Not My Fantasy

by Sam Hall

  “I know you did, kid.”

  “It’s so seductive, since Nan’s death we’ve had experiences that people dream about. Meeting Prince Charming, King Arthur . . . The Big Bad Wolf was way sexier than I would have anticipated.”

  “Yeah, he was hot, but also a pushy prick.”

  “And meeting Merlin, the magician.” I stayed silent, watching the expressions shift on my sister’s face. Her eyebrows came down hard; her eyes screwed up tight before opening wide, staring at the sky. Oh, God, I thought as I saw the shine there. She blinked hard to try and stop it, but I was at her side, my arms wrapped around her in the next moment. “I thought we were special,” she said, tears running down her face. “How could we be anything else? How could all of this stuff happen if we weren’t?”

  “Oh, Tess,” I said, rubbing her back as she sobbed into my shoulder.

  “What does it mean? If all this stuff has happened and we aren’t special? Are we some kind of cosmic joke?”

  “Probably,” I said with an involuntary chuckle. “Look, you’re not ready to hear this, but maybe what we’ve got to do is stop thinking about stories of farm boys saving the world and more about what we can do. We’re not stupid; we have skills. Let’s use them and get the fuck out of here. With some careful research, we may well find the portal that opens on your sugar-drenched bunny fantasy world and you can have that adventure. We just need to get home first.”

  The universe’s response to this was to open the heavens. Rain poured down around us, starting to seep inside the doorway. We settled down in the rear of the folly, sheltered by the warm glass and drew the parachute around us. Once we were huddled down and beginning to warm up, Tess said, “So, what the fuck are we going to do?”

  35

  “There you are.” We woke with a start to see several grey-pelted wolf people standing at the front of the folly, peering in at us. “Come along,” one said briskly. “There’s a carriage outside. The prince has been doing his nut, wondering what happened to the two of you.” And that was how we were unceremoniously returned to the citadel.

  “When we get inside, insist on coming to our room,” I said to Tess as the horses' hooves clattered over the cobblestones of the courtyard.

  “OK, but–”

  “We need to stay together. There’s room in ours. Tess, you don’t want to be caught on your own here. The prince thinks getting you to fall in love with him is the way he’s going to return to his former glory. He’ll stop at nothing to achieve that.”

  “Oh, thank goodness!” Natty said as we walked in the door. “I thought he’d gone and killed you.”

  “Nearly, by accident, admittedly,” I said, dropping down into a chair. “How’s Gabe?”

  “My God!” Tess said, going to her knees by the bed. She reached out instinctively to touch Gabe’s mottled face but then thought better of it, her hand hovering in the air, shaking, as she took in the full extent of his injuries.

  “Looks like he should be on the mend,” Vickers said, appearing from the bathroom. “Your man here, Flea, found quite the miracle cure in the library. Soarsin stones when powdered and added to willow bark and velecian acts as an enhancer, reducing inflammation and helping repair damaged flesh. Apparently, soarsin is quite sought after in other realms. Common as muck here. Reckon he’ll be awake and not thanking us for it by tomorrow.”

  “Thank you so much for your help,” I said.

  “Ah, think nothing of it. If I hadn’t been part of His Highness’s household since I was a lad, I’d have left long ago. They’re cruel here, unnecessarily so. A pinkie’s not the same as a normal animal, but they don’t merit this kind of treatment.” He looked up at me and then seemed to realise what he’d just said, “Excepting yourselves, of course. Well, I’ll take my leave.”

  Flea came back in the room just as Vickers was leaving, toting another pile of books. His eyes went wide when he saw Tess, almost dropping the collection before recovering them, taking the time to smooth his expression to one of calmness. “Tess, you OK?”

  “Ah…” I could hear the shake in my sister’s voice, “well, obviously better than Gabe.” She crossed her arms, fingers digging into her skin so hard they went white. “I-I . . .”

  “It’s OK,” he said and placed the books on a table before moving to her side. His arm automatically went to go around her shoulders, then stopped, as if he wasn’t sure he should.

