A Sneak Peek at “Gretel”

Alain slumped over the sticky counter at the Blind Mule, watching the inhabitants cavort over the rim of his mug. It was the usual crowd: pirates, whores, and thieves, all hard at work trying to rob each other blind. Though more than one prostitute had sidled up and offered Alain a reduced price to join in the fun, he’d politely declined and gone back to sipping ale and dodging the occasional piece of shattered furniture.

When he sensed the presence at his elbow, he sighed, sneezing as he inhaled a bit of foam. “I told you, it’s a kind offer, but I’m not in the mood.”

“Well, if you really feel that way,” a familiar voice murmured.

His head swiveled, the rest of him trying to follow so fast that he almost toppled off his stool. He caught his balance by grabbing the arm of the tall, lithe woman standing beside him, drinking her in more thirstily than the ale. “Mel! Where are you going?”

“Oh, I thought you weren’t in the mood for me,” she replied, mischief gleaming in her dark eyes.

“I’m always in the mood for you.” He pulled her into his arms, hugging her. “What are you even doing here? I thought you left this rabble behind for a civilized life.”

“I missed the sound of a chair cracking against a man’s skull and the delicate perfume of poorly groomed sailor.” She gave him that crooked grin that always made his heart skip a beat. “I kicked someone’s lost tooth as I came in the door and thought, ‘Home at last.’”

“It’s scenic, isn’t it?” He kept a companionable arm around her, his gaze lingering on the billow of fabric around her midsection. “You’re looking a little different to me, Mel. New haircut?”

“Drop the act. You and I both know what’s different. And now you know why I left.”

His heart stopped. He took a breath, then said, “You could’ve told me.”

“I asked you to come with me. You said no. You weren’t ready to give up the life.”

“If you had said something—”

“If you agreed to it because of the bulge under my shirt, it would’ve only been a matter of time before you changed your mind again.” Mel stepped away from him, her expression never anything but mild. “If you wouldn’t come for me, I won’t let you tie me down for her.”

“Her?”

“A seer told me it’s going to be a girl.”

His head was swimming with confusion and the beginnings of a headache. “So why did you come here, Mel? Don’t get me wrong, I’ll never be sorry to see you, but—”

“I need a favor. Do you still dabble in inks?”

“From time to time.” His brow furrowed. “What of it?”

Before she could answer, a man stood up from a nearby table, threw down his cards, and lunged at the grizzled seadog sitting across from him. Alain tugged Mel out of the path of the resulting debris.

“Come to my room,” he told her. “We can discuss it while I prep the needle.”

#

Once they’d mounted the creaking stairs and entered the relative peace of Alain’s small, dingy room, Mel flopped onto his bed and propped herself on a pillow to balance out the swelling of her stomach. She frowned at the rhythmic bouncing of a headboard against the other side of the wall.

“It’s Sal,” Alain told her, propping a leather case on the table and unlatching it. “He never lasts longer than two minutes, so he should be just about—Ah, there we go.”

Mel snorted. “Someone should really talk to him about that.”

“I think someone tried, which is why he went back to prostitutes. Now. You were going to tell me a story, I believe.”

She pursed her lips. “Well, I suppose I should start with my husband.”

Alain’s hands sagged on the case. When he recovered, he turned a bland face in her direction. “Husband?”

“Sebastian. He’s a woodcutter from a village called Ameles. He helped me out of a spot of trouble as I was traveling through the forest. I got set upon by a pack of demonic wolves. It’s a long story.” She waved a hand. “Anyhow, the upshot is, he’s a good man, and he treats me well.”

“And he knows . . .”

“Yes, he knows she’s none of his. But he loves me, so he says he’ll love her.”

Alain stared down at the neat rows of bottles in their velvet-lined niches, spinning one with an idle finger. “I’ve heard of Ameles. They tell strange tales about how that village comes by its peace.”

“Well, they’re all true.”

“So they sacrifice their children to monsters, then?”

“One boy and one girl every five years. In return, nothing fouler than a butterfly comes within miles of the place. There’s no violence or theft, only tidy little cottages lined up like prim milkmaids, and sun-dappled streets filled with beaming, round-cheeked villagers. It’s like it was before, when the world wasn’t such a nasty, demon-filled place. I never thought I’d live to see anything like it.”

“So you think it’s worth the risk?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know.” Her nose wrinkled the way it did when she was annoyed for the wrong reasons and she knew it. “Sebastian says it’s no risk, really. The children are chosen randomly. There are dozens of them, and the chance of mine being chosen is slight.”

“But there’s a chance.”

“Which is why I’m here. I want you to ink her name between my shoulder blades. Just in case.”

He raised his brows at her. “Why?”

“They don’t like the parents to suffer,” Mel replied. “They have a spell to make them forget their little ones when they’re gone so that they can go on about their lives none the wiser. But I don’t want to forget my daughter. If they try to take her from me, I want some clue that she’s gone, because I will find her.”

“Mel . . .”

“Alain, you know what it’s like out there. Nowhere’s safe. Even some of the places where people pretend to live normal lives, they still suffer. I don’t want to worry every time my daughter’s gone from my sight that she’s been devoured by something nasty.”

“I suppose it’s not my place to question you.”

“Not anymore.” Seeing his expression, she reached out to grab his hand. “I want her to have more than I did. I want her to be able to play outside in the sun without watching for the flicker of wings or listening for the thunder of footsteps. She can’t have that anywhere else.”

Alain stared at the hand in his, smoothing his thumb over her light brown skin. “What am I inking on you?”

“Gretel. I’m naming her after my mother.”

He crouched down before her, looking her in the eye. “Then you’d better hope that your seer was right about her sex.”

Her generous mouth quirked into a grin. “I suppose I should.”

To read more, buy the ebook when it’s released on May 1, 2018. For a synopsis, click here. Join the Facebook event here to be reminded of the release date.

UPDATE: “Gretel” can be purchased here from Amazon.

Cover art by Natasa Ilincic.