Briar stood, pulled by both fear and an ungovernable longing for the spindle. The wolves had spears, but they would not satisfy like the prick from a spindle of a spinning wheel. She had to touch it.
The whining wolf dared a quick glance from where he lay, then suspiciously eyed Briar. “Not her,” he rasped. His version of a mock human voice was eerier than the first wolf’s. Then he crouched as though he might spring to her throat. He curled his lips and bore his sharp teeth.
Perhaps he wanted to touch the spindle too, Briar thought. But it belonged to her now. She felt a surge of ferocity, like a protecting lioness.
“Get out,” she heard herself say in a commanding whisper. The growling wolf narrowed his yellow-slitted eyes and dove forward. Briar put her arms out to protect the spinning wheel. The wolf that was left cowering on the ground, suddenly growled wildly and leapt at the first wolf, sinking his teeth savagely into his side.
The two wolves brawled, barking, growling angrily at one another. Finally the whining wolf caught the first one by the throat and clamped down. His muzzle became drenched with blood as he pinned the first wolf to the floor. The pinned wolf cried and wildly attempted to get free, his limbs helplessly flailing. But eventually he became still and his tongue lolled from his open mouth.
“Get out!” Briar’s imperious energy filled the chamber. The victorious wolf, huffing in the cold chamber air, bared his fangs again. He looked away from Briar, almost deferentially. He bit the dead wolf by his blood-drenched pelt and carried his slack carcass from the chamber.
Briar followed the creature to the door and once it was gone, she slammed the door shut. She turned back now to the spinning wheel and outstretched her shaking hand. It’s mine, she thought, stepping slowly, allowing the moment to linger before she savored the sharp bite. Not knowing any longer who or where she was, Briar inched forward. Just one more step—
“Stop!” Briar heard a resonant voice from behind her. A rope swooped around her waist. Quick as a striking rattlesnake, she felt herself jerked away from the spinning wheel and she fell on her backside to the floor. She squirmed to free herself, but the lasso only tightened.
“Leave me alone. Let me go! It’s mine!” she shouted as she struggled to her feet to face the man who was holding her captive.
There at the far end of the room, holding the end of the rope, was Ash dressed now as a cowboy. “There’s nothing in this place for you, Briar. Nothing that you want.”
“I found the spinning wheel. It belongs to me,” Briar protested as Ash pulled her away.
“This was a trap,” Ash said. “One touch of that spindle and you would have been infected with the sleepdeath.”
“I don’t care! I don’t…I…” Briar couldn’t finish. She felt conflicted, dizzy, disoriented. Ash noticed that the key on Briar’s necklace was outside her outfit. He flicked it with a finger until it made contact with the delicate skin at her throat. At once Briar felt as though a haze was lifting. She began to realize how strangely she was behaving. It felt as though she were waking from a deep sleep, a distorted dream.
“What happened?” she asked. “How did you get here?”
“I got here the same way you did,” Ash said. Then he pulled Briar close enough to untie her. “You were under the influence of something very dark and powerful. And we would have lost you forever had you touched that spindle.”
“What do you mean?” Briar looked over her shoulder at the spinning wheel standing near the window, contrasting so simply with its surroundings: wood, stone, metal. It seemed so small and unimportant. “It was—it was poisoned?”
Ash began untying her and he helped her to stand. “It was more than poisoned,” he said. His face was now long, his eyes filled with an understanding tempered by some unspoken pain. “Your arrival in these Realms has been anticipated from a time before remembering.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Many await you, Briar. But to some who hold power, you are a threat. And the only protection you have right now is that trinket,” he said. He eyed the iron key pendant.
She touched it with one hand. “This thing?” she asked.
“Yes, that thing, as you call it, isn’t simply a necklace. It is a trinket, a link to power and protection. It is the only thing as potent as the dark magic on that spinning wheel.”
Briar held the key in one hand and silently regarded it.
“Myrtle, Poplar and I forged it in this very chamber against great odds and at great peril.”
