Disenchanted (19 page)

Hands tugged her PVC trousers.

"I'll rip your insides out
and use them to decorate my bedroom!"

They yanked her trousers down.
She screamed.

Light flooded the room.

Her captors vanished. She pulled
her trousers up and scurried into a corner, her knees raised. Her breath
escaped in rapid gasps. She shook and hugged herself, trying to banish the
horror to the darkest chambers of her mind. She took deep breaths. If she was
going to die, it would be by her hand.

Her mother had taken the knife
she'd hidden in her boot. She glanced down. Her boots had silver heels. She
thought it had been a mistake wearing them for orienteering but they could make
a weapon. She slammed her foot against the wall.

"Oh come on. Women snap
their heels all the time." She kicked the wall continuously. "Listen
Fate - I'm ruining my favourite pair of boots so you'd better reward me by
getting us out of here."

She kicked harder, keeping an eye
on the light, her nerves sparking each time it dimmed. She knew the moment it
died, a new nightmare would begin.

***

Harper tugged his shackles. His
muscles strained, his wrists burned. He braced a foot against the wall but only
succeeded in hurting himself. The screaming stopped.

"Gypsy!"

His heart thudded. Sometimes,
there were worse things than death.

Footsteps. He tensed. Drake
leaned against the gate, smiling. Harper's stomach lurched pleasurably. Drake
unlocked the gate and glided in. Harper's gaze roved appreciatively over Drake's
topless body as he ran his fingers down Harper's chest. Harper bit his lip,
squirming as his body instantly responded. He closed his eyes as Drake's lips
tempted him, leaving shivery trails over his chest and stomach.

"Please, let Gypsy go."
Harper gasped as Drake kissed his neck. "Sacrifice me. Not her."

"It'll be over soon."
Drake stroked his hair. "The blood moon rises tonight."

"Let her go and I'll stay
with you. Forever."

"I want to. But I
can't." Drake pulled away.

Harper lunged forwards, but the shackles
prevented him from reaching him. Hunger attacked him and he cried out, his legs
buckling. The chains yanked his arms, almost wrenching them from their sockets.
Drake folded his arms, his brow creased. He reached out to touch Harper then
stopped.

The lights died.

Harper's arms were lifted and
spread. The chains clanked as they shuffled across the walls, inching higher
and further apart. Shackles snaked around his ankles as his body was stretched.
His muscles strained. His skin felt like it was ripping.

He screamed as his arms were
wrenched from their sockets. Hot agony blazed through his body. His ankles
dislocated, followed by his knees. All he heard were his own screams as his
body was slowly pulled apart. Searing pain exploded in his chest, each rib
breaking one by one as his ribcage parted to reveal his beating heart.

Light flooded the dungeon.

His body was complete.

His legs gave way. Drake caught
him and kissed him deeply. Harper's pain vanished as darkness consumed him.

***

The door opened. Gypsy shot
backwards into the corner as Drake stood in the doorway. He stepped in and the
door vanished. He approached her, dangling chains.

"No!" She ran to the
other corner.

The room shrank.

"Surrender and it'll be
easier on you."

"What have you done to Harper?"

"Nothing."

She twisted out of his reach. The
walls crept closer. The ceiling lowered, just touching Drake's spiky hair. The
room was no bigger than a grave.

"I don't want to hurt
Harper. So if you come with me willingly, I'll let him go."

"I heard you tell him you
wanted virgins. Why would you let him go?"

"Because I want him.
Besides, he's no longer a virgin."

"You bastard!"

"I can't resist temptation.
It's my only flaw."

"If you've raped him…"

"He wanted me as badly as I
wanted him. Surrender and he lives."

She sank to the floor. She could
finally repay Harper for everything he'd suffered for her. Her life was worth
that. Drake crouched and stroked her hair, before pulling her up to handcuff
her hands behind her back. The walls and floor turned to mud, the ceiling
crumbled and the ground began to rise. She fell to her knees as they travelled
upwards. The ground stopped. They were in the woods.

She looked behind her. Her heart
skipped a beat. A headstone marked the spot where they stood.

GYPSY

"No!"

