Grimm, Grit, and Gasoline, page 4
part #1 of Punked Up Fairy Tales Series
“Auschwitz,” she said.
I met her eyes and, though the word had no meaning to me, I could see the remains of unimaginable sorrow.
“There was a woman there,” she said. “A Romani witch. She claimed she put a shapeshifting curse on a man before, turned him into a pig.” She smiled. “When she offered to turn us, I thought she was crazy, but I accepted, mostly to humor her.
“We waited for the full moon. She took our blood and made us stand in a circle. There was smoke, but no fire, and she drew a pentagram on the ground. Next thing I knew, I was no longer myself, I was something else, and I was flying West. There were twelve of us, only ten escaped, nine remain,” she finished with tears running down her face. “I don’t cry only for the past,” she surprised me by saying. “I escaped an awful fate but my life is no longer my own. My memories are fading, the person I was feels more like a ghost with each passing day. I’m cursed to this change every night and I cannot stop it. I’m alive, but I do not have a life. I am not free.”
I wanted to hold her tight, drive the pain away, but a sense of propriety stopped me.
She shifted in her seat and the blanket she was clutching slid off her right shoulder, reminding me she had been hurt while still in swan form. However, in place of a bleeding wound, there was a small scar.
“I heal,” she explained, noticing the direction of my eyes. “When I turn human, I heal.”
My hand moved of its own accord, pulled towards her damaged skin. I traced the outline of the scar with a mixture of guilt and relief.
So hypnotized was I by her, I didn’t realize my lack of decorum until it was too late.
“I must go,” she said, shrinking away from me. “My sisters will wonder where I am.”
I nodded. “Will I see you again?”
“Where will you be tomorrow?” she asked.
Anywhere you want me to be, I wanted to say. But then I remembered the party. The stupid, vapid party my mother was throwing in my honor. There was no way I could miss it. I cursed my luck, but told her where to find me, just in case.
She promised she would try to come to me, but I had no delusions. In my mind she was an angel, a spirit, not meant to walk among mortals.
She stood up and walked away.
“You never told me your name,” I called out before she reached the door.
“Odette.”
Part 3. Sig’s party
“…And said she used to travel to Cornwall by train! Can you imagine? By land?!” Miss Chatterley finally paused to draw in some breath after what felt like a twenty-minute-long piece of nonsensical gossip.
“As a matter of fact,” I started. “Even before the war, train travel was considered the safest, though perhaps not the most glamorous, mode of transport.”
“Steam-powered locomotives,” Miss Chatterley continued, oblivious to my comment. “I say! What are we? Peasants?”
The rest of our group burst into laughter.
I wished, not for the first time, that I could bring Reggie to these events; he was certainly better company than any of the people there.
As Miss Chatterley moved on to discuss unsuitable headgear for travel, I glanced around the room. Mother had outdone herself. The theme of the party was White & Gold—white for peace and gold… for money, I suppose. White tablecloths contrasted with golden center pieces that stood two-feet high, ivory feathers decorated the backs of the chairs and shiny lanterns hung from the ceiling, giving the space a glamorous glitz. There were several champagne towers and even a (white) chocolate fountain in the middle of the room. It was all so… much.
My mother spotted me from across the room and raised her glass in silent approval of my conversation companions. This tipped me off the edge. I downed my drink and walked away, without offering any apologies to Miss Airhead-Chatterley.
“Careful with the frowning, Captain,” someone said as I stomped off. “One might think you’re not enjoying the party.”
I turned around. “Miss Haddock, I didn’t see you there.”
“Really?” She gestured to her generous frame. “But there’s so much of me.” She laughed, completely unabashed.
As a gentleman, I tried not to laugh, but I couldn’t suppress a smile. “Of course I’m enjoying the party,” I lied. “It’s in my honor.”
“Oh, is it?” She gave me a knowing look. “Your mother is throwing this party for the same reasons mine insisted I come.”
