Bayou Fairy Tale (32 page)

Corentin hung his head. “I don’t know if I can….”

Honeysuckle threw down the pamphlet and scowled. “You better.”

Even in all of her encouragement, she didn’t understand. His temples throbbed from his dying anger and tears. “How can I?” he snapped, slapping his journal with the back of his hand. “After everything? After
this
?” He hefted up the journal in both hands and frowned. He dropped it back into his lap and then buried his fingers in his hair. “He’s a princess. I’m—”

“Stop right there!” Honeysuckle huffed. “If you mention once again you’re a huntsman, I
will
vomit.”

“I’m scared, all right?” he barked, and she jerked back. “You get that, yeah? If I were to go there with Taylor and put a ring on his finger, he’d realize he got in over his head.” He slapped a hand to his chest. “Sure, he loves me now. But you know what? It’s only been two years. Two years seems easy. But how about ten years from now? Or twenty?” He pointed and fought the urge to say the next thing that came to mind, but he said it anyway. “You know what? I bought the ring. I hid it in a coffee can in the back of the pantry. What do I do with it? Present him with a responsibility that he couldn’t possibly comprehend. That’s the worst thing I can do for us.”

Honeysuckle put her hands on her hips. “So what?”

Corentin clenched his fists and pressed his lips together to keep from making an even more irritated frown than he intended. “What do you mean
so what
?”

But Honeysuckle caught on and wagged an angry finger. “You do
not
look at me in that tone of face, young man.”

He tossed up his hands and groaned in frustration. “Fine,” he said, exasperated. “Fine.”

She nodded. “Are you quite finished?”

Corentin rested his chin in his palm. A pen materialized in his hand, and he impatiently tapped the paper. “Quite.”

Her face softened, and she slowly smiled. “My sweet angel. I get it. I understand you’re afraid. But you made that step to get the ring without anyone knowing.” She grinned. “Which, that’s pretty clever, considering you hid it in plain sight.” She drifted down to the floor, bobbing once and then planting her feet. “You can’t change who you are or what you’ve done. And none of that matters to any of us. Take it from personal experience—Taylor was a difficult and awful child.” She pointed a finger. “I’m not saying that out of a place of jealousy. I mean it. Even Ringo didn’t know if he was going to make it as his fairy godfather. The stress of me taking care of Atticus, and him watching over Taylor, strained our marriage to the point that on Taylor’s wedding day to Phillipa, we were both ready to walk away.”

Corentin swallowed. “I’m sorry… I didn’t know.”

“And neither does Taylor. And he never will. It’s only been in the last two years that Ringo and I have finally figured out why he asked a stubborn, fat fairy to marry him. And why I said yes to a community college dropout with no ambition.” She sighed and watched him with big, hopeful eyes. “The point I’m making is, it’s
you
. You make Taylor better. He can’t change what he’s done. But because of you, because you found him under all the layers of anger and self-loathing, you make him into a better person.” She flicked her fingers dismissively. “You say he can’t handle the responsibility of what it is to be married to one Henri Corentin Devereaux. You, sir, wouldn’t know the first thing about what it’s like to marry Taylor Andrew Hatfield. That boy will eat you for breakfast.”

Corentin smirked. “He’s welcome to try.”

In a blink, Honeysuckle zipped to his eye level and then flipped backward, planting the perfect punt between his eyes.

Corentin fell back and caught himself by his elbows before he could smack the floor. “What was that for?” he grunted.

She yanked him up by his shirt collar and pressed her button nose to his hawked one. Pixie features always terrified him up close. He could see himself in the blackness of Honeysuckle’s pupils.

“To knock some sense into you, fuckwit!” she growled like a caged bear. “Next time you decide to be a shit, I’m cursing you with a rash. And you do
not
want to know where.”

Corentin swallowed, and she shoved him away.

She smirked. “It’ll itch.
Bad
.”

A young woman’s laughter drifted into the empty study hall, stopping Corentin and Honeysuckle cold. Corentin’s attention darted to the doorway, and then he frowned.

