Blood and Snow 1

by RaShelle Workman

  Surprised, I gasped and shook my arm wildly. The creatures stayed in place, their little arms and legs tickling my skin. Finally I gave up.

  Chapter 6

  “What do you want?” I whispered.

  There was a slight tinkling sound, and I peered closer. There were two females and one male, their bodies the color of the petals or, I guessed, their wings, and they were dressed in matching clothes. Both girls wore shimmering dresses, and the guy wore pants and a shirt.

  “You look like Peter Pan,” I said. He placed his hands on his hips, also reminding me of Peter Pan, and I laughed. “What are you? Fairies?” I asked as the girl in bubble-gum pink flew over and landed on my nose.

  She shook her tiny finger at me and said in a high, barely audible voice, “We’re pixilettes.”

  “Pixil… ettes,” I repeated.

  “That’s right. We’re in charge of the changing seasons in Sharra, as well as reseeding in the spring and the fall.” She bowed, placing one hand over her chest and the other out behind her. “I’m Arianna.” The periwinkle and mint colored pixilettes fluttered onto my nose next to her. My eyes started to cross. And the tinkling sounded again. The male slapped his knee.

  “What? Are-are you laughing at me?” I asked, trying to be upset, but they were too cute.

  The male bowed. “Apologies. My name is Eon.”

  “And I am Pava.”

  “Nice to meet you. My name is Snow.” I stacked one fist on top of the other, and rested my chin, working desperately not to shake my head and uncross my eyes.

  Seemingly all at once, hundreds of pixilettes hovered behind the three I’d met.

  Pava turned her toes in and said timidly, “We’d like to help you. Would that be alright?”

  “You know what’s wrong with me?” I asked, stunned.

  “We do. And between all of us, we have enough to reverse the effects of the poison,” Eon said.

  “I’d be most grateful. Thank you!” The three pixilettes on my nose flew off and backward. With relief I closed my eyes, giving them a chance to realign. Opening them, I said, “Chace, the guy that was here with me… he left,” I sucked in a sad breath, “to get ingredients for a poultice. Should someone tell him?”

  “He is known as Christopher in Sharra,” Eon said, turning and flicking his arm. The way he moved made me think that he might be someone of great importance.

  Three pixilettes flew off in the direction Chace aka Christopher aka my Hunter had gone.

  “Right,” I agreed, feeling tears prick the backs of my eyes. I was so new to all of this. My life had shifted radically in the last few days, and I felt overwhelmed. Inches from my nose fluttered little creatures with bodies the size of a moth, and the one known as Eon criticized me. Until a few minutes ago, I hadn’t known they existed.

  Arianna’s pointy features softened. She flew over and lifted a tear from my lashes, balancing it in her hand. She placed her other hand on my forehead and patted. “Hold very still, and keep your eyes closed until I tell you,” Arianna said kindly.

  I bit my cheek. Christopher told me nothing could pass through the enchantments unless they had a pure heart. That meant these pixilettes wouldn’t hurt me, didn’t it?

  You are way too trusting, my inner voice seethed.

  I nodded at Arianna and closed my eyes.

  For what seemed like hours I couldn’t feel anything, only heard the occasional tinkling which I now knew was the pixilettes laughing. I also smelled oregano.

  They are seasoning you and intend to eat you for dinner, my inner voice scolded.

  Sensitivity started to come back into my legs. It felt like pins and needles were doing a tap dance on my thighs. I wanted to rub them or shake them, anything to get rid of the pain, but Arianna told me to hold still. Gritting my teeth, I held steady and my mind drifted.

  “Christopher Charming, get in here!” The voice sounded muffled.

  I looked down at myself and saw I was transparent, like mist. Reaching out to touch my arm, my fingers went right through me. Gasping, I swung in a circle, trying to figure out where I’d gone.

  I stood in a garage, which I guessed meant I was no longer in Sharra. At least, that’s what I believed from everything I’d seen of Sharra so far.

