My Unfair Godmother (18 page)

Hudson leaned closer to me. “You won’t trust me, but you’ll trust a leprechaun who couldn’t tell the difference between a Merry Man and a guy in jeans with a cell phone?” Clover tilted his head at me. “Do you want to do business or are you going to stand around all night murmuring sweet nothings to each other? Honestly. Mortals and their hormones.”

“Business,” I said. I knelt down so I could be closer to Clover.

“Look, there’s got to be some other way to get us home besides completing this fairy tale. I can kiss a frog. I can tap ruby slippers together.

But I can’t marry a crazy man, stay here for a year, and have his baby. I have things to do in the twenty-first century. Like graduate from high school.”

“Oh, you won’t miss a year from your time period,” Clover said, as though that were my biggest concern. “Chrissy isn’t the best at time management, but she can still slow it down a bit. A week here is only an hour back in your own time period. In the twenty-first century, it’s still Monday morning on the day you left.” Which explained why Hudson had been here for three months yet I arrived here the morning after he’d been zapped from my house.

And it meant Kendall and my mom didn’t know we were gone.

They hadn’t started worrying yet.

Clover went back to stroking his beard. “There is another way to get you home, but Her Excellence of Fairyness doesn’t like me to interfere in her wishes. If I decide to help you, you can’t tell her about it.” I nodded eagerly. “I won’t.”

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Above me, Hudson said, “Are you forgetting that you can’t lie without flames shooting out of your hair?”

“Not volunteering information is different than lying,” I said.

“You’re surrounded by straw.” Hudson rubbed a hand across his eyes. “I’d better ask the other guards to help me stockpile water buckets. I have a feeling there’s a fire in your future.” Clover kept stroking his beard, thinking. “I would have to do a bit of finagling with me poker chums. It wouldn’t be easy …”

“Please,” I whispered. “Please?”

Clover looked at me and sighed. “Mortal girls have a magic all their own. With one imploring eyelash flutter, they have the power to make men do foolish things.” Clover gave Hudson a meaningful look.

“Be forewarned about that.”

I didn’t think Hudson needed the warning. He was obviously im-pervious to my charms, or he would have helped me escape the first night.

“I know of a magic book,” Clover said, keeping his voice low. “It’s called
The Change Enchantment
and it has the power to change written stories. For two spools of gold, I could get it for you so you can alter the ending of your fairy tale. That way you won’t have to marry King John or stay here for a long time.”

“What would I have to do in order to finish the fairy tale and get home?”

Clover shrugged. “Just write down the moral of the story at the end of the book.”

“The moral of the story?” I repeated. I wasn’t quite sure what he meant.

“All fairy tales have a moral,” Clover said. “The moral of
The
Three Little Pigs
is that hard work pays off in the end. The moral of
Little Red Riding Hood
is that you shouldn’t talk to strangers. The 162/356

moral of
Cinderella
is that men never look at a woman’s face long enough to recognize her, so you had better wear distinctive footwear if you want to catch a prince.”

“Really?” I asked, then decided I didn’t want to talk about Cinderella. “So what’s the moral of
Rumpelstiltskin
?” Clover dipped his miniature chin. “You’ve got to figure it out yourself, but don’t worry, there will be people there to help you.”

“Oh,” I said. “Right.” I could figure it out. And if not, I had a father and stepmother who were librarians and a brainiac stepbrother.

They had to know the answer.

“I’ll give you
The Change Enchantment
after you give me the spools of gold.” Clover walked toward me with his hand outstretched to shake mine, but when he reached the circle of sand, he took a staggering step back. “What kind of foulness is that?”

“King John’s wizard put it there,” I said. “It’s to stop fairies from spiriting me off.”

Clover wrinkled his nose and took another step backward. “It also works to keep magical creatures from shaking on a bargain.” I stretched my foot to see if I could push away some of the sand, but I couldn’t reach. I turned to Hudson and smiled at him. “Hudson, do you think you could move the sand away?” He shut his eyes for a moment, thinking. “I’m not sure this is a good idea, Tansy.”

He didn’t have to tell me why. All day I’d listened to the castle staff tell stories of ill-fated mortals who’d made deals with magical creatures. But there were other stories I remembered my father reading to me when I was young. Stories about good magical creatures.

