Ex Libris

by Hematitebadger

Slay the monster, solve the riddle, save the princess. Fairy tales are straightforward except when they're not, and when a Trouble brings them to life in Haven, 'not' is the most likely outcome.

4. The Thorn In Your Side

Duke woke up groggy and disoriented due to the lack of sleep and the lack of the morning sounds he was used to, the earplugs having proven even more effective than he'd expected, but he didn't wake up at the bottom of the harbor. Overall, it was a win. The feeling of satisfaction that he'd gotten something right in this ridiculous mystery stayed with him all the way to the Gull, where it was dashed by the bright eyes watching him from the railing of the deck. Duke spared a glance upward. "One day of normal," he said to no one in particular. "Is that really too much to ask?"

Snowfall sat up as Duke exited his truck. "The sun has been up forever," he said accusingly. "Where have you been?"

"It's Sunday," Duke said, aware of how little this would mean to a squirrel. He'd half considered just not opening today – Sundays were the slowest day of the week anyway – but he'd eventually decided that somebody out there was likely to consider this cheating and exact revenge.

"You said you were going to find a way to fix me." Snowfall said, ignoring the explanation, as Duke had expected he would.

"Working on it," Duke said shortly. "You're not the only one suffering from this Trouble, you know. The rest of us want to finish it just as much as you do." He was feeling especially motivated to get this one solved as soon as humanly possible, given the events of the previous night. The conversation he'd had with Nathan… well, he couldn't exactly say he regretted it; he'd sort of owed Nathan that thank you for a good while now and Nathan apparently hadn't even realized it. But what the hell had possessed him to get that real, that vulnerable? He'd let more of his guard down than he had with Nathan in a long time, and while he'd stopped short of letting anything he'd really regret slip out he was leery of the prospect of a repeat performance. He didn't even know what had caused it, if it had been a story taking hold of him or just his gut-level terror of the sirens' influence, or something else entirely. I should have just called Audrey.

"I suppose you're probably trying as best you can," Snowfall said with bad grace. "But you have no idea how exhausting it is following you around all day!"

"Try being me some time," Duke said, and instantly regretted it. No sense in giving the universe ideas. He offered the squirrel his arm. "Come on; I've got some peanuts behind the bar. You can have 'em as long as you stay out of sight if anyone else comes in."

The tiny forepaws folded indignantly. "Do you really think it's going to be that easy to get back on my good side?"

"Yes?" Duke hazarded.

Snowfall eyed him for another moment before hopping onto his arm and scrambling up to his shoulder. "You're right," he admitted. "But only because I'm apparently stuck with you."

"Story of my life."

Duke stayed at the Gull only long enough to make sure that everything was in its proper order and to hand the keys over to the first competent employee to clock in after him. Hinting that there were rumors of a restaurant critic in the area would be, he hoped, enough to have the staff on their best behavior for the day. The hazel tree was still watching him from the window.

Snowfall insisted on accompanying Duke to the police station, or at least to the parking lot. "I can keep an ear out for you from outside," he said. "I've had enough of Insides for a while." That was fine by Duke, who was less than thrilled by the prospect of gaining a reputation as 'the guy with the squirrel.' He felt even more strongly about this when Stan gave him a scrutinizing look as he breezed past the front desk. He'd spent years slipping everything he did under Stan's affable radar, but apparently the whole 'wild animals in a government building' thing was where he drew the line.

There was no hesitation as Duke reached Nathan and Audrey's office. He absolutely did not pause with his hand on the door, steeling himself to open it and face Nathan and whatever response he was going to have to the previous night. Duke Crocker didn't worry about things like that, and he wasn't about to let anybody think otherwise.

Both detectives were huddled over one desk when he opened the door, studying a spread of paperwork. "There you are," Audrey said, looking up at him with a smile. "I figured you'd be down here the second you woke up."

"I've got a business to run," Duke reminded her, not really paying any attention. He was focused on Nathan, who'd looked up half a second before she had. His head had snapped up at the sound of the door, in fact, looking desperately for something. Something he'd found. Duke had had years of practice in reading the barely-visible cues in Nathan's expressions, and in the sudden light in those blue eyes he could see undisguised relief.

Something in Duke's heart gave a little jump. He hadn't known what to expect, and he'd tried to be ready for anything from confusion to derision. He definitely hadn't been ready for the possibility that Nathan would have been concerned about him, even beyond the immediacy of the situation of last night and into the cold light of morning. It was… Duke didn't know exactly what it was. But it was a good feeling. He inclined his head briefly, a quick yeah, I'm okay. Nathan blinked in acknowledgement before turning his attention back to the desk.

The moment over, Duke pulled himself together and joined them. "What are we looking at?"

"Anything unusual that got reported to anyone last night," Nathan told him. "Park services, highway patrol, animal control, fire department, anyone. Trying to figure out what's Trouble-related and what's normal weirdness."

"Tell me there's nothing from the harbor," Duke said quietly, suddenly fervent.

"Not so far," Audrey told him, looking surprised by his reaction. Nathan had apparently not told her about the sirens. Duke wasn't sure how he felt about that, either.

"We had a handful of kids who disappeared overnight after the fall carnival," Nathan said. "They all made it back home by morning. Nobody's hurt, and they all swear they were just 'out with friends' and 'lost track of time.' An excuse I'm sure none of us have ever used," he added wryly. "Could be The Twelve Dancing Princesses, could just be teenagers." He indicated another paper. "There's a beanstalk doing some serious damage in a community garden, probably the same place Dwight found the other guy. He's out there seeing if he can cut it down before anyone gets any ideas."

"What about that librarian you were going to look into?" Duke asked.

"Still no answer on her phone," Audrey said. "Someone's on the way out to her address to check up on her, but in the meantime we're just making sure there's nothing from last night that needs immediate attention." She rifled through the papers again. "Nothing's jumping out at me," she said. "Everything else just looks like the usual weekend chaos." She cocked an eyebrow at Duke. "Mind taking another look?"

Duke wondered if she really thought he was going to find something they hadn't, or if she was just looking for something for him to do. He gave a little shrug and squeezed in with them at the desk. "Your definition of 'weekend chaos' is cute," he said after a few minutes. "Noise complaints. Drunk and disorderlies. Someone saying they saw a bear in town, which may or may not be connected to one of the aforementioned drunks. Not exactly gonna make the national news."

"Is there anything here we need to investigate or not," Nathan said.

Was it Duke's imagination, or was his 'stop screwing around' tone less impatient than usual? "If the bear didn't knock on anyone's door and ask for shelter, then no."

"And if it had?"

"Prince in disguise."

"Of course."

The radio on Nathan's desk interrupted them. "Nobody's home at the Harper residence, honey," Laverne said. "Neighbors say they haven't seen her all weekend."

"Thanks, Laverne," Nathan said. "Since before this all started," he added to Duke and Audrey.

A thought that had been taking shape in the back of Duke's mind for a while started to come to the fore. "Speaking of that," he said. "As far as we can tell, the fairy tales started creeping in on Friday, right?" Nods from the other two. "Then this is the third day. We don't fix it now, there's a chance we won't be able to at all."

"Everything comes in threes," Audrey said, understanding. "So we've got a deadline. I'll get back in touch with Doreen and see if she has any idea where Caroline might be if she's not at home."

"You mean aside from the library?"

"Closed for the weekend," Audrey said. "They were supposed to be doing some kind of mass re-cataloguing thing, but for some reason they couldn't. Doreen explained it, but I'm still not sure what's going on; some issues with an outside contractor, I guess. But the library's still closed, and nobody's supposed to be in there until Monday. Which doesn't mean Caroline isn't there, but if she is, she didn't tell anyone and she's not answering the phone."

They were interrupted by a knock, and the door opening a crack. "Got a message for you, Chief," Rafferty said, poking her head in.

Nathan waved her in. "What is it?"

A slip of paper landed on his desk. "Something's going on at the sheep farm," she said. "Sandra didn't want to say what it was over the phone, but she says it's one of your cases."

"Haven has a sheep farm?" Audrey asked, a bright grin spreading across her face. "And here I thought I'd heard about all the tourist attractions."

"Few miles outside of town. If it can be produced locally, someone probably is," Nathan pointed out. "Wool's no exception. Thanks, I'll take care of it," he added to Rafferty.

She gave him a nod and turned to leave, ducking around Duke. Her elbow bumped against the doorframe, and she let out a yelp of pain.

Everyone jumped. A simple knock shouldn't have been enough to cause that kind of reaction. "Hey, you okay?" Duke asked.

"Yeah," Rafferty said, rubbing her arm distractedly. "Just hit a bruise." She winced as she rolled up her sleeve to examine it. "I must've slept wrong or something; I woke up completely black and blue this morning." Her skin was peppered with dark spots like buckshot.