  The garage door looked rusty and unused. The room was cluttered with boxes stacked to the grungy ceiling, a couch covered in a dusty sheet, and other odds and ends. The walls were aluminum and rippled. On one wall hung a pegboard with tools, including hammers, a handsaw, drills, and more. Piles of different sized wood rested against the garage door and lay on the concrete floor next to strange-looking steel machines.

  Sitting at one of the machines cutting a small piece of wood was Christopher, wearing a striped shirt with a wide collar and brown corduroy pants that belled out at the bottom.

  “Charming,” I called out, my voice hesitant.

  He didn’t acknowledge me, but then he hadn’t acknowledged the woman who’d yelled at him a moment ago either.

  “I’m going to count to three and then I’ll add on to your chores,” the muffled female voice hollered.

  Christopher groaned. “Fine,” he grumbled. Tucking whatever he worked on in his pocket, he started to walk toward me.

  “Christopher,” I whispered.

  He didn’t stop but went right through me. Freaky! I didn’t feel a thing.

  I turned and watched him open a warped brown door and go through.

  “What?” I heard him call before he slammed it.

  You died, you idiot, my inner voice howled.

  Shut it! I screeched.

  “What am I doing here?” I slowly spun in a circle, searching for answers.

  Follow Christopher, ding-dong. My inner voice was really starting to grate on my nerves, but I obeyed. Stepping up to the door, I tried to wrap a hand around the knob, but I couldn’t grab it.

  Jump in!

  “Argh,” I growled, putting a flattened hand against the door. It disappeared. So I stuck my arm, followed by my head, through the door. Yep, going through objects wasn’t a problem for me.

  No duh, my inner voice harrumphed.

  On the other side I looked around. The house was small, run down. Empty of pictures or any sort of decoration. I made my way into the kitchen. Think retro seventies at its finest—orange cupboards, a pea green refrigerator and stove, and white linoleum flooring. A half-eaten sandwich sat on the counter as did an empty marbled green glass.

  No one was in the kitchen but I heard talking to my left, so I followed the sound through a wall and into the living room. I’d never seen so much plaid.

  Christopher stood at the foot of a woman sitting on a faded orange recliner. She handed him some money, which he stuffed in his back pocket.

  “Get me a pound of ground beef and a pack of cigarettes—whichever one’s are on sale. Don’t dawdle.” The woman speaking had medium length blonde feathered hair, a heap of blue eye shadow on her lids, and wore a mustard yellow sundress. I believe she was beautiful at one point. Now she seemed hardened and wrinkled. “Well, don’t just stand there! Go!”

  Christopher’s shoulders slumped as he turned and walked past a large front window, plaid curtains pulled back letting in the dying daylight, and opened another door. It led outside.

  Once it closed I went through it and stopped at the top of a small concrete landing with three steps leading to a cracked pathway that turned into the sidewalk. The grass was yellowed, the color of dried hay. Random toys were scattered about making me wonder if Christopher had younger siblings. He’d picked up a bike and was pedaling so fast he was nearly at the end of the street.

  “Christopher, wait!” I called. I didn’t need to worry though. My body floated after him as though I was a balloon tied to a string attached to his wrist.

  As I glided along, I watched the cookie cutter houses pass by. A group of kids played baseball in a park, their banter easy to hear. Then Christopher turned a corner and houses disappeared, making way for s
tores including a 7-11, a liquor store, and what I guessed was a grocery store called The Apple Store. Christopher jumped off his bike, letting it fall with a clang to the ground, and ran in.

  He went toward the back, past a group of guys in long black leather jackets.

  For the first time I was glad no one could see me. Christopher gave them a wide berth, but I was mesmerized and watched as they pointed at Christopher and began to laugh.

  My heart skipped several beats and warning bells went off in my head.

  Christopher already had the meat and moved on. The guys sauntered along after him, pushing each other and scaring customers they walked past.

  Christopher picked out a pack of cigarettes from a stocked shelf—not a shelf behind a counter or locked glass, the way cigarettes were stored now, but out in the open where anyone could grab them—then made his way down an aisle filled with magazines and books. I cringed slightly, thinking he’d head for the comics or worse, naked women. I so didn’t want to see that.