The pixies that helped the cobbler with his shoes. And the fairies who helped Sleeping Beauty after the evil fairy cursed her.

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I didn’t believe Clover would purposely hurt me.
The Change Enchantment
had to be a good thing if it kept me from having to marry King John. All that was standing between me and a quick trip home was a circle of sand. I turned to Hudson, still on my knees. “Hudson, please.”

He hesitated, then let out a long sigh. “So now you’re fluttering your imploring eyelashes at me?”

“I’m trying to get us home.”

He walked over, handed me his torch, and dropped to his knees near the circle. Taking a cloth bag from his pocket, he scooped up the sand and dropped it inside. He cleared half the circle away, but Clover still wouldn’t come near me.

“Mortals are always trying to trap leprechauns,” he said, eyeing Hudson warily. “He might redraw the circle around me and then demand me gold.”

“Why would I want to steal your gold?” Hudson asked, but he continued to pick up the sand and put it into his bag. “I took all I needed last night.”

“You took some of the gold last night?” I asked.
I
hadn’t even taken any gold.

“While you were sleeping and no one knew it was there yet, I came in and got some.” He scooped up the last of the sand and pulled the drawstring on his bag. “We might need gold later.” When the circle was gone, Clover walked over to me, held out his hand, and shook my pinky. “We’ve a deal. Two spools of gold for
The
Change Enchantment.
I’ll come tomorrow for the exchange, you can shorten your story, and Chrissy is none the wiser.” As soon as the words were spoken, the leprechaun disappeared.

Hudson surveyed the ground around me. “I wonder if they’ll notice the ring of sand is gone.”

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“You can put it back now,” I said.

“If it keeps the next fairy away and he doesn’t spin the straw into gold, you’ll be killed in the morning.” He picked up a stray clump of sand then took the torch from my hand to get a better look. “Besides, this sand has magical properties. We might be able to use it. I’ll find something that looks close enough so Haverton doesn’t realize what we’ve done.” Hudson brushed the sand from his fingers, then glanced back at the door. “It’s getting late. You’d better start crying so your visitor will come.”

I tried. I forced a frown on my lips and blinked my eyes. Nothing happened. Now that I had an agreement with Clover, I was happier than I’d been since I’d been dragged from my home.

Hudson watched me. “I don’t think pouting will work. You need some actual tears.”

I tried to blink tears into my eyes, and felt so foolish I giggled instead.

Hudson kept watching me. “You know this is serious, right? Your life is on the line.”

“I know it; I just can’t feel it.” I should have taken acting lessons from Kendall. She cried onstage all the time.

Hudson regarded me quietly for another moment. “I wasn’t going to tell you this, but maybe I should.” And then he didn’t say anything.

I sat up straighter, nervous at the silence. “What?”

“I used some of the gold to pay a messenger to go to the miller’s house. I figured your parents would want to know that you’re okay and we could start making plans to meet somewhere after I got the Gilead.”

More silence. I stood up to better see Hudson’s face. “And …?” 165/356

His eyes left mine. He looked at the straw mounds for a moment before forcing his gaze back to me. “The messenger returned this evening. Your family isn’t there anymore. The house has been ransacked.” I felt like I’d taken a blow to my stomach, like Hudson had hit me with the words instead of whispering them. My family was gone? Our things were ransacked? I tried to extract unsaid things from the shadows of his eyes, the tilt of his head. “Does anyone know what happened? Did the messenger ask the villagers what they’d seen?” Hudson’s voice was low, apologetic. “Maybe they left before your home was robbed, but it doesn’t look good. Some said they saw bandits in the village. Your big modern house, the glass windows and curtains … It must have drawn them there. I’m sorry.” The word “sorry” at the end hurt the most. It seemed so final.

Panic erupted inside me. It was hard to breathe. “You’re just saying this to make me cry,” I said. “It isn’t true.” He didn’t flinch at my accusation. His voice dropped even lower.

“Nick is my friend. I’ve known him since elementary school.” I could see the pain in his eyes, raw and weighted with sympathy. “I’m sorry, Tansy.” He held my gaze for a moment more, then turned and walked toward the door.

