Curses! (15 page)
Chapter 30
I
awoke sometime later wearing nothing but a pair of boxer shorts. I wasn't sure where I was, or how I got there. The last thing I remembered was the grinning face of a determined yet demented dwarf bearing down on me.
awoke sometime later wearing nothing but a pair of boxer shorts. I wasn't sure where I was, or how I got there. The last thing I remembered was the grinning face of a determined yet demented dwarf bearing down on me.
However, one thing was sure. Wherever I was, I wasn't alone. Asia's body lay curled behind me, her silken hair tickling my bare back. For some reason, she smelled different, as if she'd recently started smoking. A nasty habit, but one I could accept. It beat her constantly trying to murder me.
I yawned and rubbed a hand over my face. The fire had singed my facial hair, leaving patches of five o'clock shadow. But all in all, I survived the fire fairly unscathed. Too bad I couldn't say the same about being run down or my princely smackdown. Adding to my list of previous complaints, my ribs now ached and my nose curved to the right. Too bad the fake detective business, like the union, didn't offer medical insurance.
Holding my breath, I pinched my nostrils and snapped the cartilage in my nose back in place. The pain brought tears to my eyes, but I held my screams in check, afraid to wake my sleeping princess hidden beneath the covers.
Mostly for fear she'd try to smother me with a pillow.
The bedroom was dark, but it didn't take me long to recognize it as Cinderella's much-too-pink room. I slowly sat up, checking each body part. Everything seemed to be in working order. Some parts more so than others. I turned to Asia, running my hand down her downy-covered leg. She let out a loud snort.
“Sweetheart,” I began, slowly pulling down the comforter. I stopped mid-much-too-broad-shoulder and screamed. “Ahhhhh!”
“Ahhhhh!” Prince Charming echoed.
“What the hell are you doing?” I dropped the blanket as if it was infected with princely cooties. Which it was.
Like a true Southern belle, Charming shielded his body with the sheet in one hand and fanned his face with the other. “I was sleeping,” he said. “What's got your panties in a bunch?”
“My panties?” I yelled. “Men don't wear panties.... Oh, never mind... . What are you doing here?” My fist waved to the bed, where up until two minutes ago, I'd innocently slept while Charming spooned me. Bile rose up my throat. It wasn't like I was homophobic, but damn it, if I was gay I could do a hell of a lot better than Charming.
“After you burned my house down,” he said with a frown and released the blanket in his hand, flashing me his hairless, gym-sculpted chest. It reminded me of a rat without fur. What had Asia seen in this doofus? He continued, unaware of my assessment, “The king and queen graciously took us in.”
“Be that as it may,” I stalked to the opposite side of the darkened room, “it fails to explain why, out of the two hundred or so bedrooms in the palace, you ended up in
this
bed. And not, say, in bed with Dru, the woman you're about to marry?”
this
bed. And not, say, in bed with Dru, the woman you're about to marry?”
He shivered. “Ew.”
“If you find Princess Dru so repulsive,” which I really couldn't blame the guy for, “then why marry her?”
He rolled his eyes. “It's what a prince does. We marry princesses. Duh.”
As much as I wanted to shake the idiot prince, my need to pee outweighed our ridiculous conversation. First, I needed to set him straight. Well, as straight as a musical-spouting, lacy pirate shirtâwearing prince could get. “Listen,” I started. “I appreciate your hospitality. And I'm sorry about your house, but the next time I find you within ten feet of my bed, I'll break you into tiny prince pieces and feed you to a bluebird. Got it?”
I didn't wait for his response. Instead, I yanked open the bedroom door, nearly colliding with Winslow, who was eavesdropping at the door. The troll-like butler's hair stood on end in contrast to his perfectly starched tuxedo.
“Sir,” Winslow said, straightening from his spying crouch. “I was just ...”
I held up my hand. “Whatever. I need a shower.” I motioned to the Charming-filled bed. “Maybe two. Do you think you could rustle me up some clothes?”
“Of course, sir.” Winslow bowed. “Right away.”
“I wouldn't mind a cup of hot cocoa. And some whipped cream. Cherries if you have them,” Charming called out from the bedroom.
Winslow glared at the prince, spun on his heel, and headed down the corridor, his boots echoing against the hard wood floor.
“Don't forget the marshmallows,” Charming yelled to the retreating butler, who muttered something akin to “I hope you choke on it, you selfish twit.”
Charming turned to me. “What'd I do?”