Or like peas, Duke thought. "Where did you sleep?"

"Spare room at Duncan's parents' place." Not that it's any of your business, her face added clearly. Duke held his hands up disarmingly. "Didn't bother him any, of course," she added in a grumble. "That man could sleep in a gravel pit." She seemed to notice that they were all looking at her thoughtfully. "Why? Something going on?"

"Possibly," Audrey said before Duke could say anything. "But you're not in any danger. Just keep an eye on those bruises, and let one of us know if anything seems weird about them." She was giving Rafferty her 'trust me' face.

As happened so often, to Duke's amazement, it worked. "I will," Rafferty said, looking relieved even though five seconds ago she hadn't known there was something she should be worried about.

"Didn't see that one coming," Nathan commented mildly after she left. "Not the first person here I'd suspect of being a princess in disguise."

"Kind of the point, isn't it?" Audrey pointed out. She picked up the slip of paper Rafferty had brought in. "Think this is something we need to check out?"

"There's a good chance it is," Nathan said. "Sandra's pretty level-headed. If she thinks there's a problem that needs our attention, there probably is." He flicked an eyebrow at Duke. "You know any fairy tales about sheep?"

"Yeah, actually. There's one about a princess who gets rescued by a prince who's been turned into an enchanted sheep, and he takes her to live with him in his magical underground kingdom." He'd been expecting the stares. "Dead serious," he said, holding up his hands. "Why would I make something like that up? Once you get past the Disney selection, fairy tales are weird."

"Gonna take a wild guess and say that's not what we're dealing with here," Nathan said. He gave Audrey a playful look. "What do you think, Parker? Want to go tour the sheep farm?"

"I really kind of do," Audrey confessed, the grin coming back. "But I need to stay in town and look for Caroline. If I'm really immune to the stories she's spinning, I might have the best chance of getting to her. You mind taking care of this one alone?" She gave Duke a look. "Unless…?"

Duke waved her away. "Me and farms don't mix," he said. "There was an incident with a goose when I was a small child. What?" he added as Nathan gave him a wry look. "They're very terrifying animals when you're two feet tall."

"I've got it under control, Parker," Nathan said over Duke's head.

"Okay," Audrey said. "You deal with the sheep." She tilted her head at Duke. "You coming with me, then? I'm gonna need someone who can interact with the stories backing me up."

"Not like I have much of a choice, if I want to get my life back," Duke said. It was mostly a token protest, and Audrey knew it. "Where are we going?"

"We'll figure that out on the way," Audrey said, standing up and reaching for her jacket. She threw another grin over her shoulder at Nathan. "Pet a sheep for me while you're out there."

---

The forest was quiet. Not 'too quiet,' just 'nothing at all is happening' quiet. It would have been peaceful, if it wasn't so boring.

Jordan had to admit that, given the prevalence of little cabins in the woods in fairy tales, it was probably a good idea to have someone keeping watch over some of the Guard's more remote safe houses until this latest Trouble was taken care of. Which didn't make her any less annoyed by the prospect of being stuck out here alone for the day. She leafed through the book she'd brought, unable to concentrate on it. She couldn't stop her mind from drifting off, wondering what Nathan and his people had found out, what other stories they'd run into. And of course she couldn't shake the question that came along with that: What's my story? Not that she wanted to be targeted by this Trouble, exactly, but the curiosity wouldn't leave her alone. What kind of fairy tale was likely to latch onto a cursed waitress who swore she hadn't always been this angry?

The book continued to be uninteresting. She should have followed her first impulse and hunted up a copy of Grimm's Fairy Tales. It would have at least counted as research. It might have given her a better idea of what she was in for if anything came up.

One of the windows rattled so suddenly and sharply that she nearly fell out of her chair. By force of habit she reached for the gloves she'd taken off as soon as she was alone, although the more logical part of her brain pointed out that anyone who was likely to come after her out here would know who she was and be unlikely to touch her by accident, and anyone else trying to get into the cabin was someone she'd be wise to stay armed against. To that second point, with equally fluid instinct she shouldered the hunting rifle that had been lying on the table in front of her just in case.

The hunting rifle, as it turned out, had been an unexpectedly fitting choice. The stag bumping his antlers against the broad front window was one of the largest Jordan had ever seen, with a rack like a small tree. He would have been the kind of trophy someone could brag about for decades. And he was looking through the window at her with a friendly, expectant expression, which she was pretty sure a deer shouldn't be able to pull off. So much for wondering what her story was.

Jordan set the rifle down, but kept it nearby just in case. She undid the latch on the window and pushed it open slowly, expecting the animal to bolt at any moment. When he didn't, she wasn't sure what to do next. "Hi there," she said softly, opening the window all the way. "What are you doing out here?"

The window was large enough for the great branched antlers to fit through it easily, and the stag pushed his head inside until he was nearly nose to nose with her. He breathed in her face, a warm, heavy smell that wasn't entirely unpleasant, and flicked his ears invitingly.

He looked like he was waiting, and Jordan didn't know what for. She couldn't think of any fairy tales that involved deer at all, let alone ones that got this bold. "Is there something you want to tell me?" she asked, feeling less ridiculous than she thought she probably should. No response. "Somewhere you want to take me?" she suggested. Still the stag said nothing, just breathed at her again.

Jordan sighed. She'd apparently gotten tangled in a story, and she didn't even know which one it was. "Sorry," she said. "I'm afraid I don't know this one." Cautiously, she put her hand up to pat the stag's ears. Her curse didn't affect animals – she'd found that out by accident after a long period of refusing to test it – but it still might break whatever spell was happening here.

The stag let out a loud sigh that sounded unexpectedly contented. The big head rolled to the side, leaning into Jordan's hand like a happy dog's. She ducked under the antlers with a surprised laugh. "Is that all you wanted?" she asked. "Just a little company?" There were more happy sounds as she scratched the ears, reaching her other hand up to ruffle the fur under his chin at the same time. "I guess I can do that," she murmured.

The stag's fur was warm and soft. A little dirty, probably, and stinking of wild animal, but still pleasant to touch. Jordan could feel herself letting out a little happy sigh of her own. This was no substitute for human contact, of course, but it had been such a long time since anything living had reacted positively to her touch. Aside from Nathan, she corrected herself, trying to ignore the voice in the back of her head reminding her that he couldn't actually feel her, and that 'not recoiling in pain' wasn't the same as 'reacting positively.' "I don't mind just being 'that girl who can charm wild animals,'" she said, mostly to herself. "But I was hoping you'd have something more to say to me."

"Even when they can talk, deer rarely have anything to say."

The voice came out of nowhere, making Jordan jump and the stag grunt in irritation. She reached for the rifle again as she turned past the stag to face the figure approaching the cabin from the trees.

It was an old woman, older than anyone Jordan could remember seeing outside of a nursing home, in a ragged grey dress that might be better classified as a robe. Iron-grey hair hung around her face in loose wisps, making her look lost and disheveled, but her face had the look of someone who knows exactly where she is and what she's doing at all times. She also didn't seem the least bit fazed to see someone raising a gun in her direction. "Put that down, child," she said with a wave of her hand. "There's no need for it here. Though I do apologize if I startled you."

Jordan did lower the gun, though she continued to watch the woman warily. She wasn't Guard, and she wasn't anyone Jordan recognized from the area. There was nothing inherently strange about her, at least nothing that Jordan could see, except for the inherent strangeness of a ragged old woman wandering in the woods, and that was strangeness enough to suggest that she was part of this Trouble. Always be kind to strangers, especially old women, she thought, remembering some of the fairy tale 'rules' Nathan had passed on to her. "I wasn't expecting to see anyone else out here," she said. She kept one hand on the stag's neck; he was solid and reassuring.

"Nor was I," the old woman said. She leaned on the windowsill, on the far side of the stag, setting down a bag she had slung over her shoulder. "Left you alone all the way out here, have they?"

"I'm not alone," Jordan said automatically, her self-preservation instinct reminding her not to make herself look vulnerable.

"Yes, I can see that," the old woman said with a wry look at the stag. The animal was eyeing her warily, leaning closer to Jordan.

The stag's reaction was enough to make Jordan keep her own caution up, and to make her keep her distance, but there was also curiosity to contend with. "Is there something I can help you with?" she asked.

The old woman waved a hand dismissively. "I don't need anything, child," she said. "I only heard your voice and thought I might offer a bit of conversation." She rubbed her shoulder. "Not that I don't mind putting that bag down for a minute."

Jordan knew an opening for an offer of kindness when she heard one. "If you'd like to sit down…"

"Don't trouble yourself for me, dear. Besides, I'm sure those who left you here wouldn't appreciate it. No doubt they made you promise that you wouldn't open the door to anyone."

