"If you admire me so much, would you just let me go?" I pleaded politely. "I mean, we could fake that I sold you my soul and you will never give it back. The sirens will leave me be, and I will be able to go save my loved one."
Hook pouted. "I'm sorry, Carmilla," he said. "I may be a reasonable man. Articulate sometimes." He gulped on his ale then burped. "But I'm an evil man." He burped again, and a dead fish fell out of his mouth. "And I love it!" He raised his bottle up high then looked down on me again. "Besides, you're too joyful to resist. I mean, crushing you into a miserable girl will equal thousands of souls. You're a jewel of sorrow to me."
I peeked at the sirens down by the sea, and looked back at him. I was too exhausted, ironically happy to be here in the arms of Fate. Let's do this, I thought.
"What do you I have to do to sell you my soul?"
"It's so easy." He smashed the bottle on one of his sailors' heads and stood up straight, working his clothes to look their best. He wiped his mouth, and posed as if we were going to get married. "I will ask if you, Carmilla Philip Karnstein, agree to sell your soul to me," he said. "And all you have to do is say: I do."
"Just that?"
"Just that." He spread his arms like a welcoming jester, his reeking mouth wide open.
"And the mermaids, the nameless witch will leave me alone?"
"Once you're my business, they can't hurt you," he said, then recited his proposal.
I nodded and said, "I do."
He almost jumped, and then said, "Until sorrow do us part."
Tears didn't leave my eyes that night. It wasn't like someone had fooled me into selling my soul. I did it willingly. Also, the ceremony was much easier than I had thought it would be. All I cared about was going back to Angel. Sure, we'd live in sorrow, whatever that was, but we'd be together. And I would have his child that would save the world.
52
Fable's Dreamworld
The Queen of Sorrow walked before Fable and Baba Yaga. She was still dressed like a queen. Not one mud stain caught her clothes, as if she walked an inch higher off the ground. She approached Fable slowly, not showing anger. Her chin was still up, and her crown was sewn to the golden curls on her head.
She was still pulling something behind her, hoofing over the forest's earth.
"I'm truly sorry, My Queen," Baba Yaga wailed. "I'm begging you to forgive me. It's Fable's fault."
"Her name is Fable?" the Queen said. "This pigtailed girl again?"
Fable was terrified having the Queen of Sorrow so close to her. Was she going to pull her closer with those enchanted breadcrumbs again?
But the Queen didn't give Fable much attention. She had her eyes on her daughter, who was about to die soon and deny her a most sought-after heart.
The Queen circled her daughter, still pulling that thing behind her. Fable could see it now, showing under the thin moonlight. A corpse.
Fable's heart gasped. How cruel, ungrateful, and selfish the Queen of Sorrow was.
The thing she pulled behind her was Loki's unconscious body. Carmilla Karnstein had taken matters into her own hands. She had cut off Loki's unicorn's leg to get hold of his corpse. How cruel was this woman, even to those who protected her? Her favored Huntsman.
Fable certainly didn't know what to do now.
"Go help Baba Yaga give Shew a new heart, before it's too late," the Queen demanded, looking at Fable.
Fable was willing to do whatever was in Shew's best interest, but she wasn't sure about the heart. Which heart was the Queen of Sorrow talking about?
"You mean to give her your best Huntsman's heart?" Baba Yaga crowed.
"If my daughter, even though I hate her and I wish her a sweet death, is going to have a heart, then it has to be a strong one, so she can survive long enough for me to collect the hearts from these lowlife peasant boys and girls who call themselves the Lost Seven," the Queen said. "Loki's heart is strong. Now do it."
"But Loki hates her, My Queen," Baba Yaga argued. "What kind of life will Shew have?"
The Queen smirked. "He did hate her, but he was weak enough never to catch her when she escaped. To tell the truth, I liked him." She looked down upon him. "But he wasn't up to the mission I repeatedly handed to him. I'd like to punish him as well—his heart living in a body he despises sounds like a good punishment."
"She will hardly know it's his heart," Baba Yaga said. She seemed experienced in the matter being discussed. "It rarely happens. A few other things rarely happen, but…"
"You're wasting time, Baba," the Queen said. "I will kill you too, if you don't save my daughter's temporary life. Now do it, before it's too late."
Fable had no say in this. Would she save Loki or Shew—again?
She stood, paralyzed, watching Baba Yaga cut Shew's chest open, chanting some spells. They were trying to correct a mistake with another, complicating matters in a way that Fable didn't fully grasp.