12. Verena
Verena
He says it so matter-of-factly that I turn to face him, askance.
"What? But I thought Rhinestone was some kind of vampire."
"Vampire?" Eris repeats the word like he's never heard it before.
"You know, undead blood-drinkers who sparkle in the sun and turn into bats and shit?" I sweep my arm over my face, peeking at him with only my eyes to mimic hiding behind a cape as I talk like Dracula. "I vant your blawd, bleh, bleh, bleh."
He just stares at me.
"No? Nothing? Okay, clearly, you don't have those here."
Eris folds his arms, leaning against the edge of the mirror.
"Truthfully, I know precious little about Reinhilde's origin. She never spoke of her past, nor how she came to subsist on blood—but she certainly must have been one of the witchfolk. Only they can use magic as she did, aside from the faeries and a few cursed humans."
So I'm the kindly witch I've been hoping to find?
Hope is suddenly pounding in my throat, hard and fast.
"If she's a witch, do you think she has a magic wardrobe or a spellbook or something that I can use to send myself back to my world?"
"I've no idea, but you may as well check while sipping some wine. Meet me in Reinhilde's lair. Red door," he adds before vanishing.
Blowing one final kiss at my favorite part of this world so far, I leave the hot spring room and hurry down the secret passage.
Turning the handle of the red door so it swings open, I stop to gawk.
So this is why the entire passageway smells the way it does.
In the center of this spacious cave looms an enormous, ghostly apple tree.
Its pale trunk rises high from the ground, branches thriving with both apple blossoms and dozens of glistening apples—all the purest white.
It almost looks like it's glowing, thanks to cold blue daylight pouring down from an unseen height through a hole at the top of this cave.
The walls of this lair are lined with wooden racks filled with leather-bound books, jars, and bottles.
Glass vials, magically lit flickering candles, and little silver instruments litter a wooden table to my right. Bundles of herbs, an iron cauldron, a goblet, and a handheld mirror occupy a table to the left.
Everything looks ancient, but smells as clean and crisp as an orchard.
I circle around the tree, fascinated. I almost reach for one of the lower-hanging apples, but I pause.
"Oh, shit. If these are the evil queen's infamous poisoned apples, I probably shouldn't eat one, huh?"
"Why would they be poisonous? They can't satisfy your true appetite, but they're perfectly safe to eat," Eris replies from the hand mirror on the table.
Then he hums. "Although, come to think of it, the queen did stain those apples with her own blood from time to time, to gift to enemies.
There was no telling what one bite would do to someone, given the terrible magic in her blood. "
Right. That terrible magic killed the Three Stooges…but somehow didn't affect Wulf.
Repressing a shudder at the idea of the queen painting an apple with her blood to give Snow White, I pick the apple and bite into it.
He's right. Just like regular food now, this doesn't taste like much to me.
Which sucks, because I fucking love apples. They've always been my favorite fruit.
"Try over there instead," Eris suggests.
Wandering to the table to pick up the mirror, I see that he's pointing to a shelf full of wine bottles.
I tip my head. "I thought the queen kept you trapped in the mirror upstairs. Why does she have all these other mirrors, if it wasn't to talk to you down here?"
"At times, she did summon me to these mirrors. But mostly, they were to admire herself. She was vainer than Ayna."
"So I've heard. But can you really blame her, with a face like ours?" I joke.
Taking the mirror with me, I scan the dozens of unlabeled bottles of wine.
"Hey, if I'm a witch, does that mean there's a broom I can fly around on?" I ask idly.
He makes a face. "Witches fly about on brooms in your world? How bizarre."
Selecting a bottle, I bring it to the wooden table with the very convenient goblet. I'm just about to pull out the stopper when I go still, my attention settling a little too hard on the red liquid sloshing inside.
My stomach is suddenly screaming with need.
I prop the mirror up on the table and glower at Eris. "Is this what I think it is?"
"Only if you think it's wine."
It's not fair that I want to believe him just because he's so pretty.
"Are you lying to trick me into drinking you-know-what so I don't get sick?"
"It's wine, Verena. If you don't trust the redness of it, try the apple wine in another bottle." When I continue to side-eye him, he throws his hands in the air. "For Crones' sakes, why would I lie to you? There's not a drop of blood in it!"
I relax and uncork the wine, pouring some and letting it breathe. "Good."
"I only suggested this wine because the queen enchanted it to take the edge off. But you really do need to drink blood, and soon."
