Witchy Tales: A Wicked Witches of the Midwest Fairy Tale (18 page)

“I’ll be right behind you.”

THE
rabbit never released Landon as he led us through a thick tangle of trees. In the grand scheme of things, the trek was short. It felt longer because my mind was so busy. How were we going to get out of this one?

Once the trees thinned we found ourselves in a huge clearing. A large and garish throne, all yellow gold and red velvet, sat empty in the middle of the space, a handful of armored guards standing at either side.

Sam and Clove were on their knees on one side of the throne, two guards watching over them. Thistle and Marcus were in the same position on the other side. I met Thistle’s worried gaze from across the expanse. We were in trouble now.

“Where’s the queen?” I asked.

“She doesn’t show herself until all the sacrifices are in place,” the rabbit said. “You two are the last ones.”

“Awesome,” I said. “I can’t wait to meet her. I’ve heard a lot about her.”

“I’m sure you have,” the rabbit said. “Move up to the spot between the other two couples and kneel.”

“Don’t you dare kneel, Bay,” Landon said.

The rabbit pulled the knife closer to Landon’s throat. “Don’t make me hurt him.”

My gaze bounced between them for a moment. “I’ll kneel,” I said. “Just … don’t hurt him.”

Landon scowled, watching me move to the designated spot. I dropped to my knees. By the time Landon was deposited next to me, two guards were already in place to make sure we didn’t make a break for it.

“You should have run,” Landon said.

“I’m not leaving you.”

“You’re not going to think that’s such a good idea if we die here,” he said.

“We’re not going to die here.”

“How can you be sure?”

“I have faith.”

“That’s good,” Landon said. “Because here comes the queen.”

I lifted my head, frowning as the imposing figure cut a swath through the armored guards and headed for her throne. Her dress was wider than it was tall, and the red was so bright and tacky it hurt my eyes to gaze upon it. It was the face at the top of the dress that threw me, though.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said, my heart rolling.

The woman started to speak. “I am the Queen of Hearts. You are here to serve as my sacrifices.”

“Oh, come on,” I said. “I can’t be killed by my own mother! This is … I’m going to kill Aunt Tillie!”

Sometimes the person who you think is your enemy is actually your friend. Sometimes your enemy is your enemy, though. When in doubt, go ahead and curse with impunity. You can always sort out the mess later.

–
Aunt Tillie’s Wonderful World of Stories to Make Little Girls Shut Up

“Why is your mother the Queen of Hearts?” Thistle asked, horrified. “I … she would kill Aunt Tillie if she saw that dress. She looks as though she has the hips of a horse. No, it’s more like the hips of four horses.”

I had a feeling I knew exactly why Mom was taking on one of the most bloodthirsty children’s tale roles of all time. “Who was Aunt Tillie furious with before we left the inn last night? Is it still last night? It’s as if we’re stuck in a nightmare that refuses to quit. I have no concept of time.”

“She was angry with Landon,” Thistle said. “He threatened to confiscate her wine.”

“How did he even know about it, though? Who told on her?”

“Oh,” Thistle said, realization dawning. “Right now she sees your mother as the one who betrayed her. She expected Landon to be the bad guy because he’s with the fuzz. She didn’t expect it from our mothers. Is anyone else afraid to find out what she did to our mothers?”

“I’m sure it was just as creative as this,” I said.

“Do you think she put them into a book, too?”

“If she did, I’m betting it was a terrible book,” I said.

“Like
Dracula
?”

“She probably put them in that new
The Walking Dead
graphic novel collection she bought last week,” Clove said. “She’s been obsessed with zombies lately.”

Well, that was an interesting thought. Maybe Mom and my aunts had it worse than us after all.

“I would rather be in a zombie book,” Landon said. “At least then I’d probably have a gun. I really feel like shooting someone right now.”

“Mom?”

Landon shrugged, reticent. “Maybe. Don’t ever tell her I said that.”

“Your secret is safe with me.”

“Are you done with your little … conversation?” Mom asked, her voice shrill as she glared at us. I felt as though I was eight years old again and we’d just gotten caught plotting how to steal fresh cookies from the kitchen counter. “We have a bit of a schedule to stick to here.”

“A schedule?”

“I have a long speech to make,” Mom said. “I like to talk and talk and talk – even when no one wants to listen. That’s the way I am. Then I have to behead you. After that, I have a tea to get to.”

“Does anyone else find it funny that even while trapped in a book Aunt Winnie is working from a schedule?” Clove asked.

“She’s a control freak,” Thistle said. “They’re all control freaks. I like how she’s describing herself just as Aunt Tillie would, though.”

“You guys are control freaks, too,” Sam said. “Don’t kid yourselves.”