“Look, I don’t want—wait, what I mean is that I never wanted any part of this—whatever all of this is with your trinkets and spinning wheels and freaked-out wolves—”
“I know that this may all be difficult to believe, raised by commons as you were. But to ignore or to believe that this is some sort of delusion is a dangerous mistake.” He looked at the floor, tipping up the brim of his cowboy hat with a leather-gloved hand.
For the first time, Briar had no response.
“Terrible things, unspeakable things will happen to innocent lives should you pretend that this world does not exist. Very real beings, as real as your mother, are at stake.”
“What do you know about my mother—?”
“I know that my people—no, your people—die every day at the hands of a dangerous tyrant.”
Briar had sensed it from an early age. Her mother was never missing, as she had been led to believe. As hard as it was for Briar to hear this said aloud, she had known it all along in her heart. Briar couldn’t remember anything about her mother. Not her face, her smell, her touch. Nothing. And for Ash—this peculiar man who felt more like a dream than anything else—to confirm what she suspected seemed cruel and unfair.
“What?” Briar’s voice was almost a whisper, but she shook shaking her reddening face. “How dare you drag my mother into this! You don’t know anything about her!”
Ash looked down again and waited for Briar’s pain, her fury, to subside before he spoke. “I know that she loved you very much, and she would have wanted you to do what was right.”
“How do you know that?” Briar fought back tears. “Anyway, I can’t. This is too much for me. I’m just some random high school kid. I’m not whoever it is you think I am. It’s just a big mistake,” Briar said. She hoped that she was right.
“Yes. A mistake,” Ash said. He nodded sadly. “Have you looked in the bassinet?” he asked her. He tipped his head to one side, gesturing toward the cradle.
“What?”
“Beneath cobwebs, the headboard. Have you seen it?” Ash looked up from the floor and nodded toward the bassinet.
Briar’s heart thumped louder and harder than it ever had before. “No,” she said. She felt like something was stabbing her in the gut. Then she stood and paced the stone floor to the dust-covered crib. She pierced the thick webbing, pulling it apart. And there, chiseled into the headboard below the dragon carving, painted with crumbling blood-red paint, was her name.
Briar reeled back and covered her mouth with a hand. “How can this be?” she asked, but not to Ash. “I was raised by my—my foster mother, Matilda.” Briar finally backed up to the wall and slid down to a crouch. She covered her face with her hands.
Ash approached and lightly placed a hand on her shoulder. “We hid you where the Lady Orpion would never find you. It was our only hope to save you, to save the people of our Realms.”
“Don’t lay this on me,” Briar snapped. She shook off his hand. “My people are at home. My foster mother, her girls, my friend— and for the first time ever I have a boy that just might be interested in me. Those are my people—not a bunch of weirdos doing fantasy role-playing games. Don’t you have some kind of convention to get to?”
Ash stood watching her, but didn’t move. Briar looked up and he locked his crystal blue eyes with hers. “I understand,” he said. “You do not know this world or its people. And I should know that hoping and waiting are fools’ games.” He looked down at the floor. “As
are holding fast to the tongue-waggings of old wives and soothsayers.”
He leaned against the stone wall next to Briar. Exhaling quietly, deliberately, he shut his eyes tight with unmasked pain. “There is but one thing more for you to see.”
He took Briar by the hand. Looking up at him with pleading eyes, she stood. Together they walked to the chamber door and Ash opened it. There, on the other side, was Briar’s basement bedroom.
She gaped at the unexpected scene. “But how?”
Ash shook his head. “It matters no more. If I cannot spare the lives of all, I can at least save one.” He gestured for Briar to enter.
Briar stepped to the doorframe, but something gnawed at her and made her turn back to Ash. “Please forgive me,” she said. “I just—I can’t. Whatever is happening for you—that life, your world isn’t for me. I’m sorry. I can’t be who you want me to be.”
Ash nodded formally. “Better for you to have lived your life freely, than to have been bound, as others, to a life not of their own design,” he said.
Briar didn’t understand, but she managed a flicker of a smile.
“Do me one last favor,” Ash said. Briar’s smile faded. “Always wear that trinket. It must touch the skin. And none but you should see it.”
