The Look: Alpha Male, Feisty Female Romance (42 page)

“Then I must go alone,” she said, resolute. Elsa looked down at her shaking fingers, fearful but brave about her future.

“Let God's will be what it may,” he said, nearing tears at the thought of the danger Elsa willingly planned to put herself in. “Elsa, please promise me something.”

“What's that?” she asked.

“Promise me, no matter what happens, you find your way back to us safe and sound. I am sorry I cannot help you. This news breaks my heart into a million little pieces,” Father O'Grady said, and he then got up out of his chair and walked out his tiny office. Elsa looked around at the artifacts he'd collected and the figurines the children had created for him in appreciation for his guidance. Yes, her heart was broken too, she thought.

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The next day, Elsa showed up to her job as a waitress in a Bavarian tavern, saying nothing to her coworkers about the latest developments in her life. Up until Theo and his evil warlock brother Dorien swept into her life, Elsa had almost gotten used to her second-rate lot in life, as a busty (but in her eyes rather pretty) woman, with voluptuous thighs and a roomy posterior. As a little girl, many of the boys ignored her and even occasionally failed to acknowledge her existence. But they didn't know the person she would become later in life, and Elsa was certain all the other girls who were snotty to her in elementary school, could they see her now, would breathe strained sighs of jealousy when they laid eyes on Theo's beautiful body. Elsa knew beyond the shadow of a doubt, could she have gone back in time, she would be the most popular girl in school.

She thought about the events that had transpired the night before. She was in love and would do anything to get Theo back into her life. But didn't even know where to start, as there was not a magical bone in her body. Thinking about the story Theo told her the night before, it seemed reasonable that he was in the Forbidden Forest and that she, too, could become a witch if it meant saving him. It was a dangerous idea, because if Theo's experience with the Forest was any prediction of what Elsa would endure, there would be no point to seeking him out there, as any love she had for him would without a doubt disintegrate into nothing. And then where would she be? She looked out the window of the tavern at the same kids playing before. Their frosted little noses and red cheeks made them look plastic, like lovely dolls, animated by the power of each other's affection for each other. Their innocence was so endearing, and Elsa's heart sank at the image, because it reminded her of Theo's story. She tried to imagine the beautiful little boy he was and his equally adorable, if not wild, brother Dorien. Their tragic fate caused them unredeemable grief, with no hope of ever experiencing the joys of growing up together, getting married, having kids, taking care of their aging parents, as Elsa was sure their former selves would undoubtedly do. She realized both brothers must have carried the pain of lost dreams day after miserable day; perhaps, she figured for a split second, the heavy guilt that compounded any hope of their redemption was an illusory perception rather than reality. But then she dismissed the thought entirely.

Stooped in her reverie, she could still tell the other girls at work could sense something was wrong with Elsa, given her haggard appearance and swollen eyes from crying all night, and one woman in particular continued to make concerned glances in her direction. Elsa tried unsuccessfully to fold the napkins into the holster.

“Do you need some help darlin'?” a voice called to her from behind, a position Elsa by this point in her life associated with earth-shattering changes and adversity. Elsa took a deep breath and, once again, turned around to face yet another person.

“What do you want Mitch? Am I not doing the job to your liking?”

“No baby I just could tell you were struggling a little bit.”

“I don't need this shit, Mitch! I've got too much going on. Damn.”

“Baby is everything okay with you? You've been acting a little funny ever since you can in tonight.”

“Frankly that isn't any of your damn business,” Elsa said.

Mitch's face flushed hot with rage, his short temper rearing its head. “Listen here you little bitch, if you don't get your act together, I'll fire you. Then you can find another job for your fat ass that makes this much money in another town, because you know you don't have any other options in this one.”

Elsa's heart sank; she knew Mitch was right. But she didn't have the energy to bite her tongue, given the fact that she most probably lost her only true love and the hottest warlock who'd ever lived. She opened her mouth to bite back, but someone interjected.

“Madam you don't need to talk to your co-workers like that.” Elsa turned around to meet Freja Stein, a petite built woman with beady blue eyes. The hot pink lipstick rubbed over her thin lips and helmet shaped hairdo gave her an air of craziness, wildness, and abandon. But she continued to defend Elsa.

“Bitch don't talk to me like that,” Mitch said to the woman. “Who the hell are you anyway?”

“I'm Freja Stein, and I'm not going to let you talk to my friend that way.” Freja stumbled her words a bit, cutting away her glance from Mitch, and for a second Elsa thought she saw a glimmer of fear from Freja. She knew Mitch had a furious temper, and given Freja's frail frame, Elsa decided to protect her before it was too late.

“You don't even know her,” Mitch said.

“She does. We're friends from long ago. You just haven't noticed, Mitch,” Elsa said. She grabbed Freja's slight elbow and guided her away from her boss. Freja gave Elsa a faint smile of gratitude, and Elsa could feel her body shaking. The woman was so slight, like a strong gust of wind could blow her away; she had long, spindly fingers with uncut nails and smooth hands. Her shoulders folded over forward and she walked with her hips jutted out, as if her pelvis carried a bowl of marbles that must not be spilled.

“Thanks for helping me, ma'am. What was your name again?”

“No problem, doll. Like I said, my name really is Freja.” She took Elsa's hand in hers and began petting it. “You have lovely skin.” Elsa blushed. Not many other girls ever gave her compliments; Elsa didn't know if they were jealous or if they truly thought she was repulsive. As much as she loved men, sometimes a feminine compliment regarding her beauty was far more powerful a self-esteem boost than anything a man could say. Women knew the work required and value of looking good.

“You seem very upset doll. I could see something was wrong. What time do you get off?”

“Just in a couple hours,” Elsa said.

