Curses! (19 page)
Chapter 39
T
en minutes later, my mind reeling with conspiracies, my aching head fell back down on my pillow. I let out a loud burp followed by a sigh. When the boozy fumes cleared, I frowned.
en minutes later, my mind reeling with conspiracies, my aching head fell back down on my pillow. I let out a loud burp followed by a sigh. When the boozy fumes cleared, I frowned.
Today was Dru's wedding day. There was plenty of stuff for me to do even without the reappearance of my missing clue, namely, ruin said wedding, unmask a killer, and win my princess once and for all. Easy enough for a villain. Not so much for a hungover impotent one with the taste of sheep spit in his mouth.
I winced, remembering all the wooly details from last night. Someone had tried to kill me, again. I wanted to believe Asia. However, in the harsh morning light, her sudden appearance and a new stack of dead bodies didn't quite add up to innocence. And I knew my villainous math. In fact, that was my finest subject in school. That and home economics.
Then again, I'd lived through our lovemaking session with barely a scratch, which made me all the more suspicious. What was her game? Was she innocent or a reincarnated version of Mata Hari?
A knock at the door interrupted my musing. “Come in,” I said, jamming the receipt underneath my pillow.
The door opened, and Asia entered, looking as beautiful as always. The Devil's Eye hung off her waist by a gold braided rope. The jewels sparkled above the juncture of her thighs. The aching in my head gathered lower. Thankfully, the blanket covered my erection.
Asia swept into the room, her lips curving into a knowing smile. “Sleep well?” she asked.
“Like a baby.” A drunken, confused, and horny baby, but a baby nonetheless. “You?” My eyes raked over her body, settling on her face. It appeared to be glowing, either a trick of the fairy light or something more. Something dark and dangerous. Something, as a villain, I truly appreciated. I shifted under the covers.
Asia's shoulders lifted in a vague shrug. “I came to apologize.”
“To me?”
A frown marred her forehead. “Of course. This is your room, after all.”
“I meant, for what?” Besides the obvious, like trying to blow me up, I wanted to add, but decided it might put a dent into our already awkward morning-after conversation.
“For a lot of things,” she said. “But mainly for what happens next.”
“Next?” The hair on my arms stood at attention. I had a really bad feeling about my continued good health.
I wrapped the blanket around me and rose from the bed. “Tell me what's wrong. It doesn't have to be like this.”
She shook her head. “If I asked you to go, now, today, would you?”
“No.” This wasn't only about Asia anymore. I owed it to my ex-wife and a gaggle of wannabe pirates to find Cinderella's killer. But mostly, I owed it to myself. I was more than RJ, villain extraordinaire. I was Rumple Stiltskin, damn it. A man with a mission. Nobody could take that away from me.
“That's what I thought.” Asia opened the bedroom door. “Sheriff,” she yelled. “Your suspect is hiding up here. He looks dangerous. You better bring the Taser.”
“Huh?” I jumped from the bed and dove for my Levi's. “You called the sheriff on me? What about last night?”
“It was fun. Thanks.”
Footsteps pounded on the staircase outside the bedroom. I yanked on my pants, sweatshirt, and combat boots. For once, the age-old laces versus Velcro debate ended without a tie.
Boots half-undone, I stomped to the window, avoiding my betraying princess's eye. From the window to the ground below looked to be about a three-story drop, not nearly enough to kill me, but just enough to bust a femur. Damn.
Asia looked on with a smile. “You can't escape.”
“Watch me.” I spun to face her. “Why, Asia? Why save me from the crime scene and then call the cops the next day? What can you possibly gain?”
She ignored my question and instead peeked into the hallway. “Oh, the sheriff looks pretty pissed. Is that a baton in his hand?” She winced. “I'd surrender if I was you.”
“Thanks for the advice.” I peeled the window open, years of paint popping free with a crack. A cool breeze swept inside the room, extinguishing the overhead fairy light.
I stuck my head out of the window, my stomach rolling from the height as well as last night's debauchery. The jump didn't seem that bad, if I landed in the soft bed of fertilizer next to the rosebushes. Of course, if I landed in the rosebushes, I was fucked.