I chuckled and felt relaxed for the first time all evening. The more I got to know Miss Haddock, the more I liked her—but as a friend, not a potential wife. Something told me she felt the same way about me.
“Fine,” I admitted. “This party is so dreadful, it’s making me long for the war.”
Miss Haddock shrugged. “The chocolate fountain was worth the trip for me.” She punctuated her comment by dipping a strawberry in the cascading goo and popping it whole into her mouth.
I was about to do the same when a new arrival caught my attention. It was her. Odette.
She was an otherworldly vision in tight black lace that clung to her every curve. The waves of her silky hair were draped over her scarred shoulder, and her lips were a hypnotizing shade of red.
I moved without thinking, pulled towards her by a magnetic force. When I finally reached her side, she leaned up and pressed her crimson lips against mine.
There was something different about her, an edge of darkness, but I didn’t care. I kissed her with abandon, so dazed by the elation of the moment that I failed to see what was right in front of me.
***
The rest of the evening passed in a spellbinding blur. The orchestra played in the background as I danced with Odette for hours, only half-aware of the whispers surrounding us. I could only imagine what my mother was thinking after seeing me devote all my attentions to an unknown lady. Miss Haddock, on the other hand, gave me an approving nod as she exited the salon with a cigar in her hand.
I was painfully conscious of the time; every minute brought us closer to midnight and to her unavoidable transformation. I led Odette to the balcony, so we could have a private moment. I realized then that no word had passed her lips since she arrived. Silently beholding her beauty was a joy, but I longed, more than anything, to hear her voice.
“I am glad you came,” I tentatively started.
She smiled but didn’t say a word. A strange tingling went up my spine. It was the same feeling I experienced whenever I sensed an enemy before seeing it.
“Odette, I’ve been meaning to ask you,” I said. “Did you ever find a way to break the curse?”
She returned my gaze with icy eyes. There was a distant caw, but I didn’t pay it any mind. I was too busy regretting the stupid question. If she knew how to break the curse, she would have broken it.
However, she surprised me by answering, “Yes. It took me a long time and a great deal of sacrifice, but I finally found the answer.” Her voice didn’t have the soothing effect it used to have on me; instead, that uncomfortable feeling, announcing impending doom, intensified.
The clock struck twelve, and the first chime was met by a louder cawing cry, somewhere in the garden.
“How? How do you break the curse,” I asked, eager to get an answer before she was forced to fly away.
She walked towards me until our bodies were flushed against each other. The cawing sounds grew louder, and I finally recognized their origin—crows. I glanced up and saw them swarming towards us, looking more like a hive than a flock.
I could feel Odette’s warm breath, as she whispered in my ear, “The only way to break the curse is with the heart of a good and honest man.” As she finished speaking, I felt cold steel penetrate my chest.
As I collapsed to the ground, I finally understood. “You’re not Odette.”
“No,” the woman looming over me said. “My name is Odile, and unlike my sister I’m not waiting to be rescued. I will free myself. Whatever it takes.”
My mind had covered her with a veil of perfection, but now I saw the truth. She was an almost perfect ringer for Odette, but her eyes were tainted by malice.
She pulled back her hand, bracing herself for the death blow. At the same time, I saw the crows viciously plummeting in our direction, but both the birds and Odile stopped when a gun shot rang out. I twisted my head towards the garden and spotted Miss Haddock with a half-smoked cigar in one hand and a Colt revolver in the other. There was someone standing next to her, but it was too dark to make out who it was.
It was a shot in the air, but the distraction saved my life. The clock chimed for the twelfth time and Odile’s entire body shook, making her let go of the knife. Her hands twisted and deformed, her bones cracked, and her silhouette shrank until she became a bundle underneath a puddle of lace.
She emerged as a black swan, her wicked, murderous eyes still fixed on me.
I was weak and losing a lot of blood, I doubted I could defend myself, even against such a small creature.
However, Odile didn’t come at me. She turned her head sideways, reacting to a sound my human ears could not yet perceive. Moments later, a white swan vaulted towards her, savagely driving her away.
