The Thirteenth Fairy

by Melissa de la Cruz

  Gretel is disheveled and exhausted but mostly seems annoyed by the whole experience. “I’m totally fine. Stupid trolls.”

  “What happened?”

  “Well, they carried us here. I heard splashing, so I figured we went through some sort of river. When we got to this bank, they let me go. They just dropped me. A couple of them were whining about having to carry me and my bag. Said I was useless and heavy, and so the leader said to just leave me.” She shrugs. “Stupid trolls. They all need makeovers.”

  “What about Alistair?” asks Jack. “Where is he?”

  “They kept Alistair. They think he has something they want—I heard them. They kept saying something about the treasure, the treasure … the wishes that promise pleasure.”

  “Treasure … and wishes?” asks Filomena. “Why would Alistair have those?”

  Jack shuffles his feet and looks down at the ground.

  Filomena raises her eyebrows. “The trolls were talking about Aladdin’s Lamp, weren’t they? You said the ogres were looking for it, that they invaded Parsa in search of it.”

  She shrugs off her backpack and takes out the Never After book with the lamp on the front cover. She stares at the pages. “The books always hint that Alistair is not quite who he appears to be. I figured we’d find out in the thirteenth book. And this is the thirteenth book. We’re in it.”

  “What’s she talking about?” asks Gretel.

  Jack doesn’t answer. Finally he mouths, Long story.

  “This isn’t the first time the ogres tried to take Alistair, either,” says Filomena, feeling a rush of certainty. “It’s not a coincidence. They know who he is. You know who he is.” She glares at Jack.

  Jack looks miserably guilty. “We didn’t mean to deceive you.”

  “In the books, after Aladdin’s wedding, the lamp is placed back in the good care and keeping of Ali Baba,” says Filomena.

  “Come again?” asks Gretel.

  “Alistair Bartholomew Barnaby,” says Filomena. “Alistair is Ali Baba! He has the lamp!”

  “Well, not quite,” says Jack. “But he is the key to finding it. All they have to do is point him to the right cave and he can say the magic words.”

  “Cave! That’s where they’re taking him. Some kind of cave they found in the deserts of … Parsa?” says Gretel.

  “But why do the ogres want the lamp? Why do they need so badly to make a wish?”

  “Who knows? All we do know is that we have to get to Alistair and the lamp before they do,” says Jack. “And remember what the dragons said? We’ll need the wolves to defeat the ogres. Maybe we should ask them to help us now.”

  For once, Filomena doesn’t argue.

  PROLOGUE

  THE UNKNOWN

  The tales told of this day say Carabosse cursed the kingdom. The tales told of this day say Carabosse disappeared, never to be seen again. But the tales don’t tell us everything.

  As the blood dripped from her hand, Carabosse finished the blessing within her curse.

  “This I promise all of you

  When twisted tales are finally told true—

  The ogres’ rule will end—

  And those left standing will be my friends.”

  The court exploded in chaos and confusion. The fairies disappeared first, and the dragons followed. But the rest were not so fast or so lucky. They fell into slumber as the curse worked its magic.

  The tales told of this day don’t say that Queen Olga rose from her chair, a hideous beast, that she leapt for Carabosse, hungry for her niece. That Queen Olga had a response to the curse, a reply also steeped in verse.

  “A thousand nights and a thousand days I have waited—

  So this moment shall not be abated—

  I have waited far too long,

  I shall not be stymied by your song

  A royal babe, a fairy halfling, this was a feast for the taking

  With her blood there’s no mistaking—

  My power invincible, my reach unstoppable

  And all will know and bow and worship

  Olga of Orgdale. Forever and ever

  And Never After.

  Carabosse, you shall be forgotten,

  Reviled and loathsome,

  And all shall call you EVIL.”

  The ogre queen bared her fangs and her claws, and leapt to snatch the babe from Carabosse’s arms. But the fairy was faster.

  “You are right, Olga of Orgdale.

  None shall know what truly happened today.