  “It’s fine, I’m fine,” she said, waving a hand and Flea immediately took a big step back. “We don’t have time for hysterics; we need a plan to get out of here.”

  He nodded at this, “Well, I’ve been working on it.” We all took seats in the bedroom. “From what I understand of your Nan’s spell, each time Tess reads a book or watches a movie, something with a story, you, Ash, end up having that happen to you when you wake up.”

  “Yeah, but it has stopped working since Gabe turned up,” I said. Everyone’s eyes slid to Gabe’s prone form and there was a moment of silence. “Tess thinks he’s what I needed and that’s why it doesn’t work now.”

  “Well, you need something to help us out pretty desperately now,” Flea said. “What if that’s how it works? When there’s a need, it activates?”

  “So, what? Tess is going to reread Cinderella and we’ll bring Prince Charming to the rescue?” I said.

  “Or King Arthur. We could bring Merlin here!” Tess said, her whole face lighting up. “That’s a genius idea! He could open a portal and–” Tess said.

  “Ah, I wasn’t quite thinking along those lines,” Flea said. “What if Tess spent the day reading every action hero, badass book you could think of? Superhero comics, Rambo, military sci-fi, you name it.”

  “And bring them here?” I asked, smiling against my will. I was trying to imagine a plethora of superheroes, wizards and warriors, all at our backs, helping us march right out of here.

  “Oh, my God, yes!” Tess said. “I could read something about MacGyver. Did they do novelisations of his show? There’d have to be some fanfic somewhere, anyway.”

  “None of the sexy kind, though,” I said with a shudder.

  “But we’re thinking too small!” Tess said, warming to the idea. Having some kind of solution seemed to transform her mood. “I could read the Dragonriders of Pern and have sentient, fire-breathing dragons. We could have Aragorn and Dumbledore and Aladdin’s genie.”

  “Yeah, well, let me know what you decide on,” I said and moved to sit down on the bed next to Gabe. I very gently ran my hand down his cheek, careful to ghost over the bruises.

  “Master Vickers said to apply this to all the injured areas,” Natty said, holding out a large ceramic container of a herby-smelling paste. “Just brush it on, lightly, of course.”

  I nodded and set to work. The afternoon light bathed him in a hazy golden glow as I went, somehow muting the injuries’ brutal appearance. The paste left a white chalky residue behind it, further glossing over the horror visited on his body. I ran the brush over his cheeks and the bands of finger marks around his throat, letting the paste pool in the small holes caused by one of the wolf people’s claws. I worked my way across his collarbones and down his chest, across his biceps and down the raking marks on his forearms. I swallowed as I moved my brush down. The bruising was much denser around his abdomen, groin and legs; wreaking the most harm where he was most vulnerable. I forced my hand to move, painting the healing poultice over him, trying to erase the damage, trying to bring him back to me.

  Did I love Gabe? We’d had this weird whirlwind affair, more about sex than anything. He was kind and caring, loving and funny; I enjoyed being with him more than most boyfriends, but I guess the idea that he was this magically-induced boyfriend had put a bit of a block on me developing feelings for him. What if he up and disappeared the next day because Tess started reading something else? Why had he stayed when the others went the next day? I worked my way down to his feet, anointing each toe, with their swollen tips and jagged nails. “We’ll do his ba
ck when he dries,” Natty said.

  “We’re going to do a trial for tomorrow,” Tess said when I came back to my chair. “I’ll read one book and we’ll see what happens. The spell has been very quiet for some time.”

  “OK,” I said.

  “I’m so sorry, Ash. If I had any idea–”

  “So, that’s where you got to.” Our heads all whipped up when the door to our suite opened and standing in the doorway was the prince, back in his usual pinstripe suit and not looking happy. “Good to see you returned in one piece. With me, Milady McKinnon.”

  “No, Ash . . .,” Tess said, grabbing at my hand.