"Not if I find something in here to send me home fast enough," I reply in a sing-song voice, walking to the shelves to browse.
I don't see any magic slippers, but there has to be something in one of these many thick books. Picking one up, I open the aged pages before frowning. They're covered in strange, foreign swirls.
Uh oh.
Can I not read the language of this world?
Putting the book back, I squint at the jars and bottles on the shelf below. Unlike the wine, they're labeled—also with squiggles I can't read.
I grab several opaque jars and walk back to the mirror, holding one up to Eris.
"Can you read this?"
"Toad eyes."
"And this one?"
"Kobold toenails," he reads in a bored tone, and goes on with every bottle I hold up. "Spider silk. Sparrow hearts. Troll seed."
"Troll seed?" I repeat incredulously, nearly dropping that jar. "You're shitting me. Please tell me it's full of seeds that literally grow into trolls, and it's not just a jar of monster semen."
"I have no idea. The queen frequently left to gather all kinds of ingredients. At least now you know there are far worse things in this room than mere blood," he adds pointedly.
Ignoring the B-word again, I set down the bottles to frown at him.
"What do you mean? I thought the queen almost never left the castle."
"Not as herself." The gorgeous mirror ghost gestures at another shelf full of red-filled vials. "With a bit of magic and a few drops of their blood, Reinhilde could disguise herself as nearly anyone."
Reluctantly, I approach the vials he indicated. I grab three and hold them up to Eris next.
"Large hairy nobleman," he reads. "Plain shoemaker. Old peddler woman."
That last one reminds me of the original Snow White fairy tale.
I twist the clear glass bottle, unable to look away from the deep red liquid inside, even if thinking about where it came from makes me want to gag.
"I can't read in this world," I admit.
"So I've gathered."
I meet Eris's gaze, hopeful. "Could you teach me?"
The various pastel colors of his irises are gorgeous. It's a long moment before he speaks.
"Not for free. Promise me three things in exchange."
"What things?" I ask, eager.
If I'm already in a witch's body and I learn to read, there must be something in one of these books that will send my soul back to my world. Even if it takes a little more time and a deal with Eris, at least this is a lead.
"First, you must promise to drink enough human blood every day."
I wilt immediately. "What? No, that's not—"
"Never mind, then," he shrugs, disappearing from the mirror.
Damn it. He knows how desperate I am, which means he can play hardball with me right now.
"Wait—Eris. Mirror, mirror, come back. Please?" I sigh.
He reemerges, his lips tugging up.
"Go on, Fairest."
"Watch that smirk, Beetlejuice," I grumble. "All right. I promise I'll…drink some blood. Animal blood, or something."
"No. Animal blood does not sate the queen's needs. It must be human, and you must feed enough every day. Come on, say all of it. You're plainly quite squeamish, but what good are you to anyone, especially yourself, if you fall deathly ill?" he pesters, motioning impatiently.
"Fine. I promise to drink h-human blood every day."
I manage to only do a small full-body shudder after getting those words out. At least Eris seems satisfied before his humor dies off completely.
"Good. Second…you must promise that before you leave this world, you'll help me try to search for a way out of the mirror realm. Some way to live in the physical world, permanently."
The request isn't surprising—but the sudden, sheer longing on his face is.
I don't know anything about Eris's past or how long he's been trapped in mirrors. Still, in a small way, I understand what it's like to watch the world pass by without being a part of it.
In my case, the isolation was self-imposed. It just felt easier to view the world from a safe distance, after everything that happened.
I can't imagine having no choice but to be stuck behind glass, observant but lonely.
I nod. "Of course, I'll try to help you. What about the third promise?"
Eris's attention moves to my beauty spot briefly before he adjusts a ruffle at one of his wrists.
"In about three weeks, I'll tell you the third promise I ask of you."
"So cryptic. Well, so long as you don't make me promise my firstborn child to you or something, we should be golden."
Eris is suddenly so flustered that he can barely get words out. "What? I—Crones, I would never make you promise to allow me to be the first to…impregnate you. What the hell is wrong with you?"
I'm confused for one second before bursting into laughter.
"Talk about misinterpreting. No, it's just a fairy tale cliché, like with Rumpelstiltskin. You know, the whole thing where a magical being asks for a child in repayment for something? It's in storybooks."
"The storybooks in your world are rife with sick sexual bargains?" he asks, scandalized.