The Toad Prince

Chapter Nine

Nadaria snuck back into the castle. She’d seen more than one suit of armor, and she needed to borrow something. The first one she came to had its hands resting on a long sword that was nearly as tall as her.

Giggling, she whispered, “Bigger is not always better, Roux.”

She kept looking until she found another with its hand wrapped on the handle of a short sword in a sheath at its side.

“Perfect.”

She wrestled the sword from the hollow knight and did a few offensive moves with it. It was terribly dull, but it was better than nothing. The blade was steel coated with silver, so she hoped whatever was out there was susceptible to those particular metals. Taking the sheath, she secured it at her waist.

“Thank you, sir,” she said, polishing a dull spot on his armor.

Nadaria lurked down the hall, not wanting to be spotted. She had a feeling Sorin would not approve of this little side quest. There were so many frickin’ doors in this place, and she opened two of them because her intuition told her to. The first was the kitchen, empty, and she took a chunk of cheese and a loaf of bread.

“You want anything?” she asked Roux, and he hid his head under her collar.

The second was a cloak closet, and she wrapped a heavy brown fur coat around her body, stunned by the warmth. On the floor was a leather bag, and she snatched it, too, so she could carry the supplies back in it.

No one spotted her, and she took that as a sign the Goddess was on her side, and she was on the right path. She walked the same way she and Sorin had earlier, letting her intuition lead her. After the bridge, it continued deeper into what used to be a magnificent garden. Everything was overgrown now, except a tiny corner that was manicured to perfection. She smiled at it, wondering which of the vampires maintained the spot.

At the end of the garden, a wicked looking rusted iron fence waited. It was topped with pointed spires, which appeared to have been sharpened so they were especially deadly.

Some kind of vine engulfed the area, and she leaned down to sniff it, asking, “Are you as nice as you are beautiful? I don’t want to be itchy.”

Her nose and intuition told her it wasn’t poisonous, and she took off the heavy coat, her own cloak, the sword, and the bag. Once she’d shoved them through the bars, she gripped them, and climbed. It was no simple task, and her hands burned because of the metal. Witches were not fans of iron.

Slowly, she made her way up, squeezing through the sharpened points at the top. As she got over, she lost her grip, and with a yelp, she fell about fifteen feet flat onto her back. Her breath abandoned her in a huff, and when she finally opened her eyes, Roux was hovering above her face with concern in his little black eyes.

“I’m good,” she gasped. “Just wanted to take the quick way down.”

Nadaria rolled to her belly with a groan, allowing her body to come to terms with what had just happened. She stood and gathered her things, noting that it felt about ten degrees colder on this side of the fence.

When she was put back together, she allowed her intuition to guide her. Codi said down the mountain, so she started on the down incline. Only a couple hundred feet into the dense forest, a thick fog formed.

Cool. Would it even be a creepy forest without blinding fog?

It was dead silent. The only sounds were her choppy breaths and the crack of sticks beneath her feet. Each step sounded like she was setting off a stick of dynamite, and she tried to choose the most quiet foot path. Her heart wouldn’t cease its hammering, and her chest felt tighter with each aggressive thump.

The forest floor was slick with moisture from the perpetual fog, and her pink converse all-stars slipped several times. Twice she fell to her butt to keep from tumbling down the incline, which sloped sharper than she had expected.

The second time, she stayed sitting. Her chest heaved, and she whispered, “We’ve got to hit the gym more, Roux.” She looked at her sneakers and sighed. They were more brown than pink now. “I should stake that vampire just because I’ve had to ruin my favorite shoes.”

Nadaria felt the comforting flick of his tongue on her cheek and jumped to her feet when the cold moisture of the ground leaked through her skirt and underwear.

It felt like she hiked forever, and she hoped her intuition hadn’t failed her for the first time in her life. Just when the icy anxiety had clawed its way up her spine and into her chest, the tree line broke, and she stumbled into a village right out of a Grimm tale.

Dilapidated thatch roof cottages seemed to melt into the soft, muddy ground, and their open windows and doors looked like black, glaring eyes and gaping mouths. On the edge of town, an old windmill still stood, and the wooden blades were trying to turn in the breeze. But they were so worn that they barely moved, and they filled the empty village with the steady whine of old, creaking wood.