“Don't do it.” Asia tugged on my sleeve, real fear in her tone. “It's suicide.”
Naw, at the worst, I would end up paralyzed from the eyebrows down. “You didn't leave me much of a choice, did you?”
“It's for your own good.”
Right. A long prison stretch for four murders I didn't commit sounded great. Hell, I could finally kick my addiction to freedom, and, hey, I might even find Mr. Right on the inside. “I see how you might think that, given the fact you've tried to kill me at least three times. But I'm sorry to disappoint.”
“RJ, please. Think about the consequences.”
That was something I should've done the first day when I found Asia sitting in my chair, huffing down my dinner. But I was too stunned by her beauty and sad sob story to question her real motives. And now it was too late.
I grabbed Asia's face in my hand and drew her mouth to mine. Our lips brushed, softly at first, mostly because I expected her to bite.
When my lips remained intact, I deepened the kiss. She wrapped her hands around my neck, our tongues, lips and teeth warring for supremacy. My sweet princess smelled of fine wine, promise, and pumpkin pie. Not a bad combination.
In fact, I'd started to crave her scent, like Jack Horner in need of a pie. Nothing felt right without Asia in my arms, which sucked since she proved yet again to be a treacherous witch.
Outside the door, the sheriff bellowed a warning: “Rumple Stiltskin, we have you surrounded. Come out with your hands up.”
My hand slid up Asia's shirt, caressing the soft flesh of her breast. Her nipples hardened, poking me in the chest like tiny toy soldiers.
The sheriff pounded on the door. “You have until the count of three to surrender or else.”
Asia's hand fisted in my hair, dragging my mouth from her lips. We stared into each other's eyes.
“One ... two ...”
A tear glistened in Asia's eye, rolling down her cheek. My fingers brushed at the single shiny drop. “One day, you'll push me too far,” I said.
“... two and three-quarters ... ,” the sheriff said.
Asia licked her lips.
“... two and four-halves ...”
Taking her hand, I pressed it to my heart. Our pulse beat as one, a little too fast, sure, but together. Forever.
“Three.”
The bedroom door burst open. The sheriff and his battalion of deputies in paisley pushed into the room. Surprisingly enough, the sheriff did have a baton in his hand. Not an ASP like I expected, but rather a baton favored by baton majors everywhere. Its red and gold streamers danced in the breeze.
Asia glanced at the sheriff, and then at the open window with me hanging half out. She bit her lip, as if weighing her options. The sparkle that came to her eye suggested I was in serious trouble. Her mouth locked onto mine one more time, and she shoved my body over the window ledge.
Chapter 40
L
ike a newborn African swallow, I flapped my arms harder and harder, but no matter how hard I flapped them, I still hit the ground with the force of a meteor. My legs hit first, followed by my head. I must've blacked out for a second or two, for when I awoke, the sheriff was at the window, Asia clutched in his arms like a prisoner. Served her right.
ike a newborn African swallow, I flapped my arms harder and harder, but no matter how hard I flapped them, I still hit the ground with the force of a meteor. My legs hit first, followed by my head. I must've blacked out for a second or two, for when I awoke, the sheriff was at the window, Asia clutched in his arms like a prisoner. Served her right.
“Stay right where you are,” the sheriff said.
“No problem,” I lied. Then I, of course, staggered to my feet and limped quickly away. But not too far away. I still had a couple of things left on my to-do list to accomplish today. Number one: Stop Dru's wedding, thanks to the stupid promise I made to Winslow the night before. Damn union curse. The poor bastard had asked nicely. What could I say?
Speaking of poor bastards.
Rounding the corner of the castle, I ran smack into Prince Rotten. He looked no worse for wear after last night's escapades, his blond locks coiffured in perfect order, his eyes clean and clear. I hated him even more. Charming raised a tuxedoed arm. “The sheriff's looking for you,” he said.
“Yeah.” I brushed at a glob of mud on my sleeve. “So I've heard.”
“The wedding's in an hour.”
I nodded.