  My name, my reputation, you are welcome to slay.

  But you shall not have my sister’s babe.

  By my love, you shall never find her.

  My magic will hide her.

  Unless there is a force stronger than you.

  Until then I bid you adieu.”

  And with those words, the fairy Carabosse was never seen again.

  PART FOUR

  Wherein …

  Filomena dons a red cloak to call the Wolves of the Wood.

  The friends journey to the Kingdom of the Lamp.

  They once again face an Ogre’s Wrath.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  INTO THE WOODS

  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before,” says Jack, “but it’s been difficult to figure out who to trust. When Zera found out that the ogres were looking for the lamp, that’s when she sent Alistair to me. I’m supposed to keep him safe from them. Obviously, I failed.”

  “They don’t have the lamp yet,” Filomena says. “It’s not too late.”

  “Lamp schwamp,” says Gretel. “If we’re going to rally these wolves on our side, we should get going.” She inspects Filomena’s outfit and begins to fidget with the fit of the hoodie Filomena is wearing over the dragonskin armor. She pulls the waist drawstrings together tightly. “There.”

  “Ugh, I like it loose.”

  “But it looks better this way,” argues Gretel.

  “No means no,” says Filomena, untying the strings and wearing it slouchy and baggy once more.

  “Hopeless,” says Gretel with a sigh.

  “Right,” says Jack, ignoring their bickering and leading the way. “We’ll have to go deeper into the Great Forest to find the wolves.”

  “But aren’t wolves evil?” asks Filomena as they disappear into the shade of the forest. “Why would we even want their help? Won’t they try to eat us or something?”

  Jack looks at Filomena with confusion on his face. “Eat us? They’re not ogres.”

  “Evil? Wolves? Why would you think that?” asks Gretel. “I grew up on the mortal side, and even I know wolves aren’t evil.”

  “They’re not?” asks Filomena.

  “Wolves are the most noble creatures in Never After,” says Jack.

  “But what about the Big Bad Wolf?” asks Filomena. “The one who’s always blowing down the three pigs’ houses?”

  “Is that what you think? The tales truly are twisted. The wolf has let those pigs live on his land forever. They’re his tenants.”

  “But I heard them talk about the wolf. ‘Now, if he arrives, you need to get to my house immediately,’ the pig wearing a suit said.”

  “Because that pig always hosts. You didn’t hear the rest of the sentence, which was ‘where I’ll be serving the hors d’oeuvres,’” says Jack. “And his food is so good, it always blows them away.”

  Filomena shakes her head. “But what about Little Red Riding Hood?”

  “What about her?” asks Gretel, intrigued.

  “The Big Bad Wolf dressed up as her grandmother and ate both of them, but the hunter saved them,” she says, telling them the story as she’s always known it.

  Jack and Gretel stare at Filomena in silent disbelief for a moment, exchanging stumped glances. Finally Jack can’t take it any longer.

  “The hunter saved them?!” he repeats as if he can’t believe what he heard.

  “Didn’t he?”

  “No…” Even Gretel is shaking her head.

 
“That’s not the true story. At all,” says Jack firmly.

  “Yeah,” Gretel chimes in. “Even I know that isn’t the true story. My father’s told me enough times. He said the mortals get all the fairy tales wrong. It drives him crazy.”

  “Whoever is telling these tales is telling them wrong for a reason,” says Jack. “Didn’t you say that’s why you read the Never After books? To read the ‘real story’?”

  Filomena considers it. The Never After books must not have gotten to that part of the story yet. “I guess you’re right. But if the wolf isn’t bad, then what about the hunter? Isn’t the hunter the hero of the story?”

  “Oh goodness, no,” says Gretel as both she and Jack shudder at the mention of the hunter.

  “Why?” asks Filomena. “What’s wrong with the hunter?”

  “Here, hunter is another word for ogre,” Jack explains. “Because ogres hunt and eat us.”

  “Trust us on this one,” says Gretel.