"Not in so many words," Jordan said, trying to make it sound like an admission. Something about the way the old woman had said that, the words she'd used, was putting her on edge. There may not be any stories about cursed waitresses, but there are plenty of stories about girls out in the woods alone.

"Good for them, looking out for you like that. I won't make you break a promise. But, no harm in a chat through the window, is there?" the old woman said with a warm smile. She looked like someone's grandmother when she said it, friendly and harmless and ready to hear everything you had to say and keep it all as secret as you needed.

"I guess not," Jordan said, although she was growing more certain by the minute that there was plenty of harm to be found here.

"No, of course not." The old woman bent down to rummage through the bag she'd dropped. "And what's a little chat without something pleasant to go along with it?" she asked. "Here we are. Lighten an old woman's load a bit."

The stag's nostrils flared, and he belled a sharp warning that Jordan didn't need. The pieces clicked together in her head even before she saw the apple. Skin as white as snow, hair as black as ebony, lips… well, two out of three.

"Go on," the witch encouraged, biting into a second apple herself. "I have plenty, and food always tastes better when it's shared."

It was tempting. A chance to be part of the story, to sit back and wait and find out who would save her. Someone would, she was certain enough of that. And then she'd know exactly who it was that she could count on, who she could trust. Possibly even who it was that she could love. With a sigh, Jordan gently pushed the stag away and reached out her hand.

There was a shout, partly of pain but mostly of indignation, as her hand closed around the witch's wrist. Jordan held firm as the witch tried to pull away. "I hate doing this," she said quietly. "But I'd hate it even more if I thought you were real."

---

"Library's the most obvious place to start," Audrey said as she and Duke piled into her car. "Unless you have a different theory."

Duke shook his head. He was developing a new sympathy for Audrey; being the guy everyone thought had all the answers was wearing on him. "I can't predict these stories, I can only tell you where they're going once they get started. If Doreen had any good information for you about this girl, you're ahead of me."

"I just hope it is good information," Audrey said. "If we go through all this, and Caroline isn't the one we're looking for…"

"It'd be a pretty crappy fairy tale if we spent all this time chasing a bad lead, wouldn't it?" Duke pointed out. Audrey made an amused sound, which encouraged him. "I mean, if this was literature we were talking about then there's a good bet that everything we have ever done in this life is futile," he continued.

"And the whole thing would be some kind of tortured metaphor for the industrial revolution," Audrey agreed. She rolled her eyes. "I do not remember lit class fondly." A pause. "Well, I have someone's memories of not being fond of lit class, anyway," she added.

"I mostly remember sleeping through mine, the ones I didn't skip," Duke said, trying to head her off before she started going down the 'who am I, really' road. It never led her anywhere non-distressing. "And then trying to read some of the books on my own when I was older, and remembering why they were putting me to sleep. A whole bunch of people accomplishing nothing and then talking about it forever. But fairy tales? With fairy tales, if you think what you're doing is the right answer, it probably is. The only reasons people really set out to do something and fail in fairy tales is because either someone else is destined to succeed, or because they pissed someone off and got deliberately given bad information." He gave Audrey a sidelong, teasing look. "You were nice to Doreen, right?"

That got another mini-laugh out of her. "If she was leading me on, she was putting a lot of effort into it. This street, or the one after it?" she added, nodding towards the upcoming intersection.

"Next one, on the left," Duke said, brow furrowed. "You mean you don't know where the library is?"

"Just because it's your second home," Audrey countered with another roll of her eyes.

"It's not like you can miss it, though," Duke said as they made their way to the next intersection. "I figured you would have at least noticed it."

Audrey took her eyes off the road just long enough to shoot him a curious look. "What are you—oh."

She cut off in a gasp as the library loomed ahead of them, dark and heavy. This close to it, only the roof was visible above the mile-thick tangle of briars that ringed it on all sides. The air was filled with the hiss of the brambles writhing against each other, quiet but all-pervasive. Audrey slammed on the brakes, bringing the car to a halt in the middle of the street. "What the hell is this," she said in a choked voice as she leapt out and began running towards the library.

It occurred to Duke almost too late that if she had somehow never noticed the library, she probably didn't know about the safe zone. "Audrey, wait!" he said, jumping out of the car after her.

He caught her by the arm and pulled her to a stop just half a foot away from the yellow line painted on the asphalt a few yards from the edge of the briar patch. The hissing intensified as the briars woke up, recognizing that someone was nearby. "Don't get any closer," he warned.

Audrey was frozen, staring back and forth between him and the briars with a look of bewildered horror. "Duke?" she said in a small, hesitant voice. "What's going on?"

Duke covered a sigh. However she'd done it, she'd somehow managed to miss this particular tourist attraction. And showing her would be easier than explaining. "Don't move," he told her. When she nodded, he let go of her arm and slowly took a step forward. When he was younger, he and the other kids were always daring each other to step over the line, to see who could get the closest to the briars before chickening out and running back to safety. He guessed that the current generation of neighborhood kids were probably still doing it. He put one foot over the yellow line and continued advancing, keeping low and stealthy as if he could somehow sneak up on it.

In the space between one heartbeat and the next, the briars went from a quietly seething mass to an explosion, bursting out to grab at him. Duke scuttled back hurriedly, leaping over the line with no care for how undignified he probably looked. The briars continued to roil like a boiling pot for a moment before going back to their usual hiss. "That's a rush," Duke said mildly.

Audrey wasn't looking quite so horrified anymore, but now she gave him a skeptical eye. "And this seems normal to you?"

"Haven normal, yeah." Duke shook his head. "I'm trying not to be a jackass about this, but I don't see how it can possibly be new information for you. The briar thicket has sealed the library off for, like, a hundred years now. Everything inside it is locked away until the rightful hero comes forth to claim the sword and cut it down. Everyone knows that."

"This library," Audrey said flatly.

"Yeah."

"The one that was last open on Friday. The one you just told me last night that you practically lived in when you were a kid."

"Yeah," Duke repeated less confidently. He did remember saying that. And it had been true, hadn't it? He'd spent hours in the library, a drab municipal building flanked by two other drab municipal buildings. But… this was the library, deep in the briar labyrinth that was a fixture of the neighborhood, the same as it had always been. He was quite firm on that in his mind. "It's always been like this," he said, a little helplessly.

"I think it feels that way to you," Audrey said, and she was using her 'calming down the Troubled time bomb' voice. Great. "But it's part of this Trouble. You're caught in another story, and it's making you believe things that you know don't make any sense."

Duke shook his head. She was mistaken. Not trying to deceive him, just…wrong. He was very clear on this.

She was still talking. "Last night you told me that it was a paradise when you were a kid," she said relentlessly. "A heated building where you didn't have to pay and nobody would kick you out as long as you didn't cause trouble. How could you say that about a building that's been locked off for centuries?"

Duke ground the heel of his hand into his forehead. She was right; she had to be. He remembered everything she was saying and more besides, the smell of the books and the sound of a dozen people being quiet. But when he tried to think about that library there was a crawling feeling at the base of his skull, like something pawing at his brain, telling him that the briar patch had always been there. It was a more subtle version of the feeling he'd had when the sirens' song started creeping in on him, which was enough to tell him that there was a problem here. "I believe you," he said with some difficulty. "But I can't shake this."

"Maybe you shouldn't be trying," Audrey said thoughtfully, although she had a hand firmly on his arm like she expected him to bolt in an unknown direction at any second. "You might have some useful information lurking in there. What were you just saying about the rightful hero?"

What was he just saying? Duke tried to take his mind away from the memories that Audrey was telling him were the real ones, setting the words that were itching to come out free. "The library is waiting for the rightful hero to claim the sword and cut through the briars to rescue the princess," he said. The words came out without thought, like something he'd memorized for a test but had no context for. He let out a heavy sigh, feeling like something had let him go, like whatever was crawling on his brain had been holding him hostage until he delivered the message and was willing to leave him alone for now.

"There we go," Audrey said encouragingly. "That's more information than we had when we got here."

"Suddenly knowing the answer out of nowhere," Duke said to himself, thinking of his conversation with Nathan last night. "An insult to the reader, but really handy when it works."

Audrey raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment. "A hero, a sword, and a princess," she said. "Well, the princess is probably Caroline. You got any details about the rest of it?"

"You know as much as I do now," Duke said. "Just enough information to be no help at all."

"It's somewhere to start," Audrey told him. A gentle tug on his arm. "Come on, let's get you away from here." Duke had to agree that this seemed like the best course of action.

As soon as they were back in the car Audrey was on the radio to Laverne. "Weird question, Laverne. Do you know of anywhere in town where there's a sword on display?"

"You mean aside from the one outside the police station?" Laverne's voice crackled.

Audrey and Duke shared a silent, significant look. "Yeah, aside from that one," Audrey said.