Briar nodded and clasped the key to her chest.
“Goodbye, Briar of the Black Woods,” Ash said. He made a motion with one hand and the closet door swung shut.
Briar wanted to say goodbye, but once she was on the bedroom side of the door, it swiftly shut. She reached for the knob, thinking to perhaps open it again. But she just stood there with her hand extended. She felt a wave of sadness for something unnamable lost. Instead of re-opening the door, she backed away into the safe, familiar darkness.
Chapter 10
Who am I?
It might be a little late to be asking the question now. Right? Still, I go over it again and again, especially since that crazy night. I know the answer. Deep inside I know it. But I’m afraid to admit it to myself. I’m afraid because it means my whole life is a lie. So I go around and around, whittling it in different ways. But I always come up with the same answer. I’ve been playing at being Briar the foster child—the abandoned—the unloved. I’m an impersonation of some in-your-face outsider. I’m not made up of my past, or my thoughts or my feelings— no.
Who am I?
It’s so clear to me now. I don’t exist at all—and I never did. I am not. And at the same time, I am. I am Briar of the fricken’ Black Woods.
Dressed in flowing Renaissance-era robes of crushed red velvet, Briar stood in the shadowed wings of her school auditorium.
“Big night, huh?” Dax asked. He was standing behind her.
“Oh,” said Briar. She looked out on the empty stage, but her mind seemed much further away. “Yeah.” She flipped through the pages of the script, giving them one last glance.
“I don’t get it,” Dax said. “You’ve been moping around for six weeks now. If you need something to cry about, let’s talk about my love life.”
“I know, I know,” Briar said. She rocked her head as though shaking off a bad dream. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I guess I’m confused.” She shifted uncomfortably, rustling the pleated folds of her heavy gown.
“Really,” Dax snorted. “Well, that’s because your script is upside down.” He turned around the small booklet in her hands. “Hey look, it’s opening night! You’ve never done anything like this. And remember, before any of this you and I were nobodies. Worse than nobodies—we were laughed-at nobodies. But look at you now: You’re playing opposite Leon Squire in the school play. Leon Squire! You even kiss him in one scene. We’re the next best thing to being one of those Lucky Kids. Have you practiced the kiss? Tell me you’ve practiced the kiss.” Dax smiled mischievously.
“He’s dressed like an ass when we kiss, Dax.” Briar looked like she was chewing sauerkraut.
He looked at Briar’s outfit. “Well, so is everyone else. Don’t let that stop you.”
“No, you don’t understand,” Briar said. “He’s wearing a donkey’s head when we kiss. It’s just a stage kiss—it’s fake. So it doesn’t count. Besides, it’s painfully obvious that he’s not into me.”
“What are you talking about?” Dax said. He was shaping Briar’s perky breasts to look a bit plumper in her gown. “He’s crazy about you.”
“Dax. He’s dating my foster sister. The only one he’s crazy about is her. And frankly, anyone who voluntarily socializes with Megan is just plain crazy, if you ask me.”
Right in that moment, Leon emerged from behind a curtain, came up from behind Briar and grabbed her by the shoulders. “There’s my girl,” he said. He was wearing his usual broad, sideways smile.
“Hey, Leon,” Briar said with a smile she hoped was hidden.
“How’s the best Titania since the invention of Shakespeare?” he asked. Dax crinkled his brow and gave Leon the once-over. He was wearing his own Renaissance garb of black velvet with a rivet-studded black bodice complete with puffed-out shoulders and puffy short pants.
“Nice tights,” Dax said.
“Thanks. I think they make me look fat. Don’t you?” Dax laughed and put a hand on Leon’s shoulder. “Wow, someone’s been hittin’ the gym.”
“Down boy,” Briar said to Dax.
“What? It’s merely an observation.”
“Down boy.”
They all laughed.
“Ready for our opening?” Leon asked Briar.
“I suppose,” Briar said.
“You look…” He paused to consider his words carefully after taking a step back and inspecting Briar’s gown. She could feel his eyes on her, following the curve of her velvety silhouette. “Incredible.” He sounded surprised by his declaration.