They flew directly above me, across the expanse of the starry sky. I drifted off amid a flutter of feathers and ferocious hissing sounds.
Part 4. The Hunt
I woke up to rhythmic—not so gentle—undulating movement. I was lying down on soft leather, like a sofa, but I was certainly in motion. A train perhaps?
I blinked a few times to clear my eyes. I could see inverted buildings through the window above my head. Not a train then.
“You’re awake, I was starting to worry.”
“Miss Haddock?” I mumbled. She was in the front seat, behind the wheel of what I initially assumed was an automobile.
I brought my hand to my ribs and found the wound properly dressed.
“You’ll be fine,” Miss Haddock said. “The wound wasn’t all that bad. She didn’t hit anything of importance, and the blade didn’t go in too deep. I think you just fainted of the shock, but I patched you up good.”
“I thought you were an engineer,” I replied, still dazed.
“I recently trained as a nurse, thought it might come in handy, with the war and all.”
“You never cease to amaze me, Miss Haddock.” I sat up, there was some pain, but nothing I couldn’t handle. For the first time since I woke, I became aware of the situation and panic set in. “Where are you taking me? I need to go back, I need to—”
“—You need to find your girl, I get it.”
I shook my head. “The woman at the party, she was not—”
“Your girl? I gathered; the stabbing tipped me off. I meant Odette.”
“Odette was at the party?!”
“I was in the garden, smoking my cigar, when a lady in white appeared out of nowhere. She was frantic, talking about witches and falcons, or was it eagles? Don’t know, some bird of prey or another.”
“Crows,” I said.
She snapped her fingers, “Yes, that was it. Anyway, she was desperate to find you. I thought she was a nutjob, but then I noticed she looked a lot like the woman you were with and then, well, things got weird. You got stabbed, and your attacker turned into a swan and then, the lady in white turned into a swan! I mean, clearly, I’m missing a few pieces of the puzzle here, Sig.”
“Your warning shot saved my life,” I said, not wanting to explain the curse. “What else did she say? Odette.”
“Something about her sister, sorry, I can’t remember much. You must understand, I was a bit shocked by the whole situation.”
I let out a frustrated groan.
“But!” Miss Haddock said, handing me a piece of paper. “She had a letter for you. She left it behind when she… erm, birdified.”
I unfolded the paper and read:
My dearest Sig,
Only a life or death situation would have prevented me from returning to you, and that’s exactly what happened that day in the caves. My sister was captured by the crows. Or so we thought. Years later, we discovered that she had joined them willingly. I can only assume they promised her something in return. A way to be free. And I believe it has something to do with you, I am afraid of what she might do.
Odette
“I need to find her!” I said, becoming more agitated. “Where are we going? And, Samantha,” I said forgetting proper address, “what in God’s name are you driving?” It looked like an elongated Rolls Royce, but felt like it was skating over ice, rather than rolling across London.
“I heard some officers talking,” she replied. “There was a sighting of crows near Rookery Lake, in Bromley. I’m guessing your girl was also headed there, and I’m afraid they will shoot anything with a beak. You must hurry.”
“I need to get to Biggin Hill first. But we’ll never make it in time, not on this thing.”
“This thing,” Miss Haddock sounded offended, “is my hovercar.”
A hover what? I leaned over the window to glance down and noticed we were not touching the ground. The car was suspended a foot above the street, using some sort of propulsion mechanism.
“It might not be as fancy as that Spitfire tin-can you fly,” she continued, “but let me tell you one thing, nothing can beat my Betsy when it comes to overcoming London traffic.”
“Betsy? Your car’s name is Betsy?” I managed to say, right before Miss Haddock pulled down a lever, making the car rise above the aforementioned traffic. We flew over the streets, oscillating from side to side, perilously avoiding the tallest buildings, but, true to her word, we were out of the city in no time and headed to Biggin Hill.
