Red and Her Wolf Page 12

  He’d shifted and her heart had flipped. Something was happening to her. Something scary; but not altogether displeasing. He was gorgeous to look at; it was hard to pretend he wasn’t anymore. Her hate hadn’t been able to blind her to his charms, and now… well, now things were different.

  Ewan had led her to a thicket of bushes, growling and fumbling in the dirt for thirty or so minutes, before finding what he’d sought. Another dream stone. He’d pressed his palm against the stone and the blue portal had opened wide for them.

  Here they were now, sitting in another grove. This one was slightly different. The trees were full of fruit and she’d nearly sobbed with joy. Didn’t matter that it was an apple, nothing had ever tasted sweeter.

  They’d gorged until they could barely breathe, but beyond the chat of seconds ago, neither had talked. Which should have suited her fine; except now she wanted to talk to him. Wanted to know everything he knew about her past.

  His past.

  Glancing at her clothes, she frowned. She was still covered in slaughter, her dress beyond ruined. Where were they headed now? To another monster, something even more insidious than the crone?

  Violet shuddered, remembering the slithering feeling of that dark soul sliding down her throat. The wash of pain that’d blinded her to everything, and then the sweet, sweet lips consuming the evil within.

  She brushed her fingertips against her lips and closed her eyes, his soft steady breaths a lullaby in her ear. Leaning against the tree she wiggled her toes, reveling in the warmth of his fur brushing against them.

  An owl hooted and she shivered. Growing up, she’d led a sheltered life. Never able to stray farther than grandma’s territory; the apple trees the farthest she’d ever dared to go. But she’d known in her heart that there was more to Kingdom then the small valley she’d called home.

  After much pleading and begging, grandmother had finally bought her maps, many of them. She’d stayed up into the wee hours of the night, reading and memorizing each wiggle and line by candlelight.

  She’d been happy and content, but there were times she’d wished she could have seen them for herself. As a child she’d drooled at the thought of a forest made of cookies, but the reality was so much different than her childhood fantasies. The thrill of seeing a world she’d never thought to return to was still there, but tempered now with the knowledge that there was bad in this world.

  Violet rolled her eyes, snorting. “You’re bad too,” she whispered.

  What she’d done to the crone. The power that’d filled her body, spread through her like a dark cancer, sweeping aside reason or kindness. In its place had been something all-consuming and vile and she’d gloried in it.

  The rush of all that power made her heady and wanton, desperate for more and ashamed of it all.

  Until the pain.

  But then Ewan had kissed her, and that kiss swept the evil aside, like a gentle swell lapping the beach. And she could breathe. Think.

  Her head had swum with visions of a full moon, running and sweating, and howling. It’d been freedom, wild and untamed. And she’d wanted more.

  Violet sighed, heart twisting painfully in her chest as she glanced at his still form. She should be sleeping, just like him. But her brain wouldn’t stop working. A side of her, smaller and smaller every day, still thought it was wrong not to hate him.

  When he’d pushed her out onto the path, forced her to confront the crone, it’d flared to life. But then she’d seen him desperate to get at her, and had known he was trying to help.

  But why?

  Did he really think he was her mate?

  She touched his bite mark, feeling nothing. Her flesh was smooth. Violet licked her lips. Was she his mate?

  Was that why she’d obsessed about the big black wolf for so long? Not because she wanted to kill him, but because she needed him?

  She shook her head, not wanting to think about any of that right now. It was too much to process. She wished he would have told her where they were headed to next.

  Glancing up at the trees above, she tried to remember the landscape. Recall the maps she’d learned by heart so long ago. These woods looked… familiar.

  Well, not so much these, but the ones to the left. The forest she and Ewan camped within seemed mundane, but not a stone’s throw from where they sat was a copse full of twisted, thick bellied trunks. Limbs splayed out like crooked fingers, and the silver mist encasing those woods… something about them teased the edge of her consciousness.

  But the thought was fleeting, the faint memory indecipherable. Huffing, she stood and dusted her butt off. She needed to stretch and take care of some business.

  Ewan growled, yellow eyes piercing hers. A question blazed in their depths.

  “I need to relieve myself,” she admitted, cheeks blazing. “I thought you were asleep.”

  He shook his furry head.

  “I won’t take long.” She pressed her lips together, humiliated beyond belief.

  He sighed, and laid his head back down.

  Violet moved silently, aware of her surroundings, but moving far enough away that he’d not hear.

  Finally satisfied, she did her business and wondered when she’d stopped thinking of him as the big bad wolf.

  Moonlight bathed everything in a pale blue glow. She’d not realized she’d gone so far, until she noticed the silver fog circling her legs.

  “Little Red Riding Hood.”