The Cronespawn girl.

“S-S-Sorry…,” she said timidly.

Corentin pursed his lips. He still reserved his judgment about her. She had healed him, but she had also attacked him. “May I help you?” He kept his tone neutral.

She nodded, and her slumped posture indicated her shyness. “Can I… come in? I came to see you….” Her speech pattern was stuttered and careful as she tried to form English.

Corentin arched a brow at her. What the hell, why not? He held out a hand to the tipped-over desk. “Sit.”

She drifted into the hall like a plume of smoke—effortless, light, but still a creeping omen. Instead of trying to right the desk and chair, she settled on the floor in front of him. She studied him in wide-eyed silence.

He blinked.
Well, wasn’t expecting that.

Honeysuckle bobbed in the air, weaving to and fro. Corentin sensed her hesitancy to get too close. She put on her best smile. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure, miss?”

“Gabrielle,” the girl said, bowing her head. “Gabrielle Devereaux.”

May 9

Idea, Study Hall

CORENTIN SLAMMED
his journal to the floor next to him. “I’ve hit my limit of getting fucked with for this week, and you just broke it,” Corentin snarled.

Gabrielle recoiled and defensively raised her hands. “No. Please!” Gabrielle waved her hands. “Listen.”

Corentin didn’t answer.

She nodded, hopeful. “You’ll listen? Yes?” Gabrielle continued to watch him with a sense of shy wonder.

Honeysuckle seemed at a loss for what to say. Trapped between a half smile and a half grimace, she turned on her matronly ways. “He’s had a rough time of things, sweet pea,” she said to Gabrielle.

Instead of answering her, Gabrielle pointed at the journal. “It’s today, isn’t it? Today?”

The hair on the back of Corentin’s neck stood. He reached out with his pen to the journal and tapped the pages. “You know about this?” How could a Cronespawn he had never met know about his curse? The list of Enchants who knew could fit on a cocktail napkin.

She nodded, her sloppy bun flopping on the back of her head. “Your memory.”

Corentin exchanged a sideway glance with Honeysuckle. He arched a brow in question, and she responded with a slight nod. He should hear Gabrielle out.

“You should go find Taylor and Ringo,” Corentin said. “They’d be glad to see you. If… um….” He ran his fingers through his hair. “If Taylor asks…. tell him I’m okay?”

Honeysuckle drew her brows up in concern. “Are you sure?”

He nodded. “Go on.” He tried to smile while the residual guilt about Taylor gnawed at him.

“I’ll let you two catch up? I suppose that’s the phrase?” she asked as she looked between them. “I look forward to getting to know you, pumpkin.”

Gabrielle maintained her wide-eyed stare as Honeysuckle fluttered off.

Corentin turned back to Gabrielle, and they both openly looked at the journal and then back to each other. “How do you know?” he asked, resting his elbows on his thighs. “About it? How do you know?”

The way she watched him made her nervousness more obvious than his anxiety of his journal in the open. “Can we… speak in Curse Word? My Common isn’t… very good.”

Corentin laced his fingers together and glanced at the cathedral ceilings. “I try to avoid it when I can. But…
og daeha
.”

“
Thank you
,” she said in their native Curse Word.

“
I asked, how do you know about the journals?
” He had spoken quite a bit of their language while in New Orleans. It still sounded unnerving to him as he acknowledged a troubling part of his heritage.

“
I sent you the other one.
” She kept her attention on the journal. Was she trying to read it? “
It’s amazing.
”

“
Where did you find the old one?
” Corentin hungered for the answer but feared he didn’t want to know. “
Do you have any others?
”

“
I know of three of them.
” She didn’t look up. She was obviously trying to read the pages. Corentin’s self-consciousness snuck up on him and he pulled the book into his lap. Gabrielle blinked and seemed ashamed for being caught. “
I don’t have them. But I’ve been tracking their movements.
”

Corentin stumbled on her phrasing. He thought he heard her right but wasn’t sure. “
Their movements? People have taken them?
” He held out his hand in a half shrug. “
What would someone want with them?
” The possibilities hit him seconds later. Mundane science, for one. Enchants wanting his head, for another.

