Read Curses! Online

Authors: J. A. Kazimer

Tags: #Fantasy

Curses! (13 page)

BOOK: Curses!
5.91Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads
Chapter 26
“
S
orry about that,” I said to Dru. “You startled me.” Which wasn't exactly true. When Dru had stepped into the light, my bollocks traveled north and my stomach south.
Not for the reason one might expect, either.
In fact, I doubted anyone could've expected the monstrosity in front of me. Imagine a baboon's butt amplified by a thousand; now give it a harelip, and bingo, you had the poor princess in front of me. The poor princess with one fucking shoe.
Whatever sympathy I felt for the unsightly girl vanished under the burning in my side. That ugly bitch tried to kill me. I stepped forward, the slipper in my hand raised like a weapon, not that I could actually hit her, but a screech of terror would be nice. Hers, not mine.
“Where'd you find my slipper?” Winslow asked from behind me.
I spun to face him. “What?”
“My slipper.” He pointed to the glass slipper in my hand and then to the matching slipper on his left foot. I squinted down at the slipper with a red ribbon and scowled. My eyes crawled to Dru's slipperless foot. Even though her foot appeared too small to fit the slipper in my hand, I wanted it to be hers. Wanted it more than I'd wanted anything in my life—okay, wanted anything in the last hour. Damn.
“You're telling me this is
your
slipper?” I jabbed my finger into Winslow's chest with force. Instead of flinching and apologizing like I expected, he giggled like a little princess. I glared down at my finger, which was currently tickling the troll-like butler.
“Stop.” Winslow laughed. “Please stop. I give. I give.”
I stopped tickling him and took in the scene in front of me. Winslow stood perched on one high-heel slipper, his meaty toes squished like Vienna sausages in the tip. A bead of sweat dripped down his pale forehead, running down his cheek and splashing against his stark black tuxedo jacket. He glanced at Dru, who stared back at him, her eyes wide.
“What the fudge is going on?” I asked, ending their staring contest.
“I tried this hair-removing cream, and now I look like a baboon's ass!” Dru yelled with enough force to rattle the fairy bulbs overhead. “And it's all your fault.” She pointed at me, tears streaming down her bright red cheeks.
“How do you figure?”
She ignored my question, and instead screeched, “How can I marry Prince Charming now? He'll take one look at me and run for Mexicanada.”
For those who failed geography in Charming School, Mexicanada bordered New Never City on the southernmost side. A nice place to visit, but I wouldn't want to villain there. They frowned on that sort of thing, eh.
I held up a hand to halt the wailing princess. “That wasn't quite what I meant when I asked what was going on. What I do want to know is, which one of you took a shot at me?”
“What?!” Both Winslow's and Dru's eyes flew to mine.
“Someone shot at you?”
I lifted my shirt, revealing the neat bullet wound in my side. They each examined the wound at length, equal expressions of confusion on their dim faces. If any couple belonged together, it was these two morons.
After staring at my side for an eternity, Dru raised her head and frowned. “You're bleeding.”
“Yes. Yes, I am. And do you know why?”
Winslow fielded this one. “ 'Cuz someone shot you?”
“Exactly. And that someone lost this very slipper.” I shoved the offending shoe at Winslow. “Do you have something to tell me?”
Winslow glanced down at the slipper and then at his ladymoron Dru. She gave a barely perceptible shrug of her thin shoulders. “Not really,” Winslow said.
“Why not give it a try anyway?” I poked the slipper into his stomach, causing him to giggle once again. “From what I've been told, confession's good for the soul. So I suggest you start talking before you find your soul seeping out of your body through a size-eight hole.”
A rush of power flickered through me. Damn, but it felt good to threaten him. Too good, in fact. My body started to tremble. Electrical sparks shot along my nerve endings.
Shit.
I spun to stop Dru, but it was too late. She pressed the Taser against my skin again. Zap! Fifty thousand volts of electricity shocked my battered body. I dropped to the ground. The tinkle of tiny fairy laughter, like static, echoed in my ears before my world went black for a second time in a matter of hours.
 
“Asia,” I whispered, pulling her toward me. She pressed her fingertip to my lips. Her skin tasted like cinnamon, her lips like fine wine. I kissed her shoulder, tasting the salt of her flesh. Her legs straddled mine. The weight of her hips pressed into my thighs, stirring my blood to a near boil. I wanted her. Needed her.