"The history museum might have a couple," Laverne said. "I can call them and find out for sure."

"No, I can check it out on the way, thanks," Audrey said. She raised an eyebrow at Duke. "We're double-checking some research out here. How old is the sword outside the station, again?"

A confused sound. "Nobody knows, honey. It's been there for as long as anyone can remember."

"That's what I thought," Audrey said grimly. "Thanks, Laverne." She disconnected and turned to Duke. "'As long as anyone can remember,'" she echoed. "Except that it definitely wasn't there when we left."

Duke had a hand to his forehead again. There were vague memories of a sword, but it was like something he'd heard somewhere and put out of his mind, not the aggressive memories of the library. "I think," he said slowly, trying to find the words, "that it has been there for a long time, but it wasn't there until someone went to the library and found out that it was supposed to have been there for a long time." A baffled laugh. "Or something like that."

"No, I think I get it," Audrey said. She gave him a wry smile. "So, how heroic are you feeling?"

---

"I'm flattered, really," Duke said as they drove back to the police station, only sounding a little sarcastic. "But I'm telling you, if the story is specifically asking for a hero it's not going to be me. I'm a loveable rogue at best."

"You were the first person to know about the library and the sword," Audrey pointed out. "And you said it yourself, that fairy tales tend to be pretty straight to the point about getting to the solution."

"Or I'm just the weird guy who goes into the woods and comes out with tales of strange happenings that set the main character off on his journey," he countered. "I'm going to mention the sword in a crowd, and then a tailor or a kid who herds pigs is going to go and claim it."

Audrey almost asked how likely it was that there was a swineherd somewhere in town, but that was beside the point. "You're pretty firm on this 'I'm not a hero' thing, aren't you?"

"I know what these stories are looking for," Duke said. "And I'm not it, thank God. Like I need another destiny."

"Fair enough," Audrey said, giving him a sympathetic look. "But you'll still try, right?"

Duke gave a resigned sigh, pushing his hair out of his eyes. "Yes, I will attempt to pull the sword out of the stone to save the town," he said. "Have I ever not at least tried?" Audrey had to admit that he hadn't, and the two of them were silent for the rest of the short drive back.

The stone jutting up from the grassy hillside in front of the station looked like it had been there for ages, sitting a tasteful distance from the walkway like a piece of public art. The sword embedded in its top stood out at an angle that made it look like it was just resting there, waiting for someone to pick it up. The bit of the blade that was visible gleamed liquid silver, and the darker metal of the hilt shone. There was coppery detailing on the hilt, making it look like it was wrapped in briars, and the guard was fashioned to resemble a pair of leathery wings. "Look familiar?" Audrey asked.

Duke was still standing some distance back, taking in the entire scene, and Audrey wondered if he was fitting the sword and stone into his mental image of the police station or trying to convince himself that it hadn't always been there. "Yeah," he said slowly, the same tone he'd used when they'd been discussing his memories of the library. "Like it's something that's been there so long that you don't really see it anymore."

"Well, even if you hadn't already told me it was connected to the library I think we would have figured it out," Audrey said, indicating the decorative briars. When Duke bent down to take a closer look, she sighed and dug in her pocket. "You realize you've been pushing your hair back all day, right?" she asked, coming up with a spare hair tie and holding it out to him. "Trust me, it's long enough to tie back now."

"I must look bad if Audrey Parker is giving me style advice," Duke teased, taking the hair tie gratefully.

"I had short hair for a couple years," she told him. "I remember how much growing it out sucked. I couldn't wait for it to get out of that 'too long to ignore, too short to do anything with' stage."

Which was strange, if she thought about it for any length of time. She had developed a sort of uneasy acceptance regarding most of the memories in her head that didn't actually belong to her, but this was a memory of someone else's body. She was remembering someone else's hair, growing out to a length and color that hers had never been, and the memory was slotting itself perfectly into her mind despite all the evidence that it couldn't be right, or at least couldn't be hers. It was more than a little distressing, and it was something she didn't want to think about for any length of time.

Duke was giving her a concerned look as he pulled his hair back into a short ponytail. "You okay, Audrey? You kinda spaced out there for a second."

"I'm fine," Audrey said. "Just… me and memories. You know." He gave her a short, understanding nod, and she reached up to brush at the little bit of hair around his face that was apparently still too short to stay pulled back. "Nice to see your face again."

"It is my most valuable contribution to society," Duke agreed. He turned his attention to the sword. "Here goes nothing," he said. "But I'm telling you, it's not gonn—agh!

"Duke!" He had lurched backwards, clutching his hand. "What happened?"

Muttering a few harsh words under his breath, Duke shook his hand out and examined it. Dark red welts crossed his palm in a pattern that resembled the briars on the hilt. "I'm really not what it's looking for," he said with a hiss of pain.

"Jesus," Audrey muttered, taking hold of his wrist and taking a closer look. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he grunted, flexing his fingers. He sucked in a breath, then let it out more easily. "Pain's already fading," he said, and Audrey could see that the welts were, too. Within less than a minute they were gone entirely, not even leaving the soft pink of a freshly-healed wound. He gently tugged his wrist out of her grip. "Told you I wasn't hero material," he said with his usual casual manner. Even so, if Audrey looked closely she thought there might be a hint of disappointment in his eyes.

On a hunch, Audrey stepped around him and took hold of the sword herself, ignoring his sounds of warning and giving it a firm tug. There was a jolt of pain, but not the same one that had driven Duke back. Pulling on the sword was like trying to yank a steel bar out of set concrete, and she felt the resistance all the way up to her shoulder. "It's all right," she said, showing Duke her unmarked hand. "It's ignoring me, like the rest of the stories." She rubbed her shoulder. "It's solid, though. That thing's not moving until it wants to."

"And we have to figure out who's gonna be able to convince it," Duke said. "And I'm not sure how patient it's gonna be while we work that out." Audrey gave him a questioning look. "What it did to me? That was a warning. It could've done a lot worse if it wanted to; I could feel that much."

"You think it was holding back?"

"Yeah, but I don't know why. Or if lining the entire town up to try it is gonna annoy it into getting meaner."

Audrey chewed her lip, thinking. "Or maybe it doesn't think you're unworthy enough to do any permanent damage to."

Duke raised an eyebrow. "Thank you?" he hazarded.

"The sword is outside the police station," she continued. "That can't be a coincidence. And you're not exactly law enforcement's favorite person, but even the cops who're dying to bust you for something all consider you basically harmless. What did you call yourself? 'Loveable rogue'?"

"I'll try not to take offense at 'harmless.'"

"But you see where I'm going with this," Audrey pressed. "It's looking for someone… lawful good, for lack of a better way to say it."

"You just lost whatever right you had to tease me about my taste in reading materials," Duke told her with a wry look.

"Hey, you understood it," she countered with a smile. He gave her a 'fair enough' shrug. "And since it's looking for a lawful good hero and it showed up here…"

"It's looking for a cop," Duke finished for her. "Because of course it is."

"Which at least narrows our search. Any suggestions on narrowing it further, or do we line up the entire force out here?"

Duke was looking over her head, the way he did sometimes when he was thinking. "Two ways this one could go," he said. "It's either someone who's really obviously already got the 'destined hero' thing going on, or it's the guy at the very bottom of the ladder who nobody pays any attention to until suddenly he's the center of everything."

"So, either the Chief of Police who inherited the job from his adoptive father, or Stan?"

"Pretty much." Duke shook his head. "I really hope it's Stan."

---

The smell of sheep was all-pervading. It wasn't a bad smell, exactly, but it clung. Nathan wrinkled his nose as he exited his truck just outside the farm's perimeter, thought for a moment, and took his jacket off and left it on the front seat. Sandra wouldn't hesitate to rope him into giving her a hand if she could, and the jacket would be the hardest thing to get the smell out of later.

The sounds came next, the milling bleats of unconcerned sheep mixing with human voices and the occasional bark of a dog. As Nathan crested a small hill he could see the flock covering the ground like a dirty-white fog bank, with two or three human figures moving between the sheep and doing whatever it was that farmhands did. One of the figures caught sight of Nathan and gave him a wave, turning around with a whistle to one of the others. That one straightened from where she'd been crouched and said something to the first one, who nodded, and made her way towards Nathan.

A lanky woman in her middle fifties, Cassandra Pace had always reminded Nathan of his father in her brusque and businesslike nature. "Wuornos," she greeted him, holding out her hand.

He shook it. "Morning, Sandra. What's going on?"

Sandra didn't respond, just tossed her head in the direction of one of the outbuildings and headed towards it. "We had a visitor last night," she said. "You know we keep one of the barns open to the public some days?"

