“Did you happen to see what direction they went?” I hoped the answer was, Way the spell away from here.
“Well, obviously I didn’t see anything.” Hydra pointed to her sightless eyes. “But if you’ll come with me I can ask the others.”
“Others?”
She gestured me over. “Up at the house. Be a dear and guide me.” Her nails were long overdue for a manicure. They were yellow and gnarled, and they bit into my arm as I led her up the wilted garden path.
Kato gave the area a thorough search. Probably hungry again. When he approached the garden, he looked back at me like he was asking for permission—guess he’d learned his lesson with the Bumpkins. I shook my head, since I recognized a few of the plants from Verte’s garden—the cursed and poisonous section.
He gave a last mopey look at the plants and trotted to keep pace with me. I ruffled the fur between Kato’s horns to reward his obedience. For a moment, he seemed to enjoy it; then he smacked my hand away with his tail. I suppose he’d decided he was too noble for head scratches—good thing I hadn’t tried to rub his tummy. My stinging hand served as an excellent reminder that underneath the soft, comforting fur still lurked the Kato that liked to knock me down a peg.
Taking off at a gallop, he beat me to the half-hanging cottage door and ambled in—then nearly knocked me over backing out.
“Big baby.”
Even though Kato might be a prince, he’d started off grubby enough that he didn’t have much room to judge Hydra’s housekeeping. And surely it couldn’t be that messy in there. While he was being hypocritical, I was quite proud of myself for being so helpful and humble.
As I walked through the door, I gave myself a little pat on the back—and then froze.
I’d been prepared for a hovel. I might have even been okay with a house full of magically trained circus mice. I was not prepared for the others.
Heads lined the floor-to-ceiling shelving. Different sizes, different species—all of them looked lifeless. Some had clearly passed their expiration date. Several looked freshly harvested. One still had a faint flush to its cheeks.
And wouldn’t you know, there was an empty spot on the shelf, just the right size for my royal head.
Following Kato’s example, I backed up toward the door. “You know what? On second thought, it doesn’t really matter which way Griz went. We have to go west anyway. I’ll just see myself out.”
For a fragile blind lady, her grip was surprisingly strong. “You definitely don’t want to be heading west. I can help, and there’s so much I have to tell you. I’m afraid I must insist you and your friends stay here.”
Spell no.
I squirmed, trying to get free, and cursed myself for not staying on the beach in the first place. This freaky hag made Gretel’s gingerbread witch look like a sweet, harmless baker. Probably the only thing Hydra wanted to help me with was removing my head. Well, that wasn’t gonna happen. Groping blindly to the side, I grabbed the first thing I could get a handle on.
Ah, frying pans—the preferred weapon of princesses everywhere.
Hefting the pan from the sink, I whacked Hydra’s head from her shoulders, sending it flying into a shelf, where it fell to the ground with all the others.
Hydra’s gnarly hands instinctively flew to the spot where her head had just been, releasing her grasp on me but snagging the cardigan on my shoulders. I dropped down and out of the jacket. Then, planting my bejeweled heel on her crusty behind, I sent her body to join the heads on the floor. For good measure, I chucked the skillet at her and booked it out the door.
It wasn’t until I was outside that I remembered the wishing star had been in my pocket. But nothing could have made me go back in there again. Besides, the stupid thing was busted anyway.
As if to confirm the wisdom in my decision, Hydra’s body came ambling out the door again. I bolted.
My companions were waiting for me farther down the beach at the border of the woods.
“Zombie?” Rexi shouted as I ran past.
Close enough.
“The Rule of Diplomacy: A royal should never get their hands dirty. If you can’t reach a compromise, use an assassin. It’s called diplomacy.”
—Thomason’s Tips to Ruthless Ruling
11
The Haunted Acre Wood
“How can you run in those ridiculous shoes?” Rexi huffed and puffed behind me.
Ignoring the barb, I kept running. Plus, I didn’t have enough breath to respond anyway. Wanting as much distance as possible from the headhunter, I jogged until a tree root seemed to reach up out of the ground to send me sprawling.