“Hey!” Clove shot him a look. “I am not a control freak.”

“You spent two hours rearranging the shelves in Hypnotic back to the way they were before Thistle dusted the other day,” Sam said, nonplussed. “Everything was still on the same shelf – only slightly off – and you were dancing like you had ants in your pants waiting for Thistle to leave the store so you could fix everything just the way you like it.”

“I knew it!” Thistle seethed, shifting so she could glare at Clove. “I told you those shelves looked different when I came back from the stables and you said I was imagining things. You’re a freak.”

“Those shelves are immaculate now,” Clove sniffed. “I don’t know what you’re complaining about.”

“They were immaculate when I got done with them,” Thistle said.

“Not really.”

“When we get out of here, you’re dead to me,” Thistle said.

“What else is new?”

“I agree that Clove is a control freak like our mothers,” Thistle said, scorching her with a look. “I’m not a control freak, though.”

“You’re the worst one,” Landon said, “only you feel the need to control people, not things.”

“Whatever,” Thistle grumbled. “You’re the bossy one.”

“I’m not bossy,” Landon shot back. “I’m … .” He looked to me for help.

“Handsome,” I supplied.

“You’re supposed to say I’m not bossy,” Landon said.

“Oh, I didn’t know you wanted me to lie,” I said.

“If I had a list, you’d be at the top of it right now,” Landon said.

I couldn’t help but smile. “I’d be happy to be at the top of your list.”

“See, now you’re cute again.” Landon leaned over and kissed me.

“What is going on here?” Mom’s voice was unnaturally shrill. “You’re about to be sacrificed and you’re … having a good time?”

Landon dissolved into hearty guffaws as he shifted from his knees to his rear end and sat on the grass. He laughed so hard his shoulders shook.

“Landon has officially lost it,” Thistle said. “He’s been pushed too far. His mind has shattered.”

“Are you all right?” I asked, worried. He did look a little deranged.

“This has been one of the worst nights of my life,” he said, running his hand through his disheveled hair. “I’ve been hit on by a foulmouthed mermaid. I’ve had to shove an unconscious witch into an oven. I’ve lost my girlfriend and had to steal her back from some ponce in tights who stole her shoe and screamed like a woman.

“I’ve been turned into a beast and had to fight a giant,” he continued. “I seriously thought my heart was going to rip in two when Bay put herself in danger … but then she was the one who saved me. Then I had tea with some bears and now my girlfriend’s mother is going to behead us.”

“Yup, he’s lost it,” Clove said.

“This has also been one of the … best nights of my life,” Landon said, rubbing the back of his neck wearily.

I raised my eyebrows. “It has?”

“I saw you dressed like a princess and I got to carry you around,” Landon said. “I got to watch Thistle stab a wolf while wearing a red cloak. You figured out I was a monster and still wanted to kiss me. We’ve gotten to talk and hang out and spend time together.

“Sure, climbing the beanstalk was terrible and I’m really not looking forward to being beheaded … but I wouldn’t trade the time I’ve spent with you tonight for anything,” he said.

“I think I might cry,” I said.

“Me, too,” Clove said, putting her hand to her heart. She used her free hand to punch Sam in the arm. “How come you never say romantic things like that to me?”

“I think I’m going to puke,” Thistle said. “I can’t believe that you’re making some grand pronouncement now. Can’t you help us get out of this situation and then get all schmaltzy?”

“You and I are cut from the same cloth,” Mom said, pointing at Thistle. “That was utterly ridiculous.”

“I told you that you were becoming a villain,” I said when Thistle balked.

“I am not a villain,” Thistle said, placing her hands on her hips and shaking her head angrily. “Just because you like things the way you like them does not make you a villain. Am I mean? Yes. I don’t always mean to be. I can’t control what comes out of my mouth sometimes.”

“That’s a family trait,” Marcus said. “I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“That’s not the point,” Thistle said.

“What is the point?” I asked.

“The point is I’m not a villain,” Thistle said. “I’m a … complicated princess.”

“Oh, you’re definitely a princess,” Marcus said, running his hand over her short-cropped hair and pulling her over so he could kiss her forehead. “You’re the best princess ever.”

“Oh, now I’m jealous of Thistle and Marcus,” Clove complained.

“I always treat you like a princess,” Sam said. “I resent you going all … pouty … when these two spout platitudes because I’m always making romantic pronouncements. I read you poetry the other night and then watched
The Notebook
with you. I never complained once. I’ve always been your prince.”

Clove sighed. “You have. I’m sorry.”

“I can’t believe this,” Mom shrieked. “You’re supposed to be focusing on me! I’m the center of attention here! I’m the queen!”

