Chapter 3 - Ghost

“If I wasn’t tied to this stupid deal,” I whisper, leaning towards him and shaking my head, surprised to find that my words are more than slightly slurred, “and the fact that I gotta win to get the wish at the end…I’d run away screaming! I’d rather die than marry that idiot, whoever he is.”

“Well,” the man says, leaning a bit closer now, giving me a smile that shows all of his teeth. “You’re in the Underworld now, aren’t you? Perhaps that can be arranged.”

“Hey, who was that guy? He was cute.” After he left, I approached the bartender and asked.

“Oh, sugar,” the bartender says, leaning forward to pat me on my cheek. “You don’t want to know.”

**

I groan when I wake up in the morning, immediately clutching my pounding head and rolling over in the blankets that are spread beneath me on the bathroom floor.

God, things have gotten very bad very fast, haven’t they?

I mean, I don’t regret coming to save Blythe and I’m still determined to do it, but even if I do win the Prince’s hand and get the wish, I’ll just be sending Blythe back to life when I’m stuck here.

How does that solve anything?

I press my eyes shut, feeling sick and alone and overwhelmed.

I miss my mother with a sudden urgency that surprises me as I remember her face, the fear on it when she saw me make the deal and disappear. Because my family will be frantic now and even if I did want to leave royal life – I never wanted to hurt them.

As I think mournfully of my mother, who I know would do anything to help me right now, I remember quite suddenly that temple I was taken from isn’t dedicated to just any Goddess – it’s to my grandmother, the woman responsible for blessing my mom with her healing magic.

That lineage has got to be good for something, right?

“Um,” I say, sitting up and feeling awkward as I call out to the air around me. “Grandma?”

I look around, feeling foolish when there’s no response from the Goddess, who hasn’t exactly been present in my life. But then I press my eyes shut, thinking that there’s no real harm in a little prayer. “Um, I’m…all alone here and kind of in a sticky situation. I know that you’re busy but…if there’s anything you can do to help me?”

I hold my breath for a second, but when silence reigns I just sigh and lay down on the ground, disappointed and exhausted. My head still pounds so I keep my eyes shut, letting my mind turn over my problems while my body rests.

I start a little at the sound of a windchime tinkling in the air, thinking that’s a bit of a strange accessory for the Underworld. But I let it slip out of my mind, yawning, letting my eyes drift open and turning my head back towards the ceiling.

But the ceiling isn’t there.

No, instead, I find myself staring up into a huge pair of eyes staring curiously down into mine.

I shriek in terror, skittering away from the gigantic blue wolf standing with his muzzle just inches from my face.

He flinches too, leaping back as I scurry to the wall of the bathroom, pressing my back up against it. Panting with fear, I stare at him, completely shocked – because how the hell did a wolf get in here!?

But as he stares back at me I realize that he’s not snarling or even moving towards me. And he’s also not even…real.

My mouth falls open as I peer closer and realize that the wolf is…transparent, and blue, the visible lines of his body and his fur traced out in shining blue and white light. That he’s also a little bit…sparkly. “What…what are you!?”

The wolf lifts one huge paw, moving towards me, and I shriek again, my hands flying out to protect myself.

The wolf jumps at the sound, freezing, and then, hesitating, takes a step back.

We stare at each other for a long time before he sits. And then he lays down, resting his face on his paws with a sigh. I turn my head at him, my face twisting in confusion because…can wolves sigh?

He turns his head, looking away towards the door and I suddenly notice that he has – of all bizarre things – a blue ribbon around his neck.

And attached to it…a note.

Slowly, I force myself to inch towards the wolf, terrified. But he just watches me come, making no move. Keeping an eye on his muzzle, surely filled with razor-sharp teeth, I reach for the ribbon. My fingers pass right through the wolf’s fur where I touch it as if it’s just light and air.

But the ribbon is solid. I untie it, sliding the note off of his neck and into my hands.

Then, fascinated, I plop down on the floor next to the wolf, unfolding the little note and reading it with wide eyes. He lifts his head, likewise interested, peering at the script.

A gift for my granddaughter.