  Jack turns to Gretel. “If we’re going to call on the wolves, she’s going to need a red cloak,” he says.

  “On it,” says Gretel. “Hand me my bag.” She searches through her suitcase and pulls out a bit of plain red fabric. Other colors of the rainbow slide out with it, and she pushes them back inside for safekeeping. “I always keep extra fabric with me, just in case.”

  “You have a sewing kit and fabric in your bag? No wonder it’s so heavy!” says Filomena. “I thought you just had makeup.”

  Gretel shrugs. “And a few other things.”

  They rest in the shade so Gretel can sew. “You know, this sort of thing usually takes a lot of time and effort,” she tells them as she grabs her scissors and cuts the material in two. One piece is smaller than the other. “But I’ll do my best.” Then she starts to sew, stitching the bloodred cloth with a needle and thread.

  After just a few minutes of quick work, Gretel holds up a little hooded red shawl, shaking it in front of Filomena. “Take off your hoodie and put this on. Trust me. I know it’s not the most glamorous, or even a full cloak, but we have to make do with what I’ve got.”

  Filomena does as told, exchanging her favorite and most comfortable hoodie for the red cloak.

  Gretel rummages in her suitcase again and comes up with a little basket for Filomena to hold. “Little Red Riding Hood,” she declares with satisfaction. “Off to see the wolf in the woods.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  TO GRANDMA’S HOUSE

  Filomena walks deeper into the forest with slow, timid footsteps. She steps on a twig and startles, almost dropping her basket. Jack and Gretel are following behind, but she can’t see or hear them, so she might as well be all alone in this dark and scary place.

  Her only comfort is that she’s somewhat prepared—wearing the dragonhide armor and the Dragon’s Tooth sword in her sheath. At least she can defend herself against anything she might come across. Jack told her not to hesitate and to stab hard if she’s attacked.

  The forest grows darker with every step, the trees casting eerie shadows, and the rustling of woodland creatures is ominous rather than soothing. Filomena feels many unseen eyes watching her. But Jack told her this is the only way to catch the wolves’ attention; they hardly ever leave the forest.

  She pushes down her fear and swings the basket over her arm cheerfully, putting on a brave face and forcing a smile. Then she calls out innocently, “Here I am alone, walking to Grandma’s house.”

  Gretel says it’s the code to call out the wolves and ask them for help. But in the fairy-tale version Filomena knows, a wolf ate the little girl and her grandmother. Yet here she is, out in a dark, scary forest alone at night, in search of wolves.

  If my parents could see me now, she thinks.

  She waits a few beats for any sign of movement, any rustle among the bushes. But nothing happens. No sounds come, no howling of any sort. No gigantic paws running straight for her. No response at all.

  She frowns and starts traipsing through the woods, almost in a skip. “I hope Grandma is expecting me!” she yells, trying to sound as sweet and naive as possible.

  When there is no reply, Filomena starts to question her acting skills. She also begins to wonder if the wolves are even out here. Shouldn’t they have found me by now? How slow are these things?

  She stops walking forward and turns around. Enough is enough. She’s done with the whole charade. She walks back in the direction from which she came, peering around in the darkness for a glimpse of Jack or Gretel. But it’s so dark, she can hardly see a thing aside from what’s directly in front of her.

  Mumbling to herself, she stumbles over a rock and swipes her knee against a tree trunk. When she bends to brush off her knee, the basket tumbles, spilling items onto the ground. With an irritated huff, she squats and starts picking them up. Gretel will be annoyed if she’s lost any of her sewing supplies. Finding tiny needles and buttons and bobbins in the dark is harder than it seems, and Filomena feels for anything she may have missed. Once she’s gathered everything, she stands up and looks around.

  Okay, guys, you can come out now. This is getting old. You could have helped me pick up all that stuff …

  She crosses her arms and taps her foot, waiting for her friends to emerge from somewhere, anywhere, in the black.

  Just as she’s about to yell that they should quit playing around, a deep and bloodcurdling voice cuts into the silence.

