14

In the Dark of the Night

Morinelli came back home around one o'clock in the morning, his ears still ringing from the loud music from the live band and the shouting of the patrons watching basketball on the big screen TV's surrounding the bar. His head also ached from doing too many shots of tequila and something new he'd tried at the urging of several of his co-workers, who insisted he needed to loosen up more, called a Paint Bomb. Whatever in hell was in it had almost knocked him on his ass, though he'd never admit it. He was glad he'd had the foresight to call a cab to take him back and forth and not driven his car.

It took him a few minutes to put his key in the lock and turn it. When the door opened, he staggered inside, shot home the deadbolt and managed to make it into his bedroom before passing out on the bed, still wearing his jeans, sneakers, and the New York Mets shirt he'd thrown on.

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Val dreamed she was running through a dark and scary wood, and Something big and snarling with long dagger-like teeth was chasing her. She ran and ran, but the Thing kept coming, panting at her heels, saliva dripping from its huge maw, its eyes red and glowing. Val screamed and fled, running as fast as she could, but the Beast nearly grabbed her foot.

She just managed to get away and climbed a twisted old oak tree, clinging in terrified hysteria to its gnarled branches while the Beast lunged and howled below her, trying to climb the tree and get at her.

She started screaming and crying then. "Help! Somebody help me! Rumple! Bae! Mrs. DeLuca! Papa! Anyone! Help!"

But the Beast loomed ever larger, jumping on its strong legs up the tree trunk, eyes crazed, howling in glee, as it came for her, ready to devour her.

Then there came an odd crackling hiss and Val woke up.

She was so scared that she was frozen for a few moments, sweat trickling down her back.

Then she heard something . . . a strange crackling noise . . . and further away, outside, the wail of sirens approaching.

Now Val had lived all her life in Manhattan, so sirens were a commonplace occurance. She'd heard them wailing since she was a baby, and had learned to sleep through them quickly. But she was so terrified by the dream she'd had—no, the nightmare—that the sirens made her jump out of bed and run out of the room.

She paused in the dark hallway, her heart beating like an express train in her chest. She was trembling and the sirens were so loud they made her head hurt. Scared to death, she did something she normally never would have done . . . she ran into her father's bedroom.

Once inside, she saw a single nightlight burning, and he was sprawled upon the bed, snoring. It would have been funny, seeing him snoring like a pig with all his clothes on like that, but Val was too frightened to appreciate the irony.

Gulping hard, she ran up to him and put a small hand on his arm. "Papa? Papa, please wake up! I . . . had a . . . bad dream . . . wake up!"

Her voice was soft and low, it was nearly drowned out by the sirens.

Indeed, it was that which woke Morinelli, not Val.

He woke from his drunken stupor like a coiled viper, his head throbbing and vicious as a wild boar defending its territory. "Huh? What the hell are you waking me up for, you little bitch!" he growled, his eyes bloodshot and glittering rather like the Beast's in her dream.

Val shrank away, whimpering, "Sorry, Papa! I'm sorry!"

"I'll make you sorry all right!" he snarled, then his hand lashed out, catching the little girl across the face and knocking her right across the room.

Val started to cry, but softly, for her cheek ached abominably, and she had skinned her knees and hands when she landed on the carpet.

"Get out!" Morinelli roared.

Petrified, Val picked herself up and ran, going into her room and locking the door. She went and grabbed Amanda Willa from the bed and hugged her, curling up on the comforter and sobbing. She tasted blood on her tongue and her jaw ached. She must have bitten her lip or something. I'msorryIdidn'tmeantowakeyou,please don'thurt me!Pleasedon'thurtme! Her mind babbled the same plea over and over as she cradled her doll close, fearing her father would come after her and beat her for waking him up.