  I shook my head, shooting her a fierce look, “The prince only needs me for a moment. You have some reading to do, don’t you?” Flea seemed to understand the need to be cautious about what we knew, even if Tess didn’t. He started pawing through the pile and then shoved a book with a lurid cover at her. “I’ll be back soon, won’t I, Your Highness?”

  “Of course,” he said with a frown, reaching to shut the door behind me when I stepped out into the corridor. “What was that all about?” he hissed as soon as the door snicked shut. “The fair maiden was in danger; I soothed her! She should be in my bed with her rear in the air.”

  “Yeah, and when the going got tough, you were quivering in the corner of the basket. In books, the hero ignores the danger to himself to save the fair maiden.”

  “What?” he blinked at me furiously. “So, self-preservation is not romantic to pinkies? No wonder we roast you and serve you with applesauce.”

  I paused for a moment, trying to shed my mind of that mental image. “Look, I get it, it is weird, but do you really not have any strange rituals? Like, do you sniff the butt of a girl you’re interested in?” He went very still. “Oh, God, you do, don’t you?”

  “When I am in my correct form, my olfactory senses are millions of times more sensitive than yours. You’ll never know the delight of the sweet scent of the posterior of a female in oestrous.”

  “No, and that’s something I thank the gods for every day , but you must see, we each have odd rituals.”

  “In the pursuit of brevity, I will, but I must have your sister in my chambers tonight. Your books suggest more receptivity when a woman experiences life-threatening experiences.”

  I looked at the prince, probably with greater scrutiny than I had all day. Had he planned this? The simians had been screeching that we should never have gone up there. My mind flicked quickly through the plots of the most recent paranormal romances I’d read. Danger had come in the form of vengeful relatives, shadowy cabals, magical spells, malignant beasts. . . . Had I just handed the prince a laundry list of horrible things to inflict on my sister to try to get her to love him? I swallowed, then cleared my throat. “She’s tired and not very receptive right now. If you guys had landed together and spent the night keeping each other warm under a parachute, you might have been in with a chance, but you were trying to stop from turning into a pile of ash from memory. Plan something exciting for tomorrow and you can try again when she’s rested.”

  He regarded me with a sniff, then nodded grudgingly. “Very well, Mellors will call for you in the morning, but Mistress McKinnon,” he waited until my eyes met his, “my patience is growing thin.”

  “What did the Dread Lord Fluffybutt want?” Tess asked, looking up from her book.

  “You. He thought today’s scare would make you randy and wanted to press his advantage. I persuaded him otherwise. What are you reading? We’ve got another outing scheduled tomorrow and I’m not sure he’s above making it life-threatening in an attempt to get into your pants. Hell, if it does kill you then the eternal ‘what are we having for dinner?’ question is answered.” I looked over at Tess whose eyes had gone wide and shining. “Shit, Tess, I’m sorry. That was probably a bit too flippant. I’m just running on gallows humour and prayers right now.”

  “It’s OK, I mean what he tried to do to you, to Gabe. I can’t believe I volunteered myself for this,” Tess said.

  “Hey, princess,” Flea said, “don’t be sad. Look, we’ve just got to come up with a list of all the skills, stuff and personnel we need to get out of here. I’ll get a book list together and hit the library. So, we really need weapons. . . .”

  “People who can fight,” Natty said, “with the technology you showed me at Gump’s. The prince’s guard will have no idea how to counter it.”

  “Uzis, grenades, bazookas, rocket launchers,” Flea said.

  “Soldiers,” I said, “we’ve got a whole barracks full of armed personnel.”

  “Shock troops, covert ops to take out the prince,” Flea said.

  “Ninjas?” Tess said. “Please, please say ninjas.”

  “Wizards to cast defensive and aggressive spells. A few of the prince’s men with eyes melting in their sockets will be enough to stop many of them,” Natty said.

  “A way out of here is bloody important. Tanks? Or spaceships?” I said.

  “With pilots to man them,” Flea said.

  As they began to get excited, Gabe let out a slight moan. It was little more than a heavy breath, he may not have even made a noise, but my attention was immediate. I slid over to the side of the bed, watching his face, his mouth as they continued to discuss their options. Again, he made a small noise, his brows knitting, his mouth contorting in a snarl. “Gabe,” I whispered, putting a hand up as if to touch him, then thinking better of it.