Drake dragged her through the
woods into a clearing. Two stakes were stabbed into the ground, surrounded by
logs.

Harper was tied to one of them.
"Gypsy! Drake, let her go!"

Gypsy threw her weight to the
floor. Drake scooped her up and carried her to the stake. She brought her legs
up and kicked the stake. Her heel snapped. Drake fell, taking her down with
him. As she hit the ground, she saw the broken heel. She rolled over and
gripped it as Drake hauled her up and tied her to the stake.

Voices. Harper turned to see two
people dragged forwards by a woman who had Drake's eyes.

"Glad you could make it.
We're just about to start." Drake bowed.

"What's going on?"
Their father asked.

"A sacrificing party.
Everyone's having one. It's the new 'sweet sixteen'."

"Let them go!"

"I'm afraid I can't do that.
Ten years ago, your wife made a pact with my grandma, to sacrifice your
darlings in exchange for...what was it?"

"A posh pad in
Chelsea," their mother replied. "I'm sick of living in the middle of
nowhere!"

"You did
what
?" Malcolm stared.

"I'm beginning to wish I'd
brought popcorn." Drake smiled.

"You're sick!" Gypsy
spat.

"I'm not the one who agreed
to have my kids sacrificed in exchange for a nice house. Worst Mum Award goes
to…" He held Harper's chin. "Look at this face. How could anyone want
to watch him burn to death?" He kissed him.

"Let him go!" She
frantically started sawing the rope.

Drake's mother closed her eyes
and murmured a spell. A goblet of blood was poured on to the ground. A ring of fire
ignited, the flames licking hungrily at their skin.

"You can't do this!"
Their father shouted. "They're our children."

"You choose
now
to grow a spine?" Their mother
snapped. "It's too late. The deal was made ten years ago. Finally I can
live somewhere my friends will be jealous of."

"You could've just
left!"

"Believe me, if I could've
found a rich man to ensnare, I would've. But no. I ended up with two brats, a
crappy shack in the woods, wrinkles and you."

The flames grew, snaking towards
them and worshipping at their feet. Gypsy and Harper stamped on the fire,
kicking dirt over it to smother it. Gypsy kept slicing through the rope, her
fingers and wrists bleeding. Her blood dripped into the flames, offering itself
as a sacrifice. The flames teased their legs with its fiery embrace. Harper
sawed his rope against the stake, sweat beading on his face. He tried stamping
on the flames. His leg ignited. He screamed. Drake stepped forwards.

"Drake!" His mother
threw her hand out. The ring of fire grew taller. Drake stumbled backwards.

Gypsy's rope snapped. She
wrenched her hands free then dashed to Harper, doused the flames devouring his
leg and untied him, the unbearable heat stealing their breath. They dragged
each other out of the fire's toxic reach.

Drake's mother lunged forwards.
Gypsy twisted away then rammed her severed heel into the woman's eye. She fell
to the ground screaming. Gypsy yanked her heel free, ripping the eyeball out.

The fire died. The witch's
agonising screams echoed through the woods then she lay still, blood pooling
around her face.

"You killed my mother,"
Drake gasped.

"You tortured us and burned
us at the stake," Gypsy retorted.

Black smoke seeped from the dead
witch. It coiled around Gypsy, tugging her hair and rippling her clothes. She
flailed, but it pinned her arms to her side and slipped into her mouth. Her
insides were scorched as the burning smoke invaded her body. She dropped to her
knees, screaming and gouging her body. Drake held Harper back as Gypsy
collapsed, thrashing like she was possessed. Electricity sparked through her
veins. Harper stared in horror.

Gypsy lay still. The electricity
died. The woods were deathly silent, as though in mourning. Harper pushed Drake
away and ran to Gypsy. He cradled her head. She opened her eyes and coughed.

"Gypsy! Thank god!" He
hugged her hard. "What the hell was that?" He demanded, staring at
Drake.

"She killed the head
witch." Drake scowled. "Now she's inherited her power. Gypsy's just
become the most powerful witch in the country."

