by Helen Scott
Looking around the room, I see it’s exactly the way I left it. The same mountain of pillows that served as my bed, the same knicknacks. This was a little place I’d sneak away to in my teen years, when I needed a break from my family. When I wanted to just feel… safe.
I’m glad it’s held up. More or less.
Sitting down on the pillows, I ignore the slight rise of dust that comes from them, resheath my dagger, and tear open the bag of food. The sweet and sour chicken is everything I remember and more, the fried rice tastes like heaven, and I generously pour the extra sauce I’d ordered over everything. When the rice is gone, and the chicken too, I open the crab puffs and egg rolls and tear into them, before finishing with the lettuce wrapped chicken.
Everything is eaten too quickly, and I sigh as I lean back, patting my stomach. Serving an ogre meant that I could afford this feast, but I didn’t want to think about tomorrow. Because tomorrow, reality would come crashing back and the luxury of this kind of food would be gone.
As that sobering thought enters my mind, my phone begins to ring. I pull it out of my pocket and feel my spine stiffen. Clicking the answer button, I hold my breath.
“Alexis?”
“I’m here,” I say. The sound of the familiar voice makes my chest ache.
The last time I saw Parsilla, she was just a pre-teen. Like me, her parents expected perfection. Dresses, gloves, and neatly-styled hair. She had a smile that never reached her eyes, something I could relate to. And yet, she’d been younger than me. Just a child, really. We’d only crossed paths because of her parents, and because I was best friends with her brother.
“Are you going to make it to the funeral tomorrow?”
“Yeah. I promised I would.”
I know she’s holding back tears on the other line when her voice comes out too high. “Thank you. He… he loved you so much.”
I loved Smith too. He’d made our boring life interesting. He always knew how to make me laugh, and despite how badly all our parents wanted to force him to fit the mold, he never did.
“But Alexis, you know you’ll have to be careful...”
“Story of my life,” I say with a smile.
“Sterling City was dangerous when we were kids, but that’s nothing compared to the way it is now. I know we used to laugh as kids about this city being cursed, but it stopped being funny a long time ago.”
“Yeah.” Sterling City was a city of danger and violence around every corner. Cursed or not, I wanted to get in and out of this place as fast as I could.
“There’s more. You know the Stiltskin brothers are in town?”
I stiffen, thinking of Hyde. “Yeah, I’d heard that somewhere.”
“Rumor is they want out of the family business. And the only way for them to get out is to collect on all their father’s debts.”
She didn’t need to say that one of those debts was me. “Thanks for the heads up.”
“Always.”
Turning off my phone, I curl up on the pillows. Smith was so damn young. He was the son of my father’s best friend, and had become my best friend too. When his sister had tracked me down a week ago, I’d known it was important. And even though it was a huge risk coming here, I could never have stayed away.
I had to be at his funeral, no matter how illogical it was.
When I feel the back of my eyes prickle, I squeeze them closed and tell myself to think about anything other than Smith. Anything other than the fact that his smile always reached his eyes. Other than the fact that he never cared enough to lie about anything.
And then I think of Hyde.
The ache in my chest fades, and I open my eyes, staring at the flickering candle. Hyde was one of the three Stiltskin brothers. Their father was the notorious Rumplestiltskin himself. I had no clue what their mother was, but they must have taken after her. All three were huge men, probably even bigger than they had been the last time I’d seen them. Blond, gorgeous hunks of men who I’d managed to piss off.
But then, I never said I’d go easily.
I smile. Technically, we’re enemies. But I have to say, out of all my enemies, I’ve always enjoyed our rivalry the best. If my mother hadn't sold me to their father, I had a feeling Hyde, Crax, and Zard would be among my friends.
At least Crax and Zard.
I hate when I realize that I’m smiling still, and I force myself to stop. Crax was that guy you saw on the street in a suit and an air of importance, but beneath that cocky air was a man I’d love to get my hands on. And Zard? Zard was just plain fun. Even when he was trying to catch me, he was cracking jokes.
