Belle’s Quest (Fairytale Bureau #3)

Chapter 14

14

The lair of evil looked quaint. I mean there was no other word for it. The sunny interior showed off the eclectic arrangement of furniture, wooden, the kind with spindled legs and ornate corners. Rugs covered the wood-plank floor. A floral wallpaper brought color to the space. The kitchen appeared from the nineteen fifties, the white cabinets still sporting big chrome knobs. The appliances the avocado green that used to be so popular.

I saw no sign of the owner. The golem strode into the living room area, which held a faded pink velvet couch and a plaid recliner. The small fireplace displayed logs ready for lighting. Lace doilies abounded, and a large, knitted blanket sat folded on a footstool .

“When can we speak to the owner of the house?” It felt odd talking to a magical construct.

“Why would you want to do that?”

“Because we have questions.”

“About the Grimm Effect.” The golem stood in front of the window, the glow of the sun around its edges making it hard to look at.

“Do you know anything about it?” Killian asked, sitting casually on the couch as if this were a social call.

“I know everything about it since I’m the one who set it loose.”

I blinked. “You did?”

“You sound surprised.” The golem kept speaking in that dull monotone. “I blame this vessel. It isn’t as useful as I’d hoped.”

I sat down hard beside Killian. “What are you?”

“Some would call me alien. But I am much more than that.”

“Do you have a name?” I numbly asked, still caught on the alien part of its statement.

“I am Methuselah.”

“Why does that sound familiar?” I muttered.

Killian knew the answer. “Isn’t that a star?”

“Your astronomers call anything that glows in space a star,” the thing scoffed. “I am the destroyer of worlds.”

As the words fell into the silence left behind, I couldn’t help myself. “How is a paper puppet a destroyer? I mean look at you. You’re scorched. You don’t even have a face.”

The slash of a mouth definitely crackled down at the corners. “Do not mock me. I am a force to be feared.”

“Not right now you aren’t.” I really couldn’t seem to stop running my mouth.

“It is not the container that counts but the spirit within.”

“So you’re a ghost?” I asked to clarify.

“Hardly. I am a god.”

“Of puppets.” Killian’s turn to mock.

“And this is why I must upgrade this body,” it grumbled.

“You know, you could try some paint. Give yourself some eyes. Maybe a wig,” Killian suggested.

“Like lipstick on a pig,” I muttered.

“No need for artifice when I won’t be residing much longer in this shell,” the paper construct stated.

A disturbing statement, but rather than poke more about that topic, I switched to something it said earlier. “You didn’t seem surprised to see us arrive on your doorstep.”

“Because you were expected.”

“You wanted us to come here? ”

“Are all humans this slow to comprehend?” No disdain in the statement but the intent was there.

“Just trying to understand why you were trying to kill us if you wanted us to find you.”

“I wanted to ensure your worthiness.”

“For what?” I couldn’t help the suspicious note.

“Did you not hear when I said I needed to upgrade my container?”

A chill went through me. “You can’t have my body.”

“Why would I want yours?” I’d have sworn it tried to sneer. “The females on this world are the weaker of the species. Not to mention, you have no rank.” Its head swiveled to Killian. “But a future king… That will suit me quite well.”

“Oh hell no,” I blurted out. “You can’t have my husband either.”

The thing cocked its head. “As if you have a choice.”

“There’s always a choice,” I growled before lunging at it, dagger out. I stabbed it in the heart. The knife went through the rigid paper. I yanked it free to see a slit but no blood, just an odd green glow coming from within its shell.

The maché man stood still. “Would you like to try that again? You can’t kill me. Even if you destroyed the construct, my spirit would simply return to the stone. ”

“What stone?” I blurted out.

No surprise, the thing didn’t reply. “There is much to do to prepare for the implantation of my spirit in the king’s body.”

“I’m a prince, not a king,” muttered Killian.

“A minor inconvenience. Once the current monarch dies, you will ascend. From that position of power, I will be able to move about this world freely. As I conquer countries, they will fall under my control until there is one leader. Me.”

I snorted. I couldn’t help it. “You really think the world is going to bow down to you?”

“They will accede to my power,” the golem stated, as if the people of Earth would just acquiesce on its say-so.

“What power?” Killian interjected. “Corsica is hardly an imposing country. Our main claim to fame is our exports. We barely have an army. We definitely don’t have any nukes or weaponry that would intimidate anyone.”

