‘Oh really? And what the hell would you know about wolves?’

‘Enough to know they don’t act anythin’ like that,’ Dumpy replied scornfully. ‘Wolves is kinda graceful and purty, y’know? They don’t stomp around the joint like flat-footed steers. Nor they don’t waggle their butts in the air, neither.’

‘I agree with him,’ Grimm #2 added. ‘It’s just conceivable that that could have been a very elderly, constipated wolf with terminal piles and thorns in all four paws, but you should have specified that before you started. Next time you’re passing a zoo, nip in and take a look at the real thing, you’ll see what I mean.’

Fang felt more or less as if he’d looked in a mirror and seen Winnie the Pooh. ‘But that’s crazy,’ he protested, ‘I know more about wolves than any man living—’ Then he clamped his mouth tight shut, while his words echoed round inside his head. I see. So you reckon you’re one of them now, do you? And maybe you’re right. ‘The hell with this,’ he said, with a slight edge of panic in his voice. ‘I need that witch. Dammit, you’re welcome to her just as soon as she’s turned me ba— done a little job for me. All we’ve got to do is take turns. In fact, if we’d agreed on that in the first place, we’d all be through by now.’

That did seem to be a fairly convincing argument. ‘All right,’ said Rumpelstiltskin. ‘You go first, then us, and then you two can have her to keep. Agreed?’

The dwarves grumbled a bit, but eventually agreed. ‘Jes’ so long as you don’t break her,’ Dumpy put in. ‘I hear as how they’re darned inflammable.’

Grimm #2 nodded towards the wardrobe, whereupon Fang bounded over and ripped the door open — ‘All right,’ he said, ‘quit fooling around. Where is she really?’

‘In the—’

But when they looked there, the cupboard was bare. So to speak.

‘Psst!’ said a bush.

Sis had thought she was way past being surprised by anything she saw or heard; just shows how wrong you can be. She jumped about two feet in the air, but the wicked queen just kept on walking.

‘Not now, Beast,’ she said. ‘We’re busy.’

‘But you’ve got to help me,’ whined the bush. ‘This time she’s going to catch me, I know it. Look, you’re supposed to be the law around here—’

‘That,’ the queen replied severely, ‘is a moot point. Moot, in fact, as all buggery. And even if I was, I wouldn’t help you. Go on, clear on out of it. Scram.’

‘But I’m desperate!’

‘So I’d heard,’ the queen said. ‘And that remark is less than flattering, if I may say so. Go away.’

The bush shook, and out from behind it stepped the ugliest, most revolting-looking creature Sis had ever seen outside of a televised Parliamentary debate. ‘He’s from Beauty and the Beast, right?’ she whispered.

‘You’ve got it. And I’ll bet you’ll never guess which one he is.’

‘I’m sure he’s very nice when you get to know him,’ Sis replied defiantly. ‘It’s in the eye of the beholder, you know.’

‘What is?’

‘Well, beauty, of course.’

‘What, that old thing? I thought you were talking about a bit of grit or a fly or something.’

Wheezing and panting like a ninety-year-old chain-smoker, the Beast waddled up to them, sighed and flumped down on the stump of a tree. ‘Thank you,’ he gasped. ‘It’s so nice finally to meet somebody who cares.’

The queen snorted. ‘You make me sick, you hypocritical bastard,’ she said. ‘Though I reckon that on you, vomit’d be a fashion statement. Get on with it; then we can ignore you and be on our way.’

‘It’s Her,’ the Beast muttered, his voice shaky. ‘She can’t be far behind me.’

The queen nodded. ‘How’d you get out this time?’ she asked.

‘Ah,’ replied the Beast, and some of the more mobile components of its face moved together in a vague approximation of a grin. ‘I dug a tunnel and got out through the drainage system.’

‘Thereby going into the record books as the first person ever to lower the tone of a sewer.’ She sniffed tentatively. ‘Well,’ she conceded. ‘It saves you having to have your bath this year. Why do you keep bothering to run away, though? She always catches you in the end.’

‘Not this time,’ replied the Beast with grim determination. ‘Whatever happens, I’m not going back. I’d rather she killed me first.’

‘Who’s she?’ Sis interrupted. ‘Not Beauty, surely?’

At the word Beauty, the Beast shivered uncontrollably. ‘Not so loud,’ he whispered. ‘You never know who might be listening. All the dear little birds and cuddly little animals in the forest are her friends. They’d grass me up to her so fast my feet wouldn’t touch.’ He calmed himself down by breathing in deeply. ‘You don’t believe me,’ he said, hurt. ‘You think I’m exaggerating. Well, you try being her prisoner for six months in that horrible castle, see how you like it.’

“Scuse me?’ Sis interrupted. ‘Shouldn’t that be the other way…?’ She checked herself and remembered. ‘Sorry,’ she went on, ‘mixing you up with someone else.’

The Beast stifled a sob. ‘Sometimes I think I’ll never get away,’ he groaned. ‘A couple of weeks ago this nice dragon came by, saw me locked up in the highest tower of the castle and tried to rescue me. She killed it, of course. She always does. Half of the furniture in the Great Hall’s got dragonskin loose covers now.’

‘All right,’ the queen admitted grudgingly, ‘so she’s a tough cookie. And maybe,’ she added, a trifle less roughly, ‘just maybe she’s more than you deserve. I don’t see why you expect us to get involved. Like I said just now, my official status is a bit blurred right now.’

‘I think we should help,’ Sis said firmly. ‘After all,’ she added, ‘if all this stuff you’ve been telling me about narrative patterns is actually true—’

‘We could boost ourselves into a better storyline,’ the queen said, ‘one we could use to get where we want to be. Not bad, girl, you’re learning. All right,’ she said, turning to face the Beast, ‘what’s she up to now? When you last saw her, I mean.’

‘That’s just it,’ the Beast said. ‘She’s gone crazy. Well, she was never exactly what you’d call a stable personality to start with. She’s got mood swings that’s make a pendulum dizzy. But ever since she got that message from her accountant—’

The wicked queen froze. ‘Did you say accountant?’

‘That’s right. Apparently he’s a little man who does sums.’

‘I know what an accountant is,’ the wicked queen said, with feeling. ‘This wouldn’t be a little gnomelike twerp—’

‘Leprechaun, actually.’

‘That’s right. Lives in the middle of a swamp.’

‘For some reason best known to himself. Yes, that’s him. Anyway, he sent her a message offering to sell her something. No idea what it was, but it must have been quite valuable, ‘cos she hired Jack and Jill to go fetch it, and they’re expensive. Anyway, ever since then, she’s been sitting in front of her mirror talking to it. And doing this weird wicked-queen laughing — oh, sorry, no offence.’

‘None taken,’ the queen replied. ‘I used to pride myself on my evil laughter.’ Something she’d just said made her suddenly thoughtful. ‘Hellfire, yes,’ she added quietly. ‘Didn’t I just. I’d forgotten all about that until you mentioned it just now.’

‘Anyway,’ the Beast went on, ‘it’s downright scary listening to her. It was bad enough when she used to talk to the furniture and the crockery. At least they didn’t talk back.’

‘Had more sense, probably,’ the queen said. ‘But the mirror does?’

The Beast nodded, and several of the floppier extremities on his face wobbled revoltingly. ‘They chat away for hours up there,’ he said, shivering a little. ‘And there’s lots of that spooky laughter. Not all of it’s her, either.’

‘Really?’ The queen stood up. ‘We’d better go and look into this,’ she said. ‘Do you know a narrative thread that’ll take us there without being seen?’