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
“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
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