Those two I might not mind meeting again… and escaping from again.
Hyde? Well, that asshole could go to hell.
Sighing, I try to push all thoughts of them out of my head. It’s been a long day and tomorrow I’ll have to face my best friend’s funeral before running right back out of town. The last thing I need to be thinking about are the Stiltskin brothers. They’re bad news. And if there’s one thing I didn’t need more of in my life, it is trouble.
4
Alexis
I rummage through the small bag I've brought with me. I might not have a lot, but I have enough to wear black to a funeral. I pull the black sweater over my head and shimmy into my black skinny jeans before tugging on my black boots. It doesn't look dressy or sophisticated, but it is the best I can do.
My stomach is still full from all the food the night before, which is good, because after that splurge I can't really afford breakfast. I usually skip it anyway so it isn't a big deal, but I do need to find some coffee. Stat.
As I squirm out behind the dumpster I pray that no one is around. The last thing I need is to give away my secret hiding spot. I can't exactly see around the large metal box though, so I wait and listen. When I am sure I don't hear anyone on the other side, I emerge like some kind of gremlin from the shadows.
I have just enough time before Smith's funeral to grab a coffee, so I hop in my car and head to the little local place a few blocks away. The first thing I notice when I arrive is that the atmosphere has changed. Gentrified is the word for it. Suddenly my best clothes look ragged and worn, and if the sneers that I am greeted with when I enter are anything to go by, then it has been a while since anyone like me has been in the place.
"Tall Americano," I say when it is my turn at the counter.
"That'll be five dollars and eighty cents," the cashier replies, clearly bored with her job.
My stomach drops. Five dollars for an Americano? A fancy frou-frou drink I could understand, but this is literally just a shot of espresso and some water. Ugh. "You know what, never mind," I say, before scurrying out of there like my ass is on fire. There’s nothing that makes me more embarrassed than the fact that I am broke, especially when I know my mother is living in the lap of luxury. After all, that is what selling her first born has given her.
I turn my mind away from the bitter thoughts and focus on getting to the cemetery. Yes, I'll be early, but if I’m getting coffee then I don’t know what else to do. On the bright side, this would give me a chance to scope the area out, find the most secluded spot to watch from. Only a couple more hours and then I can high tail it out of this city faster than I had that coffee shop.
The long, winding road of Lakeview Burial Grounds makes me uncomfortable. It isn't just the fact that the name Lakeview is misleading, since there isn't a lake within twenty miles of the place, but more that it is so open. There are barely any trees anywhere, which means no good hiding places for me.
My car chugs along the main path as I look for the spot where Smith is going to be buried. The thought makes my stomach turn. My best friend is dead. I was never going to see him again after this. My chest tightens with all the emotions I have shoved down inside myself for the last few days. If I break now though I know I won't be able to get myself back under control. I can break when I am safely out of Sterling City.
My eyes are drawn to the mound of dirt that
sits next to an open grave like it is a beacon calling me home. There isn't a tree in sight. Not even a shrub. It is like the whole place was designed to be as exposed as possible. There aren't even any of those fancy family burial plots where it looks like a mini house. Although once I think about it, I realize that it is just business. They are trying to cram as many bodies in the small space as possible. It’s not that Lakeview isn’t a nice cemetery: it is, much better than some I'd seen before, but it is tiny, squished into a plot just outside of the downtown area, right where it becomes apparent that people have money.
I let my car roll past the grave site and through the rest of the cemetery. If Hyde had seen me in it last night, then parking on the side of the path in my POS car will be like waving a flag and announcing my presence with a megaphone. No, I have to be smart about this, since this is the one place I am sure they will expect me to be.