“Do you think that’s how Aunt Tillie really sees your mom?” Thistle asked. “Do you think she sees her as the despot in our little fiefdom and she’s always bossing her around?”

“I think Aunt Tillie has a warped sense of the world,” I said. “I think this is exactly how she sees Mom, though.”

“How do you think she sees my mom?” Thistle asked.

“She’s the court jester,” Landon said, grinning.

Thistle made a face, but it didn’t last long. “I can see that.”

“Now that you’ve all played kissy face and … whatever it is you’re doing … can we please get back to the issue at hand?” Mom demanded. “I have a schedule!”

“Here’s my schedule,” I said, pushing myself from the ground and dusting off the seat of my pants. “We’re done. We don’t want to play this game. We’re not going to be beheaded. We’re not going to sit here and listen to you complain and make a speech. We’re done!”

I extended my hand to help Landon up. Thistle, Clove, Sam and Marcus rose to their feet, too.

“We’re going to go into the castle now,” I said. “We’re going to find the great and powerful Tillie and we’re going to go home.”

“The great and powerful Tillie?” Thistle asked.

“Oh, I forgot you weren’t there to hear that part,” I said. “Yeah, the bears told us. She lives in the castle.”

“Well, that figures,” Thistle said. “She’s always had an inflated sense of ego.”

“I’m not sure that’s true in this case,” I said. “She did create this world, after all.”

“I guess,” Thistle conceded, “but it’s just like her to put herself in charge of everything.”

“She always has been in charge of everything,” I said. “Let’s go worship at her feet – I’m sure begging will be involved – and go home.”

“I’m with you,” Thistle said. “Let’s kiss her royal butt and get out of here.”

“Has everyone forgotten who is in control here?” Mom asked, struggling to pull herself out of the narrow confines of her golden throne. Her dress was so wide it put up a fight. “I’m in control! I am! I have lists! Did you not hear me when I said I have lists?”

I shot her a sympathetic look. “I’m sure it’s hard being you,” I said. “I think it’s hard being all of us, though.”

“Even Aunt Tillie,” Clove added.

I grabbed Landon’s hand. “Come, my prince,” I said. “We’re done here.”

We pushed past the guards, who conveniently pretended they didn’t see us. We were halfway down the path that led to the castle when Mom launched into one of her patented diatribes.

“I’m so sick of this,” she said. “I can’t tell you how sick of this I am. I’m the queen! I’m in charge! Does anyone listen to me, though? Of course not. It’s all about the great and powerful Tillie! She’s the one everyone listens to. She’s the one everyone fears. She’s the one everyone bows to.”

“Life sucks,” Clove called over her shoulder.

“And then you die,” Thistle added, laughing.

“I’m just sick of this,” Mom said. “I have to wear this stupid dress and no one listens to me! Well … I’m not taking one more second of this. I’m just … done!”

I risked a glance back at Mom, a momentary surge of pity washing over me. “It will be better when we get home,” I said. “As long as you haven’t been eaten by zombies or anything, that is.”

“Oh, I’m done playing nice,” Mom said, throwing her crown on the ground and kicking it angrily. “I’m so done! Guards! Guards! Off with their heads!”

I froze at the command, and when the guards sprang into action I realized we weren’t quite out of the woods yet.

“Run!”

“DO
you really think they’ll kill us?” Thistle asked, leaning against the outside castle wall, gasping.

“I think we’re safe as long as we can get inside the castle,” I said, pushing her forward. “Move.”

“I’m tired.”

“The guards are still coming,” Landon said, stepping beside me and grabbing my wrist. “We have to get inside the castle.”

“Shouldn’t there be more doors?” Clove whined.

“That would be too easy,” I said. “Now, come on. We’re so close I can almost taste it … and by taste it I mean I can actually taste the real food waiting for us if we can manage to get out of this hateful place.”

“I want bacon,” Landon said.

“I’m going to glue bacon to my body and roll on top of you for an hour if we ever get out of here,” I said.

“Sold,” Landon said, increasing his pace. “The door should be around this corner. Come on.”

“Are we sure that the castle is the way out?” Sam asked, pressing his hand against the small of Clove’s back to prod her. Because she was the shortest she was having the most trouble keeping up. “What if we have to go back down the beanstalk?”

“The bears told me this castle belongs to Aunt Tillie,” I said. “I believe them. They also knew about the sacrifice.”

“Thanks for warning us,” Thistle grumbled.

“Hey, you guys were already gone when we found out,” I said. “Don’t blame me for this. You could have screamed or something when they took you.”

“They had their hands over our mouths,” Clove said.

“And knives at our throats,” Marcus added.