The thing clasped its hands. “You raise interesting points. However, in my research of your world leaders, most are feeble old men and women whose bodies couldn’t handle the transference. You, however, are fit, not unattractive by this world’s norms, and while your country is currently lacking in military strength, that will come when we align with a more powerful one. ”

“Align how?” I asked questions because I wanted to understand its plan. How else would we stop it? Never mind the fact I had no idea how we’d trap and vanquish this alien Methuselah. The more knowledge, the better. I still wondered what it meant by returning its spirit to the stone.

“I will align with a powerful nation via marriage. That is how most political alliances are formed.”

“I’m already married,” Killian pointed out.

“A minor inconvenience.”

“You’re going to kill me.” I should have been scared, but instead, I spat in annoyance.

“Eventually. While not the ideal body, you would make an excellent backup should the transference fail with the king.”

So I wouldn’t die right away. Lovely. That might give me time to figure out a plan.

“For the transference to happen, you will need preparing.” The golem addressed Killian.

“What kind of preparing?” I asked since Killian only glared.

“The taint of my magic is still upon him. It must be removed. Then there is the spirit, which also must go to make room for mine.”

With each word, the knot in my stomach grew.

Killian finally reacted. “When you say my spirit has to go, what will happen to it?”

“It will be unbound from the flesh to become what you term a ghost, which will fade over time until the planet reabsorbs it for a rebirth.”

“You can’t do that,” I exclaimed, fear finally hueing my tone.

“I will do whatever I like, and there is nothing anyone can do to stop me. Now, enough talk. You, female, will remain here in captivity in case things go awry with the king.”

“And if I refuse?” I huffed.

“Willingly or by force. I do not care.”

“I’m not doing anything you want,” I spat. I’d resist every step of the way.

“Very well. By force it shall be.” It said nothing else, and yet I heard a door open and shut, followed by a heavy tread.

To my surprise, Gerome entered the room.

My lips split into a smile. “Am I glad to see you. Shred its paper ass.” I pointed to the golem.

Gerome swiveled his head to look but didn’t pull a sword from his sheath.

The thing canted its head, and I swore it tried to smile. “He won’t obey you. The Knight is enchanted and now serves me.”

“Bullshit,” I blurted out, even as my short-lived elation faded .

“The Knight did try and fight the compulsion but ultimately lost.”

Judging by Gerome’s blank gaze, true. It also meant we couldn’t hope for rescue. Unless Hannah remained at large.

“Now, will you go docilely, or shall I have Gerome escort you forcefully?” A polite monotone request and I didn’t like either option.

“Fuck you.” Since Gerome blocked the path to the front door, I darted in the direction of a hall I saw branching off the living room. Most homes had two exits. Since the main one entered the kitchen, I might find one at the back. The first open door in the hall showed a bathroom with a small window. I went for the next door, hauling it open to see shelves with linen.

Dammit.

The door beside it ended up being a bedroom, the windows copious but narrow.

Only one door left.

I flung it open, hoping it would lead me outside or to a mudroom with access to the yard. Instead, I found myself in a study. Big wooden desk. Bookcases, with empty shelves probably because the books were stacked on a small side table. No exit, just more windows, but of more concern the woman sitting slumped on the floor, her gray hair wisping out of its bun, her frilly finery wrinkled .

“Fairy Godmother?” I murmured as I stepped inside.

Her head lifted, and I could barely see her eyes through the hair flopping in her face. I did hear her sigh.

“Oh, dear girl. You shouldn’t have come.”

“Too late for that.” I whirled and slammed the door shut, as if that would stop the blank-faced Gerome doing the slow stride down the hall.

I leaned against the door and wondered what I could use to wedge it shut. I’d need a bit of a head start to escape from the window. Then I’d have to… do what exactly? I had no plan, not yet, but I figured if I could get to somewhere with a phone and put a call in to Her Majesty, she’d have some kind of armada to send to save her little prince. The bureau would likely send reinforcements too, especially once I explained I’d found the source of the Grimm Effect.

The desk chair had wheels, not ideal but I rammed it under the doorknob anyhow. With hands planted on my hips, I eyed the desk. Could I heave it over?

“You don’t have to worry. Methuselah won’t come in here.”

I glanced at Godmother. “You obviously know about that thing.”

“Oh yes. Although I didn’t know it had an actual name and personality until recently.” Her lips turned down. “I made so many mistakes.”

“You can tell me all about it once we get out of here.”

I headed for the window and heaved at the window sash. It didn’t budge.

“It won’t open,” she advised. “Methuselah made sure of that when he locked me in here.”

I whirled. “Then I’ll break it.”

“Also not?—”

The paperweight I tossed at the pane of glass bounced and almost landed heavily on my toe.

“—not possible,” she finished saying. “Welcome to my prison.”

“I’m not staying here,” I muttered, more to encourage myself than reassure her.