After I park a few blocks down in an alley, I hoof it back to the cemetery. I'm thankful in that moment that I'd never been interested in heels. Although my mother had forced me to wear them on occasion. I can only imagine what making this walk would be like while balancing four inches higher than nature intended. Blisters, aching feet, and bruises from falling, oh, my.
I move between the bars of the fence, idly wondering what the point of having one is if the gaps are big enough to let someone squeeze through. The lone tree that sits somewhat in the middle of the grounds is my goal. If I can make it there, then I can at least feel somewhat hidden. My heart is pounding in my chest as I walk, as calmly as I can, through the gravestones. I can only imagine what someone would think if they saw a girl running through a graveyard trying to get to a tree.
When I get to the tree, my hands grip the bark as though something is going to tear me away. The constricting feeling in my chest is getting worse and I'm not sure how I am going to make it through the actual funeral without losing it, especially when I see Parsilla crying. I know Smith's parents wouldn't dare express emotion in public, but Parsilla won't be able to stop herself; she is still too young to have that side of her completely crushed just yet.
A hand lands on my wrist and I look up to find myself staring into the goldish-hazel eyes of Zard. I'd let myself get sucked so far into my thoughts and memories that I hadn't even heard them approach, and yes, I knew it was them, even though I couldn't seem to drag my eyes away from Zard's stare.
"Come on, Goldie. Time to go." Crax's voice sounds from behind me. The use of the nickname they'd given me makes me want to snarl and snap at them. Remind them I am more than just my freakish ability.
Finally I am able to break the prison of Zard's hypnotic eyes and turn to look at his brother. Crax's eyes are liquid gold and warm enough that I want to fall into them. Instead I sneer. I pull up the same mask I use when I am serving papers. "I'm here for my best friend's funeral, asshole. If you take me now, I will never stop trying to escape. I'll make the biggest scene possible, whenever possible. Don't take this away from me." The mask slips at the end and some of the hurt I am feeling inside leaks through.
Pain reflects back at me in Crax's gaze, which surprises me.
I press my advantage. "Please, let me say goodbye to Smith. Don't ruin this for me."
He is going to relent, I can see it. I can also see the cars starting to arrive for the funeral.
"If we let her go off to the funeral, who's to say that she'll come back?" Hyde's gravelly voice surprises me as it comes from off to the left. I hadn't thought he'd be with them for some reason. Hyde always seems like the fly in the soup to me, like he doesn't quite fit with his brothers.
"I'll leave my car keys with you, my shoes, whatever you want, just don't take me away now," I beg.
The three of them are silent for a long moment. I look between them and they seem to be having some kind of silent conversation. Something which is confirmed when Hyde snorts and turns away as though he can't even look at them any more.
"I'll accompany you to the funeral," Crax says. "Then afterward we will take you home. You will not cause a scene when we leave. Understood?"
I nod.
"If you cause a scene, things will be worse for you later." Crax's golden eyes stare me down until I nod again.
"And you're giving me your keys," Zard says from behind me.
Immediately I tug them from my pocket and hand them over. I don't care anymore. All that matters now is getting through the next hour or so.
"Shall we?" Crax asks as he offers me his arm.
I nod again, like I'm some kind of bobble head doll and that's all I can do. The two of us set off across the grass, and my stomach twists as I see Smith's family. Parsilla is watching me like a hawk, her doe eyes even bigger than normal and shimmering in the mid-morning light. If she starts crying I'm doomed.
5
Crax
I stand with my spine straight as we go through the motions of a funeral. An unfamiliar feeling moves beneath my flesh as I try my best to be unaffected by the crying people and by Alexis, who stands beside me, but the truth is the pain of loss is something I understand too well.
It’s why I became a lawyer. I couldn’t stand the idea of people losing everything they have just because they didn’t have the money to fight for themselves. Hyde thought that this made me weak.
Maybe it did.
