It Isn't Easy Being Queen

20. Getting Familiar

I wanted to fantasize about my new pet unicorn or pet griffin or dragon or maybe even a post-carrying pet owl like Hedwig, but instead, I had to worry about whether we'd even make it to the Familiar Zoo through this dark, creepy forest.

"What's with it being dark all the time?" I said, to take my mind off the subject of monsters and being eaten by them.

Frekvic looked up at the moon, which hovered in the sky like a blood orange. "It's been a full moon here for ages. Since Petronella turned full evil."

"But how does anything grow without sunlight?"

"Moonlight," he said simply. As if it were obvious.

"But moonlight is 1/200,000th as bright as the sun," I said, recalling a long-ago biology lesson. "Not nearly enough for photosynthesis."

Frekvic laughed. "We use magic. But you seem to know much about growing plants in your realm."

"My dad liked to garden and loved to make me help. It's something we call 'chores.' Parents tell you that chores are 'for your own good. To help you learn responsibility,' but I think they just don't want to do their own weeding because it's really boring, there are lots of bugs, and dirt gets under your fingernails."

"He'll be back to trimming his topiary soon enough once you're the queen." Something about what he said bothered me, but before I could figure it out, Frekvic came to such an abrupt stop, I almost tripped over him I'd been following so close.

"Sorry," I said. He flipped open his satchel and pulled out a long knife. A machete! "I said I was sorry!" I held my hands up as if that was going to protect me when something brushed against my ankles. "Hey!" I shook my leg. I glimpsed a small animal scuttling into the underbrush.

Frekvic lifted the machete over his head and swiped the glittering blade. Not at me (thank goodness), but at a patch of what looked like glow-in-the-dark ivy creeping toward the path. That must've been what attacked my ankle. Frekvic hacked away until the glowy vines were no longer glowy. Or even vines. More like chopped salad. "Moonvine," he snarled. "Nasty stuff. Causes Werewolf Derangement Syndrome."

"What's Werewolf Derangement Syndrome?"

"Something I hope you never see," putting the machete back in the bag. "Come."

Something far off to the side of the trail howled. "Is that a ..." I gulped. "... deranged werewolf?"

Frekvic cupped his ear.

"Arooooooo."

"Definitely a werewolf. Trouble with the never-ending full moon is that every night, the lot of them are in wolf mode. It makes them cranky, and then the moonvine turns them into lunatics."

"So, are we going to be gobbled down by werewolves?" My teeth chattered.

"There are worse things than that."

"Like what?"

"Like being slowly eaten by werewolves."

I laughed despite the gut-wrenching fear.

Then I stopped laughing.

Because an eight-foot-tall wolf, with mangy black fur, foam dripping from its mouth, had leaped onto the path just ahead of us, snarling. Its eyes were bloodshot. And those bloodshot eyes looked right at me. I suppose I was more of a full meal than Frekvic. Drip, drip, drip went the saliva.

My palms and feet sweat despite the cold. My heart galloped. I wanted to run, but wouldn't that make me look more like prey? "Maybe you should get out that machete again?" I suggested through clenched teeth.