Witchy Tales: A Wicked Witches of the Midwest Fairy Tale (7 page)

“I thought we were over that,” I said. “Sam is a good man. He put himself in danger to protect me.”

“I know,” Landon said. “I still find it funny.”

“Is that another personality flaw?”

Landon shrugged. “Maybe. I guess you’ll just have to keep an eye on me.”

“Somehow I think I’m up to the challenge,” I said.

“Somehow I think you’re right.” Landon gave me a light kiss. “Just out of curiosity, who was your favorite princess?”

“That’s a weird question.”

“Don’t all girls have a favorite princess?”

“I never really identified with the princesses,” I said.

“You didn’t like fairy tales?”

“I guess I did,” I said. “I just never pictured myself wearing a crown and a fancy dress.”

“Maybe that’s why you stayed in your regular clothes,” Landon mused.

“I don’t think that’s the reason,” I said. “I just don’t think the dress was necessary for my story. We’ll have to wait and see.”

“I guess,” Landon said. He shifted his gaze to the tower window. “He’s there.”

I watched as Clove latched onto Sam’s shoulders and pulled him in through the window. Sam tumbled inside, taking Clove down to the floor and out of sight. They didn’t immediately return to the window.

“What do you think they’re doing?” Landon asked.

“Kissing.”

“Maybe Clove is transforming,” Landon suggested. “Sam finished the task.”

“They’re still in the tower,” I said. “I don’t think it’s going to be that easy.”

As if on cue, Sam and Clove reappeared in the window. “Now what?” Sam asked.

That was a very good question. “I have no idea,” I said. “Now all we’ve accomplished is trapping both of you in the tower.”

“Sam can always climb back down,” Landon said.

“I’m not leaving Clove.”

Another memory niggled the back of my brain. “We can cut Clove’s hair off,” I said. “Do it from up there. Use it like a rope. Tie it to something and you can both climb down.”

“That’s a good idea,” Sam said. “I’ll see if I can find something to cut her hair.”

“That is a good idea,” Landon said. “How did you come up with it?”

“I didn’t,” I said. “Aunt Tillie did … twenty years ago.”

“What?”

“Ah-ha!”

I jumped when Clove shouted. Instead of fear, though, her face resonated with rage. “You scared the bejeezus out of me.” She reached out and smacked someone. I was surprised when Thistle stepped into view.

“How did you get up there?” Landon asked, surprised.

“There’s a door on the back side of the tower,” Thistle said. “It looks as though it was hidden on this side.”

“I don’t understand,” Sam said. “I thought I was supposed to save Clove. She’s my princess.”

“Oh, crap, does this mean Thistle is my prince?” Clove looked horrified.

“No one wants that,” Thistle said. “I still suggest cutting your hair before we go down the stairs. They’re narrow. You’ll trip. Plus, you can’t drag that hair through the woods.”

“Fine,” Clove said. “Just don’t make it uneven .. and I don’t care what happens, I’m not kissing you. I’m not that kind of princess.”

“Yes, because that’s exactly what I wanted. I wanted you to give me a big kiss. Stop wriggling! We’ll be down in a minute.”

Every frog could be a prince. If you’re going to go around kissing them, though, you’re going to have a dirty mouth. Always carry mouthwash in your purse. Not only does it make your breath smell better, if you’re really in a pinch, you can throw it in someone’s eyes and burn them if they get mouthy.

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

“What happened to her dress?” I asked, looking Clove up and down once the three of them rejoined Landon and me on the ground. “Did it poof like yours did?”

Thistle nodded. “The second I cut her hair the dress started dissolving.”

“And what happened to Sam’s short shorts? I kind of miss them.”

Sam scowled at me. “That’s not funny.”

“I wish we had our cell phones so we could’ve taken pictures for Facebook,” Thistle said, grinning.

“Sam’s outfit disappeared once he climbed through the window,” Clove said. “Everything went all sparkly and the next thing I knew he was in his normal clothes.”

“I wonder why,” Thistle mused.

“Because he fulfilled his fairy tale,” Landon said.

“How?”

“He was brave and true, just like the cricket told him to be,” Landon said. “He climbed up the tower without regard for his own safety. He cared only about getting to Clove.”

“And you were going to steal my princess,” Sam grumbled.

Landon shot him a look. “Don’t go there.”

“What is he talking about?” Clove asked

“Landon was going to climb up the tower for you because he thought he was stronger,” Sam said. “He stopped only because Bay was jealous.”

“I was not jealous.”

Thistle pressed her lips together.

“I was not jealous,” I said.

Landon rubbed my shoulder to soothe me. “Listen, we have to talk about a few things before we go anywhere else,” he said. “We figured out something while you guys were getting Clove out of the tower.”

“Did you figure out that I’m as manly as you?” Sam asked.

“Not even remotely,” Landon said, smirking.

“We figured out that the curse is keying in on certain … personality traits,” I said. “Our personality faults, if you want to be more precise.”

“Oh, crap,” Thistle said. “That’s why we’re arguing nonstop.”