Charming's eyes roamed over my stained, rumpled, non-tuxedoed wear. “Shouldn't you change? Maybe take a bath?” His lips curved into a smile. “I'd be happy to help. You are my best man, after all.”
Shit. I'd forgotten that little fact. “About that ... ,” I began, an idea forming in my fermented brain. “Wouldn't the sheriff make the best best man?” I kicked at the ground. “I mean, look at me.” I gestured to my dirty, blood-smeared clothes. “It's your wedding ... the one you've dreamed about since you were a small boy ... I'd hate to ruin your big moment.”
Charming gave me another once-over. “I don't know.”
“Think about it.” I nodded. “You standing next to Bruce at the altar, each of you dressed in black.”
“Bruce does look good in a tux.”
“Better than me.” I shook my head. “I bet Bruce can do a hell of a Macarena too.”
Prince Moron nodded.
“Well, that settles it.”
“Settles what?”
I rolled my eyes. “Bruce will be your new best man. Now, why don't you go find him and tell him the good news? But remember, don't take no for an answer.”
“Okay.”
“That's the spirit.” I slapped him on the shoulder. “Beg if you have to, but make Bruce drop everything for your big day.” Even the search for an escaped felon and the subsequent arrest of said felon's ladylove.
“You're right,” Charming said. He pulled me into a less-than-manly hug and copped a feel while he was at it. “You are a dear friend, RJ. I'm sorry for what I did.”
I shoved him away, my eyes narrowing. “Exactly what did you do?” Was his apology a general one, like, “hey, sorry I ate your last yogurt,” or something specific and much more sinister? Something like, “I'm sorry for slipping a roofie into your curds and having my way with you.”
Please let it be the former.
Charming hung his pretty, blond head. “I ... ,” he sniffed, “borrowed your boxer shorts. You know the pair with the tiny stripes. I washed them and put them right back ... but ... I'm so sorry. Please forgive me.”
I sighed. Thank God those boxers burned inside Charming's house. “I guess that makes us even, then.”
He quickly glanced up, a happy puppy-dog expression on his face. “Oh yeah?”
“Sure.” I grinned, patting his oblivious head. “I burned down your house. You borrowed my shorts. Tit for tat.”
Charming frowned, taking a few too many seconds for my words to sink in. By the time he said, “Hey!” I was already limping inside the side palace door.
“Wait a minute,” he called after me.
I didn't bother to turn around, but rather, limped at double speed through the kitchen door.
Â
What a morning, and I'd only been awake for an hour. Now all I needed to do was fulfill my promise to Winslow and stop Dru from marrying the idiot prince. I felt kind of like the villainous version of MacGyver. Alone in a far, faraway land, I must save the world armed with only a paper clip and ten pounds of plastic explosives.
Damn, I wished for some plastic explosives. They made everything easier. A shame, but my limited brainpower would have to do.
This brought me to my plan to stop the wedding. I needed to find a disguise, sneak past the five deputies standing alongside the staircase, enter Dru's room, and convince her marrying anyone, let alone a gay prince, wasn't in her best interest. It sounded easily villainous, so of course, I was bound to screw it up. Stupid union.
My first stop was the library. Nigel's fur coat lay on the floor as always, smelling vaguely of wet dog and smoke. I lifted the pelt and pictured myself struggling up three flights of stairs with it on my back without drawing any unwanted attention. I'd be lucky to make it to the foyer before the king shot me.
I glanced around, searching the room for another disguise. I could always go as a lamp. The sheriff's men weren't all that bright anyway. Crossing the room, I yanked the lampshade from the nearest lamp and jammed it on my head. The metal prongs poked into my aching brain, causing me to moan aloud.
The library door opened and in walked a rabbi dressed in full rabbi gear, including a pink kippah. Probably not a Jewish standard, but who was I to judge. The rabbi walked farther into the room, seemingly unaware of my light fixture disguise. He muttered to himself, something about either Sanka or sanctity.
An idea started to form inside my head. An idea so villainous my body shook with excitement. I slowly slipped the lampshade from my head and stalked toward the rabbi like a bloodthirsty predator. Here comes RJ, I thought with a smile.
