Once Upon a Time: New Fairy Tales Paperback(76)

The eerily reverent display of death surrounded him on every side, even from the back of the door as it swung closed. He did not see Gudrun’s face, but he had time only to glance over the collection before Valfrid set a gaunt hand on Justus’s arm.

“Come,” the servant said, guiding Justus into a long, dark hall.

The door at the end was plain dark wood, marred by a halo of deep slashes around the knob. It looked as if someone had tried to hack it out. Valfrid opened the door for Justus, who stepped through to meet the Greve of the Castle of Masks.

The castle’s master lay curled in front of an enormous stone hearth.

A pattern of scars zigzagged over the mound of shadow outlined by the flames, and as Valfrid lit the lamps, Justus could see more and more of the monstrous Greve.

Each ragged square of his motley skin was that of a different animal. A patch of silvery wolf fur covered his massive shoulder, and on his right flank was a scrap of feathers that might have come from an owl. When the Greve rose to his feet, he stretched like a cat, the firelight glistening on his pelt. Beneath a raccoon tail, his anus was surrounded by white sheep’s wool.

“Valfrid?” the Greve prompted. Justus was no longer concerned that his voice would give him away; the deep, rumbling bass of the Greve’s voice made any human sound dainty in comparison.

“Greve, may I present Fr?ken Karin, of ?stbrink.”

? 239 ?

? Castle of Masks ?

It suddenly occurred to Justus that the wolven-snouted monster before him might be able to smell the salty reek of a man’s sweat, even under layers of perfume and powder.

Shaken, Justus murdered his curtsy. He rose to find the Greve scrutinizing him. The castle’s master was perhaps seven feet tall.

“May I call you Karin?”

The sight of the towering Greve shattered Justus’s cultivated rage, reducing it to common, cringing fear. This was not a disfigured nobleman with unclipped nails and teeth filed to points, a deranged freak who considered himself a beast, but a real monster. The Greve could have lifted the carriage outside with his bare hands and thrown it as easily as a basket.

Justus fingered the handle of his cutlass, warmed by his body heat.

If the blade could even cut that thickly scarred hide, a mortal wound would take more strokes than Justus would have time to deal.

Time. Justus needed to plan, to spot a weakness in this imposing adversary and wait for a proper opportunity.

The Greve still waited for a reply. “Yes, Greve,” he blurted, demurely bowing his head. Justus’s mouth continued, against his better judgment.

“And what shall I call you?”

The Greve grinned, baring a vicious fence of teeth. “Monster is fine. Would you like supper, Karin?”

Justus wanted to say no, wanted to be locked in a cell with iron bars between him and Monster, but he should study his opponent, and moreover, he should eat when he could. It would keep him alert and strong. “Yes, Monster. Thank you.”

Valfrid whispered away, and Justus found himself alone with a living nightmare. Monster’s muscles rippled as he settled onto his haunches, clearly a more natural position for his mutant body. “I hope the ride here was pleasant?”

“As pleasant as I imagined,” Justus answered. He hadn’t intended to sound bitter.

Monster laughed, rich and silky but unbearably loud. “And the castle? How did you imagine my home?”

? 240 ?

? Cory Skerry ?

Worse smelling. Justus shrugged, his terror getting the better of him. He did not wish to hear that laugh again, and neither did he want to hear a roar.

They sat in silence until Valfrid arrived with a tray filled with roasted pheasant, potatoes, carrots, freshly baked bread, and new-churned butter. Justus found he was hungry despite his fears. With every bite, he imagined he was eating Monster.

And I will, when I succeed. I’ll carve a steak from his steaming carcass and roast it in the castle courtyard. I’ll kick out one of the panes of green glass to use as a plate, Justus thought.

Valfrid did not return with a plate for Monster, and Justus’s satisfaction melted away, dragging his appetite with it.

“Monster, where is your meal?”

Monster laughed again. “Don’t fret, Karin. I only eat my guests if they misbehave.”

Justus inhaled unexpected hope. Gudrun was always a dutiful woman—might she have survived? “Oh? Will the others be joining us?”

“They all misbehaved.”