Page 19

Chapter

Seventeen

“ D o you have a name?” Nash demands.

“Or should we call you creepy caterpillar?” Malachi muses.

A butterfly flutters close to my face and perches on the end of my nose, making my eyes cross. Little biter better not injure my nose, because it’s still smarting from the gnashing it received from the flower.

“Absolem,” the caterpillar tells us. What a strange name. I try it out, finding my tongue heavy in my mouth and struggling to form the unfamiliar word. Maybe later.

Charming coughs and wafts his hand in front of his face. “Can you stop smoking that pipe? It’s ruining my hair.”

I side-eye him, noting he’s put my sister down. Quitter. Also, I doubt anything could even ruffle his hair, let alone ruin it. He must use something to make it stick that way. Frogspawn perhaps? A shudder rolls over my shoulders. Creepy stuff.

Absolem leans forward and exhales thick purple smoke rings, each one forming symbols that vanish before we can decipher them. “It’s a hookah, not a mere pipe.”

Theo steps in front of me and gazes at the butterfly slowly opening and closing its pretty pink and gold wings. “Is that thing bothering you, pretty mouse?”

I blink. “Not currently.”

“If that changes, I shall slay the beast for you.”

It’s a butterfly, not a beast. However, nothing is as it seems in this strange land. For all I know, this butterfly is a carnivorous monster that devours unsuspecting maidens. Theo shifts, and Absolem’s milky eyes settle on me as he exhales a perfect question mark. That appears to be an invitation.

“Do you know the Grimms?” I ask.

Absolem tilts his head. “Know? No.”

“Well, thanks for the drug-induced discussion. Now, we shall be on our way,” Malachi says, grabbing my arm.

Another puff of smoke descends, and Malachi’s eyes go hazy. He drops my arm and wanders over to a tree. Goodness, I hope he’s not about to go to the toilet. We are in the company of strangers, and who knows what that tree means to Absolem. It could be the tree his caterpillar offspring cling to.

“I’ve been looking for you,” Malachi mumbles.

I raise a brow at Nash, who shrugs. I don’t think we are in danger of Malachi using it for toilet purposes.

“I never said I don’t know of them. I said I don’t know them.”

“You are splitting hairs,” Hart snaps.

“Always a problem for folks without a proper hair care routine,” Charming says, pulling a lock of his stupid perfect hair in front of his face and releasing it so it bounces back into place. I cannot have him for a brother-in-law. I have high hopes Gwyneth will tire of him.

Absolem ignores him. Seems Charming gets overlooked no matter the land—unless you’re my sister. Wait… I snap my fingers. “He’s a fixer-upper,” I declare. “I get it now. You need to feel useful, like you are solving a problem. He’s a problem.”

Gwyneth shifts her gaze from me to Charming and back again.

“I’m not a problem,” Charming mutters.

“Dude, if you want to remain in my sister’s good graces and potentially her floof, accept you have issues,” I advise.

“Floof?” Absolem asks.

Nash makes a motion around his crotch area while thrusting forward. I snort. “She means her lady bits.”

“No, I can’t do that,” Malachi whispers. “She’s not ready.”

She who? And what is she not ready for? He better not be having a relationship with that tree. I will cut a bitch down. “Is he okay?” I ask Absolem as the butterfly takes flight. At least it didn’t take a chunk of my flesh with it.

The caterpillar tilts his head. “Are any of us okay?”

I can see this conversation going around in squares. Wait, that’s not what we go around in. Is it octagons? What is it? I spin in a circle. Nope, the answer eludes me.

“Do you know how to reach the Grimm Brothers?” Gwyneth asks as she slaps Charming’s hand away from her hair.

“Answer the riddle,” Absolem reminds us. “What has roots that nobody sees? It is taller than trees. Up, up it goes, yet it never grows?”

Everyone sways as I think hard. Giant sausages are a highly unlikely answer. Sad, but true. My mind filters through tall things and fixates on a creature I’ve never seen in person.

“Ooh, okay. I’ve got this. The answer is a giraffe.”

“A giraffe?” Gwyneth says. I squint at her as she sways harder. Why is everyone doing that? It’s distracting.

I raise my hands up to the sky. I think I can almost touch the stars.

What do they feel like? “They’re super tall, and, I mean, they technically don’t grow after a certain point, right?

They just stay the same height. Plus, they have, like, emotional roots —family bonds and stuff.

Deep.” I lower my voice to make my point.

Absolem takes a long drag from his hookah. “Are you high?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I think we all are,” Nash points out.

“You guys won’t stop swaying, so now who’s high?”

Theo shakes his head and chuckles.

Malachi leans his forehead against the trunk. “So tell me, what’s it like standing in one place all the time?”

Total silence.

Malachi nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I get that. People don’t appreciate you enough.”