“
No, no.
”
She shook her head.
“They
are moving. The journals are trying to find
you.”

It couldn’t be true. Corentin’s trust had long worn thin. But he’d seen it for himself that even a destroyed journal could heal. It’d even conjure pens. Or use his hand to write against his will. The journals called to him like an ever present whisper in the back of his mind.

“
How do you know any of this?
” he asked, his doubt and belief warring in his mind.

She smiled shyly and drew her knees to her chest. “
I just wanted to know my brother.
”

He drew his mouth into a dubious slant. “
Right….
”

Clearly Gabrielle was testing him. Probably another thing Aliss had put her up to and was watching Corentin react once again. Everything had been a long series of reactions, yet very little chances to be proactive.

“Aliss
thinks I’m going to believe you, right?
” He waved his fingers dismissively. “
Just because you’re
Cronespawn
like me, we’re related, yeah?
”

“
It wasn’t
Aliss,” she said, her dark lips pulled into a pout. “
It was me. I wanted to find you. When
the Library
learned about you and
Princess Hatfield
defeating
Snow White
, I volunteered to help locate you two.
I had the journal, so….
” She made a pointed glance at the journal in his lap. “
I sent it.
”

“
You sent it not knowing if it would come into contact with the wrong people
,” he said, his brows drawn low. “
The dark magic poisons
Enchants
. What if you were wrong?
”

Gabrielle stubbornly set her jaw. “
I was willing to take that chance.
”

“
It was fucking stupid.
”

“
You’re here now, aren’t you?
”

Corentin blinked and then whistled. “Sassy.”

Gabrielle shook her head. “Curse Word,” she reminded him.

He shrugged and returned to using their language. “
So, you’re my sister.
”

“
Yes.
”

He reflected the same wide-eyed stare and tossed out his hands. “
You need to give me more to go on. I’m on the clock here. The wipe is in two hours.
”

She nodded quickly. “
And my burning.
”

“
Burning?
” He arched a brow. That didn’t sound pleasant.

“
We are both descendants of
Gretel
and the Sorcerer—
”

“
Wrong.
Hansel
ate
Gretel
, and he and the Enchantress started the bloodline.
”

Gabrielle puffed her cheeks in childish frustration. “
You’re a bad listener.
”

Corentin snorted. “
I’m listening now.
” He plopped his chin into his palm like a scolded child. “
Go on
,” he said, gesturing with his pen.

She narrowed her eyes and pointed, challenging him into silence.

He flicked his fingers, gesturing for her to go on.

Gabrielle continued to hold up her finger to assure he’d remain silent. When he obeyed, she spoke. “
In our history,
Gretel
had an affair with a Sorcerer. She didn’t understand what she was doing, and she became pregnant.
”

He narrowed his eyes and repetitively scraped the end of his pen on the tiles. Her wide-eyed stare vanished into one of authority. In careful measures, Corentin let down his walls, brick by brick.

Gabrielle sat straighter and crossed her legs. “Gretel
was a spoiled, headstrong girl, and only found the Sorcerer’s affections a passing excitement
,” she said with a frown. “
When she discovered she was pregnant, she was ashamed and angry, blaming her lover for tricking her.
”

“
But he loved her
,” Corentin said, concentrating on her words.

She nodded. “
Regrettably,
Hansel
agreed the child was an abomination. So they both set out to the Gingerbread House to dispose of the baby. They had heard the Enchantress thought babies were quite succulent.
” Gabrielle considered her blackened fingers and rubbed her index and thumb. Bits of ash and soot fell away. “
But the Enchantress was furious that
Gretel
would kill such a beautiful
Cronespawn
baby girl. So she seduced
Hansel
out of spite, turned them against each other, and it was
Hansel
that shoved
Gretel
into the oven
.”

Corentin blinked as she laced her fingers together, both sets of fingers caked in black soot and peeling. Meanwhile, she kept her attention on him.