“Don't leave me,” I said against her hot mouth. She lifted her head and stared into my eyes.
Then she was gone.
Jolted from the fantasy, my eyes snapped wide, my breath came in sharp gasps. Sweat dripped from my naked body, pooling on the pink satin sheets underneath me. I glanced around, unsure of my surroundings, much less my mental health. The dream had seemed so real. I could still taste Asia on my lips, but the pink-covered bedroom was empty. Longing filled me, the kind only a villain could know.
Swallowing hard, I tried to erase the dream from my mind and hoped my heated body would get the message. The last thing I needed was another four-hour erection. I wasn't some horny teenage villain anymore.
“Come on,” I whispered to my little Stiltskin (“little” being relative). “Work with me here.” I lifted the sheet covering my nakedness and sighed. I tried picturing Baba Yaga naked, warts and all, but that merely gave me a headache. Damn it.
“I see you're feeling better,” a voice called from the shadows. Little RJ instantly recoiled, for which I was grateful, mostly.
“What are you doing here?” I asked Prince Charming. The last time I saw him, he was going wee wee wee all the way home. He still smelled faintly of urine.
Charming slithered from the darkness, his lacy shirt billowing in the still air. “Dru called me. She said you were here, crazed, threatening people with an invisible shoe.”
“Glass. Not invisible. And I'm not crazy.” I frowned and rubbed my aching head. Thankfully the Taser had few lasting effects. Of course, my side still burned like Little Boy Blue when he peed, but it was a distant pain. Manageable. Also, a good reminder of the dangers of falling for a certain redheaded princess. “I'm not,” I repeated when he remained silent.
“Uh-huh.” Charming patted my arm.
I slapped his hand away. “Don't patronize me. The evidence is right here.” I reached for my clothes neatly piled on the bed next to me. No slipper, though. “I mean, it was here. Dru must've taken it.” The bitch. First, her sister tried to kill me, and then Dru sent fifty thousand volts of electricity through me. To top it off, she pilfered the one bit of proof that I wasn't some drooling, insane villain. I wiped away a string of saliva running down my chin and faced Charming.
“Why would Dru steal your invisible shoe?” Charming tapped one long whisker on his otherwise hairless chin. “She has plenty of her own. I mean, have you seen her closet? It puts my invisible slipper collection to shame.”
For the briefest of seconds I considered how to choke the life out of Charming in my impotent state. Accidental choking came to mind. What if I slipped and to save myself from a nasty bruise, my hands wrapped around his neck? Surely, the union would understand.
“Have you seen the latest Kenneth Cole Invisibles?” Charming grinned. “Of course you haven't.”
“Don't. Push. Me.” I held up a hand. “Do me a favor, go find Dru. I need that slipper.”
Charming shook his head. “I'd rather not.”
“Please?”
“No.”
“Pretty please?”
He rolled his eyes. “Fine. But you owe me.”
“She's your fiancée, remember?”
“How could I forget?” He grimaced. “Every time I see a caterpillar I'm reminded of my upcoming nuptials.”
My eyes narrowed. If Charming didn't want to marry Dru, why did he ask her in the first place? Why had he proposed to any of the Maledetto daughters? First Asia. That I could understand. After all, she was beautiful, smart, sexy, and bent. The perfect princess. Cinderella, his second choice, wasn't a bad option either. The chick had a devious streak and smelled like spiced rum. Last and definitely least, Dru, a chick who could barely utter a logical thought and looked like a cross between ugly and her uglier sister.
“So why are you—” I began.
Charming waved me off. “Ours is not to question.”
“What?”
“The Lord works in mysterious ways,” he said with a nod, as if that explained everything. Which it didn't, and never had. My mom used to say that whenever I asked where babies came from. I hadn't believed it then, and I'd be damned if I'd accept it now.
“Well, it starts with a bee ... ,” Charming said.
“Huh?”
Charming frowned, scanning my head for injuries. “How babies are made. You asked. I was merely explaining.”
I ran my hand across my face. I must've taken more volts than I thought because everything seemed surreal, as if I was still dreaming, but instead of being naked with my lovely princess, I was being tortured by a dim-witted prince.
Clearing my throat, I pointed to the door. “Go. Find. Dru.” Of course, much to my dismay, my cursed tongue added, “Please.”