“You’ve been arguing nonstop?” Clove’s eyes widened. “That’s horrible.”

“This is bad,” Thistle said. “This means Clove is going to be even more of a Pollyanna than usual, Bay is going to be more insecure than usual, Landon is going to be more bossy than usual and Sam is going to be … huh … what’s your biggest personality flaw?”

“I don’t have one,” Sam said.

“He’s got the ego thing with Landon,” I said.

“Hey,” Landon said. “I thought we decided to call it a hero complex?”

“Sorry, honey,” I said, smiling at him before rolling my eyes in Thistle’s direction. “This also means that you’re going to be more … bitchy … than usual. Can you say that word in a fairy tale land? Probably not. You’re going to be more whiny than usual.”

“I am not whiny,” Thistle said.

“You’re totally whiny,” Clove said, laughing. “I’m not a Pollyanna, though.”

“You’re a total Pollyanna,” Thistle said.

“Don’t listen to her, sweetheart,” Sam said, slipping his arm around Clove’s waist and pulling her close. “She’s trying to get under your skin the way she always does.”

“Which means that’s going to be amplified while we’re here,” I said. “We all have to make a concerted effort to control ourselves. Think before you speak.”

“Does that go for you, too?” Thistle challenged.

“Yes,” I said. “I’m the one who had the huge bout of jealousy when Landon wanted to climb up after Clove. I’m also the one who had the big jolt of insecurity when I woke up in the bear cabin alone.”

“You didn’t tell me about that,” Thistle said. “What did you think? Did you think Landon got up in the middle of the night and abandoned you?”

My cheeks burned under Thistle’s studied gaze. “I … .”

“Oh, this really is a cluster of crap,” Thistle said. “Everything we hate about ourselves is going to keep popping up. You hate that you still worry about Landon walking out again, so that’s exactly the first conclusion you jumped to when you woke up alone. Clove has a persecution complex, and she’s going to spend the next … however long we’re stuck here … thinking we’re talking behind her back. This is officially a nightmare.”

“What do you hate about yourself?” Landon asked.

“We’re not going to talk about that,” Thistle said. “We need to figure a way out of this before we all implode, though. If we’re not careful, we’re going to do a lot worse than we usually do when we start arguing.”

“Speaking of nightmares, are we sure this isn’t a dream?” Clove asked. “Just because we’ve never messed with dream magic before, that doesn’t mean Aunt Tillie wouldn’t risk doing it now.”

“She might,” I conceded. “That was one of the few rules she really drilled into us, though. I think it’s something else.”

“What?”

“I’ve been giving that some thought,” I said, pushing my hair from my forehead and exhaling heavily. “I remembered something when Clove was in the tower. That’s how I knew her hair had to be cut off.”

“What did you remember?”

“
Aunt Tillie’s Wonderful World of Stories to Make Little Girls Shut Up
.”

“What?” Landon sputtered, chuckling heartily.

“What is that?” Sam asked.

“Oh, no,” Thistle said. “You’re right. Oh, son of a … . That’s exactly what this is.”

“I think I’m missing something,” Clove said. “What are you guys talking about?”

“It’s the book she used to read to us when our mothers put her in charge of our bedtime stories,” I reminded her. “Mom always told her to read fairy tales and children’s books to us after she caught her reading that V.C. Andrews book in our bedroom one night and almost had an aneurysm.”

“That was the incest book, right?”

“That you remember,” Thistle muttered. “You don’t remember
Aunt Tillie’s Wonderful World of Stories to Make Little Girls Shut Up,
but you remember the really creepy attic sex between a brother and a sister. Nice.”

“The only reason I remember it is because they had those movies on Lifetime a few months ago,” Clove replied, defensively. “I’m not some creepy pervert.” She glanced at Sam for support. “I’m not.”

“I don’t care how perverted you are,” Sam said. “Tell me more about this book Aunt Tillie read to you guys.”

“Once she was caught reading that book our mothers made her promise she would read us only fairy tales before bed,” I said. “The problem is, Aunt Tillie doesn’t like fairy tales. She thinks they’re stupid.”

“They are stupid,” Landon said.

“They’ve survived and thrived for a reason,” I said. “Most of them have little lessons wrapped in pretty stories about fairies and princesses and talking bears. Aunt Tillie never liked them, though.”

“She took the traditional stories and altered them,” Thistle said. “She even created a book so she would have something to read when she was stuck with bedtime duty. I’ll bet you she cursed us into that book. We’re not asleep. We’re in the book.”

“Altered them how?”

“She put her own spin on them,” I said.

Clove clapped her hand to her mouth. “Oh. I’m remembering them. The Rapunzel one had something to do with cutting your own hair off instead of waiting around for a prince to save you. She said only someone truly pathetic would spend years in a tower when she could get herself out.”

“Exactly,” I said. “The moral of the three bears in the house wasn’t that they offered comfort to a stranger. It was that you were supposed to remember not to touch other people’s property. If I had stayed in the cabin any longer, the bears would have tried to eat me if I touched any of their stuff in front of them. I got lucky. I was too afraid to touch anything.”

