With a Kiss (Twisted Tales) (29 page)

“Why do you betray the orders of your medallion?” An ugly stain of red pulsed down Gan’s neck, his face pinched with anger. Hobs met the accusation with a bitter look.

I listened to a thump echoing in the distance. “What’s that?” I whispered.

Hobs shifted uneasily. “Gan’s shadow.”

“Whose side is it on?”

“Not ours. It follows him everywhere, except it scares the ladies, doesn’t it Gan?”

Gan looked smug. Judging by the sound of his shadow’s footsteps, it would easily finish what he had started.

“But since Gan bungled the job already . . .” Hobs left his words hanging cruelly.

Gan kept smirking, until Bugul came out from the clearing, more than a little grumpy. His sleep had been disturbed. The Grim howled in the woods and Bugul’s hand tightened over his weapon. He stalked out the loud beasts, disappearing into the forest with his club. Since the Grim woke him up, they would be the first to go. We listened to the ensuing thuds and screams. Even after being attacked by the horrid things, I found it a little disturbing.

“Have I introduced you to our friend yet?” Hobs asked Gan. “His name’s Bugul.”

“Keep that Leprechaun away from me,” Gan shrilled. He was used to being obeyed, either that, or he had a reason to believe Hobs would do what he said.

“Of course,” Hobs said, “but can you keep away from
him
?”

“What are you say—”

Hobs brought a vial up to his nose—I recognized it as a gift from the nymphs. He sniffed it, then sneezed directly into Gan’s coal-black eyes. It was completely disgusting, but actually super funny. Hobs wiped at his mouth with a chuckle.

Gan’s nose wrinkled and he stepped back, revolted, but not before he began to rub viciously at his watering eyes. “What did you do to me, Hobany?”

“There she goes,” Hobs whispered, pointing out Bugul’s disappearing form through the opening of the trees. “Our beautiful little oaf. You can’t let her get away from you now, can you?”

“The oaf?” Gan studied Bugul’s swinging arms then me, somehow confusing our identities. The vial of sneezes the faery traded for my pink lipstick must be powerful stuff. It made his mind susceptible to suggestion. Gan watched me with distaste. I crossed my eyes at him and he backed up, utterly sickened by the sight of me. Without another word, he took off after Bugul. He’d have quite the surprise waiting for him.

Hobs snickered. “Looks like the nymphs made up an extra-good batch of sneezes this year. I hope Bugul can take care of himself.” Hobs seemed to be talking to himself.

“You haven’t used any of that on me, have you?” I cut in.

“What—have I sneezed on you lately?”

“No, but you did put nymph kisses all over me!” I held up my hands. Now that they were close to him, they were glowing again.

He grinned unabashedly, holding his glowing hand against mine. I felt a rush of heat spread up to my elbow in reaction to his touch. It felt even warmer than before. “As soon as you left the clearing,” he said, “my hand throbbed so badly I thought my frog’s breath ran out on the fire. Only it was cold, not hot. What? You’re not mad, are you?” Looking defensive, his hand went to mine. “I had to put a tracker on you. Good thing I did, too.”

“Remind me to wash this stuff off!”

“Never. I like keeping you around.” He treated me to his most charming smile, and despite my best intentions, I felt myself warming to it. “We don’t have much time before Gan’s shadow comes and finds us.” He drew us closer to our own little Sleeping Beauty and the tiara eased over my head. Hobs still had his arm around me. The heat from his body almost made me forget what Gan told me about him, almost, and I watched him tensely.

“Do not fall in love with a faery.”
The tiara buzzed around my ears as a reminder and I winced. Certainly the guy with me hadn’t set that off. His eyes widened and I remembered Hobs could hear it too. “You’re kidding? You fell for the love talker?” He sounded a little irritated—more than irritated.

Gan was a love talker? Hobs let go and landed on his knees in front of the fire, cramming the rest of our stuff into the backpack, still muttering crossly. I saw the chain of his medallion glisten on his neck.

“Hobs,” I said. “The love talker talked. It wasn’t just about love. He told me about you.”