Gypsy staggered to her feet. She
flicked her hand. Fire shot out, scorching the ground by Drake's feet. Their
parents backed off as she turned towards them. Gypsy smiled wickedly. She
clicked her fingers and their mother turned to stone.

"Always knew you had a heart
of stone." She smirked. "Looks like you won't get your happy ever
after."

Once Upon a Nightmare

The woods surrounding my cottage
pulse with nightmares.

Everyone knows about the wolf.

It's the others you have to watch
out for.

The wolf has been there since the
first person created him. Everyone has seen him. Because they believe, he
stays. I've seen him. He's just a wolf. He doesn't have red eyes, fangs
dripping with blood and an insatiable appetite for human flesh. At least, my
wolf doesn't.

My nightmare is far too scary to
appear in a
fairytale
.

***

"Red! Can you take this
basket to Grandma? She's not very well," my mum called from the kitchen.

"Hang on!" I sighed and
typed a quick Facebook status –
going to Grandma's.
Hope the wolf doesn't get me.

From the time I wore a hooded red
cloak as a child, everyone has called me Red. It made me sound like a
Fraggle
. But the name stuck. Seeing as I couldn't beat
them, I joined them. My Facebook profile picture is the Grim Reaper. In a red
robe. My Twitter username is Red Riding Hood. Nobody believes it's real.

I ambled into the kitchen,
watching as Mum filled the basket with a cake, fruit, a Thermos flask of soup,
slices of chicken and a loaf of freshly baked bread. I stole a pinch of cake,
earning me a slap on the hand.

"Go straight through the
woods, don't talk to anyone and avoid the wolf." She recited the same
mantra she'd chanted for twelve years since I was five. I rebelled even then.

"If you don't want me
savaged by the wolf, don't send me to Grandma's." I smirked. "At
least let me have a bike. I could be there in half the time and you wouldn't
have to worry about my insides being scattered through the woods like there was
an explosion in a Party Popper factory."

"I'm not having this
conversation again, Red. You're
not
having a motorbike! They're dangerous."

"More dangerous than a
vicious wolf who sees me as a walking delicacy? At least I'd die quickly."

She thrust the basket at me.
"Ring me when you get there." I stomped out. The door opened behind
me. "You forgot this." My red hooded cloak floated like a giant
bloodstain before smacking me in the face.

"That's right, make me
visible to every woodland creature who wants to chew me up like a pub
special."

"Grandma made it for your
birthday. You're wearing it."

"I asked for an MP3
Player."

"You should be more worried
about perverts than woodland creatures." She indicated to my clothes.

"Is this the modern
equivalent to the red light?" I raised the cloak.

The door slammed.

I sighed, put the basket down,
slung the cloak around my shoulders and fastened the skull brooch. Grandma had
put a flower brooch on it. I picked up the basket and trudged towards the
woods.

I didn't need to see the woods to
know I was close. The birds stopped singing, the air became thick and the sky
darkened. I stepped through the trees into the perpetual night. As usual, the
only things I heard were my galloping heart and the haunting echoes of the
villagers' dying screams.

The entrance to Riding Woods was
permanently smothered in teddy bears, candles and flowers in varying stages of
decay. Faded florists' cards fluttered in the breeze, the agonised words now
blackened smudges. A fresh bouquet lay on top. '
Nigel, your memory will carry on x
.' Fresh flowers signalled to the
rest of the village the nightmare was still alive. Even if its victim wasn't.
Every time there was a death, a tree was planted. Each year the forest grew
denser, darker, the commemorative plaques harder to read.

Twigs snapped beneath the thick
soles of my thigh high boots. The buckles up both sides jangled like the bells
on a funeral carriage. My headstone locket banged against my black corset.
Brambles snagged my bare thighs and tugged my short skirt with alternate mesh
and PVC pleats. I pulled the hood over my raven hair so the creatures in the
trees couldn't drag me into their lairs. Most people just worried about bats
getting tangled in their hair.

The creatures in these woods were
far more lethal.

Invisible eyes tracked me. Eerie
voices whispered my name. Scuttling feet scrambled up and down the trees. The
woods vibrated with malevolence. I moved my basket to my right hand,
unsheathing my dagger with my left. I gripped the skeleton haft. A tortured
scream echoed through the trees. It was the same scream every time. The same
anguished voice.