Nathan nodded. A significant percentage of the farm's wool got processed by hand on-site, and it was a popular destination for crafters looking for fleece and handspun yarn, as well as for school trips looking for demonstrations of how a sheep became a sweater. Nathan had been in that barn once or twice as a kid, back when Sandra's father ran the farm, and once with an ex-girlfriend who'd been learning to crochet. "Older guy came in alone," Sandra continued. "Said he used to spin a little, and asked if he could take a spin on the castle wheel." She shrugged. "Everyone wants to try it out. But he sat down and I could tell right away he knew what he was doing, so I left him to it for a while. When I came back… well, I'll show you."

Sandra dug for her keys as the large black-and-white dog draped across the doorway of the building gave Nathan a wary look. "Didn't want any of the hands seeing this until you had a look," she said. "Ruin's not a guard dog, but tell him to stay and you can't move him with a crowbar." The dog's ears flicked at the sound of his name, but he did remain otherwise motionless. "Ruin, heel."

The dog stood and made a wide circle, coming to heel at Sandra's side as she unlocked the barn door and pulled it open. The barn was set up in stations, with separate areas for cleaning the wool, dyeing it, spinning it, and whatever other steps there were in between – Nathan had never paid much attention on those class trips. The spinning wheel, a massive, elegant thing that already looked like something out of a fairy tale, was near the center of the floor and surrounded by a neat pile of spools of yellowish thread. "He'd only done one or two when I first came back in," Sandra said. "Offered to make as many more as I had straw for in exchange for the earrings I was wearing."

It took Nathan a moment to realize what he was looking at, even with that description. He picked up one of the spools carefully, fascinated by the shine of it and the way the strands bent under his hands. "Gold?"

"Spun out of straw," Sandra confirmed. "Wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't been watching him. He did just enough to convince me it was real, then he took the earrings and told me to leave him locked in for the night. I opened up this morning and he was gone, and this was all just lying here. I haven't touched anything."

Nathan made a noncommittal sound as he set the spool down. "Did he say anything else to you?"

"I didn't ask any questions," Sandra said, some of the brusqueness in her voice giving way to bemusement. "Listen, today it's obvious that something's weird about the whole thing. But at the time…"

"It seemed to make perfect sense," Nathan finished for her, repeating what so many of the people involved had already said.

Sandra caught the comprehension in his tone. "So this isn't the only incident," she said.

"Well, you're the only person who's been visited by Rumpelstiltskin so far," Nathan said with a smile. "But there's been plenty else going on."

"Figured it had to be one of your Troubled folks," Sandra said with a nod. "Although I think I'd be asking for a little more than dime-store jewelry if I could spin straw into gold."

"There's a little more to it than that," Nathan said, not wanting to tell her too much. "But we're looking into it. For now, just keep an eye out, and if he comes back, don't let him in and don't make any more bargains with him."

Sandra gave him a wry look. "I doubt he'd be interested," she said dryly. "The closest I have to a firstborn was the first lamb I ever delivered, and she's been dead for years."

Nathan couldn't help smiling at her attitude. "All right," he said. "I'd like to look around for a while, if you don't mind."

"Take all the time you need," Sandra said with a wave. "Let me know if you need to ask any questions, but Ruin and I have to get back to the sheep."

"I'll tell you when I leave, so you can lock up again," Nathan said.

Sandra nodded. She paused, giving him a shrewd look. "I don't suppose there's anything illegal about spinning straw into gold, is there?"

"I guess not," Nathan said, not sure where she was going with this.

"And I did pay for it, technically. So there's really no reason I shouldn't be allowed to keep it, right?"

It wasn't something Nathan had actually considered. "No reason I can think of," he had to admit with a smile. "I'm just not sure if it's going to stay gold once this is all over."

"So sell it fast, is what you're saying," Sandra said, meeting his surprised look with a wry one that said she was only half serious. "Think your buddy Duke would know where to find a buyer? No, I guess he wouldn't tell you if he did."

Nathan still hadn't formulated a reply to that by the time that Sandra turned and walked away, Ruin still at her heels. He shook his head, turning his attention back to the pile of spun gold. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, but he'd feel better having checked the place out thoroughly.

Trying to determine what was unusual here would have been much easier if Nathan had any idea what 'normal' looked like. The wheel was the only thing in the barn that he really recognized, and that only because he'd seen similar ones in so many storybook illustrations and movies. It was practically a fairy tale lightning rod, he thought as he gave the wheel part of it a gentle push and watched it turn, setting mechanisms he didn't understand in motion. He made a mental note to look up exactly how these things worked next time he was killing time on the Internet.

The rest of the equipment that surrounded him was even more of a mystery. Nathan could guess that the massive metal bowls were for either washing wool or dyeing it, but the spiked rollers bolted to a table looked more like a torture device than anything and he gave them a wide berth. He was circling back to take another look at the gold when his phone rang. "Go ahead, Parker."

"You still at the sheep farm?" Audrey asked.

"I was just about to leave," he told her. He picked up one of the spools again. "Sandra got visited by Rumpelstiltskin."

"Rumpelstiltskin," Audrey repeated. "I'm guessing you wouldn't sound so calm if he'd gotten as far as the child abduction stage yet."

"Not yet," Nathan confirmed. "Just the 'trading jewelry for spinning straw into gold' part, which Sandra seems to consider more than a fair trade so far. Not really something that we can do anything about, and she shouldn't be in any danger as long as she doesn't let him in next time he shows up."

"Hopefully we'll have this wrapped up before he's due back," Audrey said.

"Any luck on that front?"

"Possibly. Still working on it. Duke and I are pretty sure that if we can get into the library, we'll be at the heart of this whole thing and we can fix it." Audrey paused. "Nathan? Describe the library to me."

Nathan furrowed his brow. "Big building in the center of town surrounded by a briar thicket. Why?"

"Thought so," Audrey said, sounding like she was talking to herself. "A thicket that only the chosen hero can get through, right?" she went on at a more normal volume.

"If anyone ever figures out who that is."

"We… might have figured that one out," Audrey said slowly. "We're working through a couple hunches, and there's a good chance that it's… well, you."

She said it like she wasn't sure how to break it to him, and he wasn't sure how to respond. "No it's not," he finally said. It didn't come anywhere near to expressing the confusion and disbelief that her statement had left him with, but it was the best he could do.

"Well, we won't know for sure until you get here," Audrey admitted. "But you fit all the requirements better than anyone. And besides," she added, her voice going softer, "nobody does more to protect this town than you do."

"You," he countered with equal softness.

"I don't count," Audrey said, fumbling her way back to her usual briskness, pushing him away again. "I don't fit into the stories, remember?"

"You always fit into my story," Nathan couldn't help saying. In the awkward silence that followed this, he added, "And this isn't a Troubled story. Haven's been looking for its hero since before I was born. It's not going to be me."

"Has it?" Audrey countered. "Who first told you that?"

It was like asking who first told you that the world was round, or the sky was blue. It was something you'd learned so early that how you found out didn't matter anymore. "It's not like I'm going to remember that," Nathan said.

"Because no one ever told you. You just think they did. This is another story, Nathan. And this one is yours."

Nathan shook his head, forgetting for the moment that she couldn't see him. But at the same time… had he ever heard anyone mention the library or the search for the hero? Even with the Troubles, there were conversations he'd overheard ever since he was a kid where, in hindsight, it was obvious what everyone was avoiding saying. They talked about it even if they didn't talk about it. But he couldn't remember anyone even pointedly not talking about the library. "That can't be right," he said.

"I know," Audrey said. "Believe me, I know; you're not the first person I've had this conversation with today. But I need you to believe me."

"I wish I could." Nathan would love to believe her. Admittedly a little bit because there was something appealing about the idea of being a destined hero, but mostly because if she was right then he had a chance to fix this particular Trouble before it did any more harm.

"If you meet me at the police station, I can prove it to you," Audrey said. "And if I'm wrong, we can figure out what to do from there."

Nathan nodded to himself, thinking. Even if her theory wasn't right, he'd done all he could here, and it would be easier for them to plan their next move if they were all together. "Okay," he said. "Let me just tell Sandra I'm leaving and I'll be on my way."

"Great, see you soon." Another pause, sounding like Audrey was going to say something else. "Gold, huh?"

"I've never seen anything quite like it," Nathan confessed. The light slanting in through the windows was reaching the pile now, making it glisten with a radiance that he didn't have words for. He set the spool in his hand back among the rest and stepped back, leaning against a low table in the corner to take a better look at it all. He missed the table and stumbled, throwing a hand out to catch himself. It didn't work. The world was still sliding sideways, and at the center of it was a splash of red. "Audrey?" His voice was suddenly thick, and it was hard to get the words out. "I think I'm bleeding."

"Nathan? Nathan!" Audrey's words fell away, down an echoing tunnel. Or maybe he was the one who was falling away, his vision narrowing to a single point of light before fading entirely as dark silence closed in around him. There was a shout in Nathan's head, a voice telling him that he should have seen this coming, and then nothing.