  “Are you lost, little girl?” someone asks just behind her.

  The hair on the back of her neck stands at attention. Then, after a shudder, she realizes she’s being silly and quickly recovers. There’s nothing to be scared of. The wolves are the most noble creatures of Never After. Jack said so. The wolves are good.

  Plus, she’s grateful not to be alone anymore. At last they’ve found what they’re looking for. She starts to smile, but the smile dies on her lips the moment she turns around.

  Because standing there, towering above her with huge fangs and hungry eyes, is not a wolf.

  It’s a hunter.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  HUNTER AND HUNTED

  It’s a monstrous ogre, drool dripping from his front teeth. You’d think Filomena would be used to seeing ogres by now, considering she turned one of them into mush a few chapters back. But ogres tend to take the breath out of you.

  Finally she finds her voice. “I was just on my way to Grandma’s house!” she says, taking a few steps back from the disgusting creature and hoping the wolves will show themselves as soon as possible. “My grandma is waiting for me!”

  The ogre laughs a heartless laugh. “I’ll eat your granny, too!”

  The terror starts at her toes, travels up her legs, through her gut, and straight to her heart. She has nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. And her friends are nowhere to be found. Where in fairyland are those wolves, anyway? They might as well be fictional, for all the help she’s received from them.

  Noble creatures, my nose.

  If only she could think of a spell, but all she can focus on is staying alive and uneaten. And hoping that wherever Jack and Gretel are, this hunter didn’t get to them first.

  I would have heard them scream, right?

  Right.

  The ogre sniffs the air. “You smell like you taste good.”

  “No,” Filomena blurts out, adamantly shaking her head. “I taste horrible. Trust me.” She points a finger in the other direction and adds, “An ogre down the road sampled me earlier and spit out the bit he tried.”

  He narrows his eyes, like he’s considering her statement. Then he grunts with finality, having decided. “Liar.”

  “No! I swear!” she insists. “There was a much more delicious person wandering in the woods over that way!” She points again, and the ogre turns in that direction.

  Please be dumb enough to believe me. Please be—

  But the ogre has turned back to her, and this time, he’s rooting around in his pockets. He finally removes what looks like … a fork!r />
  Filomena screams and tries to run, but her feet are frozen to the ground.

  The ogre puts a heavy hand on her shoulder, holding her still, and says, “I use this one on little rodents and liars like you.”

  “Filomena!” Jack’s voice rings out as he emerges in the darkness, with Gretel at his heels.

  “No! Run away! Save yourselves!” Filomena orders her friends.

  But the ogre moves first, reaching to stab the fork into Filomena’s stomach.

  She closes her eyes, waiting to feel the life drain out of her. But there is only a small click, a tap from a blunt, three-pronged jab.

  The dragonhide armor! The fork can’t penetrate it! Not one bit.

  * * *

  The stupefied hunter lets out a “Huh?” when she doesn’t drop to the ground dead, as he intended.

  While he tries to figure out how she managed to withstand a fork wound, Filomena reaches into her pocket for the fang she received from the dragons.

  “Hey! I use this one on big, foolish traitors like you.” Without any more thought or hesitation, Filomena stabs the ogre with the Dragon’s Tooth, hard and fast in his thigh.

  He stumbles back in surprise on his clumsy and oversized feet. As he does, a pack of wolves emerge from the shadows, galloping closer with gallant ferocity. The wolves attack, biting and nipping at the ogre’s haunches, and Filomena takes the opportunity to roll away to safety.

  One ogre is no match for the snarling wolves, and at last the monster runs away and the wolves give chase until he’s out of their forest.

  When the wolves return, they turn their attention to Filomena. The Wolves of the Wood circle her, howling in unison.

  Her heartbeat picks up again as she wonders whether she’s just escaped from an ogre only to be torn apart by these savage beasts. The wolves continue to circle and howl.

  “Please! I’ve come to seek your aid!” says Filomena.