CHAPTER 38

The Gentleman looked as sickly as ever in the pale, washed-out light of the ballroom.

“Well, well, Woodcutter.” The Gentleman stood from his dais and slunk to their side. “It seems you have more a taste for dust than you let on.”

The Woodcutter’s eyes hardened. “Let us go.”

The Gentleman laughed. “But you see, you are now in my Kingdom, a Kingdom recently appointed to me as the only blue blood in the area.”

The Woodcutter gripped Jack closely, his hand itching to unleash the Platinum Ax.

But there was only one Ax from the River God left, one Ax to use against the hellhound.

The Woodcutter stilled his anger.

The Gentleman was amused. “You fascinate me so, Woodcutter. You cost me a great deal in our last visit and continue to cost me a great deal. That little stunt with the dust fields, although nice enough to annex this farm, has set me back. And so I’m afraid that I must insist on you remaining my guest for quite a bit longer.”

“We have played this game before,” the Woodcutter said coldly.

“Tsk, tsk, Woodcutter. You have so little imagination. I’m afraid you haven’t played this particular game.”

The Gentleman walked up to Jack. The Woodcutter stepped between the Gentleman and the child.

“Now, little boy, I bet you would like a treat,” said the Gentleman.

Jack peeked around the Woodcutter’s coat, his voice full of tears. “I just want my mother.”

The Gentleman leered. “And you shall have your mother.”

The Gentleman removed a silver snuffbox from his coat pocket. With a wink, he opened it slowly.

The Woodcutter forced the boy behind him.

But he heard a female’s laugh to the right. And to the left. And behind. The Woodcutter spun. They were surrounded by the revelers, each holding a silver box to her lips. The Woodcutter’s hand unstrapped the Platinum Ax.

The revelers blew, and the shimmering white powder settled in Jack’s eyes.

The Gentleman clapped his hand and the ballroom was night.

The revelers laughed drunkenly and paired up, dancing away. The Woodcutter held tight to Jack, but the world seemed to stop as an elegant woman dressed in scarlet stepped forward. On her cheek was the beauty patch shaped as a flower.

Jack pulled away and ran to the woman, shouting, “Mother!”

She scooped him up into her arms and gave the Woodcutter a sly smile as she held the boy close to her heaving breast.

The Woodcutter stepped forward, but when Jack saw him, he screamed, “Mother! Run!”

The woman turned her back, and Jack blubbered, “Mother, I thought that wolf was going to eat you…”

He said “that wolf” as he stared in fear at the Woodcutter.

The Gentleman ran his finger along the rim of his goblet in delight as he stepped closer to the Woodcutter. “So, you see, you are free to go. But I’m afraid…Oh, what was his name?”

The lady in scarlet caught the question and asked the small boy, “Show me what a bright boy you are. Spell your name for Mummy.”

Jack giggled. “I don’t know how.”

“Well, you say your name, and I shall spell it for you.”

“Jack, silly Mother…”

“J-A-C-K,” she said, tweaking his nose.

The Gentleman turned back to the Woodcutter. “As I was saying, Jack doesn’t seem to want to leave.”

“Jack, come here!” the Woodcutter commanded.

Jack’s face grew pale and his eyes were as wide as silver dollars as he clung to the woman’s skirts. “Mother, the wolf! I can hear its cry!”

The Woodcutter reached his senses down to the earth and started to weave the spell to break the illusion.

The magic cut off midstream. It snapped back at the Woodcutter like a stroke from a wooden switch.

The Gentleman wagged his finger. “Now, now, Woodcutter. I don’t allow that here. All magic must stay in the house.”

The Woodcutter clenched his jaw.

“Like I said, you are free to go, but I’m afraid Jack seems to want to stay.”

The woman had taken Jack by the hand and was leading him away. “Now, dear, you must be hungry. Let’s go get you a snack.”

“Little boys are such imaginative creatures.” The Gentleman smiled.

“What do you want?” demanded the Woodcutter.

“To keep you out of my way,” the Gentleman snarled.

Jack was surrounded by a group of giggling ladies. The woman in scarlet mimed a dish and passed it to the child. Jack took it with such excitement and ate the air, declaring it the best food he had ever tasted. The ladies laughed in delight.

The Woodcutter bowed his head. He would stay until the child was safe. He would wait for Jack.

The Woodcutter sat in the darkened window, his pipe creating wreaths of smoke around his head. Jack slept upon the billowing gown of a nameless female. His sweaty hair was plastered to his forehead, and he tossed fitfully. Dark circles were already beneath his eyes, and shadows clung to the child’s face. There was too much dust in the House for a young, red-blooded boy.

The Woodcutter knew a way to get them both out, but there was a risk and he did not want to risk Jack. Not Jack. Not the child he had accidentally called “son.”

He knew he had been brought to the Vanishing House for a reason. Fate was not so cruel to twice allow such a chance encounter. The House held the answers to the mysteries he had been charged to solve.

Even so, the Gentleman would pay for holding them prisoner.

The red-dressed woman with the beauty patch sat down beside him. “You rudely ended our conversation last time we spoke.”

There was enchantment around her. Not dizzy with the dust, he could sense it now. The Woodcutter said nothing, but continued to puff on his pipe.

She pouted, running a long red nail beneath his lapel. “Even little Jack wasn’t able to give me your name. Nothing besides ‘Woodcutter.’”

The enchantment tried to weave around his head like a lover’s caress.

She whispered in his ear, “But perhaps we could help one another.”

The Woodcutter continued to look straight ahead.

“Don’t fret. I am not asking for your name—just a trade. A little information and you shall receive that which you hold so dear. I am looking for a stepdaughter of mine. She has skin as white as snow and hair as black as ebony. I’m sure you remember her. My huntsman died while trying to protect her there in your Wood. But we couldn’t find any trace of my little one, and I am so worried.”

She brought her face dangerously close. The Woodcutter could smell the cloves upon her breath.

“You tell me where to find my stepdaughter, and I shall bring you Jack.”

The Woodcutter exhaled a plume of smoke. It struck at the enchantment like a snake, choking it as a constrictor does its prey.

She got up, coughing. And then she laughed. She leaned into him, amused. “Remember my offer.”

He stared up into the ring of clean smoke as she walked away. She was searching for her stepdaughter.

His eyes drifted to her lazily across the crowd and fixed upon the back of her neck. The woman in scarlet red shifted her weight as she laughed.

He knew who she was.

She was the second wife of the King of the Sixth Kingdom, married shortly after the first wife had died in childbirth. This woman in scarlet with the flower-shaped beauty mark was Snow White’s stepmother. She was the Queen.