“You need to fear!” it/she roars at me. “How can I tell what you’re made of if you are not afraid?”
I roll to the side. There’s been another blow to my stomach. The knot of it slows me down. I lift my head an inch as the next kick goes just shy of my ribs. I have to get up. I have to …
Another kick knocks my breath away. I am dying. I must be. In the distance, a squirrel chatters its horror at the scene. The world smells of decay and pine, snow and blood. From somewhere far away comes the sound of a heavy animal running on the crisp snow.
I need to breathe, to live, to figure out what is happening, but I don’t know how.
The creature pulls back her foot again, then pauses. If I could focus, I would maybe know what has caught her attention. I shift my gaze sideways. She is giant sized and definitely female, the kind of female that would star on naked Web sites if half of her body wasn’t rotting like she was some sort of zombie. To make it weirder, half of her is pale and half is dark like she’s two different races.
I must gasp or recoil or something, because her expression changes.
“I know. Not very attractive,” she says.
I struggle, trying to get up while she snorts her disdain.
“You are so weak. Hardly a worthy opponent at all.”
“Just kill me then,” I mutter, and fall back into the snow, too tired to move, too tired to care.
She crouches down, stares into my face. Her eyes are a mere three inches from my own. The wind rushes by both of us, lifting a patch of skin from her cheek. “I do not want to kill you.”
I swallow hard. “Just toy with me? Nice.”
“Not toy with you. Test you.” She sniffs the air. “You are destined to be part of the end, or perhaps you can stop it. You can end up with me in Hel or with them in Valhalla. When so much rests on the fate of one girl, how can I not test you?”
“I have no clue what you’re talking about,” I manage to say.
The snow has turned to icy pellets. They hit against both of us like weapons, reminders of the pain that exists.
She smiles, revealing broken teeth and perfect teeth, half and half. “Our destinies choose us. I was not always this way, Zara of the White. Destiny shaped me into a woman, half rotting, half whole. Despite the prophecy, perhaps, we can change what we will become? Who knows? Your cavalry arrives, lucky little queen. I must go. It was nice to meet you.”
Nice to meet me?
Hope fills me even though I’m totally confused. If she goes I might be able to sit up, to smell something that isn’t rotting skin and vanilla-bean intestines, to figure out what she’s talking about, but then she leans in and whispers one last thing. “Do not let him out. No matter what they say, I want this end no more than you do.”
“Wh-what?” My head swirls with confusion and she rushes off just as I manage to sit up. My eyes focus enough to see a large tiger, stripes standing out in relief against its pale fur, howl and race after her. The world shakes beneath their running feet. She roars.
I reach out to the tiger. “Gram …”
But Betty is already gone.
The woods become silent, quiet and waiting, as if disappointed that the action has moved on to a different part of the world. My heart clenches. My grandmother is chasing after that thing, and I’m in no position to follow. She could die. She could get hurt.
Flipping open my cell phone, I text Astley and then I promptly collapse back into the snow, letting the air chill me as my eyes close and I wait for rescue or death. I’m a target for any of Frank’s or Isla’s gang of pixies. I’m not quite sure which I would prefer—rescue or death—which sounds awful and suicidal. I’m normally not like that, but life right now seems overwhelming with no possibilities, no hope. What did she mean that I could stop it? Why was she testing me? What doesn’t she want to end? The world?
The air smells cold and almost metallic. The freezing snow seeps through my clothes.
And what did she mean I’d end up in Valhalla or with her? Snow falls onto my face and evaporates just like my questions.
Two minutes later Astley appears, falling out of the sky and into the snow beside me. His foot flails out and hits me in the shin. That will be another bruise to add to my endless bruise collection of awesomeness.
“Sorry! I am tremendously sorry!” he apologizes, flustered as he scoots closer to me. He grabs my head in his hands, which makes me cringe and he apologizes again. “What happened?”
“A woman creature …” I shake my head. “She hit me from behind first. The blow must have made my vision blur.”
“How are you now? How many fingers?” he asks, gathering me in closer to him with one arm while he raises the fingers in another.
I focus. “Two.”
“How is your emotional state?” Astley asks.
His choice of words makes me laugh sometimes. “My emotional state is fine.” I think for a second about what to say. “Betty’s back and I think I may have some closure with the whole Nick thing.”
He doesn’t say anything. Astley is like that. Sometimes he’ll wait to see if you’ll add more. He gets the best information that way. He learned it, he says, from being a king, watching his dad rule. But since he’s told me this before, I’m actually onto his little trick and I wait too.
He touches my cheek. “That is wonderful news about Betty—and Nick. I apologize for this morning. I was too quick to judge your actions. It was wrong of me.”
I smile a little bit. “It was wrong of me to not tell you ahead of time, to get your input too.”
“I want you to be happy, Zara, always happy.”
“I know,” I say. “That’s what I want for you, for everyone.”
“We shall fix this—all of this ghastliness. We shall make this right.”
His teeth shine even in the dim light. His blond hair flops into his forehead as he gingerly touches the wound on the back of my head and he loses his smile, which is too bad, because his smiles are really nice. I breathe in the familiar smell of him and it gets rid of the decaying stench of that monster woman and the coppery smell of the cold. Almost against my will I lean my head against his chest, shut my eyes for a moment.
Honestly, I haven’t felt safe in a very long time, and this time it doesn’t last because the muscles in Astley’s chest stiffen. Opening my eyes, I see what has made Astley tense. Just a few trees away is a beautiful, huge wolf. He sniffs the air. His ears are back and fangs bared as he growls his anger toward us. We’re hugging in front of him, I realize, and he obviously doesn’t like it.