I tried to follow but was held fast by the chain. It rattled tight, pulling my arm back. “It isn’t true!” I called out. “Hudson, come back here!”

He didn’t turn around. He didn’t even slow down. I saw him clench one hand tight, then he was out the door, and it shut behind him with a bang.

“It isn’t true,” I whispered to myself, but I knew it was. Hudson had lost his mother; that’s why the pain and sympathy had shined in his eyes. He had been through this kind of loss himself.

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I sank weakly to the ground. Bandits had ransacked the house.

My family had no weapons, no practice defending themselves. My only hope was that they’d gotten away, that they were still alive somewhere.

I thought of the contract, how the consequences of magic were permanent and binding. I let out a low wail, put my head in my hands, and cried.

Chapter 12

I had been sitting on the ground for some time, sobbing into my hands, before I looked up and saw Rumpelstiltskin. He wore the same clothes he had worn last night and sat on the stool, resting his foot on one bony knee. His pointed boots made his feet look abnormally thin.

Or maybe they
were
abnormally thin, like the rest of him. He regarded me with a smile. “You find yourself in trouble again tonight, Mistress Miller?”

I wiped the tears off my cheeks and tried to compose myself. “My family has disappeared. I don’t know if they’re all right. Can you help them?”

He gave me a consolatory shrug. “How can I when I have no knowledge of their whereabouts?”

“But can’t fairies do that sort of thing? Chrissy could.” She had, after all, waved her wand and made Robin Hood and the Merry Men appear in my backyard.

“Even fairies have their limits.” Rumpelstiltskin’s lips twisted into a bitter sneer. “Some have more limits than others, thanks to the Alliance. And Chrysanthemum Everstar, well, I can scarce believe the Alliance ever gave her a wand. She’s more dandelion fluff than fairy.

When did you have the misfortune of dealing with her?” So he did know her. He hadn’t admitted to that last night, but this bit of deceit didn’t surprise me. I had always known I couldn’t trust him. I wasn’t about to answer his question. I lowered my head sadly.

“It doesn’t matter.”

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He stood up and walked slowly toward me, noting the chain on my arm. “The king has tethered you in a barn and surrounded you with straw. I suppose this is his subtle way of requesting more gold?” I nodded. “And this time he wants it lighter.” Rumpelstiltskin took my hand from where it had lain across my knee and stroked it between his cold, smooth fingers. I resisted the urge to yank my hand away from his touch.

“I’ll spin the straw into gold for you.” The stroking of his fingers paused on top of my opal ring. “All I require in payment for my ser-vices is your ring. Do we have a bargain?” He caressed the ring, circling the band of gold. I took it off quickly and gave it to him so he’d stop touching me.

Rumpelstiltskin smiled, showing a flash of his gray teeth, then tucked the ring into his breast pocket. Humming, he snapped his fingers, and the large spinning wheel appeared in front of the stool. He sat down, motioned to the straw with one hand, and a stream of it rose from the ground as though it had been picked up by a great wind. It twirled around him for a moment, then dived toward the wheel, wrapping itself where the yarn should go. I watched the wheel spin, watched the blur of pale yellow transform to shining golden string. I had seen it last night, yet it still mesmerized me.

Rumpelstiltskin sang for a little bit, then looked up and saw me watching him. “You’re weary. You should sleep.” I laid my head down on the ground, exhausted, and heard the whir of the wheel as I drifted off.

I didn’t wake up until King John and Haverton came into the barn. It would have been hard to sleep through King John’s laughter.

It was high-pitched and gasping. If I hadn’t seen the glee on his face as he strolled around counting spools, I might have thought he was chok-ing on air molecules.

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He wore a purple tunic and matching purple robe today. I remembered that purple was the color of royalty in the Middle Ages, but modern life had ruined the color for me—he reminded me of Barney the dinosaur. Or maybe the similarity was the way he kept clapping his hands together happily. I sat up and yawned.

Hudson must have come in again during the night and redrawn the anti-fairy ring—although it wasn’t the same red sand that had been there before. It looked more like crushed kidney beans.

Dozens of spools were spread across the room—smaller spools, with thinner thread. I supposed because King John had asked for lighter gold. He stopped at several of the spools, admiring them like they were works of art.