Again, the prince shuddered at the mention of his intended. I filed my suspicions away and waited until he left the room. Then I quickly dressed and ran down the palace steps.
My mind already felt like mush, and another round of Q&Idiot with Dru would send me over the edge. I had no choice but to leave the palace before something even worse happened, like Asia's aim improving. Or Charming realizing I'd escaped and coming to find me. Besides, I had a murder to solve. Well, four of them if you counted Hansel and Missy.
When I hit the bottom landing, Winslow opened the front door. “Good day, sir,” he said.
I stopped in the doorway, my eyes boring into his. Slowly my gaze lowered until it reached the tops of his black polished butler boots. His eyes followed mine and he smiled.
“Something wrong, sir?”
I shook my head, muttered something about “finding good help in a kingdom of crazy people,” and headed out the door, my feet sinking into the shag carpet with every step along the way.
Winslow called, “Don't forget your shoe.”
I spun around expecting to see Asia's slipper. Instead, Winslow stood in the doorway, a pair of combat boots in his hands. I glanced down at my sock-encased feet. Oops.
A black boot nearly clobbered me in the forehead, but I ducked out of the way and laughed. “Nice throw,” I taunted Winslow.
A second boot followed the first. This one connected with my bollocks. I grabbed my man jewels, puked on my socks, and dropped to the ground with a groan. The cold earth felt wonderful against my aching nutsack. I closed my eyes and took a shallow breath, praying the pain would recede. It didn't. Damn butler.
I had to give Winslow credit, though. Like a true manservant, seconds later, he arrived with a mop and bucket, a smile on his thin, troll-like face.
Chapter 27
I
recovered quickly enough from the affront to my testicles, laced my combat boots up, and struggled to my feet before heading for the kingdom's one and only market, a place where, for a price, one could purchase anything, including a killer bluebird or two. Not that I wanted or even needed a killer bluebird. I preferred to take my revenge on my princess in a much more personal and naked way. However, my only clue to Cinderella's murder was the fancy scrawled signature on the receipt I found at Hansel's.
Missy had died protecting the cocoa-covered receipt, and it was time to find out why. I pulled the receipt from my pocket and checked the signature again. Nigel de Wolfe. The killer had added a smiley face to the
O
and dotted the
I
with a heart.
Where had I seen this handwriting before?
I frowned, trying to picture Asia's handwriting, but nothing came to me.
She didn't do it.
She couldn't have.
Or maybe she did.
Asia was certainly capable of murder. But she didn't strike me as the bluebird type. It was too detached. Too cold-blooded. If Asia wanted someone dead, she'd do it herself. I prodded the bandage covering the bullet wound in my side. Case in point.
So I was back at square one in my search for Cinderella's killer, with one exception. Someone, probably the woman I loved, wanted me dead. I took it in stride, though. After all, I was a villain. If people didn't want me dead within a few days of making my acquaintance, I wasn't doing my job.
I shoved the receipt back into my pocket and hiked a mile and a half to the market. The trek took longer than I expected since I had to pass Old MacDonald's Pot Farm on the way.
E-I-E-I-O.
By the time I arrived at the market it was a little after five. I was starving and most of the shops had closed for the night. Yet a few remained open, mostly those catering to a more jaded and naked kind of clientele. I walked by a red-lit window where a dark-haired maiden danced behind the glass. She winked and motioned for me to join her inside.
“No dough,” I mouthed.
She shook her head, moving on to the next victim, a giant with a golden harp under his arm.
The harp glared at the harpy in the window, and the giant blushed. “Her beauty cannot compare to yours, my dear,” he said to the harp as they strolled by the window.
Ah, the age-old tale of boy meets musical instrument.
The tall, slim maiden in the window sighed, glanced around for another victim, and finding none, she finally motioned again for me to enter the establishment.
I lifted my pockets of my Levi's inside out to show that I was indeed a broke loser. The girl rolled her eyes, paused, and then waved me inside again.
As much as I'd like to think my villainous good looks changed her mind, I suspected boredom played a larger role. The streets were deserted with the exception of me and a couple of Snow White's dwarfs on a bender. Everyone knew those guys had no cash, not since Snow White bought a poison-apple-red Lexus.
