzing. Disoriented and confused, wondering if perhaps she had dreamed the entire bizarre incident, Tessa stumbled to the front door, tripping on overturned furniture that suggested it had not been just a nightmare. Tessa peeked through the window to the side of the door and then yanked herself back at the sight of the albino supermodel standing on her front porch. It was still light outside, but several hours had passed, the sun low in the sky. The woman called to her through the door.

“Scion. Bluebeard has your minions.” 

Tessa crinkled up her nose. What in seven hells did that even mean? Tessa spoke back through the door.

“What’s a Scion?” Tessa asked and then, furrowing her brow even more deeply, she raised her voice, “Exactly who are you and what do you want?”

The woman sighed, clearly irritated. “I am The Snow Queen. I’ve simply come to tell you that Bluebeard has your minions.”

Tessa scrunched up her face and unlocked the door, but kept it mostly shut, peeking through the crack, “Who has my what?”

“Bluebeard. He has your minions.”

“Lady, I don’t understand like…ANY of the words in that sentence.”

The woman sighed even more deeply. “Those two small Mortals I saw you with before—your minions—”

“Micah and Brand?”

The woman looked offended, “I don’t learn minion names, Scion. Those two small Mortals have been taken by Bluebeard.”

“What’s a Bluebeard?”

The woman sighed again and pushed her way into the house. “You are entirely tedious. I was led to believe that Scions at least had their wits about them, even if they were just Mortals.” The woman looked around the disheveled house, her judgmental gaze deepening until she noticed the broken window. She looked more carefully at Tessa, puffy eyed and more than a little rumpled. “You look a fright, Scion—has something happened?”

“Well, I was attacked by something.” Tessa said, trying to explain and rubbing her head, still confused by, well, everything.

Snow looked her up and down, still judging, “I should hope so.”

“Something big and furry,” Tessa reached her arms out showing how wide and tall it was before returning her hand to her head. She started rambling. “It was looking for something. Then it wanted to fight me. It had…a Norwegian accent?” Tessa collapsed onto the couch and looked up at the woman. “And it said something about goats.”

“Ah,” Snow said, and looked around the room, examining the books still on the shelves. She took her time but eventually pulled an old volume off a shelf and flipped through it. After a moment of this, she brought it over to Tessa and pointed a perfectly manicured finger at a black-and-white drawing in the book. It looked almost exactly like what Tessa had been fighting. Tessa snatched the book and sprang from her seat.

“Yes! That’s it!” She then turned the book over. “What is this—“ she stopped when she saw that the title of the book was
Fifty Famous Folktales
.

“The bridge Troll, from
Three Billy Goats Gruff
,” Snow said, unimpressed, and then added under her breath, “Stupid Trolls just cannot shut up about goats. Gives them away, every time.”

Tessa sat down and stared at her. Her head hurt.

“Wait. You’re saying I just fought a troll from a Folktale? You expect me to believe that this thing, like, came to life and—”

“It didn’t come to life, Scion. It was always alive. Stories are real. Everything in that book and every other book is alive,” she said, gesturing to the shelves of books that lined the room. “They are and always have been alive, though they generally don’t live in this dimension, which brings us back to Bluebeard.”

Tessa stared at her dumbly and shook her head a little, as if her brain had come loose. “You can’t expect me to believe that.”

Snow shrugged. “I don’t really care what you believe,” she said sniffing and examining her nails for imperfections, of which there were none.

“Get out of my house.”

“You can throw me out, Scion, but it won’t get your minions rescued.”

“Stop saying that! They’re not minions! They’re—wait—you’re saying someone has actually,
literally
kidnapped them?”

Snow sighed dramatically, “Yes. Bluebeard. A big bad Story. Quite old, quite nasty.

Tessa swallowed her fear, but it tasted like acid. “And this person… thing…whatever…has Micah and Brand, because of me?”

“I can’t think of any other reason Bluebeard would care about random minions.”

Tessa stood up. She felt called to action. But then immediately sat back down again. She looked at Snow helplessly, “What do I do?”

Snow looked at her, a look of something resembling pity crossing her face briefly. “Well, you have all sorts of Scion skills, I’d say go get them back.”