And it was true. Briar was hardly recognizable now that she had removed her usual Goth black lipstick and eyeliner. Now that she wasn’t able to retreat behind her mantle of grunge boots and tattered Victorian garb, she looked delicate, elfin, refined. Her skin was milky, and her cheeks had the slightest blush. Her lips were a watercolor pink and she pulled her raven hair up into a sleek ballerina’s bun. Her piercings even seemed less noticeable now. But Briar felt naked, even vulnerable without her usual outfit that armored her against the dangers of the teenage world. And Leon staring at her in this way, with a goofy grin on his face, made her more self-conscious than ever.
“Thanks,” Briar said. She knew he wanted her to say something back, to acknowledge that she understood that he might have thought of her as more than a buddy. But she was never going to embarrass herself again; she made a vow the day that they sat in his car together, not to mention the issue with Megan being his girlfriend. Briar would rather not awaken that demon. Best to handle this with a one-liner, she thought. And with a raised eyebrow she said, “Nice tights.”
“I can’t argue with that,” Leon said. But he didn’t laugh, or say anything more. Instead, his eyes trailed her beauty once more and it made her blush.
Then from the shadows of the stage, Megan appeared, smiling cruelly. “Well, handsome, what are you doing here in the dark?” She sauntered out from behind a faux iron garden gate ornamented with plastic vines and bright yellow roses at the center of the stage. “Oh, I’m sorry. Was this a private conversation?”
“Yeah, private. Ha! Love it,” Marnie said. She was following Megan like a shadow, nose in her phone.
“Shut up, Marnie,” Megan said.
“Oh hey, Megan,” Leon said. “We were just having a little pep-talk before the show.”
Dax whispered to Briar, “Did she have a freakin’ homing device surgically implanted in him, or what?”
Megan slinked up to Leon and wrapped her arms around his neck like two pythons ready for lunch. “I wouldn’t want my little Bottom to tire out before the play,” she said. She embraced him and placed her chin on his shoulder.
“Excuse me?” Dax blurted.
“That’s the name
of his character in the play. It’s Bottom,” Briar said from the side of her mouth.
“I wouldn’t advertise that,” Dax said.
Over Leon’s shoulder, Megan glared at Briar and Dax. Then she turned her attention back to Leon. “I brought you a little opening night gift,” she said. Leon laughed uncomfortably.
“Marnie!” Megan snapped like a gruff dog owner. Obediently, Marnie produced a red rose. Megan grabbed it and sniffed it before handing it to Leon along with a protracted kiss that was aimed at making Briar and Dax feel as though they were inconveniences. “Promise you’ll think of me when you have your unfortunate, awkward moment with Briar.”
Leon took the rose. “Who’s the best girlfriend ever?”
Dax couldn’t contain himself. “Just about anyone but her.”
Megan ignored Dax. “Let’s go over your lines one more time,” she said. “Practice makes perfect.” She escorted Leon through the trees, across the stage. Once Leon was safely out of earshot, Megan stepped back into the dim light where Briar and Dax could see her. “Break a leg,” she said with a taunting lilt.
“Uh, thank you?” Dax looked disgusted.
“And if that isn’t convenient,” Megan added, “break something else.” Then she turned with a hair flip and disappeared into the black curtains.
“Yeah. Catch you on the flippity-flip,” Dax shouted back. Then to Briar he snorted, “That girl’s got game. Creepy as shit, though.
This exchange with Megan and Marnie could have thrown Briar off completely. Instead she plunged herself into the play. Once it began, she lost all track of her life with Megan and Marnie. For now, she was only Titania, Queen of the Fairies. Just as at her audition, Briar spoke her lines as if she had eerily transformed into her character. Dax sat in the front row beaming at his friend and her brilliant, if not anomalous talent.
Before Briar knew it, the time had come for her stage kiss with Leon. As Titania, she lay asleep amid a bed of plastic stage flowers. Leon as Bottom began to sing.
Briar Blackwood's Grimmest of Fairytales Page 8