“He’s the fool of the
Tuatha de Danann
court. Don’t listen to him.”

We didn’t have time to argue about it. Assuming we escaped Gan’s shadow, this was my last day to get Babs home. We had until the stroke of midnight. I couldn’t waste my last day wandering the Sidhe in circles. I dropped on my hands and knees next to Hobs. I wasn’t sure how I could get his talisman close enough to see the orders he had written on it, but I had to try.

“Hobs?” I rested my hand on his broad shoulder, just inches from that necklace. He smelled faintly of musk—like no cologne I had ever smelled, probably some faerie brand.

He glanced down at my fingers, his breath warm on my cold skin. To my surprise, it quickened. “What are you doing?” For once, he looked shaken. I didn’t have enough time to be amused. His cheek brushed against mine as he found my wrist, and he laughed a little self-consciously when he pulled my hair from his. “Stop that. I can’t think when your hair’s tickling my chin.”

He tried to peel my fingers off his shoulder, then hesitated the moment our hands brushed—they glowed by the merest touch, and I felt the warmth spread everywhere he had applied the nymph kisses. I could see it was doing the same thing to him. He held his breath and looked directly into my eyes. I tried not to fall back when the smoldering darkness in them burned into mine. I didn’t want him to suspect what I was really after, so I gave him my most innocent smile. He swallowed. “Sorry,” he whispered after a moment.

For what?
He lifted a cautious hand to my hair, and then I understood. More lay between us than the distance between our lips, which wasn’t much, just a lift of my chin—but no, this was crazy. He was a mischievous devil-raising faery.
He blows out candles and kisses girls in the darkness.
I felt his fingers at the back of my neck, gently guiding me to him.

He was going to kiss me, but no. He didn’t mean any of this. I couldn’t let him distract me with his kisses, even if a part of me wanted him to do it. Too much was at stake. Life. Death. My heart. The only truth lay in the talisman resting against his chest, and my fingers fumbled for it, catching it by its delicate chain. I slid it out from his shirt.

Before our lips could touch, I read the inscription aloud: “The order of
Cailleach Beiradas siebte der siebten
.” That was confusing. Cailleach Beira? It told me nothing.

His hand on my wrist tightened. I was close enough to notice the flash of pain behind his eyes. “What have you done? We almost . . .” He stopped short, letting out an unstable breath. “Let’s hope your pronunciation was bad enough not to bring
her
here.” Snow fell gently over us and he frowned at it. “You might have invoked the hag.”

“The hag?” I cried. “Why do you have her name on your medallion?”

“I’ll tell you later.” Hobs dragged me to my feet, gathering up the backpack in the same movement. He paused when he saw the sleeping Babs. There was no way we could leave without her. Of course not. He was using me to get to her anyway. Surely he wasn’t lying about her identity, too? He groaned, looking torn. “Okay, yeah, I work for her
.
”

He let me go. The backpack fell to the snow with a thud. He knit his fingers behind his head, staring up at the morning sky. The snow came down heavier. “We can’t get out of here in time.” He turned to me as if trying to read my face. “I’m sorry . . . I really am.” He said this a bit reproachfully, and his arms dropped. “I waited as long as I could. There’s only one way to break this curse. And now the ice has completely melted. I’m sure of it. I don’t think it will shatter.”

The cold morning snow drifted past his face, staining his cheeks red with the chill, obstructing his long lashes. I had no idea what he was talking about, but he looked apologetic, a little vulnerable, and a lot determined. “You’re going to have to trust me. Okay?” His hands found mine and they trailed to my elbows as he pulled me closer—the nymph kisses went crazy over our skin.

His lips stopped just short of mine. “Trust me?” Was he actually going to kiss me? After the trick I played—after the trick
he
played? Was I going to let him?

I closed my eyes. His breath froze into the air as he bent closer. The mist of it built around us and I knew the moment the hag materialized between us. Her silky curls smashed against my nose. My eyes opened, then went cross-eyed when I saw her black hair.