She knew she never should have done that, but she had been so scared! She was still scared, only now the nameless Beast was no longer so—its name was Paul Morinelli. Shaking violently, she crawled from her bed and grabbed her blue suitcase, which Mrs. DeLuca had helped her pack last night with the popcorn, three jars of Jif, three loaves of Wonder bread, and two boxes each of Twinkies and Funny Bones. She'd also included two boxes of band-aids and a bottle of some non-stinging Bactine wash, just in case Val happened to get splinters in her hands. Val had also packed an extra set of clothes and sandals, so she could change if she happened to get her clothes dirty like she did with the dye last time she was there.

Now she huddled on the floor of the closet, her knees drawn up, shaking violently, her face pressed against Amanda Willa's body to stifle her choked sobs. The sweet smell of lavender surrounded her, nearly drowning out the other odd smell in the air . . . like that of something burning.

Little did Val know that an electrical short had occurred in the wiring of the building, sparking a sudden fire which had spread unknown to half the people inside it, as most of them were sleeping. One, an old man on the seventh floor, had been awake and unable to sleep when his smoke alarm started to go off. He'd called 9-1-1 and the police and fire department were on their way.

Those had been the sirens Val had heard.

But the fire had a good head start and it was now raging through the building, the flames crackling hungrily and eating their way through the steel and concrete at a furious pace.

There came a pounding on the apartment door and a man shouted, "Yo, Morinelli! You there! Get out if you are, the building's on fire!"

Val nearly passed out when she heard that. A fire! She knew that when there was a fire you had to stop, drop, and roll. Crawl on the floor too. Her breath hitching in her chest, she forced herself to get up and open the door.

Then she ran down the hall again, and standing at the open door of the bedroom, yelled, "Papa! Fire! There's a fire! Wake up!"

But Morinelli was deep in an alcoholic haze and didn't hear his daughter screaming.

The crackling was growing louder as was the thickened air.

Val started sobbing. Smoke stung her eyes. She had to get out!

She ran towards the door of the apartment, but she was too small to reach the deadbolt, and when she touched the door it was hot!

She screamed, drawing her hand back, it was red from the heat of the fire outside.

Not knowing what else to do, she ran back inside her room, and grabbed her suitcase, figuring she might be able to climb out a window. But it was so high and she was scared of falling. Or being burnt up. Suddenly, she recalled Rumple making her promise to come to him if something should happen.

Help me, Rumple! Help me, please! I need you! Help me!

She felt something surge deep within her, and suddenly the doll within her arms began to glow softly.

"Amanda Willa, help me go to Rumple! Please! Before I burn up!" she cried, squeezing her eyes shut, one hand around the doll and the other around her suitcase.

"I'll help you, Val," she heard the doll's voice in her head. "I'm your protector. Hold tight and don't let go. And wish yourself to Rumple, Val. Wish hard!"

Val wished with all of her heart and soul to be at Rumple's cottage. And the latent magic that lived within the doll and dwelled as well inside the neophyte realms walker flared to life.

A glowing portal formed right on the spot where Val was standing and whisked her away to the one place and the one person who had pledged to keep her safe and sound forever.

Just as the smoke crept into the apartment and a steel girder collapsed, causing a section of the roof to fall right where she had been moments before . . . as well as on top of her sleeping father.

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Fairy Tale Land

Rumplestiltskin's cottage:

Bae woke up and heard someone crying. At first he thought he was dreaming, but when he sat up and looked around, the sun was peeking into his window and Rumple was still snoozing in his bed right there in the loft. The crying continued, and Bae knew it was no dream.

Scrambling out of bed, he peered between the railings of the loft, but it was dark down there and he couldn't see much. Puzzled, he climbed down the ladder and into the living room, which had streaks of sunlight coming from the door and the windows, illuminating the floor.

It was then he saw a familiar blue suitcase and curled up next to it was his best friend, crying her eyes out and hugging her doll, which seemed to sparkle oddly in the dawn light.

"Val!" he cried. He ran over to her. "Val! How'd you get here? The door's locked and . . . umm . . . Val, why are you crying?"

Val was still shaking, her eyes squinched shut, and for a moment she didn't even recognize her friend's voice.

