Godmother Read online

I set the iron pot over the fire then pulled her right stocking off and jammed it into her mouth. Before she could spit it back out I gabbed her calf and snatched the cleaver off the table. With one chop her toes scattered across the floor. She started to scream while I pulled the pot off the flames and pressed it to the bloody stump at the end of her foot.

  It sizzled and popped as the smell of burnt flesh filled the kitchen. Her scream died off as she passed out and I hung the pot back over the fire. I jammed a wad of rags on the end of her foot and put her stocking back on. I had just tossed her toes into the stew pot when Anastasia and my step-mother came back through the door.

  “What’s wrong with her?” my step-mother asked.

  “She got so excited that she fainted.”

  “Worthless girl.” My step-mother scooped her up and carried her out. Now it was Anastasia’s turn to huddle with me at the kitchen door. We watched as the guard slid the shoe onto her foot. It had worked! My step-mother squealed with delight and the Prince motioned for the guards to collect her. Then she regained consciousness.

  The little whelp began screaming her head off. She tore the shoe from her foot and pulled the stocking away to reveal her mangled stump. She bawled and screamed and pointed frantically at the kitchen door.

  “Cinderella!” my step-mother roared. She was through the kitchen door before I could get away. She snatched the bloody cleaver off the table, but before she could bring it down on my skull one of the guards caught her wrist. They pulled her aside and seized me. I kicked and screamed as they dragged me into the foyer but it was no use.

  One of the other knights forced the shoe on my foot. The Prince looked me in the eyes. “It was you.”

  I spat in his face. The knights reached for their swords, but the Prince started laughing hysterically.

  “I love it! She’s exquisite, isn’t she? Release her.” The two knights that held my arms stepped away. The Prince leaned in closer. “It was you who killed my parents wasn’t it?”

  I turned my head away.

  “No need to confess. I recognize your eyes. That fire. You can relax, I’m not here to have you imprisoned or executed. I’m here to make you my queen.”

  Now I was certain I had gone mad. “What?”

  “My father was… less than caring. I had been searching for a long time for a way to dispose of him and Mother. You see I’ve long been of the opinion that I would make a much better king than a prince. I couldn’t find a subtle way to do it though, it’s hard to rule a kingdom if you’re imprisoned for patricide.

  Then you came, dark and lovely. You stole my heart then made my dreams come true by walking right in and gutting the bastard. Gods how I wish I could’ve watched. When I found them I spread the rumors they had died of natural causes. I recognized your slipper and knew I had to find you. Only those in my private guard here know the truth. Of course, now your family does as well. Aleister.”

  He motioned to one of the knights who drew his sword and removed my step-mother’s head before heading to the kitchen. I couldn’t control my giggling over the screaming that followed from the kitchen door.

  “There is no other woman in this land with your strength, with your beauty. Will you be my queen?”

  The rest of the story I’m sure you can guess. The Prince had papers forged to prove my noble birth and we were wedded immediately following his coronation. Within the first year of our rule we were blessed with you, my little prince, our first child. Through conquest and law we have brought this kingdom into a golden age and expanded its borders farther than they’ve ever been.

  I have been so happy these many years that I nearly had forgotten all of the misery that had led up to it. That is until last night, when a raven landed at my window. I made a promise once that I would give anything to have my wishes fulfilled. The time has come to pay that price. Now close your eyes my sweet, I promise this will only hurt for a moment.

  About the Author

  Adam Wik lives in Cincinnati, Ohio with his wife Caroline and dog Bailey. In addition to writing he enjoys parkour, language learning, and teaching Jeet Kune Do at the Wik Academy of Martial Arts.

  Notable skills include juggling, an eidetic memory for useless information, and the ability to properly pronounce parasaurolophus from a young age.

  You can get in touch with Adam by e-mail at [email protected], see more of his books at AdamWikBooks.com, or sign up for e-mail updates.

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  Other Works by Adam Wik

  The Errand

  The bed shook with the force of Claire’s coughing. I felt around on the nightstand until I could spin the clock around to face me. The glow of the numbers blurred and shifted until I wiped the sleep from my eyes.

  3:24 A.M.

  Claire sat up beside me with the force of another coughing fit. I turned over to sit up with her and brushed a strand of long brown hair away from her face. Her forehead felt like it could boil water. I rubbed her back as she recovered from the coughing. At this rate, neither of us were going to be getting any sleep that night.

  “I’ll get you some cough medicine,” I said.

  I slid out of bed and felt my way along the wall out into the hallway, only bothering to flip the lights on when I’d gotten down to the kitchen. I knew she couldn’t help it, but it was the worst possible time for this. My interview the next morning could mean the difference between me getting the promotion I’d been working toward or being stuck where I was for god knows how long. The last thing I needed was to stumble in on three hours of sleep.