“Scion skills?” Tessa looked at her hands and thought about her fight with the Troll. That would certainly explain things, if it wasn’t completely insane.

“What? You thought you fought off a Troll with your complete lack of charm?” She was dripping with sarcasm and then mumbled to herself, “They really should have sent someone more appropriate to do this.”

“What is
this
?” Tessa asked.

“Listen, Scion, I’m happy to give you the full rundown, but you might want to rescue your minions before they’re decapitated.”

“For the last time, they’re not—decapitated?!?”

“Yes, that’s what he does. His M.O. if you will.”

Tessa suddenly felt lightheaded. “I have no idea what to do. Can I call the police? Or is there someone else we can call for help? Someone else
with
skills
…or whatever?”

Snow nodded, “Perhaps, if we knew anyone to call. There are Stories that would help The Scion I suppose, but
I
don’t know them, certainly
you
don’t. For now, I suggest picking up a weapon and heading over there to free them yourself. You’re imbued with incredible power—you probably totally have a chance.”

“You think?”

“Probably,” Snow said shrugging.

Tessa sat quietly in the living room for two full minutes and then stood. “Okay.”

“Okay, what?” Snow asked, watching Tessa move across the room and pick up a baseball bat.

“Okay to your plan.”

“And that’s your weapon?”

“It will have to be, I don’t keep a stash of like, melee weapons on hand.”

Snow seemed bored and made a move toward the door, “Well, you should get on that,” she said, opening the door.

“Wait,” Tessa said, pointing the bat at her. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Home,” Snow said nonchalantly.

“Uh-uh. No way. You’re coming. You’re helping.”

Snow shook her head, “I have no idea what you’re talking about but the answer is a resounding no.”

Tessa tried to reason with her, “Listen, I don’t even know where they are, but you know, right?”

Snow nodded almost imperceptibly. “Yes, I tailed him after I saw them get grabbed outside.”

“Good,” Tessa said, holding the door open for Snow. “Then you can take me to them.”

“How about I draw you a map?” Snow suggested brightly. Tessa scowled in response. Snow walked through the door grumbling like a spoiled child. “Fine. I’ll take you there, but that’s the extent of it.”

“Yeah, we’ll see,” Tessa said, pulling the door closed behind her.

Tessa and Snow climbed into the Jaguar in Tessa’s driveway and Snow took off through the damp and winding streets, taking hairpin turns with incredible speed. Tessa gripped the dash and tried not to complain in the hopes that Snow’s speed would get them there in time to save anyone and everyone from decapitation.

“So, why
did
you follow his car?” Tessa asked, digging her fingers into the plush leather on a particularly sharp corner.

Snow pretended to ignore her.

“I mean, you didn’t want to come help, you don’t seem to care for me a bit, or them, why would you care that they were kidnapped?”

Snow sighed and then mumbled under her breath, “I suppose even I know it doesn’t hurt to have The Scion owe you one.”

Tessa almost smiled, but then scrunched up her eyebrows, “What’s this word you keep using—Scion?”

“It’s what you are.” Snow said, her white hair trailing behind them like a streak of light.

Tessa groaned. “Elaborate, please. You can certainly talk and drive at the same time, right?”

Snow pushed her sunglasses back on her head and rolled her eyes. “Ick. I hate history. Okay, here goes. Story is another dimension where all Fictional characters from all Fictional worlds live. And The Scion is the only descendent of a Mortal and a Story getting it on.”

Tessa eyed her like she was bonkers. “Lady, you have got to be kidding me.”

“Do you want to hear about this or not?”

Tessa raised her hands in surrender before bracing herself for another turn. “Fine, fine. Continue.”

“Okay, so some-thousand years ago or whatever a Mortal and a Story got it on—not as unusual as you’d think, by the way—however, in this case it produced a child, heretofore believed impossible and never having happened since blah, blah, blah. Thus, the offspring of that offspring has through the years been called The Scion. As the only creature that exists with both Mortal and Story blood, The Scion inherits a whole bunch of power on its 17
^th
birthday —and—ta-dah!” she said, sarcastically gesturing in Tessa’s general direction.