I shook my head and limped to the bathroom at the end of the gold-lined hallway, passing photograph after photograph of the Maledetto family. The king's smiling face caught my eye. He sat on his throne, his arm around Asia's sour-faced mother. The happy couple looked anything but. What had possessed the king to marry Asia's mother?
In the next photograph, a teenaged Cinderella stood on the king's right, looking angelic in a white dress. Dru knelt at the king's feet, her eyebrow covering most of her face. Asia stood behind the throne, beautiful as always, if slightly overweight. She didn't look happy. In fact, no one in the picture did.
With one disgusting exception.
Prince Fucking Charming.
He stood on the king's left, dressed in military blues, a sword in his hand. The smile on his face matched the king's. The picture was at least ten years old, but Charming looked the same as he did today. Minus the sword, of course. The nameplate under the portrait read: T
HE
M
ALEDETTO
F
AMILY
.
HE
M
ALEDETTO
F
AMILY
.
If those were my relatives, I'd ask to be disowned. Poor Asia, stuck with this group of clueless morons as family. I smiled at the photograph, vowing to save Asia from her family as well as any other curse she could throw at me.
My fingers brushed Asia's two-dimensional face. I missed my princess, and thankfully, she had missed me too. Three times to date. Either my princess had really bad luck or she didn't truly want me dead. I could live with that.
“Better aim next time, my sweet.” I smiled, pressing a two-fingered kiss to the picture. I was one badass villain, able to defy death and my murderous princess in a single bound.
Nothing fazed me.
Except ... a naked Prince Idiot admiring his butt in front of Cinderella's full-length mirror. I shuddered and limped faster down the hallway.
Chapter 31
T
he icy water of the shower pounded my bruised body, stinging in places I only dreamed existed. Who knew the skin on your elbow could hurt? The stench of smoke and singed villain faded under the sweet scent of lilac soap. I scrubbed my hair twice, watching a swirl of ash disappear down the drain. When I couldn't take the chill a second longer, I turned off the water and reached for a towel.
he icy water of the shower pounded my bruised body, stinging in places I only dreamed existed. Who knew the skin on your elbow could hurt? The stench of smoke and singed villain faded under the sweet scent of lilac soap. I scrubbed my hair twice, watching a swirl of ash disappear down the drain. When I couldn't take the chill a second longer, I turned off the water and reached for a towel.
“Thanks,” I murmured to the towel rack.
“You're welcome,” Dru uttered back.
“Ahhhh!” I shouted, admittedly in Dru's ugly face. She recoiled, nearly tripping over her feet as she jumped back. I reached out to steady her, my towel dropping as I did so, showing off an array of freshly singed pubic hair. Not my best look. Didn't anyone in this palace know how to knock?
“Sorry,” I said, releasing her and scooping the towel back into place. “You startled me.”
“I brought you some clothes.” She motioned to a pair of Levi's and a black sweatshirt, freshly pressed and smelling of urinal cakes, sitting on the vanity. A pair of white boxer briefs lay on top next to my empty, charred wallet.
“Ummm ... thanks,” I ventured again. “I'll just be getting dressed, then ...” Dru stood there, not getting the hint, a clueless smile on her lips. I tried again. “Did you need something?”
She shook her head.
“Go wait in the hall,” I ordered, shoving her toward the door with one hand.
“Good idea.” She nodded as if I'd solved a great mystery. For the briefest of seconds, I felt sorry for Prince Rotten. He went from fiancée perfection in the form of Asia to the moronic Dru in a matter of six months. One fiancée dead, one a possible murder suspect, and the other quite possibly a moron. Bad odds even in Cin City.
My sympathy for His Annoyingness was short-lived, however, replaced by an all-consuming rage. Was that a hickey on my shoulder blade? I spun around to check and slipped on the puddle of water at my feet. My head smacked the sink and little bluebirds rose in my vision.
It took me a few seconds to realize the bluebirds were real and invading the bathroom via an open window. A window that was closed when I first entered the shower. Did Dru open it? Was this another assassination attempt by Asia?
I scrambled to my feet, yanking the shower curtain from the rod with a whoosh. My fingers slipped on the wet curtain, but I held tight, using it like a matador's cape as I shepherded the annoyed birds to the open window. “Toro! Toro!” I shouted, sweeping the birds outside.
“Did you call me?” Dru poked her head inside the door only to be bombarded with a flock of rampaging bluebirds. Her shrieks reverberated around the bathroom, deafening me. I dropped the shower curtain and stuffed my hands over my ears.
“Stop it,” I yelled.
