Once Upon a Time: New Fairy Tales Paperback(73)

I shout again. It turns and stands its ground, back arched, spitting and hissing, unwilling to relinquish Chick. Her eyes bulge with fear, her mouth hangs open, bloodstained drool drips from her chin.

Chick’s hurt cuts through my shock. I pick up a pan and fly at the cat, hissing back. I’m almost on it, screeching and stamping, when the cat decides I’m too much to take on. Its paws scramble on the tiled floor for purchase as flees between the legs of the kitchen table and chairs.

I pick up quivering Chick. Blood stains my dress. The worst thing’s the sound. Her shapeless keening.

How could you let this happen to me?

The hag was right. It hurts.

At twelve, Chick still has a young child’s body. There are no signs of puberty and, in truth, I’m glad that I don’t have to deal with her having periods as well as everything else.

She is changing though.

Chick’s acting strangely. Social services would have a field day if they could see her. I’ve delayed her hospital appointment for fear that someone might examine her and see.

She’s taken to climbing onto worktops, bookcases, and tables.

She leaps and lands with a heavy thud, lying on the floor looking ? 227 ?

? Egg ?

stunned. Her bruises are a spectacular range of colors, which never fail to make me wince. I’m exhausted from the constant vigilance supervising her requires.

That’s not all. She’s stopped eating, just like she did as a baby, as though sickening for something. I’ve tried bugs and worms again but she won’t take them from me. She’s listless. She won’t splash about in her shallow bath. She doesn’t click her tongue or follow me.

I undress her for bed. She’s lost more weight. I remember holding her in my hands when she was born. I resolve to take her to the doctor in the morning, regardless of her bruises.

But that’s not all.

There’s her skin. I slip her nightdress on, over the thick, ugly hairs on her back that are so tough that they take pruning shears to cut through them. The cotton slips down to cover the fine down on her bel y.

I lock the door and lie beside her on the mattress that I’ve put on the floor. It’s the safest way, in case she gets up at night. There’s nothing left in here for her to climb.

I’m woken intermittently by Chick who spends her sleep in motion.

Her arms twitch and she wakes with a jerk as if falling, followed by a dialogue of clicks as if she’s telling me her dreams.

The gray light of morning comes in. There’s a sound at the window, like a pebble being thrown by some lothario below. I once had a lover who did such things, imagining himself romantic. Oh, the memory of sex. Chick used to get too upset if someone spent the night, or even an hour, while she slept. Afterwards she’d shy away from me as if I was tainted by a scent that ablutions couldn’t remove.

The noise comes again, a series of short, sharp raps. A pecking on the glass that chills my skin. Something wanting to be let in.

I part the curtains. A shadow flutters against the pane, its wings a blur. Not a ghost but a sparrow.

The hag’s back.

I listen to Chick’s ragged breathing and I want to have it out with the old bitch.

I put a coat over my pajamas and pull on boots. I put a sweater on ? 228 ?

? Priya Sharma ?

Chick and swaddle her in a quilt. She’s a featherweight when I pick her up. Her eyelids flutter, then open and she looks through me with dead eyes before she closes them.

The barn’s cold. I can see the shape of my breath. The hag’s nest has been reduced by time to a rotting pile that reeks. She doesn’t seem concerned. It’s her throne.

“I want a word with you. You cheated me.”

The hag hasn’t aged, where I feel the weight of the last twelve years. She still wears a riot of once-white rags.

“She’s unique, isn’t she?” The hag clucks and coos like a proud parent. “You can’t remake her in your own image. She’s herself entirely. That’s children for you.”

Chick’s awake now. Alert. She wriggles, wanting to be put down.

“Eloise,” the hag calls.

“She only answers to Chick.”

The hag smiles at that.

“Chick, come here.”

I hate that Chick goes to her without hesitation.

“She’ll do nicely.”

“For what?”

“Our bargain. You don’t want her. I’ll take her back as payment.”