My father's voice.

If I stood still long enough, I'd
hear the woods breathing and its rotten heart beating.

If I stood still for too long,
I'd die.

Branches creaked, inviting me to
see what burdened them. In the clearing, bodies hanged from nooses. They wore
the fallen villagers' faces. If I looked close enough, I'd see the faces of my
family. I walked through them, shuddering whenever a dangling foot brushed
against me. I tried ignoring them. They were just phantoms from my darkest
dreams.

One plummeted. The village
priest. His stomach burst, legions of fanged demons escaping his fleshy
confines. He'd told the village it wasn't the wolf that haunted the woods but
the devil, punishing us for our sins. He entered the woods to perform an
exorcism.

The whole village heard his
desperate screams.

I hopped over a fallen log.
Standing on an overhanging rock, was the wolf.

He stared at me as I crept closer.
He licked his lips and leapt off the rock, blocking my path, his tail wagging.

"Who's a savage beast?"
I crouched.

He jumped at my face and licked
it. I kissed his neck then climbed onto the rock. He sprang up beside me so I
put him in a headlock and rubbed his head. He pawed the basket then nudged me.

"What's the time,
Mr.
Wolf?"

I adopted a deep, husky voice.
"Dinnertime!"

"I won't tell if you
don't."

I fed him the chicken slices one
by one. Like I said, my wolf doesn't have red eyes, fangs dripping with blood
and an insatiable appetite for human flesh. He prefers chicken.

"What do I tell
Grandma?" I watched him devour the last of her chicken. "
D'you
think she'll believe me if I tell her a big, bad wolf
ate it?" He wiped his muzzle with his paw.

Perrault and I met when I was
six. I'd heard the stories, attended the mauled villagers' funerals and walked
past the dying flowers laid where my neighbours had been slaughtered, but when
I faced him in the woods for the first time, I knew they were wrong. I'd fed
him Grandma's ham sandwiches and we'd been best friends ever since. But the
villagers were still scared of him. He was only a vicious legend because they
made him that way.

I jumped off the rock. Perrault
trotted beside me. If I was going to have a guide, a brutal
villager-slaughterer was perfect. We passed a sapling with an untarnished
plaque. Perrault sniffed the blood that hadn't been washed away or consumed by
the fledgling tree.

"
Red
."

When Mum warned me not to talk to
anyone, it wasn't the living she referred to.

"
Red
."

A hand touched my shoulder. I
whirled around, my dagger poised. Nigel's skinned corpse stared at me
mournfully, his white eyes bulging in his raw face, his peeling lips flapping.

"
Help me
."

"You're dead. I can't help
you."

Bushes rustled. Nigel fell,
shrieking as hundreds of piranha devoured another layer. I closed my eyes. When
I opened them, Nigel was gone. I still heard him screaming.

"They can't blame that on
you, Perrault. You have an alibi."

Perrault barked in agreement and led
me away.

Black flashed through the trees.
I raised my dagger. Perrault stopped, his hackles raised. He growled, his
tightly curled tail quivering. Something leapt out, grabbing me from behind.

"Surrender or die," a
deep voice whispered as a hand slipped under my skirt, urging me to succumb.

"I'll never surrender."
I spun free. "What big ears you've got." I brushed the tips with my
dagger.

"All the better to hear you
with my dear." Creighton tugged his pointy ears.

"What big eyes you've
got."

"All the better to see you
with my dear." His silver eyes looked me up and down.

"What big teeth you've
got."

"All the better to eat you
with my dear." He tipped me backwards and nibbled my throat.

I swept his legs away, straddling
him as he landed on his back. I pinned his arms above his head.

"Surrender or die."

"I surrender. Be
merciful."

I leaned down and kissed him.
"When I'm finished with you, you'll be screaming. My name."

I sat up to remove my cloak. He
grabbed my hand.

"Leave it on."

I unfastened the hooks on my
corset, pausing between each one and smiling teasingly. He licked his lips. I
released the last hook and let the corset fall away.