---

"Cell reception still isn't great that far out of town," Duke told Audrey as they barreled down the road, heading for the sheep farm. "Nathan's connection might have just dropped out."

"He'd have found a way to call back by now," Audrey said. "Either on the radio or on someone else's phone. The contact number for the farm is a land line."

"Sometimes those go out, too," Duke said. "Wouldn't surprise me if magic messes with them somehow. I'm just saying, no point in assuming the worst yet."

Audrey took her eyes off the road to say something sarcastic, but it was plain on Duke's face that he was trying to convince himself. "Maybe not," she conceded grimly. It didn't ease the knot in her stomach that had been getting tighter every minute since she'd hung up on the silence on Nathan's end of the phone. She'd tried calling him back to no answer, nor had anyone answered the phone at the farm. She hadn't hesitated a second before jumping in the car to go after him, and Duke had been right behind her. "This place isn't that far is it?"

"No," Duke said, and the fact that he didn't say anything further was all the proof Audrey needed that he was just as worried as she was. He hadn't offered any speculation as to what might have happened to Nathan, whether because he didn't have any ideas or because he didn't want to think about it.

The sheep farm really was only a short distance away, especially at the speed Audrey was driving. There was Nathan's truck outside it, looking perfectly ordinary, with his jacket on the seat. "Anything about this look suspicious to you?"

"Not a lot of fairy tales about trucks," Duke returned, not really looking at her.

Audrey took that as a 'no.' She peered through the truck's window and ran a hand over the door, then checked the ground where she could still see Nathan's footprints in the dust. "No blood." It was occurring to her, belatedly, that there was always the possibility that Nathan had injured himself in some mundane way and just hadn't noticed it until he'd bled enough to make him light-headed. She wasn't sure if that would be a better or worse outcome than getting trapped in a story. "If he's just wounded, it probably didn't happen until he was away from here."

Duke made a bitter sound. "If that jackass dragged us all the way out here because he's 'just wounded' and didn't notice, I'm gonna kill him."

That brought Audrey out of her own concern for a moment. "You're really worried about him, aren't you?"

"Given that he's apparently incapable of worrying about himself," Duke said. His voice was sharp, but quiet, like he was talking more to himself than anything else.

It was the same strange tension that always seemed to hover between Duke and Nathan. They rarely seemed to be more than a few words away from a full-on brawl, but any time one of them was in real trouble the other would be the first to respond. It was exhausting to be caught in the middle of, and there had been plenty of times when Audrey had wanted to smack one or both of them and say you don't think you could try caring about him when you're not worried he's gonna die? But there was something sweet about it, too, sometimes, knowing that she could rely on them to look out for each other, especially when the thought crept in that she might not be around to look after them much longer. "I'm sure he's gonna be fine," she told Duke. It was the same thing she'd tried to tell herself for the entire trip up, but when she was saying it to someone else she could almost make herself believe it. She started towards the farm, giving his arm a little tug "Come on."

A flurry of barking heralded their arrival, catching the attention of a woman Audrey assumed was the farm's owner. She had a sheep slung over her shoulders in a fireman's carry, and she gave Audrey a speculative look as she approached them. "You're Wournos' new partner, yeah? The out-of-towner?"

"Audrey Parker," she introduced herself, affecting a calm, professional demeanor. "And this is—"

"Him I know," the woman said, though now she was eyeing Duke with a similarly probing look. "You working with them now?" she asked, one eyebrow raised.

"Consulting," Duke said. "On an as-needed basis."

A dubious grunt. "Sandra Pace," the woman said, shaking Audrey's hand once. "Wournos call you out to help him?"

"He did," Audrey said, relieved that she wasn't going to have to convince this woman of anything. "Where is he?"

Sandra jerked a thumb over her shoulder. "Big grey barn, can't miss it. I'd take you, but I'm in the middle of something here. You folks gonna be much longer with this?"

"I hope not," Audrey said with a smile that she hoped didn't look too fake. "Thanks."

"Duke," Sandra said abruptly as the two of them turned to make their way to the barn. She gave Audrey the eye again and lowered her voice, though not so low that Audrey couldn't hear. "When you're done 'consulting,' give me a call. Got a business proposition for you."

Duke raised an eyebrow, but nodded shortly before turning away again. "No idea," he said in an undertone before Audrey could ask him what that had been about. She didn't think he was lying, but she also thought that was the response he'd give her about a potential business deal under any circumstance.

The barn was probably not as imposing or ominous a building as it looked to Audrey just then. She balked, nervous at the thought of walking into any barn at the moment. Duke stepped around her and opened the door, not taking any notice of her discomfort.

For all of their shared single-mindedness, both of them had to stop and stare for a moment at the sight inside. It was like someone had piled sunlight on the old floorboards. "That's gold," Duke said unnecessarily.

It was enough to break Audrey out of her own surprise. "Not why we're here."

"I'm just saying. That's a lot of gold." Duke shook his head. "Nathan?" he called into the building. There was no answer.

The place was a mess of mystery tools and dark corners. If Nathan was here, he must be in the shadows somewhere. "Nathan?" she tried, half convinced that he still might answer her. He didn't.

Duke was still staring fixedly at the spinning wheel, his face growing grim. "What?" Audrey asked.

He shook his head. "Got a hunch," he said, walking forward. "Just find Nathan. He's gonna be in here."

He sounded more certain than Audrey felt. Realizing that he wasn't going to give her any further explanation, she began circling the room, poking her head around the machinery and calling Nathan's name.

It wasn't long before she found the crumpled form collapsed under a table. "Nathan!"

He looked like he'd simply collapsed, half on his side with his legs folded under him and his arm outstretched. Audrey was on the floor beside him instantly, turning his face upward and checking for signs of life. She eventually located a pulse in his neck, slow and faint, and when she brought her face down close to his she could feel the warmth of his breath every few seconds. Her own pulse and breathing started to slow, coming down from the panic of that terrible moment when she'd thought he might be dead. "He's alive," she said to Duke, who she was just now noticing had been at her side from the moment he heard her shout.

Duke made a sound that was half relief, half annoyance. "Thought so," he said. "Come on, get him out in the open." He got his hands under Nathan's legs, helping Audrey pull him out from under the table and flat onto his back.

"It's like he's in a coma," Audrey said, extricating herself from his dead weight but staying on her knees at his side. "I don't remember anything like this from Rumpelstiltskin."

Duke was kneeling on Nathan's other side, a hand on his shoulder. "He came in to check out one story and got caught in another," he told her. He hooked one finger into the cuff of Nathan's sleeve and lifted his arm, seemingly trying not to touch him. He let the arm fall to rest across Nathan's chest, and Audrey understood why when she saw the trickle of blood running down the side of Nathan's hand. "There's blood on the spinning wheel, too," Duke said quietly. He looked up at Audrey, and his mouth curled into an ironic smile. "At least this is one of the easy solutions," he said, drawing back and sitting on his heels.

Giving us a little breathing room, Audrey realized as the implication hit her. Everyone knew how to wake up Sleeping Beauty. "I can't," she said. It was an automatic reaction as she recoiled from the idea of being Nathan's true love's kiss. She wasn't in love with him, she had tried so hard not to be, and doing something this mythical and dramatic to tell the world that she was could only end in tragedy for him, as it had for the other men she'd loved.

"Why not?"

The force in Duke's voice, angry and frantic, nearly pushed her backwards. His teeth were bared, and he was looking at her with the sort of fury she was used to seeing from some of the more aggressively terrified Troubled people she'd dealt with. You can fix this. Why haven't you done it already? "I'm not part of the story, remember?" she shot back, almost as aggressive as he'd been. In her fear of marking Nathan as someone she loved, she'd forgotten that for a moment.

"Ever since you got here, he hasn't had a single story you're not part of," Duke said, less angry but still forceful. "A Trouble isn't going to change that."

It was similar to what Nathan had said to her on the phone. You always fit into my story. He'd just been being as awkwardly sentimental as he always got around her, or so she'd assumed. But what if he'd been unwittingly giving her a clue that this one didn't follow the same rules as the others? If it worked, she might be putting Nathan in danger in the future. But if she was supposed to wake him and she didn't, this Trouble might never be solved. She had to try. It was her duty. "Okay," she murmured, hearing the breath go out of Duke as he stood up. "Okay."

There was a lump in her throat as she bent over Nathan's still form. "I'm sorry," she whispered, praying that there would be time to fix whatever damage this might cause. Nathan's lips were warm under hers, and she wondered if, in his unconscious state, he could still feel her. She didn't know whether or not to hope he could.

