Great. I planned on trusting my future to a broken magic mirror.
“Whatever, let’s do this.” If the skulls floating in the acid moat were any indication, crossing the puce cauldron sludge had been tried and wasn’t a viable option. But where there’s a will, there’s an escape route. Running back through the museum, I grabbed Tell’s bow, some of Rapunzel’s hair, and the lamp after emptying out the oil. And yes, for the record, I tried rubbing it first. Bubkes. With a little effort, I rigged up a grappling system. Sort of.
“You better still have perfect aim,” I said to the crossbow. Targeting the mirror’s stand, I shot the lamp I’d pierced with the modified crossbow bolt across the moat. The lamp-bolt hit the stand, knocking the compact into the lamp opening. The mirror murmured its unhappiness, but I didn’t have time to care. The acid had already started melting the rope of Rapunzel’s hair I’d tied to the bolt.
Hand over hand, I pulled the mirror to me, the acid residue on the hair burning my palms. Just as the tin bottom of the makeshift lamp boat started disintegrating, I yanked hard, flipping the compact in the air. I snatched it before it shattered on the ground.
“There,” I said to the mirror. “I’m holding you now. Show me what I want, so I can have the happy ending, blah, blah.”
With a misting effect, the smiley face mask appeared on the shiny surface. “If truth you want to see, then you need to be rhyme-y.”
“Oh for the love of… Fine.” I thought for a minute and spit out the first thing I could think of. “Mirror, mirror, in my hand, show me what I need…most…in the land.”
Seemingly satisfied, the compact tinkled, the reflection on its surface rippling like water before a scene came into view. Verte, Oz, and Dorthea were underground somewhere surrounded by chimeras. They were laughing and joking while Dorthea scribbled in her grimmoire, making Bob, the chimera butler’s mane braid itself with bows and fire flowers. They seemed like they were having a great time. Without me.
I bopped the mirror. “You must be broken. Those guys are the last thing I need.”
The scene vanished, the sad mask reappearing. “I hate this gig. Always the messenger’s fault. It’s rigged.”
I put my nose up to the compact. “Look, you manic-depressive mirror, I’m gonna try one more time. That last answer was way too sappy. Show me what would really make me happy.”
This time, a face appeared, and my breath froze in my chest. Kato. His eyes were full of emotion…full of…love. “No.” I dropped the mirror like it was covered in the cauldron’s acid. Letting go of the mirror didn’t stop the flood of emotions and memories. But they weren’t mine. The feeling of his wing around me. I mean around Dorthea. The feeling of his breath mingled with mine. No. Hers.
With fumbling fingers, I ripped off the top the leather pouch around my neck and gulped down the sap, not caring about the taste.
“This far from Neverland and I still can’t help but run into you lost boys.” Something metal scraped across the floor. “I’ll be taking that.”
Lost? He had no idea. I’d been too clouded by Dorthea’s memories to notice the approaching pirate with a hook for a hand. I put my palms up. “I don’t want a fight. Take the rotted thing. It lies anyway.”
The pirate twirled his black goatee with his hook and cradled the mirror in his hand. “Mirror now small as a clock, show me how to beat the croc.”
The mirror remained silent.
“Maybe it broke when I dropped it.” I took a step back to stay clear of the villain. But the acid moat stopped me from fleeing.
“Or maybe the mirror bonds to whoever talks to it until the person’s death.”
“That’s…uh…parlay?”
“Wrong pirate and we aren’t in the Caribbean. Nothing personal,” he said with a smirk before pulling me close.
“Unhand my daughter.”
Even though it had been years, I knew that voice. It had a musical quality, a rise and fall that charmed my ears. The deep tones made me think of his rakish smile and warmed my spirit like the autumn sun. But before I could catch a glimpse of my father, Captain Hook’s smirk twisted.
“As you will. No hands.” Then without a further word, his namesake appendage ripped through my chest.
“New study suggests that 70 percent of fairy-tale heroes come from broken homes.”
—Headline from Huff ’n’ Puff Post
17
Hex on Heels
One minute, I was being gutted like a codfish; the next, I felt the sprinkle of something cold on my face. As soon as life flooded back into my body, I sucked in a huge breath and a little bit of dirt.
“Blech.” Cough, cough. “Stop. Not dead. Well, not anymore.” I brushed the dirt out of my eyes and looked up.
Robin Hood stared down at me. His beard was scragglier, with far more gray than the last time I’d seen him six years ago. But his eyes were still the color of spring moss, putting Dorthea’s best emeralds to shame. And those eyes were very, very wide. Mouth too.
“Dad!” I cried and, in one motion, jumped out of the shallow grave and threw my arms around him, knocking us both to the ground.
For a few beats, he didn’t move. Then he squeezed me and pushed me back just far enough to examine my face.
“It is true.” He squeezed my cheeks, turning my head from one side to the other, looking at me from all angles. “You’re alive. And…happy to see me.” He said the last bit slowly, his tone rising at the end like a question.
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” I hugged him again. “After I ran away, I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”
“You ran away.” Again with the raised eyebrows and tone.
“Hex sake, Dad, haven’t you wondered where I’ve been the last six years? I wanted to show you I could be just as good as Will, Tuck, and the rest of the guys, so I snuck off and broke into the Emerald Palace.” I tried to remember how I got trapped there and shoved in the kitchens and why I never tried to escape and get back to my dad, but there was a giant, gaping hole in that part of my memory. “I guess I wasn’t as good a thief as I thought. You must have been worried sick. I’m sorry.” The words came out halted and felt like spitting out rusted nails.
The blank look on his face morphed into the handsome smile that was famous for making maids swoon. “Water under the bridge, my merry girl. I was just beside myself for ages, but I’m a firm believer that we each have our own path to follow. It’s very important to forgive. Let’s not mention it again.” He patted my cheek, then sat us both up. “I’m just amazed you’re okay. I’d about given up hope. It’s been three days since that fiend…you know…” He made a slicing motion, curving his hand like a hook.
“Three days? I wonder why it took so long to resurrect this time. Maybe because I’m so far away from Princess Dorthea and the opal.”
Dad perked up. “Resurrect? Princess? Opal? I think you best be starting at the beginning.”
“It’s a loooong tale. Somebody could write a whole book about it.”