  He surprised me, though. Instead he picked up a woodworking magazine and flipped through the pages. When he came to the page he wanted, he set the opened magazine on top of the meat and cigarettes and pulled out the piece of wood he’d been working on. I leaned over his shoulder and noticed it was a carving of a bear. The one in his hand looked almost exactly the same as the one on the page.

  Wow, I was impressed. He had talent.

  Chapter 7

  Suddenly the magazine flew out of his hand with a thwack, followed by the sounds of voracious laughing. Christopher’s shoulders tensed and he turned.

  “What’s the big idea?” he asked, and I perceived his barely contained rage.

  The one in the middle stepped forward, the others flanking him. There were five. My heart started pounding in my throat, making it difficult to understand what was said, but I gathered they wanted a fight. That didn’t seem fair, five against one. The leader shoved Christopher, causing his shoulder to smack against the magazine rack. He righted himself and adjusted his shirt. The muscles in his shoulders relaxed and he smirked. I knew that smirk.

  “You’ll pay for that,” Christopher said quietly.

  The leader’s mouth dropped. “I doubt it, dickhead.”

  “How about we step outside and find out.” His tone was smooth, in control. Did he understand what was happening? Did he want to fight them?

  The guys all started laughing, playfully shoving the leader. A look of surprise skimmed across the leader’s face before he hardened his jaw. “Fine. Let’s go.”

  “I’ve got to pay for these first. Meet you outside in five?” Christopher held up his hand, his fingers spread wide.

  “We’ll be waiting,” the leader said.

  Christopher stepped past them and got in line to pay. The jerky guys loudly made their way outside and disappeared into the parking lot. I couldn’t help but be terrified for Charming. Would he try and sneak out the back? What was his plan?

  Once he’d paid and the meat and cigarettes were bagged, he walked out the front door. It was almost dark, and I didn’t see the leather clad guys immediately. For a split second I thought they’d left. Not the case.

  Christopher set the bag next to his bike and made his way over to them. The leader took off his jacket, removed the cigarette sitting behind his right ear, and handed it to one of the other guys, then put his arms up, his hands in fists. Christopher shook his head and chuckled, but didn’t move. He just stood there with his irritatingly handsome smirk.

  “Move,” I shouted.

  Large overhead lights flicked on.

  The leader circled Christopher. “Come on, dweeb, you talked the talk inside. Let’s see you walk the walk.” As the leader spoke he moved to punch Christopher in the kidneys. Quicker than lightning Christopher spun around, grabbed the leader’s hand, and flipped him over so he landed on his back.

  It knocked the wind out of the leader and he grabbed his chest, trying to suck in some air. His friends let out shouts of outrage and surprise, and then they all went after Christopher as one.

  There was a barrage of punching and kicking, swearing and spinning followed by the cracking of bones and howls of pain. Everything happened so fast I couldn’t keep up, but it looked as though Christopher was winning. He obviously knew how to take care of himself.

  Relief washed through my veins until I saw a flash of steel.

  One of them had a gun.

  “You think you’re a bad ass,” the guy holding the gun said, his breathing coming in ragged gasps, the arm not holding the gun cradled against his stomach.

  Everyone froze, including Christopher. Sickness wound through my belly.

  “C’mon, don’t,” another guy said. “That’s going too far, man. Put it away.”

  “Yeah, we can’t kill the kid,” another added.

  “Don’t hurt him,” I shouted, my hands wringing against my sides. “Help!” I cried, though it was useless. If anyone was in the parking lot, they’d already left or were hiding.

  “Who says?” the guy holding the gun whispered, his voice filled with seething fury.

  The gun went off, a loud pop like the cork of a champagne bottle, and Christopher dropped.

  “You idiot!” the leader shouted.

  “Let’s get out of here,” the guy with the gun said, kicking Christopher in the shins.

  They took off running and I floated, helpless, as a large pool of Christopher’s blood emptied onto the asphalt.