The rabbi failed to notice my approach, or the carcass on the floor at his feet. One minute he was standing there babbling about instant coffee, and the next, he was flat on his back, Nigel's pelt tangled in his feet.
“Damn.” I ran toward him. Fate fucked me over again, or maybe it was the union. I wasn't sure which was which anymore.
I knelt next to the unconscious holy man and checked for a pulse. Lucky for him, it was there, strong and steady. Unlucky for him, by his third heartbeat, I had his pants off and was tugging the pink beanie off his bald head. Once the poor bastard was down to his underwear (Star of David boxers) and matching socks, I grabbed his feet and jammed him into the closet.
I quickly donned his apparel. It fit me much like an overweight shar-pei. My eyes swept over the pile of broken mirrors by the fireplace and my image reflected in the jagged remains. I grinned. The tilt of the beanie gave me a rakish appeal, almost like a beret, but without the French sneer.
As I straightened the rest of my rabbi wear, the library door opened again. This time the sheriff entered, Asia following meekly behind, her hands cuffed behind her back. He shoved her onto the couch. She landed with a thud, dust rising from the sofa. Anger flashed through me as I stifled a sneeze. Nobody but me manhandled my princess.
“Don't you say a word,” the sheriff said to Asia. “Once I find your boyfriend, both of you will take a trip downtown.”
Not that Maledetto had a downtown. It was more like a main street with a bronze statue of the king. A headless bronze statue that was questionably anatomically correct at best.
Asia glared at him, her eyes burning hot. I took a careful step toward the door, not wanting to draw the sheriff's attention. I paused, stunned by the sheriff's next words.
“When I catch Stiltskin, he's going away for a long time. Maybe forever.” He grinned, his gaze fixed on Asia's face. “Will his ladylove wait? Does Princess Asia love a villain that much?”
My eyes shot to Asia, but she didn't comment.
“Ah,” the sheriff said. “I can see it in your face. The villain has won your heart. A pity.”
Asia slowly rose from the couch, staring unblinkingly at the sheriff. “It is you who should be pitied. You'll never catch RJ. He's not stupid enough to hang around here. He's probably in Mexicanada eating seal tacos by now.”
I winced and resumed my trek toward the door and freedom. Just a few feet to go. Don't blow it now. Spending the next seventy years in prison held little appeal, but destroying Asia's faith in my villainy was far worse.
Almost to the door, I bumped into the edge of the headless lamp. It teetered, swinging back and forth on an invisible string like Pinocchio before crashing to the ground. I froze, my mind weighing the distance to the door. If I ran really, really fast, I'd make it to the door before the sheriff could blow my brains all over the library walls. I glanced down at my bum leg and frowned.
I was fucked.
“Sorry, Father,” the sheriff said. “We didn't see you there.”
Father? I glanced around, unsure to whom he referred. As far as I knew there weren't any little Stiltskins running around. The sheriff's eyes narrowed. Asia shoved herself in front of him and motioned to my rabbi outfit. Oh, right.
“You're forgiven, my son,” I said to the sheriff in a pretty good nasal imitation of Fran Drescher.
The sheriff frowned and took a step forward. “Don't I know you from somewhere?”
“Impossible. Rabbi Obtuse lives in New Never City. He's only here for Dru's wedding.” Asia's eyes were shooting daggers at me. “Rabbi Obtuse. Shouldn't you be going? Like now!”
Right. I fingered my beanie and bowed low.
“D
mo ari-gat
.”
As much as I longed to add Mr. Roboto, I refrained. Asia shook her head, probably wondering if my IQ matched my inseam. Which, to be honest, it only does when using the metric system.
“D
mo ari-gat.”As much as I longed to add Mr. Roboto, I refrained. Asia shook her head, probably wondering if my IQ matched my inseam. Which, to be honest, it only does when using the metric system.
The clueless sheriff bowed too. “Have a nice day!”
I nodded to him and opened the library door before turning around to face my princess. My eye caught hers, and I blew her a kiss. She flipped me off. An unladylike reaction for sure, but it sent a shiver of longing through my body.
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