“That's great. Do you want to join me for some tea at my house tonight? There are some peach blooms just getting ripe on my window sill. I'm really proud of them. We could make a pie or some jam.”

“That sounds nice.”

“I'll hang out here and give ol' Mitch the evil eye from this here bar while you finish your chores. Go on now, doll.” She pushed Elsa from the base of her waist toward the center of the room. Elsa was surprised by the strength Freja had in her.

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Later that night, Elsa took off her apron and ignored Mitch as she left. She put her apron in her pocket, her breath fogging her vision due the cold. She shifted her gaze around her. “Where are you Freja?”

A hand pinched her butt. “I'm right here, girlie!” Freja laughed, grabbing her hand like a school-age girl who had just found a new best friend. She guided Elsa down the hilly exit of the tavern, the murmured voices receding in the distance.

“You and me,” she said, laying her head on Freja's shoulder, “we're soul mates. You know that?”

“I didn't know that,” Elsa said, enjoying the feeling of another person's touch since the night before. “But I do now. Where are you from Freja?”

“Doll, I cannot wait for you to see my place. I've put so much work in it since this afternoon, when I knew you were coming over. I've cut all my apples and peaches down. The whole place smells like something from a dream, girl.”

“I can't wait. How long have you lived at this place?”

“Oh not long. Not long at all. We--I've been here for a short, short time. I move around a lot you see. I don't want to be rooted in one place.”

“How come?”

“Variety is the spice of life, doll.”

They continued walking down the trail, past the main street, into the cobblestone street that disappeared into the forest area between the town and the rest of the vast wilderness that stretched for miles and miles into nothingness. The moonlight lit up the trail as Elsa followed Freja through the dark woods.

“Hold my hand doll. It's chilly and I'm scared. We're such vulnerable women. Anyone--or anything--could follow us.” Freja seemed genuinely scared for her safety, and Elsa could imagine the dangers such a small woman must face when unmarried. She wondered if Freja had any children, or at her late age, any grandchildren.

“I know what you're thinking. You wonder if I have any children. Well I don't, bitch!” Elsa's heart stopped, as she wasn't sure whether Freja was serious or joking. “Just kidding doll. I get the question a lot, but I really don't have kids. It's ok. You didn't hurt my feelings.” They continued to walk in silence.

When they emerged from the woods into a clearing, a small cottage lay hidden in silhouette from the moonlight. Elsa's gut sank for some inexplicable reason, even though she felt safe with Freja and her little cottage emitted a vague scent of burned sugar. She found herself intoxicated by the white panels and solid oak door, and the murmur of music playing somewhere in the distance.

“Where is that music coming from?”

“There's probably a bunch of kids juking and jiving in the clearing behind my house. They have been doing that ever since I moved in. Can't get a wink of sleep.”

They stepped onto the porch, as Freja pulled out her cloth coin purse. She pulled out an ugly, rusted skeleton key to unlock her door and after some struggle the door clicked open, creaking slowly into the cottage to reveal dank, black space. Elsa could not see anything in front of her face, and Freja slipped into the darkness without saying anything.

“Freja where are you?” Elsa could hardly catch her breath. The air was ice cold and her heart raced faster than a hummingbird. She reached in front of her face, groping through the darkness. “Freja. Can you not hear me?” She called for her several times, making sure not to step on a cat's tail or fall over a piece of furniture. In the distance behind her house, she could hear a muted cackle and then a scratching sound next to her ear. Freja lit a match, and her skeleton like face emerged from the darkness, smiling not ten inches from Elsa's nose.

“Sorry doll. Place can't have fire when I'm gone. There is no one to watch the place and make sure it doesn't burn down. Remember, I don't have any kids or a husband, right?”

Elsa nodded. She followed Freja through the various corridors of her house, into and out of rooms. The layout of her cottage resembled something like underground catacombs, and Elsa got a sense the place was far bigger than it appeared from the outside.

“You're not going to kill me are you?” Elsa joked, an attempt to break the ice.

“Of course dear. I'm going murder you with an ax and then put you in an oven. I'll make a pie out of you,” she said. Elsa knew consciously she was joking, but Freja's outline blocking the light of the candle was very eerie. Her long slender fingers seemed to grow in the candle light as they continued ambling down the corridor.

“You can hold my hand if you want to,” she said, opening it up from behind. Elsa grabbed her hand and they continued walking for what seemed an eternity. Freja kicked open a door with her foot and guided Elsa through the door. She sat down in a rocker and waved Elsa to an area across a pit. She kneeled down and lit a small fire, and the room lit up with an orange glow. The whole area grew warmer and more comfortable by the second.

Freja leaned back in her chair and propped up her feet. “Ah, that's better. So what do you think, doll?”

“Well I haven't seen much. It's very dark.”

“Oh I'll show you more in a second.”

“OK great. I smell peach pie somewhere too.”

“You bet you do girlie. I made it special just for ya.” She smiled for second. “You're missing someone aren't ya?”

“How do you mean?”

“Someone's gone. They left you, not willingly. That was why you're upset.”

“You're a very intuitive woman, Freja.”

“Of course I am silly. Why do you think I rescued you?”

“That's true,” Elsa laughed, suddenly feeling more willing to open up to Freja, who seemed more welcoming than ever. Elsa thought she could trust her, felt Freja was her guardian angel. Added to that was the pure panic in Elsa's stomach as the memories of last night, which came barreling into her mind in regular intervals, despite the fact that she tried to keep them locked away, in order to concentrate on surviving in the moment. She breathed a sigh of exhaustion. “Well I guess I ought to tell you.”

Freja sipped a small cup of apple juice. “Go on girl. I'm waiting.”

“You mean you don't already know, Miss Clairvoyant?”

“I'm intuitive not telepathic. Let's hear it. Who killed him?”

“No one killed him. He was taken from me.”