She did, but only when her eyes rolled back into her head and she fainted. I tried to catch her before she hit the ground, but again, I slipped, landing naked and facedown on the tile. The unconscious princess fell on top of me, her lips parted, her face flushed. I grunted under her weight. Of course, Winslow appeared in the doorway at that precise moment. His upper lip started to quiver.
“It's not what it looks like,” I said. The understatement of the year. Winslow wasn't paying me any attention, though. His gaze was fixed on his not-so-smart princess.
“What did you do to her?” he asked, his voice thick with tears and accusations. “My poor sweet maiden.”
“Nothing.” I lifted an unconscious Dru off me, placed her on the floor, and staggered to my feet. “The bluebirds”âI gestured to the now bluebird free bathroomâ“they came in ... Dru ... sheâ”
“The king shall hear of your debauchery!” Winslow raised his fist. As far as threats went, it wasn't the best one. What would the king do? The man couldn't even kill his wife.
I held up my own hand. “Relax, Winslow. Nothing happened. Dru is still as pure and stupid as snow.” And she'd stay that way if she married Charming. Talk about a waste of a wedding night.
Winslow frowned, as if unsure what to believe, his own eyes on my naked, hickey-riddled body. Dru made the decision for him. She awoke, her eyes fluttering like a fly stuck to a wad of flypaper, or in her case, a huge furry eyebrow.
“What happened?” she asked Winslow.
“Are you all right, my lady?” He knelt down next to her, fanning her face with his hand. “Shall I summon the king's physician?”
“No, no. That's not necessary.” She took Winslow's hand and he helped her to her feet. “I must've fainted. Too much excitement. You know, with the wedding and all,” she said, sounding forlorn.
My eyes went to hers. Did Dru really want to marry Charming? Third Maledetto sister's a charm, right? Up until a second ago, I was sure Dru wanted to marry the idiot prince, but now ... I cleared my throat to gain Winslow's attention. He glanced up in question. I nodded to Dru. “Right. The wedding. How are the wedding plans going?”
Dru sighed. “Charming is handling everything.”
Of course he was. He'd probably dreamed of his wedding day since he was a wee lad in lace diapers. He'd probably already picked out the perfect dress. I tilted my head to the side. “Is that what you want, Dru? A man who handles you?”
Dru's lips curved into a frown, causing her furry brow to wrinkle even deeper. “I used to think so.”
“But?”
“But,” she paused, her face growing red, “I want roses! Red ones. And a chocolate fountain! I want ... I want ...”
“Yes?” Winslow asked, hope filling his tone for the first time.
“A pony!”
“And you deserve a pony.” I nodded encouragingly. “Okay, then. Go out there and tell the prince exactly that. Tell him that unless you get roses, a chocolate fountain, and a pony you won't marry him!”
“Damn straight!” Dru nodded to a shocked Winslow and marched out of the bathroom in search of her Prince Charming.
Winslow looked at me and grinned. “Thank you, sir.”
“Don't mention it.” I patted his shoulder. “Just remember, though, when you and Dru finally do hook up, you'd better buy a pony-sized litter box.”
He agreed and turned on his heel to follow Dru down the hall. Her shouts for the suddenly hard-to-find prince echoed from three floors below.
Served Prince Rotten right. That would show him not to give unexpected / unwanted hickeys to random houseguests. I rubbed at the hickey on my shoulder. A smudge of cocoa flaked away under the pressure of my thumb. Oops.
I laughed, pulling on a pair of pants, and headed down the stairs to restart my investigation into Cinderella's murder.
Â
My investigation took me to the far corners of the Maledetto palace, namely, the library. I opened the double doors, surprised to see that nothing had changed since my last visit. The room still smelled of dog hair and dust. Nigel de Wolfe's pelt still lay on the floor, eyes blank, teeth as sharp as ever.
Stepping inside the library, I crept across the carpet and knelt next to Nigel's pelt. The wolf appeared dead, but I wasn't taking any chances. I jabbed my finger into Nigel's left eye. When nothing happened I proceeded to examine my scene of the crime.
First, I turned the pelt over and opened his striped housecoat. Poor old Nigel had a slit cut from his sternum to pelvis. Talk about being neutered. With my hands, I measured the dimensions of the pelt. A full-grown person might fit inside.
A skinny full-grown person.
I decided to test my theory and shoved my head inside the fur coat. The pelt fit like the kitten's mitten, in that whoever had worn it to buy Gretel the bluebird had gotten away with murder too. But not for long. I would find him, her, or them, and once I did ... well, I'd cross that troll bridge when I came to it.