I jumped off the vehicle as soon as Miss Haddock landed—parked, or whatever it is you do with a hovercar. Reggie had caught wind of the attack and was waiting impatiently next to the runway.
“I nearly took off without you Sig,” he said as I climbed into the cockpit. “But you know I can’t shoot… or land on my own. Even then, I was about to risk it.”
“I’m glad you waited for me you old Maverick,” I said. “Let’s go!”
Reggie had gathered as much information as he could while waiting. The crows were spotted north of Rookery lake, five Spitfires had been dispatched with shoot to kill orders. I needed to get there before they got to Odette and pray neither the crows nor Odile had managed to harm her.
***
“Are you sure we’re going the right way?” I asked, starting to doubt Reggie’s intel.
The legion of crows that aggressively smashed against our windshield gave me my answer.
We lost all visibility and spiraled down, out of control. Just when I thought we were goners, the birds dissipated, giving way to a friendly coming from my rear.
I managed to regain control of the plane, while the other pilot levelled up with me. I recognized Wing Commander Lennox, a dear friend and top-notch aviator.
“Skipper,” Reggie said. “I think that’s her.”
Reggie’s sight was better than mine—don’t ask me how that works, it simply does—but I could just about discern white and black feathers in the horizon.
I turned to our neighboring Spitfire and saw Lennox getting ready to thrust ahead. I went for my radio, but all I got was static. A second later, Lennox’s plane erupted at maximum speed, no doubt heading for the swans.
I trailed after Lennox, swishing from left to right in a futile attempt to overtake him. Luckily, he noticed my erratic behavior and slowed down. My radio made a cracking sound. “What the bloody hell are you doing, old boy?” came Lennox’s voice.
“The swan!” I yelled, afraid of the radio malfunctioning again. “The white swan is a friendly, do not shoot. Repeat, do not shoot!”
There was a long pause, but finally Lennox replied, “Roger, I’ll pass it alo—”
He never finished the sentence. His plane went up in flames, not shot down, but rather engulfed in a sudden blanket of fire.
Reggie reeled back. I searched the sky for the source of the attack, expecting a Messerschmitt or a similar enemy aircraft, but there were none. I was starting to entertain the ridiculous notion of the Nazis coming up with invisible vessels, when the attackers revealed themselves—the crows.
One of them flew towards us, its crimson eyes discharging a string of flaming light in our direction. The impact on Reggie’s right flank shook us with more potency than any regular bullet.
I swerved to the left in a sharp angle, avoiding the second shot from the murderous crow. My new position gave me a good view of Odette. She was still fighting her sister and neither had the clear advantage. At least the crows seemed uninterested in them.
Another red-eyed crow threatened from the left, but this time we were ready. Reggie veered right and changed our geometric plane. The crow’s fire blaze missed us, but a second shot came, almost immediately, from the opposite side. This one got much closer. I was almost certain there would be a third bird coming from the rear. The bastards were aiming for the engine, set on turning us into a fireball like they did to poor Lennox.
I hate to be the type of pilot who flees a dogfight, but our only hope at that point was our speed. I accelerated the plane to the max and sighed with relief when the black birds were left behind.
Reggie adjusted our angle, so we were flying straight towards Odette and Odile. He gradually reduced our speed, and I knew what was coming.
“It´s now or never, Skip,” he said, coming to a sudden hover.
I was still in the air, with Odile right in front of the bullseye. My finger was ready on the trigger, and, this time, I knew the right thing would be to shoot. But I made a mistake. I glanced past Odile, to Odette and I could not find the approval I was seeking in her eyes. She simply looked scared. This was not what she wanted, this was not how she wanted it to end.
Instead of shooting, my finger reached for another control on the opposite side of the dashboard. The hunting net. But it was too late, my moment of hesitation gave the crows a chance to catch up, and before I could trap Odile, we were hit again. Multiple times.
I’d always thought Reggie couldn’t feel pain, not in the human sense at least, but the terrifying scream he let out when the shooting blaze hit us made me rethink that.