Nadaria petted Roux under the fur coat to calm herself and walked forward. She had to find the healer’s hut. It would be close to a water source, a well or a stream, and in a place everyone could get to quickly if need be.

Letting her intuition lead the way, she wandered toward the creepy windmill, and rounded a corner at the end of the street. A cobblestone well sat in the center of a group of buildings. She studied the open windows, and in one she could see the distinct shapes of bottles and jars lining the walls.

She wanted to say, that’s it. But her tumultuous heartbeat and the icy fear in her veins held the words hostage in her throat. Nothing was right here. She sensed something heinous had happened in this village. It smelled like blood, even though she knew no one had been here in decades. It was as if rain and snow couldn’t wash away the abhorrent acts committed here. The ground was stained forever, reeking as if the blood had been spilled yesterday.

Nadaria hurried to the healer’s hut, and with trembling hands, pulled the door open. The hinges squealed like a dying pig, and she winced, glancing around. The forest watched, and she could feel its dark intentions. She hurried inside, and despite the noise, closed the door behind her.

At the walls of jarred herbs, she searched for basil.

“Come on basil, come on.”

The nulla healer was well organized, and she realized everything was alphabetical. But when she reached the spot basil should be, it was gone.

“Chamomile?”

Gone.

“Goddess, please. Rue?”

Not there.

She spun in a panic, looking at the oils.

“Come on, myrrh?”

It was there, and she snatched it, shoving it in her bag. As she did, the hair on her neck rose to attention and she froze. Behind the only door in the house, she heard shuffling like dragging footsteps.

“He-hello?”

The shuffling stopped, then picked up faster. Nadaria stared wide eyed at the door. Her heart was hosting a violent rave in her chest, throwing itself against her ribcage like it would run off without her if it broke free.

“Hello?” she whispered, barely audible.

She jumped back, covering her hand with her mouth to catch a scream, when something slammed against the wooden door. It was like a hammer—bang, bang, bang—on the other side, throwing itself wildly against the rotting wood, and trying to break through.

Tears filled her eyes, because intuition told her that whatever was on the other side of the door was pure evil. Its wicked energy needled its way into her spine, and clawed up to her brain, holding her captive in the icy grip of terror.

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Sorin sat at his desk in his study, puffing a cigar and staring at his wall of books. He’d read them all, of course, but the familiar view calmed him while he tried to understand his earlier interaction with the pink witch.

Nadaria lit him aflame, body and soul, and it scared him. The way she made him feel something was so f*****g terrifying, and he didn’t know what to do about it. He’d already lost so much in this life, and he didn’t know if his heart could bear the burden of caring for someone again.

His door burst open, and he sat forward, shoving the lit cigar into an ashtray. Nicoleta led the stable boy Codi in, and they both looked like they might vomit.

“What is it?“

Codi trembled where he stood, and Nicoleta wrapped a comforting arm around his shoulders. “It’s alright, boy. You know he won’t be angry.”

Codi took his hat off and held it to his chest like a child would clutch a stuffed animal. “My-my Lord. I don’t know if it’s anything.”

“Tell me. It will be okay.”

“The witch. The pink woman. She was in the stables, and we spoke. She wanted to know about a healer’s hut in the village, and I said there was one.”

Sorin spread his hands on his desk, already standing. “And?”

“She wanted to go, and I told her no. I told her it was dangerous, but she seemed not afraid. I was unsettled, so after a while I told Nicoleta.”

Sorin looked at his maid, and she shook her head with wide eyes. “We’ve looked everywhere, my Lord, she’s gone.”

“Oh, f**k. Stubborn, impetuous woman,” he growled, moving around his desk and running past them.

“I’ve already saddled Boian, my Lord!” Codi called after him.

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Picture me writing this at like midnight last night, guys, in my super dark room. My creepy old door is shut most of the way and then it just creaks like six inches open. I almost died. It was my cat. But, yeah, I creeped myself out with this chapter!

Of course, I already know what’s on the other side of the door…

Do you guys wanna know? Double update today, maybe?