Nothing happened. Nathan didn't move; the rhythm of his slow breathing didn't change. A second kiss continued to fail to show any results. Audrey looked up at Duke, seeing a mirror of her own feelings in the sick, sinking look on his face. "It didn't work."

"Okay," Duke said, running a hand over the back of his neck and turning away from her to pace a few steps, his face and voice turning frantic with desperate thought. "There are other versions of the story. Sometimes… sometimes there's a splinter of something under her nail, and taking that out wakes her up. Check his nails, and the place where his hand is cut."

Audrey checked several times, pinching and pulling his split skin until blood ran over her fingertips. "Nothing." A thought struck her. "He had his phone in his hand when he fell. Did you see where it landed? He has to have Jordan's number in it, maybe she—"

Duke made a sound of disgust. "If you didn't work and she did…" he started, not bothering to finish the sentence. Audrey had to admit that a similar thought had been running through her head, but she didn't want to say so. Duke was still talking, half to himself, trying to pull out a thread of an idea. "Can't be an apple in his throat; he wouldn't be breathing. Same with a tightened corset." He gave Audrey a helpless look. "Poisoned comb? Check his hair?"

"What?"

"I'm going through every enchanted sleep story I know, all right?" Duke fell back to his knees next to Nathan, putting a protective hand on his friend's shoulder. "There has to be an answer," he said, his other hand on his own head. "There's always an answer."

At a loss for anything else to try, Audrey reached for her phone. It might not be traditional, but calling an ambulance might still be the best idea. They could at least keep Nathan stable until someone figured out how to wake him. She was digging in her pocket when she saw Duke go completely still. It was a stillness she recognized, that moment when the thing you were dodging thinking about hit you so hard you couldn't ignore it any longer. His hand fell away from his face and he let out a long, slow, resigned breath, looking up at the ceiling with his eyes closed. "You didn't see this," he said, so quietly that Audrey barely heard him.

"Wh—" Audrey started, but the question hadn't even completely formed in her mind before it was answered. The entire world seemed to go silent as Duke bent and pressed his lips against Nathan's. It was a kiss that only lasted a moment, but it still seemed to contain a lifetime's worth of love and tenderness, and above all else sorrow.

The silence was broken by a harsh gasp, followed by a burst of coughing as Nathan tried to sit up. Audrey leapt forward to throw her arms around him, her shock at this turn of events eclipsed by her relief at seeing him recovered. For his part, Duke leapt backwards to his feet with sharp grace, pulling back before Nathan could see him there.

"Audrey?" Nathan mumbled against her shoulder, sounding baffled but otherwise perfectly fine. He raised his head and put an arm around her to pat her back reassuringly, despite apparently not knowing what he was reassuring her about. "What happened?"

"You're an idiot, is what happened," Duke answered before Audrey could say anything. He was standing some distance away, his arms folded and his usual look of impatience at Nathan's stupidity on his face. "Who hears that there's a fairy tale Trouble in town and then stands that close to a spinning wheel?" Audrey didn't think she was imagining the catch in his carefree voice.

A look at the shy adoration in Nathan's eyes told Audrey that he was drawing the obvious conclusion about what had happened to him, and who had saved him. A look at the resigned pain deep in Duke's eyes told her that he was going to let Nathan draw the obvious conclusion. Oh, Duke.

She and Nathan both seemed to realize that she was still holding onto him at the same time. She pulled away, holding him at arm's length to take a look at him. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," he told her, looking himself over and brushing some dust off his shirt. "Like nothing happened." He gave her a gently solemn look. "Thank you, Parker."

Feeling like she'd led him on was even worse than feeling like she'd put a target on his back. "Hey, I look out for my partner," she said, forcing a smile. She gave him a gentle thump on the shoulder. Come on, get up; we've got to get to the station." She hesitated. "Although…I'm not sure if you should be driving."

Nathan laughed as he got to his feet. "I'm fine," he told her again. "It's not like people relapse from being cursed, right?" He looked to Duke for confirmation.

A one-armed shrug. "If he says he's fine, he's fine." Duke's voice had gone completely flat.

"See? Right from the expert." Nathan beamed a little more. "You two get going. I want to talk to Sandra one more time before I leave, but I'll be right behind you."

"Okay," Audrey said. It was probably a good idea to get away from him for a little while, even just for the length of a drive back into town, and at least until she'd had a chance to talk to Duke alone. "Duke? You coming?"

The look Duke gave her said two things: I know you want to talk to me and I really don't want to talk to you. "It's a nice day," he said, still in that flat voice. "Think I might just walk."

---

Duke hadn't actually expected Audrey to let him go home alone. They didn't have the time it would take him to walk back to town, or to find someone nearby who'd be willing to give him a ride. And it wasn't like she was going to let this pass by without comment. It hadn't escaped his notice that she was driving far more sedately than she had on their way out to the farm, keeping to a speed that would give her time to interrogate him. Duke would have preferred to hunker down in the farthest corner of the back seat, where it would be easier to ignore her, but apparently she'd guessed that much. His attempt to avoid the front door had been thoroughly squelched by the look on her face, not helped by the knowledge that Nathan had been still in earshot if she'd decided to press the issue.

In the moment, trying not to look at her as she navigated the road as if this were any other drive, he hated her. It wasn't fair and it wouldn't last, but he ached to the core and someone had to take the blame. He cared far less about the pain itself than about the fact that she'd seen it, that he'd been forced to reveal something that he'd never let slip to anyone before. And now that she knew… the sneer that curled his lip was involuntary. Audrey Parker was one hell of a liar when it suited her, but she wasn't going to keep something like this from her partner. By this time tomorrow Nathan would know that Duke was in love with him, and that would be the end of… well, of everything.

"I'm sorry."

Audrey's voice was so quiet and gentle that it cut through the noise in Duke's head. "For what?" he snarled, cracked and brittle.

She didn't rise to match his tone the way she had in the barn. "For seeing that. It's pretty obvious that you wish I hadn't."

That took the wind out of his anger, leaving only the old, hollow sadness that had lived in his gut so long it was practically a friend. "Not like it's your fault," he mumbled, still resentful.

"I'm still sorry."

Duke grunted a noncommittal acceptance, and some cynical voice in the back of his head started counting.

She lasted twelve seconds. "Do you want to talk about it?"

There was no amusement in his laugh. "What's there to talk about? You already know the whole story."

"I don't think I do," Audrey pressed. "And I'm worried that I need to."

"Trust me, you already know more than you need to."

"If it was anyone else, I'd agree with you. Your heartache, your business. But it's Nathan." Did she sound shocked at that? Jealous? Or maybe a little bit resigned? "Even ignoring the fact that I care about you both and I worry about you, it's never just about you two when it's about you two. It's like you're the entire insane history of this town wrapped up in two people, and any time something happens between you the rest of us get dragged along for the ride. I want to at least know what I'm getting into before this gets even more complicated."

She was treating him like another problem she had to work around to fix Haven, and he couldn't even bring himself to be mad at her for that. Hell, it wasn't even like she was wrong about him and Nathan. He dug the heel of his hand into his forehead. "My life hasn't been my own for a long time, has it?"

"Want to start a support group?" The mix of irony and sympathy in her voice made him turn to look at her for the first time since they'd gotten into the car; she caught his eye with half a smile. "You know I wouldn't pry if I didn't think it might be important."

"Yeah, you would," Duke said, turning away from her again. The word cop rested on his tongue in the tone that made it the worst obscenity he knew. He let out a short breath, letting the word dissolve. He didn't have the energy to start an actual fight.

Audrey didn't try to deny it, but her shrug said 'it's not worth arguing about this right now,' not 'you're right.' "Look, just answer one thing for me right now," she said when Duke continued not to respond. "We can leave the rest of this conversation until after we've dealt with the current problem, but I do need to know if it's related to the current problem."

He held out for as long as he could, but the incomprehensibility of the question won him over. "What?"

"I need to know if you're being affected by this Trouble," Audrey said. "If what you're feeling is part of some kind of story, it might be something we're going to have to deal with before we can move on to rescuing Caroline and getting her to stop the fairy tales." She turned away from the road just long enough to give Duke a gentle, probing look. "How long have you been in love with Nathan?"

Hearing her actually say it out loud turned Duke's throat raw. "Audrey…"

"If you don't know," she persisted, "if it's just something that appeared in your head, like knowing about the library, then maybe… it might not be real."

She didn't believe her own theory. That much was clear in her voice, the hopeful desperation that came with an optimistic lie. She wanted it to be true, whether to give Duke an out or because she was jealous – which didn't make any sense; as far as Duke could tell she was the one who'd pushed Nathan away, and it wasn't like Duke would have ever been viable competition anyway – but she knew better. And still she was willing to offer a fiction they could both cling to. Of course it's not real, Audrey. I just got pulled into the story because I was in the right place at the right time.