The hag faced Hobs, her arms crossed in front of her in full Snow Queen splendor. Before he could stop himself, he kissed her frozen mouth. He stumbled back, gasping painfully as his own mouth frosted into a nasty blue.

A cruel smile raced across the Snow Queen’s unpleasant face. She shifted. Her dress groaned in protest. It was made entirely of ice and snow and jingled like armor. Larger snowflakes floated down over us and Hobs’ eyes darted to them warily. It didn’t take me long to figure out why.

As soon as the flakes hit the hard ground, they shifted into beautiful waiflike guards. The Cyclops landed on his feet next to them and glared down at us. The ogres hit the ground a little harder. The wolves were next, their claws clicking against the ice, except they didn’t grin as cheerfully as the dimwitted ogres did. And why should they? They had to stand next to the stinky things.

The Snow Queen tapped her foot in irritation. Hobs’ eyes shifted from my surprised expression to her disapproving one. He wiped at his freezing lips. “Why, hello, Mother.”

Chapter Eighteen

My arms are withered and thin,
My hair once golden is grey;
’Tis winter—my reign doth begin—
Youth’s summer has faded away.

—
Donald Alexander Mackenzie,
Wonder Tales from Scottish Myth and Legend

“W
ell, well, Hobany.” The Snow Queen laughed and he did too, though a little cautiously. “You weren’t going to actually kiss her, were you?”

His eyes grew serious at that and he refused to answer.

“I can’t trust you to do anything. Why do you think I sent Gan?” She gave a mean smile. “Someone had to trick the trickster.” The Snow Queen picked up her ornate skirts and circled her son, frost curling over the ground everywhere her ice slippers touched. Her hand sliced forward, and she ripped Hobs’ medallion away from his neck with nails as sharp as icicles. “Stupid thing stopped me from keeping better tabs on you. I’ll never make that mistake again!”

“Mother, you’re overreacting. I was going to bring her to you.”

Excuse me?

“Overreacting?” she cried. The medallion twisted through her white fingers. “Don’t you tell me I’m overreacting! I raised you for better things than this . . . this . . . oaf! Tell me this isn’t some cruel joke, this pitiful reenactment of Beauty and the Beast!”

I gulped. Beauty and the Beast? I didn’t know the Sidhe version of the story. I knew the faerytale—it was about two star-crossed lovers, not the betrayal of a baby. I didn’t think it fit us at all—unless Hobs was the beast! It would explain why he had been so difficult in the beginning, but looking at his face and the way he watched me now, it was hard to imagine he meant me harm.

Babs was waking up. She stretched on the ground, her silky hair spread over my coat and the blankets Hobs had dropped over her. Hobs must’ve turned against his mother for her. Who wouldn’t fall for our little imp?

“Oh c’mon, Mother. She can’t love. You made sure of that. What are you so worried about?”

My heart lurched at that.
Poor Babs.
She was just a little girl stuck in the middle of a crown war. The hag could take her curses and choke on them! None of this was Babs’ fault. The little girl wiped the sleep from her eyes, looking up at me. I tried to break away from the hag’s soldiers to get to her, but Cyclops stood in my way. His eyes watered, and I remembered that he was allergic to humans. It made me want to rub my hands all over his creepy face.

“Unless
you try to break the curse
.
Then she can love!” His mother shrieked at her son. “The ice I put in her has melted. Any fool can see that. Did you do that to her? You wanted to claim her power for yourself. That’s what this is!”

Of course, the ice had melted. Babs couldn’t rule unless she loved a mortal—me—and she did. Hobs was her prince, and he would rule with her. I had played right into his hands.

Bugul, poor mute Bugul, had tried to warn us, and now he was missing because Hobs had tricked him too. And I almost let that traitor kiss me!
Never, never fall in love with a faery
. . . or at the very least, don’t let them kiss you! I remembered the first faery kiss I had witnessed. It banished the faery queen’s lover from the Otherworld. Was Hobs going to do that to me too? Now that I had melted the ice in Babs’ heart, he didn’t need me anymore . . . and then
the love of mortals fades from view
. That’s how he’d get rid of me. He even warned me against faery kisses. It was all such a cruel joke!