  The cultured voice wrapped itself around her throat, making her feel like she suddenly couldn’t take a breath. She didn’t feel like dealing with another monster right now, especially not without Ewan by her side. She turned, and started trotting back to their campsite.

  “I suppose I should be offended at your running off so soon.”

  Far from sounding threatening, the voice was inquisitive, which made her curious enough to stop and glance back. This time a face materialized with the voice. A floating orange head gazed at her, the cat’s sickle shaped smile revealed wicked long fangs.

  She smiled, delighted. “I know who you are.”

  He lifted a brow, and then the rest of his body materialized. A large fluffy tail whipped gracefully back and forth. “Oh, do tell. I often forget.”

  “You’re the Cheshire Cat.”

  Large brown eyes widened and then he nodded. “Ah yes, indeed I am.”

  The fog was thickest where he floated. His fur was so silky looking, so soft. She had a strange urge to pet him, but curled her fingers by her side instead.

  “That must mean these are the Hatter’s woods.”

  “A biscuit for the lady,” he smiled, and licked his paw.

  His coat of fur gleamed like somebody had taken a torch and infused the mesmerizing colors within it.

  “You’re beautiful,” she murmured, and then jerked, wishing she hadn’t said that.

  His eyes rolled down his nose, the whole time studying the length of her. “I wish I could say the same for you. Who did you eat tonight, Heartsong? You made quite a mess.”

  She curled her nose; the description wasn’t that far off. “The old crone.”

  “Oh my.” He seemed surprised, eyes popping back in their sockets. “No more kiddies for breakfast, eh? How terribly mundane.”

  “That’s a terrible thing to say.”

  He shrugged; his body hovered between two trees, never coming closer. She nibbled her lip, obsessed beyond reason with feeling the texture of his fur.

  “You want to pet me.” It wasn’t a question.

  Hesitantly, she nodded. “I’ve never seen fur like yours.”

  He kept licking himself, fluffing the fur higher, drawing her eye like a dragon’s to a gem. “You can you know. Just come… closer.”

  “Why don’t you come here?”

  He inhaled deeply. “Do you see the fog?” He nodded. “That is the demarcation point between my world, and that one.” He curled his nose, long whiskers twitching.

  “What do you mean, that one?”


  “The one you stand in. Of course.”

  She frowned, looking around. The trees on this side did seem more normal than the behemoth’s lurking on his side. “Have you ever come on this side?”

  “How do you think I found my way in here? I came from that goddess awful place.”

  A shudder rippled across his shoulders, down his spine and through his legs. It was a strange sight.

  She lifted a brow. “Which means it won’t kill you.”

  “Mmm. Debatable. It might as well, because you see, my dear girl, if I step one itty bitty paw beyond this boundary I’ll become normal,” he drawled, disgust dripping from his tongue.

  Laughing, she said, “You make it sound like a fate worse than death.”

  “Isn’t it?”

  She stopped laughing, glancing down at her feet. “I don’t think normal is all that bad. Sometimes, I wonder what it feels like.”

  “Red?” he said, a question in his voice.

  Violet frowned. “Why does everyone call me that?”

  He hovered like a ghost between thick branches. “What would you like me to call you? Blue?”

  “Neither. My name is Violet.”

  He tapped his jaw. “I prefer Red. Sounds more dangerous,” he purred, the ‘r’ rolling hard off his tongue.

  When she looked back at him, his fur almost seemed to triple in size. What was it about his fur? Ewan’s didn’t do that. Then again, she didn’t really want to pet Ewan. Well, not his wolfy side anyway.

  She licked her lips. “I think I would like to pet you, Cat.”

  He dropped to the ground and swished his tail. “Because I like you, girl. I’ll let you do what few can. Come here.”

  She hesitated and he purred, that kittenish sound luring her in like a siren’s song. The fog felt cold against her skin. She was right at the edge of the Hatter’s woods, not too far in that she couldn’t turn back in case this was a trap of some sort.

  Her heart sped. Maybe she shouldn’t do this.

  “Now sit,” he commanded.

  His fur rippled and it was too hard to ignore the lure of it any longer. She sat, and the moment she did, he crawled in her lap. His big furry head rubbed along her chin. Sighing, she tickled him behind the ear and scratched under his belly.

  “I’d forgotten how wonderful that feels,” he purred, and she smiled.

  “You’re so soft. Like cashmere.”

  In the distance, birds cawed.

  Violet petted and petted, losing track of time, until shadows began to dance between trees. At first she thought it was nothing, but when she turned back to pet him, she caught a dash of black out of the corner of her eye.

  “Cat,” she demanded, stilling instantly, “what is…”

  The words died as the shadows took form. They were large, with big bellies, and covered in black and grey stripes. Black feathers adhered to their arms, and a long curved beak covered their nose and mouth.