Bae hugged her then, whispering, "Hey, it's okay. Val, please don't cry. Please." His friend's silence and trembling frightened him, but he didn't want to leave her like this in order to run up and get Rumple. So he did the only other thing he could think of—he hugged her the same way Rumple did to him when he was scared.

Finally, Val opened her eyes, and looked right into Bae's brown ones. "B-Bae! I'm really here?"

"Uh huh. Where else would you be?" he asked. Then he gasped in horror. "Val! Your face! You're all . . . beaten up!" There was a huge bruise across her cheek and her lip was all swollen and crusted with blood.

"P-Papa did that," she sniffled. "I . . . I tried to wake him up . . . I had a dream . . . about a Beast coming to eat me . . . an' I got so scared I just ran to him . . . and he . . .. he screamed at me and hit me . . ."

Bae stared at the awful mark and whispered, "Oh, gods! Mama smacked me with her spoon and it really hurt, but even she never did anything like that."

Val started crying again. " . . . then I ran and hid in the closet . . . and somebody came and banged on the door of my apartment . . . and there was a fire, Bae . . . I tried to wake him up . . . and I couldn't get out . . . I woulda burnt up but Amanda Willa talked to me and told me to wish to come here to Rumple . . . so I did . . . and here I am."

"Shh, Val! I'm gonna wake up Papa. He can help you," Bae said, gently removing his arms from about her and starting up towards the loft.

"B-Bae, no! What if he gets mad?" Val quivered, her green eyes huge in her bruised face.

"He won't. He's not like yours, Val," Bae reassured her. "I've woken him up lots of times before. He don't care."

Valentina took a deep breath, trying to stop crying. Of course Bae was right. This was Rumple, and he didn't smack about little kids. Then she recalled how she had woken him up lots of times when she was sick with chicken pox and he'd never minded at all. It would be okay now, she reminded herself. But she couldn't stop shivering. She felt all hot and cold and her head ached, as well as her hand where she'd touched the door.

Then familiar arms were holding her and a familiar voice was crooning, "Val, dearie, you're all right now. He can't hurt you, not ever again. I'll keep you safe. You're going to stay here with me, and he'll never find you."

Val just nodded her head wearily and leaned against Rumple's chest. She was so tired . . . exhausted . . . and all she wanted was to sleep . . . sleep, there in Rumple's arms, safe and sound at long last.

Rumple learned what he could from Bae, and a bit more he guessed from the condition the little girl was in, the bruise on her face and the burn on her hand were her worst injuries, at least physically. He quickly checked her over, feeling for any other injuries, but there were none.

He had Bae get him a wet cold towel to put on the nasty bruise, furiously wishing Morinelli dead and buried as he did so. (Little did he know that wish had already come true). He gently cleaned her lip also, as well as her little hand, which was red and raw looking. He used a salve he had made of lanolin and a certain plant juice that was good for burns, slathered it on, and then wrapped it gently in a clean bandage.

"Papa, will Val be okay?" asked Bae worriedly.

"Yes, I think so. She's just in shock now," Rumple said. "Get me some blankets, please, and pillows. I need to keep her warm."

Bae ran up and got everything he needed and gave them to Rumple, who made her a makeshift bed on the hearth with pillows and blankets, bundling her up like a caterpillar in a cocoon.

Then Rumple started a fire in the fireplace, and picked up his new child and sat with her in his rocking chair, humming his standard lullaby. "Sleep now, my pretty girl," he murmured. "Because you're mine now. Anyone who's bastard enough to do that to their own kin doesn't deserve to have children. You'll go back to him over my dead body. Now you're my little girl and I'll protect you till my last breath."

In her arms, wrapped up in the blankets with her, Amanda Willa winked and smiled. Her charge was safe at last and now she could rest too.

A/N: Who's glad that Morenelli's gone, gone, gone? Besides me, that is? I really couldn't stand the creep and I wrote him, LOL! And who liked Amanda Willa's sudden come to life appearance? Now my niece, who's scared of dolls would have told me it's creepy, but I think it's rather cool. How about you?

Next: some good times are ahead for our two young'uns and Rumple . . . until something not so good happens . . .