“I said the same thing when Methuselah locked me in here after the ball.” Her lips turned down. “He’s strong, though, and tricky. He ensured I couldn’t escape.”

“What is that thing? It claimed to be an alien,” I stated as I prowled the room looking for a way out.

“Because it is an alien.”

I stumbled before whirling. “For real?”

“Yes. Although it doesn’t have an actual body. It shot down from the sky in a tiny pebble-sized meteor. Not realizing what I’d found, I brought it inside and made the mistake of placing it on a book, and I started the mess that is the Grimm Effect.”

My eyes widened. “Let me guess, the book was the Brothers Grimm fairytales.”

She nodded. “Somehow, this alien rock absorbed those stories, but it wasn’t until later that I realized it was making them come to life.”

“It launched the curses.”

“Yes.”

“But why?” I blurted out. “Why is it doing this?”

“For more power. It calls itself the destroyer of worlds. From what I’ve gleaned, it ate a bunch of them, too many as it turned out, and it ran out of food, for lack of a better term. It was in a dormant state until it discovered Earth. Now that it’s here, it’s planning to rebuild its strength and use our planet as a base while it seeks out other planets with life it can devour.”

“Damn.” I couldn’t think of anything else to say in that moment. It sounded so incredibly fictional.

“Damn indeed,” she agreed with a sad nod.

“How come you never told anyone?” I accused. “We could have nipped this in the bud.” Before it accumulated power.

“You have to realize, at first, I didn’t understand what happened. The oddities started out small, and by the time I understood, it had spread. ”

“So why not tell anyone then?”

“I tried.” Her lips turned down. “I invited a professor friend to see what I’d found. When he put his hand on the stone, he evaporated.”

“Oh. Does that happen to anyone who touches it?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. No one else has dared. Nor has anyone else managed to get close other than me. The next two people I brought, which included a general in the military, never even saw the rock. Poor General Kilner got turned into a tree. He’s still flourishing in my garden. As for the other, our representative in government, he became the first fiddler, and last I heard, he’d taken his life in a mental institution after they took away his fiddle.”

“So you gave up?” I couldn’t help an incredulous note.

“Of course not,” she huffed. “I tried other things to diminish its effect.”

It hit me in that moment. “You gave it more books.”

“I gave it dry encyclopedias, which only made it smarter. I fed it kinder fairytales in the hopes of mitigating some of the darker tales it reenacted.”

“I don’t think it helped,” I stated, thinking of the string of murders we’d recently handled, not to mention all the deaths that occurred from people caught up in the curse.

“I soon realized that and removed all books from my home, but it found ways to get more stories. As the fairy godmother, I found myself tugged away from home quite often. I’d try and do my task quickly, but a few times, I returned to find new books on the stack.” She glanced over at the tower of books.

“Surely someone noticed a paper person walking around.”

“That development was quite recent. I tried to get rid of it,” she admitted softly.

“You’re the reason it has scorch marks on its body.”

“Yes. I tried to burn it. But its magic doused the flames, and it locked me in here.”

“Why didn’t it kill you?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. It doesn’t think like a human.”

“And yet it was talking about taking over a human body.”

“Perhaps we could kill it once it’s in true flesh,” she mused aloud.

“We can’t!” I shouted. At her dropped jaw, I added, “It’s planning to take Killian’s body. Prince Killian,” I emphasized.

“Your husband,” she murmured. Her lips gave a sad lilt. “That poor prince. The irony being his and Cinder’s actions actually rid the world of that curse. It’s back in the book now where it belongs.” She waved a hand and at my confused look explained. “When a story resolves in a certain manner, the magic is no longer able to use it. It counters its powers and returns it to the book.”

“Which is good to know but doesn’t help us because this is real life and not a story. At least not a story I’ve ever read.”

“A pity because then we’d have a blueprint as to how to handle it.” Godmother sighed.

Vrrrrm .

The engine noise drew me to the window, where a car idled in front of a small, detached garage.

As I watched, Methuselah, inside his paper puppet, emerged, strutting disjointedly, followed by Killian, and, rounding out their party, Gerome. My husband appeared to be sleepwalking, his expression blank.

He sat in the car beside the paper golem while Gerome took the wheel.

As they drove off, I exclaimed, “They’re leaving.” I whirled to ask, “Where are they going?”

“I don’t know, child. I was not made privy to its plans.”

I slumped to the floor. “We’re so screwed.”

“We are,” Godmother agreed.

Despair crashed down on me, and I tucked my head to my knees, preparing to have a good sob when there was a tapping at the window.

My head whipped around, and I couldn’t believe my eyes because someone stood outside.

“Hannah.”