Theo tilts his head. “Should I worry I heard the tree talking back?”

Malachi glances over his shoulder. “Of course not.”

Gwyneth leans over to me. “Did you hear the tree?”

“I did not. But that doesn’t mean it’s not real.”

“Is the answer correct?” Hart asks.

Absolem shakes his head and releases another plume. That can’t be healthy for everyone else’s brains. I’m clearly unaffected by this magical quest into Wonderland.

Oh, look. The stars are coming to us. I move my hand in front of my face. “Pretty.” If I had a ladder, I could pluck them from the sky. Wait… “What about a ladder?”

“A ladder has no roots,” Absolem tells me.

I roll my eyes. “Not that we can see, but metaphorically, the roots are ambition. You know, climbing the social ladder.”

Theo folds his arms and squints. “Not a ladder?” he checks.

Absolem rolls his eyes.

“Don’t worry, my friend,” Malachi utters low as he strokes the tree. Now I’m jealous of the tree. “I won’t let them chop you down and make you into a ladder.”

Charming steps forward and straightens his fancy wrinkled coat. “What if the answer is a mountain?”

Absolem inhales sharply, his eyes narrowing. “Hmmm…” I swear, if Prince Poopfloof solves the riddle, the world is ending. Since the stars are falling out of the sky and my knight is snuggling with a tree, the likeliness is high.

Charming throws his hands in the air. “Mountains, forged in fire and time, whispering old secrets to the sky, rooted not in soil but in the bones of the world itself…” Everyone turns to Charming with gaping mouths. He frowns, like he’s confused himself.

Absolem looks intrigued, but doesn’t speak.

I wrinkle my nose. “Is it a beanstalk?” Absolem sighs. Guess that’s a no.

Malachi sighs dramatically. “You ever think about how we’re all just… sticks?”

“We’re not sticks,” Theo informs him.

Malachi wraps his arms around the tree. “But one diurnal, we could be! I mean, trees are big sticks that never left home.”

Gwyneth screws her face up. “I am not emotionally prepared for this conversation.”

Malachi leans his cheek against the bark. “Don’t worry, buddy. I won’t leave either.”

Theo sneezes, sending a burst of flame straight at Absolem’s mushroom. The toadstool whooshes into a charred, smoldering mess.

Absolem rolls onto the ground, wheezing. “My house! Are you serious?!”

Theo shifts awkwardly. “Uh, sorry. Allergies.”

Genie pops into existence and eyeballs the mess of cooked mushrooms as Eugene and Hamish run into the steaming pile and squat to lay tandem eggs. Sir Sweeps-A-Lot rushes in and freezes next to the tree Malachi is hugging, like he’s confused. Join the club.

“Look at them trying to give us a well-rounded meal,” I praise. You can always count on my capons to spin a dangerous situation into gold.

Absolem squirms on the ground, over to a flat piece of land, before a new bigger mushroom grows and lifts him back into the air.

He sighs deeply and mutters, “The answer is a mountain.”

We all gape at Charming, apart from Malachi, who sticks his tongue out against the bark before freezing and side-eyeing us to check if we caught him.

“We answered the riddle. Now tell us about the Grimm brothers,” I demand. Absolem blinks slowly. It seems he doesn’t enjoy demands. “Please?”

He smirks. “The Grimms are architects. To find them, you need to find yourself.”

“I’m right here,” I point out. Easy. Also, we’re looking for builders?

“No, you are not,” the caterpillar argues. “You are not yourself at all, but you can be.”

“And how do I achieve that?”

“Seek the seasons, traverse the lands. Beware of queens and treats.”

“Oddly specific, and yet tells us nothing,” Nash grumbles.

“To mend the cracks, she must take care. A heart to each, and burdens share. Four trials loom, their truths concealed. In love’s reflection, fate is sealed.”

“More riddles.” Gwyneth groans.

My forehead crumples. I’ve heard that before.

Did I read it? Ha, who am I kidding? I never read.

Maybe Gwyneth read aloud. That’s far more likely, but there’s no recognition on her face.

I must be imagining it. Absolem offers one last cryptic clue.

“When you are completely lost, that is when you will be found. Remember, our destination is rarely where we believe we want to be.” His eyes droop.

“Now go. I grow tired. My time of change is almost here, and I must rest.” That’s a dramatic way of saying he wants a nap.

A soft snore rumbles from him as the cheeky cat reappears and winks at me. “The hatter is ready for you, Daphne. It’s time for you to face the queen.”

The one with the penchant for head removal? Nothing to fear there. “I thought the plan was to avoid the queen, not face her.”

“Plans change, predictions shift, and peril calls,” the cat says with a wink.

Malachi leaps away from the tree with a scowl. “What in the ever-loving psychedelic nightmare just happened? And why does my mouth taste of wood?”