  I pulled open the cabinet where we kept all of the medicine. Things for headaches, nausea, left over antibiotics… Shit. I started pulling things out one by one and checked again. No cough medicine.

  Hopefully a cup of water would at least be enough so we could get some sleep. I flicked the lights off and felt my way back upstairs. Her coughing echoed in the hall. I handed the water to her and she took a drink.

  “We’re all out,” I said. “Sip on this for a bit and see if it helps.”

  Claire sat and cradled the cup, taking small sips in-between coughing fits. I crawled into my side of the bed. She set the empty glass on her nightstand and her back pressed against mine as she slid back down under the covers. My eyes began to ache from being held closed so tightly. Whenever I felt sleep creeping back in I was wrenched back to consciousness by Claire’s convulsions. I felt like I’d been lying there for hours. I peeked at the clock again. It hadn’t been ten minutes.

  This wasn’t going to work.

  I grumbled as I threw the sheets off again. The pair of jeans I’d been wearing the day before were still on the floor. I pulled them on and blindly grabbed a shirt from the dresser.

  “I’m going to run to the store and get you some medicine,” I said. “Want me to get you more water before I go?”

  Claire shook her head before doubling over coughing. Her eyes were tearing up as she looked up at me. “You don’t have to do that. I’ll go take the couch so you can sleep,” she said.

  “I have enough trouble sleeping when you’re not here. Besides you’re coughing so loud I’d still hear you.” I leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll be right back. I love you.”

  She smiled. “I love you, too. Don’t worry about the water, just hurry back.”

  I pulled my socks and shoes on after I got downstairs. The alarm system beeped when I punched the code in to tell me it was disabled. After I stepped out into the gar
age I held the button down on my key ring until I heard the beeping from inside assuring me it was back on.

  We lived in a nice neighborhood. Middle class, white picket fence kind of place. The worst I ever expected was maybe getting my mailbox knocked over when the neighbor’s kid was learning to drive. Still you could never be too careful.

  It felt bizarre being out so early in the morning, halfway between when the night owls had turned in and the early birds were up. It felt like everyone on Earth had disappeared and it was only me, in my car, driving past empty homes and closed storefronts. Maybe it was sleep deprivation getting to me.

  There were three cars in the lot at the 24 hour supermarket. More than I expected for this time at night.

  The fluorescent lighting was harsh and the decade old one-hit wonder grinding through the store’s speakers didn’t help. I grabbed the generic cough medicine. At least I could save a little money.

  I followed the lit checkout sign to the single open lane. The guy behind the register had to have been in his twenties, but between the acne and the slouch he could’ve passed for fifteen. A shock of unkempt copper hair fell around his face and over one eye. I handed him the bottle.

  “Bad night?” he said in a voice as sophomoric as his face.

  “Wife’s sick.”

  “That sucks,” he said. “I’ll need some ID.”

  “For cough medicine?”

  He nodded. “State law.”

  I handed him my license and a handful of bills.

  “Out of four?” he said. He opened the register and pulled out a handful of coins. “Seventy-six cents is your change. Have a good one.”

  “You too,” I grumbled. I shivered as I walked out of the store. Even for late March the wind had an edge to it that cut right through my jacket.

  According to the time on the dash I’d have at least two, maybe two and a half more hours of good sleep. I wasn’t happy about it, but it’d have to do. Tomorrow would be the answer to all our problems. The stress of the past six months, the calls from the credit card companies, the threats of foreclosure. All of that gone if I got that promotion tomorrow.

  The alarm beeped through the door when I turned it off, and I unlocked the door and went in. I slipped the keys back onto their hook and tossed my shoes into the closet.

  I felt my way back into the kitchen and flicked the lights on. The medicine had a hard plastic wrap over the cap. I fought to get it off then gave in and used the scissors we had in the drawer. I measured out a single dose in the cup.

  “This stuff better work quick,” I said to myself.

  I turned the kitchen lights back off and climbed up the stairs, keeping my one hand against the wall for guidance. Halfway down the hall I stepped in something cold and wet on the wood floor. I looked down, but still couldn’t see in the darkness. She probably spilled something. God, I hope she didn’t throw up out here, I thought. The bedroom door was open.

  “I’m back. I have the cough medicine. Did you spill some water in the hall?”

  She didn’t answer. Maybe she had fallen asleep.

  “I’m gonna turn the lights on, so close your eyes if you’re awake.” I flipped the light switch.

  The bed was empty. The sheets were disheveled, like she’d gotten out in a hurry.

  Next to the bed…

  There was blood.

  A pool of it a foot across sat next to the bed, with smaller pools and drops dotting their way past my feet and out into the hallway. My sock was soaked in crimson. A single bloody footprint was left where I’d stepped coming in the room.

  “Claire!?” I shouted. “Are you alright? Where are you?”

  Read more of The Errand.