  “A doctor or a healer,” I said.

  “What? In case someone gets hurt?” Flea asked, but Tess gestured to where I was now sitting. “Someone to help Gabe. Yeah, that’s at the top of the list.”

  They kept going for some time, listing everything they thought we needed and then arguing which texts would be the best fit. I slipped on the bed and put my arms around Gabe and let them. They were capable of working it out. I rested my body against the curl of his and then closed my eyes.

  36

  “Where the fuck am I?”

  I woke up with a start and saw a guy with the most impressive sandy-coloured mullet, held back by a red bandana, and sporting a thick beard and moustache standing over me. “Who the fuck are you?” I snapped, recoiling on the bed. I looked around me wildly, Flea and Tess seemed to be sleeping on one of the other beds, while Natty was curled up on a rug on the floor. “And how did you get in here?”

  “I have no fucking idea. I’m Knox McQuade. Last thing I knew, I was asleep at my place back in El Paso. Something tells me this ain’t Texas.”

  “Ah,” I said, sitting up straight. “This is going to be hard to take in, but–”

  “What’s all the noise?” Tess asked, coming over to my bed, still rubbing her eyes. “Oh, Mr McQuade, I presume?”

  “You presume right, now who the hell are you?”

  “Tess McKinnon, you’ve met my sister, Ashley. That’s Flea and Natty.”

  “Flea?” he asked with a curl of his lip.

  “Yup, and Natty,” Tess gestured to a bleary-eyed Natty who was just starting to wake up.

  “What’s with all the noise?” Natty drawled.

  “What the fuck is that?” McQuade asked, taking a step backwards and reaching for the gun holstered at his hip.

  “Now, now, there’s no need for that,” I said in a hurry. “It’s OK; Natty’s a friend.”

  “What kind of shit-show is this? You share a room with a talking moose?” McQuade demanded, but his hand stayed away from the gun.

  “Seriously!” I hissed at Tess, “A 1980s action hero is going to get us out of this mess?”

  “That’s not just any hero, that’s Slate Rockwell!” she whispered. “He can make a fire by rubbing together two ice cubes!”

  “Tess–”

  “Guns carry Slate Rockwell for protection!”

  “Tess!”

  “He won an underwater breathing competition against a fish!”

  “Tess, those are fucking memes, not reality! In real life, he’s just some old dude. We don
’t need some trigger-happy wanker shooting up the place and getting us all killed!”

  “This will all work out, I promise.” She turned to Knox with a smile, “So, Mr McQuade, I’m so glad you’re here. You see, we’re in quite a bit of trouble and really need your help.”

  “Oh, dear God,” I muttered.

  “So, you see, the prince is likely to rape us girls and then kill and eat us for dinner.”

  McQuade stood there, arms crossed over his broad chest. I wasn’t sure if it was because he was finding it hard to believe us or because it showed the muscles in his arms in their best light, seeing as he was wearing a shirt with the sleeves ripped out. The deep-brown eyes that hid under his beetled brow flicked from me to Tess and back again. “Why haven’t you reported this to the authorities?”

  “Because the prince is the authority here,” I said. “Y’know, divine right and all that.”

  “Hmph. Seems to me if what you’re saying is true, I just have to sit pretty here and I’ll be home by morning.”

  “Yeah, that’s true, it’s just. . . .” I fell silent. What could I say? We’d laid out our predicament and he didn’t seem all that moved by it. I looked over at Gabe who was still out cold and shook my head. I felt it, the hard, painful prickling in my eyes and blinked furiously. I was not going to cry; I was not that girl. We were in a jam, but I would find a way out. We got Tess to read the McQuade book to test the curse; that it still worked and it did. I’m not sure why it did, but it did. We could work with that, maybe try and get the whole of the Round Table to turn up and run the prince and his men through in the name of gallantry. Breathe in through your mouth and out through your nose, Ash.