The girl behind the glass tapped on the window again to gain my attention. She put her hands together as if begging and motioned for me to enter the establishment. I considered her offer and her legs for a moment. She couldn't compare to my pretty princess. She also hadn't shot at me.
Yet.
I opened the front door to Bob's Bordello.
Smack!
A tiny fist smashed into my nose. Blood dribbled from my nostril and my right eye started to tear. As far as injuries went, I had worse. In the last hour. But it still hurt.
I wiped a tear from my cheek and raised my other arm to protect my face from another barrage of fists. “Stop,” I yelped, ducking and covering like a drunken Muhammad Ali.
My tone had the intended effect. My assailant stopped her pummeling, handed the woman from the window a twenty, and smiled down at me, her slight chest heaving with exhaustion. The chick from the window snatched the money and disappeared behind a large wooden door. My assailant and I watched as she sauntered away.
“Been a while, Miss Muffet.” I nodded to my assailant, the small, fragile-looking woman wearing saddle shoes and a bonnet. “How's tricks?”
“Don't ‘how's tricks' me, RJ,” she screeched in an annoying tone. No mortal, villain or not, could stand to converse with Miss Muffet for long. She sounded like an angry elf after a hit of helium.
Muffet frowned, raising her fists. “What have you done?”
“Nothing.”
“That's not what I heard.” She shook her head. Golden threads of bleached hair danced around, nearly blinding me in the dim light of the brothel. “The union's not happy, and neither am I.”
“Too bad,” I said. “I'm on leave, remember? I don't have to answer to you, or anyone.” It felt good to say, but as soon as the words left my mouth I wanted to gobble them back. Miss Muffet wasn't the kind of villainous boss to be messed with. Termination, to her, usually included painful and permanent scarring.
Her dark eyes narrowed.
I swallowed hard but refused to back down. After all, my impotent state was her fault, and following that logic, whatever happened after was her problem as well.
Finally, she shook her head and sighed. She strolled across the room and sat on a tuffet. “I always liked you, RJ. You do good work, usually without any problems.”
“Thanks. I—”
She cut me off. “But when you screw up, you screw up big.”
“I—”
“Remember the three bears incident a couple of days after Natasha left?” Her finger wagged back and forth. “We never did find that porridge.”
“I—”
“With the way things are right now, we can't afford a loose cannon. Too much is at stake.”
Loose cannon? Who talked like that? If anyone was loose, it was the chick sitting on the tuffet. She was a legend among villains, but not for the reasons one might suspect. In her day, Miss Muffet lured many a hero to his death while innocently eating her curds and whey.
“How'd you find me?” I finally asked when I could get a word in. Then I remembered my desperate phone call to her mere days ago. Had she tracked my vPhone?
“Like it was hard.” She snorted. “I know you. I know how you think. What you think. It was simple logic.” The edges of her lips lifted, flashing whey-stained teeth. “Impotent or not, a Stiltskin cannot resist boobs. I knew that eventually you'd find your way here. It was only a matter of time.”
For the record, the boobs thing wasn't completely true. Man-boobs did nothing for me. But that wasn't the point. If Miss Muffet was here, in Maledetto, I was in deep trouble. She rarely left union headquarters, not since Flaming Friday, which I still insist wasn't my fault.
Who knew lemon juice was flammable?
“What do you want?” I crossed my arms over my chest and waited. It wasn't long in coming. Miss Muffet jumped from her tuffet as if a spider sat down beside her. I grinned, which in hindsight was a mistake. Her fist connected with my stomach, and I dropped to my knees. Stomach bile along with my liver crawled into my esophagus.
“I came here to offer my condolences on Natasha's untimely demise, you twit.” Her foot connected with my thigh.
“And?” I wheezed. After all, we both knew why she was really in Maledetto. The union wanted me, either a) back on villainous duty or b) dead. While the first option held some appeal I suspected the latter to be true. The chokehold Miss Muffet currently held me in was a pretty good clue.
Her forearm tightened. “We'd like you to return to active duty. Now. Today.”
“No,” I choked out.
“Wrong answer.” She jabbed her index finger into my eye socket and dug around. As much as that hurt, I wasn't giving in, not without a raise at the very least. They ruined the past three weeks of my life, and I wanted payback.
When Miss Muffet loosened her grip, I yanked free. “If you want me back so bad, what's with the butt-kicking?”