“What about the mermaid?” Landon asked.

“Aunt Tillie was convinced that anyone who swam around with a seashell bra had to be loose,” Thistle said. “I think that one was pretty self-explanatory.”

“What about the turtle?” Landon pressed.

“I don’t remember that one,” Thistle said.

“It obviously had something to do with having faith,” I said. “I can’t remember that one either.”

“What other stories are we looking at here?” Sam asked, worried.

“She made up a new one every night,” I said. “I can’t remember all of them, but I know some were all takes on the classics, while others were figments of her imagination.”

“I remember Snow White, Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty – but mostly because those were my favorite stories,” Clove said.

“You always did like the ones where the heroine danced and sang,” I said. “I forgot that about you.”

“I remember the Wonderland one,” Thistle said. “I always loved that story and Aunt Tillie completely ruined it for me. All that talk of creepy tea parties and talking rabbits. I’m still terrified of that bunny they trot out at the mall every Easter to take photos with the kids.”

“What was the point of the Pinocchio one?” Sam asked. “Why was the dude in the store so creepy?”

“Aunt Tillie said anyone who spent all his time whittling wood and dreaming about little boys wasn’t really father material,” Clove said. “I remember that one. I’ve been afraid of puppets ever since.”

“You’re not the only one,” I said. “Puppets freak me out.”

“They’re better than clowns,” Landon muttered.

“It’s okay, sweetie,” I said, running my finger down the side of his face. “I’ll keep the clowns away from you. I promise.”

“He’s afraid of clowns? That’s rich,” Thistle said, snickering. “Is it because of the clown in
It
? It’s always because of Pennywise.”

“Leave him alone,” I said. “He’s had a rough night.”

“We’ve all had a rough night,” Clove said. “The question is: What do we do now? How do we get ourselves out of the book?”

“We have to find Marcus first,” Thistle said. “If we’re all here, he has to be here, too. You promised we would find him next.”

“We are,” Landon said. “We have to figure out where he is.”

“Well, let’s think about this,” Thistle said, rubbing the back of her neck. “We’ve all been in relatively close proximity to each other. I don’t think he can be very far away.

Ribbit.

Thistle stilled. “No way.”

“What?” Clove asked.

Ribbit.

“This can’t be happening,” Thistle said, swiveling quickly. “That frog is back. I swear, I’m going to kill it.”

“Why did it follow us?” Landon asked. “We’ve come a long way from that pond. It couldn’t have been easy for it to follow across such a big distance.”

“I don’t care,” Thistle said. “I’m going to squash it. I can’t stand that sound. It’s going to drive me crazy.”

Thistle was short-tempered on a normal day. This was definitely not a normal day.

The frog croaked so loudly it almost sounded like screaming. That’s when I realized what was going on. “Don’t!”

Thistle froze, her eyes dark and her foot raised. “Why?”

“I think it’s Marcus,” I said.

“Marcus? You think Marcus is a frog? That’s ridiculous.” Thistle was doubtful, but still she lowered her foot.

“Is it?” I asked. “Isn’t the “
The Frog Prince
a fairy tale?”

“It is,” Clove said. She pushed past Thistle and leaned down, staring the frog in the eye. “Are you Marcus?”

Ribbit.

“Oh, I think Bay is right. I think this is Marcus.”

Thistle was livid. She reached over and scooped up the frog, lifting it so she could stare into its tiny eyes. “Marcus? Can this really be him?”

“Why else would the frog follow us from the pond?” I asked. “Landon woke up in a different fairy tale, but he was still close to me. We ran into each other first. I think we accidentally skipped over Marcus. That’s when we found Sam, and Clove wasn’t far from him. I think this is Marcus.”

“How do we change him back?” Thistle asked, mortified.

“Um … well … .” I glanced at Clove for support, but her smile was both evil and gleeful.

“You have to kiss it,” Clove said. “That’s what happens in the fairy tale.”

“I am not kissing a frog. I’m just not going to do it. We don’t even know that this is Marcus.”

“Does anyone remember what Aunt Tillie said in her version of that fairy tale?” Landon asked.

“Just that if you were going to go around kissing frogs and trying to turn them into princes you should wash your mouth out when you’re done,” I replied.

Landon chortled. “Oh, this is priceless. I don’t even know what to say. I feel as if I’m going crazy.”

“You’re not the one expected to kiss a frog,” Thistle said.

“Just do it,” Landon said. “We have to know.”

Thistle stared at the frog a second and then she shoved it in my face. “You kiss it.”

“I’m not kissing that frog,” I said, pushing her hand back. “Besides, I already have my prince. You have to kiss it. He’s your … frog prince.”

“This is ludicrous,” Thistle said, pulling the frog back and lifting it closer to her face. “I’m going to do this, but only because I’ll never forgive myself if this really is Marcus and I let him stay in this state for one second longer than I have to.”