He smiled then sat up and yanked
his top off, messing up his dark spiky hair. His fingers traced the wolf tattoo
on my back as he kissed between my breasts. My nails scratched his sides.

"Aren't you scared of the
big bad wolf?" He kissed my left breast through my bra as he stroked my
right one.

"That one?" I indicated
to my furry friend guarding the path. "Besides, he's not the only one
who's bad." I smiled coyly as I stood and unzipped my skirt. I sashayed my
hips as I lowered it before stepping out and kicking it aside.

He scrambled to his knees and
kissed my thighs. It tickled. His warm tongue and lips inched tantalisingly
higher as he stroked my black and red satin and lace knickers. I closed my
eyes, my legs weakening before he yanked me down onto his lap. Our fingers
explored each other's bodies as we kissed like tomorrow would never come. I
unfastened his belt and jeans, slipping my hand inside.

"You
are
a bad girl," he murmured into my hair.

I wrapped my cloak around us as
we forgot about the horrors lurking in the woods.

***

"Want me to accompany
you?" Creighton did up his jeans and grabbed his top.

"No-one's supposed to know
about us, remember?" I fastened my corset. "I'm more scared of my mum
than whatever haunts these woods." I found my skirt and wriggled into it.

What attracted me to Creighton
wasn't just his good looks, funny personality and his ability to leave me
breathless with one kiss. He's the village bad boy. It didn't take a fancy
psychology degree to guess I was seriously attracted to rule breaking.

"How about I follow? I can
protect you from the wolf and watch your perfect arse arrive safely."

I laughed. "I don't think
he'll eat me." I gestured to Perrault, whose face was buried in my basket.
"I can protect myself. Besides, the cloak would only block your
view."

"Text me when you get
there."

I saluted then kissed him before
grabbing my basket and heading off.

There was one advantage to the
legend – Creighton and I couldn't get caught if people were too scared to face
their fears.

I texted Creighton a photo of my
arse by Grandma's front door to prove me and my perfect arse had arrived
safely. It wasn't easy and Grandma nearly caught me. There were some things you
should never have to explain to your grandma.

"Look how big you are!"
She kissed my cheek. "You've grown!"

"You say that every time you
see me. Maybe you're shrinking."

I carried the basket into the
kitchen and rang my mum.

"I was getting worried. What
took you so long?"

"Nigel stopped me for a chat
about falling house prices. I'd get here much faster if I had a bike. I'd settle
for a quad bike. It's practically a car."

"Take up jogging. Be nice to
Grandma." She hung up.

"Was that your mother,
dear?" Grandma asked.

"Yeah. She says I have to be
nice to you. There goes my plan of hogtying you and stealing my
inheritance."

She laughed and patted my cheek.
"When will you find yourself a nice boyfriend and settle down?"

"When I'm dead."

She
tutted
.
"There are worse things in life than getting married and having
children."

"I'd say that one outranks
being eaten by bears and bathing in acid." I placed the basket on the
worktop.

"Your mother's so
kind."

"Not kind enough to buy me a
rucksack. This basket is awkward."

"It's traditional."

"So was burning
witches."

"You take after your
father."

"Did he hang out in the
woods dressed as a prostitute too?" I grinned.

"He had a smart mouth."
She pinched my cheeks together.

I heated up her soup and stole
some cake.

"Mind you leave before dark.
The wolf hunts at night."

"Nocturnal animals do that.
There's no big bad wolf. It's just a story to scare kids away from the
woods."

"That wolf took your
grandfather. And your father."

"It must be ancient, seeing
as it's been terrorising people for hundreds of years. Maybe it lives on a diet
of fresh fruit, tenderised villagers and joint supplements."

"Legends aren't born from
nowhere, Red."

"No, they're born from what
was probably a true story that's been twisted. Hundreds of years ago, a hunter
probably tried to kill a wolf or a cub, the she-wolf attacked him, protecting
her babies, he limped home, told everyone he was viciously attacked, died, and
the legend was born."

I brought her soup over and sat
in front of the TV. I flicked to the news. It was either that or reality TV,
which always left me wishing the participants would be torn apart by a legendary
nightmare. I might tune in then.