But I’m not a lawyer right now, I remind myself, and I’ll never get to be a lawyer again, not unless I can collect my father’s debts. I almost sigh, but conceal my frustration at the last possible second. The last few months have been wearing on me in a way I never expected. It wasn’t that I was new to my father’s work. He’d drug us along with him all our lives and naturally expected that I’d take over the family business as his first-born.
It was more that… I didn’t want this life. I missed my old apartment. My office where I ran my own private practice. Everything. Even if my life was like a puzzle with too many missing pieces, at least there I felt useful. At least there I didn’t feel riddled with guilt and misery.
At least not the way I do here.
And I’ll do whatever I have to in order to get back to that life.
My gaze slides to Alexis, and my stomach turns. Retrieving her when she was eighteen was the first mission my father trusted me enough to run without him. My brothers and I had tracked her down to a hotel just a day’s travel from here. On that mission I’d learned two things: I would never take over my father’s business, and that if I let myself, I might fall in love with Alexis.
But luckily for us, she escaped.
Or we let her go. I was never sure.
Time has been kind to Alexis. When we’d first met her, she’d had a delicate quality that hid the tough woman underneath. But now, she wore that toughness like a “do not touch me” badge. And to say it intrigued me and turned me on was an understatement. I always remembered her in pastel colors and pink shimmering makeup. Now, her face was bare of makeup, her long blonde hair was tied back, like a warrior, and her black outfit hugged her well-defined body.
Had she changed in other ways too? I had to imagine running from my fierce father hadn’t been easy. He may have been short, but he was the stuff of nightmares for a reason.
The funeral speeches end, and the people seated in the chairs rise and move to the front to shake the hand of Parsilla Whithouse and her parents. The handshakes and hugs that are exchanged between the two primply dressed parents is formal. But the way people embrace Parsilla… it speaks volumes. It’s as if only the daughter is in mourning, and the parents are simply there for a public event.
When it’s our turn, Mr. Whithouse’s eyes widen as they fall on Alexis. “Al-Alexis Chadwick? Is that you?”
“Yes. I’m so sorry for your loss,” she says, reaching out a hand.
He shakes it lightly. “Have you seen your parents yet? It’s been awhile since you’ve been back to town.”
She gives a forced smile. “No, I haven’t had a chance to see them. This is a short trip.”
His gaze moves behind her and connects with mine. I see his jaw drop. No doubt he’s shocked that Alexis came to such a public event with a half-gnome. Or perhaps he’s just surprised that I didn’t try to hide my pointed ears. Or maybe, like most people, he’s shocked to see a gnome of my massive size. No doubt the word “mutt” is circling through his mind.
Then his gaze returns to Alexis. “Before you go, we really should talk.”
“Yes--”
“It’s important.”
She slowly nods. “Okay.”
Moving to Mrs. Whithouse, I’m suddenly in front of the man.
He puts his hand out like touching me is the last thing he’d ever want to do, and I reluctantly shake his hand. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“You’re Rumple’s boy, aren’t you?”
I lift a brow, surprised. Did I know him from somewhere? “Yes, I am.”
Suddenly, he pulls me in closer to him and lowers his voice. “I repaid my debt to him.” His words hold a threat.
The urge to break the hand that clutches mine rises inside of me, and then I push the feeling aside, taking deep breaths. This prissy man knows less about my kind than I even imagined. Debts are something tangible that tie one person to another. My father ran this city, with the threads of people who owed him twisting through every alley and street like a ball of massive string weaved through the city.
But when he died, my brothers and I had felt the burden of his debts tangle around us, the strength of them crushing. The threads pulled us constantly. An irritant, like sand in a tight pair of underwear. We couldn’t simply pretend that we hadn’t inherited his debts, we couldn’t. If this man owed my father anything, I would’ve known it the second we got close enough. Hell, I could close my eyes and run through every person who still owed us.
It wasn’t a power I was happy to inherit.
I draw back from the man, trying not to look threatening, but give a smile that’s all teeth. “I’m aware.” Even though, technically, I’m not.