  “You’ve tricked me,” her voice broke.

  “And this is my cue,” Cheshire said with a glint in his feral eyes, and then became nothing but a vapor. “Thanks for the rub down, Red,” his ghostly whisper mocked her.

  Her eyes widened in horror as the beings moved in.

  “Stay back,” she shot to her feet, “I can hurt you.”

  The heads cocked in unison.

  “Not if you can’t see us.” The voice came out a tinny echo behind the mask.

  But she didn’t have a clue who’d spoken, and with the shock of seeing bird men advancing, came a complete lapse of reason. She stood frozen, a split moment of indecision that would cost her dearly.

  “What?” Her pulse stuttered.

  The bodies moved so fast they were little more than a blur. Finally, she remembered to move. She twirled on her feet, and started running back to the safety of her woods. “Ewan,” she cried. “Help.”

  A black hood slid over her face. She screamed, clawing to get it off.

  “Now sleep,” the voice commanded and something tickled her nose.

  She remembered no more.

  Chapter 11

  Ewan shot to his feet. He’d fallen asleep, he hadn’t meant to. But purging the crone’s soul from his body had seemed to drain his own life essence. He ran, pushing his limbs as hard as they’d go. Which wasn’t hard, or fast enough. Running on jellied legs, he tried to ignore the fiery burn pounding away at his skull. Body be damned, all that was important was finding her.

  His heart clenched when he picked up her fear laden scent.

  And that of the cat.

  Howling, he followed. She was deep in the Hatter’s territory, but there were others with her. Birds.

  Black feathers were scatted all around. And for a moment he feared the worst. Malvena’s spies had somehow found her.

  But there were so many feathers. Too many. Birds didn’t molt for no reason. Had there been a struggle and she’d pulled some out? But one glance at the dirt spoke volumes. Red had barely turned to run before whatever had found her caught her.

  Not only that, he did not smell Malvena anywhere. There was no stench of death, or waste of birds.

  But that didn’t mean she was safe. Something had taken her.

  Dizzy with fear, he prayed he’d make it to her in time. Why hadn’t he followed her? He should have followed her. She didn’t know this land. He did, he knew how treacherous--this place most of all--could be.

  Feathers were scattered everywhere, dropping off like someone had overturned a bucketful of them. Not only that, the kidnappers weren’t taking her north toward Malvena’s keep, they were heading in the direction of the Mad Hatter’s garden.

  It took a moment for the realization to dawn on him that even the trees did not attack. They sat, like great big giant bulwarks; almost appearing to be as benign as he knew they were not. No roots came up out of the ground to trip him, no branches made a grab for him. Even sappy maws remained closed.

  This was not right. The land was only silent like this when…

  His ears twitched when the crunching sound of a snapping twig reverberated through the desolate woods.

  “Hello, Ewan,” the sweet voice almost seemed to smile. “The girl is with us. Come quickly.”

  Turning, he saw Alice.

  She wore a black silk dress that draped to her feet, the bodice tight on her waist; clusters of roses wove a trail from her chest down the left side of her body. Black paint, in a filigree pattern, framed her right eye. Flushed and rosy, she looked healthy and happy.

  Alice gestured quickly. “Hurry, we spotted crows this morning.”

  Heart regaining its more normal rhythm, he nodded, and trotted toward her. She patted his nose when he neared, kneeling by his side, she grabbed his shaggy head and brought his ear to her mouth.

  “Spies have been about these past two nights…”

  As she spoke, she continued to stroke the length of his side. To the outside, it would appear like a woman petting her dog. Questions buzzed through his head. Why the subterfuge? How had the crows known? Where exactly was Red?

  “Please accept our apologies for taking Violet the way we did. We meant no harm.” Planting a quick kiss on the tip of his nose, she nodded. “Follow me, and try not to look so… wolf like.”

  Her pink lips twitched and he huffed.

  Alice led him on a dizzying trail. She walked around trees, below trees, and even through them. Waving her hand in semi-circular motions as she mumbled nonsensical words, it was amazing to witness the land respond to her as it did.

  He growled when he noticed the same purple polka dotted tree for the third time. Were they actually going anywhere?

  She winked, waved her hand again, and then dropped to her knees. In a clearing lay a teapot, hidden by thick grass. Lifting the lid, she whispered inside the ceramic pot, “the cake please.”

  Suddenly a large slice of cake slid through the narrow opening. With a triumphant smile, she twirled and held out the slice to him. The cake itself was a deep ye
llow, while the frosting was the whitest, frothiest foam he’d ever seen.

  After the crone’s forest, the sight of it turned his stomach a little. He couldn’t help but remember what her cakes had been made out of.

  Brown eyes twinkling, she said, “Take a bite. A small one. Too much will make you cease to appear.”