The easy lie caught in this throat and wouldn't be dislodged. "I was fifteen," he finally managed, the quiet words dropping like lead. He tried to block out the sound that Audrey made, a mix of sorrow and pity and that sad surprise that wasn't really surprise. He hadn't realized that he could sink even lower into his seat, his head falling against the window. "Maybe fourteen, I don't know. I was already starting to figure out that it wasn't just girls who were catching my eye, and Nathan… Nathan was one of the boys who did." Another humorless laugh. "Took me longer than it should have to figure out that this one wasn't just a crush. I was already falling in love before I knew what hit me. Probably couldn't have avoided it even if I had seen it coming."

"Duke…"

The soft sadness in her voice made part of him want to tell her everything, every last nuance of what Nathan had meant to him and how much it had ached to pretend otherwise. The lonely, heartbroken kid he'd been at the time would have given his right arm just to talk to someone about it. The man he was now, older and theoretically wiser, still wanted to pour his heart out. "It's not like—" It's not like I ever thought I had a chance. He couldn't bring himself to say it out loud.

He tried again. "I got over it," he said with forced calm. "Got the hell out of this town as soon as I could and let him drift away along with everything else here. I had a good life out there," he added with some nostalgia. "Had some fun. Figured myself out a little. Fell in love again, not that that worked out." He shook his head. It was still difficult to think about Evi; everything between her arrival in town and her death felt like a dream, more surreal than any supernatural event that had happened to him so far. "And then I came back here," he concluded, slouching down again and putting his hand over his eyes. "And all the feelings I'd left behind were right here waiting for me. And they don't seem to be going anywhere this time."

Audrey let out a little sigh like she didn't know how to respond. "God," she finally said. "Duke, that's…" Tragic? Crazy? Kind of pathetic? He'd certainly thought all of those himself, sometimes all at the same time. Audrey abandoned the sentence entirely. "And you've never said anything?"

Duke could only grunt in response. She knew the answer, or at least it should be obvious. He was already starting to regret telling her, even if he hadn't had much choice in the matter once the damned fairy tale had taken over. He'd had years of experience in keeping his hurt over Nathan buried too deep to cause more than the occasional twinge, but now that it was uncovered again he knew he might never force it all the way back down.

"God," Audrey tried again. "That's… that's gotta suck."

It was such an understatement, but at the same time it was probably the best way Duke could think of to describe it. This was an ache that had been agony once upon a time, the kind of misery so deep that it was weirdly enjoyable. It had been the end of the world when he was fifteen, and a fondly wistful regret when he'd thought he'd left it and Nathan behind for good, and a punch in the gut when it had resurrected on him. In its current incarnation as a resigned, hollow sadness buried deep in his chest, it didn't break his heart every day so much as it just… sucked. "It really does," he said with a laugh that was almost real. "Thank you for noticing."

There was a weight to the silence that fell, a tension in which Duke could practically feel Audrey weighing the benefits of pressing on or leaving him alone. "What happens now?" she finally asked.

"We find Caroline, make her stop doing whatever she's doing, and get on with our lives."

"Come on." If she wasn't driving, Audrey would have been trying to stare him down. When he remained silent, she tried a different tack. "It's not like I don't get why you haven't said anything," she said. "You two are…" a vague wave of her hand. "Complicated." Duke gave another almost-laugh at this latest understatement. "But you don't have a lot of choice now, do you? He's going to know, now."

"Only if someone tells him." Duke let that hang in the air, waiting for her reaction before deciding which way to jump. She knew, or at least had a vague idea, how much her silence was worth to him, and now it was just a matter of seeing how willing she was to take advantage of that. Duke was willing to counter with whatever threats, guilt, or bribery were necessary. He was also willing to beg, if it came down to it.

"You really think he's not going to figure it out on his own? There were only two of us in that barn, and he knows I can't affect this Trouble. He's not stupid."

"I know he's not," Duke said sharply, with a stab of instinctive loyalty. Even when their friendship had been at its lowest ebb he'd still been offended on Nathan's behalf by the people who underestimated his intelligence because they didn't understand his brevity or his subdued reactions. "But he's got a massive, me-shaped blind spot. He'll just assume it was you and not bother to try thinking around that."

"And you think I'm going to be okay with that?" Audrey countered.

"Is there some reason you wouldn't be?" Duke asked archly. A part of him was genuinely and honestly curious, but mostly he was jumping at the opportunity to turn her unwelcome probing back on her.

She gave him a wry look that gave nothing away. "You think you two have a monopoly on 'complicated'?"

Okay, new tack. "It's not like it would necessarily mean anything if it was you," Duke suggested. There was desperation in his voice. Apparently he'd decided to go with begging. "Everyone knows you're the person who solves Troubled problems. You stepped in, you solved a problem. That's all you'd have to let him think." And he'd believe it, because it should have been you. This was their story, it always had been, and as much as he adored Audrey he thought he might never stop resenting her just a little for that.

"It's never all he'd think," Audrey said, half to herself. "Come on," she said more clearly, going back to her quiet, cajoling voice. "Would you really want that? Nathan thinking that he's only awake because I was in the right place at the right time? This is literally the kind of love they write fairy tales about; is it really fair to him not to tell him that someone loves him that much?"

It was something Duke had been trying not to think about. Not the idea that he was somehow depriving Nathan, which was insane, but the…mythic aspect of it. He had lain his heart bare, faced down the strange Troubled magic that held Nathan and declared I love him, you can't have him, he's mine, and it had worked. The universe had sized him up and said yes, your love is real, and it is enough. It was an amazing, validating feeling, and he didn't want to examine it too closely for fear that he'd start trying to make it mean more than it did. "Still doesn't change who he is," he said, reminding himself as much as Audrey. "Or who I am."

"You know that who you are and who he is aren't as far apart as you both like to think."

Duke gritted his teeth, his patience collapsing. "Just let it go, all right? We already know how this story ends; don't make it harder on me than it already is."

"I just don't want either of you to be alone if you don't have to be," she said, sounding like she wasn't really talking to him.

"You just worry about saving the town," Duke said wearily. "Don't go trying to save me, too."

She gave him a wry look and shook her head, making a sound like his own mirthless laugh. "Okay. I've said my piece; I'll leave you alone. And I won't say anything to Nathan," she added, and the relief that made Duke sag only lasted until she turned away from the road to fix him with a solid look. "But I won't lie to him, either. When he starts asking questions…" She trailed off and shook her head.

"That's the best promise I'm gonna get out of you, isn't it?"

"It's the only one I can make."

Duke considered this. It wasn't a bad deal, all things considered. Whatever Audrey thought, he was pretty sure that Nathan wasn't going to question the circumstances, and he could probably trust her to keep her word and not bring it up. He wanted to hope he could trust her, anyway. "Guess I don't have much of a choice, do I?"

"Guess not." A long silence before she turned to look at him again. "Are you gonna be okay?"

There it was again. That voice that genuinely cared and made him want to trust her with more than he probably should. He forced a smile. "Old wounds, Audrey. How much bite can they really have anymore?"

She made a noncommittal sound that told him she was willing to go along with that non-answer and turned her entire attention to the road, letting the conversation end. Duke sank back against the window again, staring off into the distance and trying not to remember that he was going to have to look Nathan in the eye again once they reached their destination. He tried to focus on the endless trees passing the side windows, keeping his focus away from the approaching town, but a flash of movement in the corner of his eye made him swing his head around to the front. A black streak in the sky, too low to be an airplane, moving over the town with cold, graceful purpose. "Audrey…"

"I see it," Audrey breathed. She sounded amazed, almost reverent, and Duke couldn't blame her. The dragon was barely more than a dark shape at this distance, but it was still awe-inspiring. "Do you know anything about this?"

He knew what she was asking. Was there information in the back of his head, put there by forces unknown and making his brain itch, that might offer a clue? "Not a thing," he said. "I don't think even a Trouble could shove an entire damn dragon into someone's head without anyone asking questions. Except…"

"Except what?"

Duke ground the heel of his hand into his forehead. "Something's trying to happen," he grunted. The itchy, crawling feeling burned now. "It's like the story is rewriting itself. It's like…" He trailed off and raised his head. "It's bad," he said, certainty in the pit of his stomach. "We're not supposed to know about the dragon. If it's coming out… things are getting worse."

"What's getting worse?"

"I don't know. I just know… that we have to fix it."

Audrey's phone rang, startling them both. "Parker," she barked after fumbling it on. "Yeah, Nathan, we see it, too," she said, flicking an eyebrow at Duke. "It's bad, I know. No, meet us at the police station still. I have a feeling we're really going to need that sword now. See you there." She ended the call and took a more solid grip on the steering wheel, slamming the accelerator into the floorboards. "We really should have asked more questions about why the sword had wings."