  “No. No. No,” I wailed, tears streaming down my cheeks. I’d never felt so useless in all my life. I closed my eyes, shaking my head. “If I’m dreaming, let me wake up,” I choked out between sobs. When I opened my eyes, I hadn’t moved. Sirens sounded in the distance. “Yes, hurry. Maybe he’s still alive.”

  Chapter 8

  “There, there, young one,” a soft, musical voice soothed. She seemed to appear out of thin air. She and two others wore black cloaks, large hoods covering their heads. As one they glided over to Christopher and me. Frantic, I placed my body in front of his to block her, but she went right through me and knelt beside Christopher.

  “Leave him alone!” I cried, and was rewarded by a glare from the woman. She was breathtaking. Her lips were red as blood, her long hair black as a starless night sky, and her skin glowed the color of moonbeams.

  “Come. We must turn him quickly,” she ordered, and the other two figures knelt beside Christopher.

  The first one gently gathered Christopher’s head in her arms, tilted him so that his luscious neck was exposed, and bit.

  Vampires, my inner voice shouted. Breathless, I watched. A hungry ache gnawing at my throat.

  The other two sank their canines into each of his wrists.

  A moan escaped Christopher and he arched further into the first vampire’s mouth.

  That I understood. I’d done the same thing when Christopher first bit me.

  Seconds later, they withdrew, and the first spoke. “Rise!”

  Christopher’s eyes opened and I inhaled. They glowed red.

  “We must go,” the first commanded, taking one of his hands. Right then I knew who or what she was—the Vampire Queen.

  A confounded look clouded Christopher’s features, but he nodded and they all vanished into the night.

  I expected to be pulled along after him, but that didn’t happen. My ghostly body remained near the blood. The Vampire Queen, the other two women—probably Worker vampires—left. And I remained. Alone.

  For some reason, kusala and akusala, those strange words Christopher spoke to me last night, came to mind. Had those boys been evil, and the Vampire Queen good?

  Did she really save him? Sure, he still walked. But at what cost? Had he become an empty shell? A plaything for the queen?

  No! He was much more. He cared about me, didn’t he? Frustrated, I crossed my arms, wondering why I was still there. I was about to take my misty carcass back to Christopher’s house when I noticed something strange within Christopher’s blo
od.

  The wooden bear he’d carved.

  Hovering so that my nose almost touched the statue, I peered at it closely. It was stunning, so precise. Right down to its claws and the pupils in its eyes.

  I had to have it. Deep down, I knew that was the reason I witnessed what happened. Christopher needed the carving for some reason. I reached with one hand and grabbed for it. My fingers went right through. I tried again. Again. Again. And, again.

  “Ugh, please. What do I need to do?” I pleaded.

  A tiny thought budded in my heart. Relax.

  I snorted and tried again, with both hands this time. My hands floated through.

  “Awwwww!” I’d never been so frustrated in all my life.

  Relax.

  “Fine.” I breathed in through my nose, held it a second, and let it out through my mouth.

  Relax.

  I breathed in, held, and blew out.

  The muscles in my shoulders loosened. Tension left my stomach.

  I reached for the carved bear, the buttery wood stained red with Christopher’s blood, and… picked it up.

  “Yes!”

  A light, irritating tapping repeated between my eyebrows near the bridge of my nose.

  “Snow, Snow White. You can move now. We have removed the toxins.”

  Arianna. I was back in Sharra.

  “Christopher,” I gasped, and stood, searching urgently for him. I needed to see him for myself.

  A flurry of pixilettes pulsated around me, my quick movements startling them. Breathing heavily, I stepped forward and a wave of nausea rocked my body, making me dizzy.

  “Easy, Frosty.” Warm hands encircled my waist and his soft chuckle tickled my ear. “I’m here.”

  I sank into him, pushing down a fearful moan. My Hunter, Chace, Christopher… My mind still clung to the awful experience I’d just witnessed. “I saw you,” I said, my voice hushed.

  “Saw me?” he repeated, touching his fingers to my forehead.