“Suck it up, you big baby.” Miss Muffet chuckled. “That was a love tap. Besides, you liked it.” She winked at me, which scared me more than her tiny flying fists had.
I shivered, but still held firm. “Listen, it's not that I don't appreciate your coming all the way out here. I do. It's just ...”
“All right.” She tapped her foot. “How much?”
“Fifteen percent.”
Smack. Her right fist caught me off guard, but I stayed on my feet. Once the blinding pain faded from my head, I said, “Fine. Twelve percent.”
She raised her fist.
“Ten. Ten percent,” I said. “And full medical.”
Her hand jutted toward me again. I jumped back, and she grinned. “Nice doing business with you,” Miss Muffet said, shaking my hand. “Now, go grab your stuff and meet me back here in an hour. The bus to New Never City leaves at midnight.”
That was too easy.
I was missing something, but I wasn't sure what. Miss Muffet and the union must've needed my expertise pretty bad. But there was one problem. A red-haired problem.
“I can't leave,” I said with a sigh. Don't get me wrong, I really, really wanted to. It wasn't like I had much going on for me in Maledetto. Asia wanted me dead. Dru wanted me to find her a prince. And Charming, well, he just wanted me, which in itself was enough reason to hightail it out of the kingdom. But I couldn't leave. Not yet.
“What?” Her eyes flashed.
I swallowed, hard. “I can't leave right now.”
“That's all right.”
“Really?”
She nodded. “Yeah. Like I said a few seconds ago, the bus leaves in an hour. Not right now.”
“That's not what I meant.”
“But it is what you said.” Her eyes filled with disappointment. “That's your problem, RJ. You're never clear. Communication is very important. Without it, mistakes are made. Remember that time—”
“I have to stay in Maledetto,” I said, cutting off her lecture. “At least for a few more days.”
“Why?”
“I promised to find a killer.”
She glowered. “So? I promised to love, honor, and cherish my last three husbands. Instead, I bludgeoned, beat, and crushed each. Grow up. Promises are made to be murdered.”
While Muffet had a point, I couldn't stop picturing Asia's face as she stared down at the chalk outline of her pancaked stepsister. Besides, if I left now, I would never avenge Natasha. More importantly, I would never see my princess naked again.
I cupped my testicles to protect them. “Be that as it may, I can't leave. Not yet.”
Miss Muffet took a step forward. “Don't mess with me, RJ. I'm not in the mood. The union needs you. I need you.”
Had any other cute blonde in distress said those words I might've reconsidered. But not her, and not today. The union had fucked up my life too much already for bygones to be bygones. They'd robbed me of my villainy, forced me to be “nice.” and now wanted me to hop on a bus to New Never City, leaving behind my princess? Wasn't going to happen. I'd made a vow to Asia, and I would keep it.
Just this once.
I told Miss Muffet as much. She reacted as expected, lots of threats, sucker punches, and shots to the bollocks. I'm proud to say I took it like a man, by which I mean I whimpered and tried to hide under a tuffet.
After a while, Miss Muffet either tired of smacking me around or proudly accepted my stubborn determination. She stopped pummeling me and yawned. “All right, RJ. You win, but don't say I didn't warn you.”
“I—”
“The union frowns on any employee with a will of his own. That and Sundays off.” She strolled to the door and opened it. A cold breeze, like a bad omen, blew in. “Find your killer, and find him quick, and then return to active duty. Otherwise, the next time we see each other,” she grinned, “you won't like it.”
I can't say I was too pleased with this visit. My head, side, and balls ached in parts I didn't know existed. Plus, due to our dalliance, I was no closer to solving the rash of murders than I was a couple of hours ago. I doubted the next few hours would hold the final clue either. On the bright side, the union was off my back for now and I still had the bluebird receipt.
I patted my pocket, smiled, and then frowned.
“No.” I shoved my hand into my empty pocket. “Arachnophobic witch!” I shouted to no one. Little Miss Muffet was gone, as was her tuffet, and my one chance at catching a killer.
BOOK: Curses!
5.91Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

La carte et le territoire by Michel Houellebecq
A Dancer in Darkness by David Stacton
Venice by Peter Ackroyd
Mated to the Beast by Grace Goodwin
Seduced 2 by Jones, P.A.
A Kachina Dance by Andi, Beverley
Brightleaf by Rand, Raleigh
Snatched by Dreda Say Mitchell