I stood staggering under the weight of the pelt before righting myself. The fur smelled faintly of bacon. That reminded me that I hadn't eaten in nearly twenty-four hours. My stomach let out a ferocious growl.
Boom!
A splatter of buckshot slammed into Nigel's pelt, knocking me backward. “Ahhhh!” I yelped. In hindsight, it sounded more like a growl, which explained the next volley of shotgun pellets. My wolf-proof armor stopped most of the shrapnel, but a few bits sliced through, flaying my flesh beneath. The rock salt pellets burned like trying to pee after a one-night stand with Snow White.
“You lecherous bastard. I'll show you,” my would-be assassin the king said. The click of another round of salt loaded into a shotgun reverberated around the room.
“Stop,” I said. “Winslow lied. I didn't touch Dru. She came into the bathroom while I was naked, and she fainted. That's all that happened. I swear I didn't touch her.” When I found the turncoat butler, I'd sure as hell touch him. A lot!
“What?” the king shouted.
I poked my head out. “What, what?”
“Oh, it's you,” the king exclaimed, his hand clutching his heart. “You scared me, son. I thought Nigel had risen from the dead to take his revenge against me for shooâ” The king's hand flew to his mouth. “I mean ... What's this about Dru?”
“Not important now.” I waved my hand in dismissal. “What's this about revenge?”
The king let out a loud, drawn-out sigh. “Well, son, since you're almost family, I can tell you a thing or two about the Maledetto history.” Son? Family? I had my doubts the old man even remembered my name. Not that I wanted anything to do with the king or the rest of his crazy clan, with the exception of Asia and her murderous, naked ways. I had my own family to deal with; I didn't need to add the Maledetto lunatics to the genetic mix.
The king continued, ignoring the look of absolute horror on my face, “You see, son, I never expected to be king. My parents died when I was a wee lad.”
“I'm sorry for your loss.”
“Why?” The king frowned and patted his shotgun. “Did you kill them?”
“Of course not.”
“Then why did you claim you did? It's rude.”
“What?”
“Never mind.” The king shook his head. “As I was saying before you interrupted, King de Wolfe took me in and raised me as his own second son. Nigel, my big brother, was to wear this crown.” The king pointed to his empty head.
“Um, sir?” I said.
“What now?!”
I considered not saying a word, but my cursed tongue won out. “You're not wearing a crown.”
“Blast it,” he said, dropping his shotgun onto the couch, and ran from the room in search of his wayward crown. I closed my eyes and shook my head. How did Asia stand her family? Either they were the dumbest group of people in the universe, or somewhere in the tangled roots of this family tree, brother and sister fell in love. I was betting on incest. Stupidity seemed like too much of a coincidence.
I picked up the king's abandoned shotgun, unloaded it, and kicked it under the couch. Didn't these people know guns were dangerous? Hell, in the last week I'd been shot at least twice.
I rubbed at my latest flesh wound on my arm. Blood trickled from the cut. I wiped it away with the edge of Nigel's pelt and sighed. I couldn't wait to leave Maledetto once and for all, with Asia of course, and never look back. Not even around the holidays. If Asia got homesick, I'd simply jam a shotgun in her face and talk like a homeless dude with a tinfoil cap.
The king came flying back into the library, a jewel-encrusted crown on his head. He collapsed onto the couch, panting. “Sorry 'bout that. I thought I'd lost it.”
Oh, he certainly had.
I smiled and motioned for the king to continue with his tale about the old king. Once he finally caught his breath, he did. “When I was twelve, King de Wolfe and his queen mysteriously died. Some say it was the plague. Others think the large ax protruding from Lady Maledetto's head killed them.”
A reasonable assumption.
“After their deaths, Nigel took control of the crown.” The way he said it made me wonder if Nigel controlled more than the kingdom. The king added, “Then three years later, the kingdom in shambles due to Nigel's lecherous deals, I became king.”
I tilted my head to the side and sat down on the couch next to the king. “More to it than that, wasn't there?”
“Was there? I don't really remember.”
“From what I've heard, you shot Nigel. In the back.”
The king shrugged. “Well, that might've happened too. But it was an accident ... We went for a hunt ... The gun went off ... No need for revenge.”
“Revenge?” I paused to consider this. Was Cinderella's murder an act of revenge? I suppose that made sense, but by who? Unless I failed Health for Villains 101, Nigel de Wolfe wasn't the culprit. So who was?
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