Read Online Curses! by J. A. Kazimer - Free Book Online Page A

swell of her breasts under ... an extra-extra-large grey sweatshirt, and if I wasn’t mistaken, what looked to be super-sized maternity pants. Not a great look for most women, but Asia managed to pull it off. In fact, she looked good enough to eat. I smiled, running my tongue over my teeth.
    â€œGood morning?” she all but screamed. “Good morning? Is that all you can say?”
    â€œNot a morning person, huh?” I could live with that. I shot her a half smile and poured her a cup of coffee, adding two sugars and some cream. “This will fix you up right.”
    Pressing the cup into her hand, I awaited her gratitude, preferably in the form of plenty of spit swapping and inappropriate groping.
    It wasn’t to be.
    Asia smacked the coffee cup from my hand, sending the contents splashing over the tile floor. Her eyes blazed with the fires of a thousand tiny fairy hells. For a second, I pondered screaming like a girl and running for the hills, but only for a second.
    â€œWhat’s wrong with you?” I frowned at the coffee on the floor, and then at her. Of course, her screaming like the wicked witch gave me a small clue. PMS. Or rather the approved clinical term—Princess Madness Syndrome. A monthly occurrence long associated with the cycle of the Home Shopping Network.
    Asia’s face, a little softer in the morning light, grew red, as if at any moment she would explode into a pulpy mess of annoyed princess parts. “Wrong with me? Wrong with me? What the fuck do you think is wrong with me?”
    As suddenly as Asia’s rage appeared, it vanished, leaving her in tears. Big, wet ones. She sniffed once and mumbled something. Something that sounded like, “I cursed.”
    Wanting to comfort her, a relatively new feeling for me, but afraid her madness was the catchy kind, I stood a few feet away, my arms at my sides. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I curse all the time.” I paused to gather a vile string of swear words. “Fudge, poking, pig, poop,” I said. Damn union.
    Lips trembling, Asia glanced up at me through red-rimmed eyelids. Her face cleared, and for a few seconds, she returned to the sane princess I fell so deeply in lust with just yesterday. We stared at each other. Time slowed.
    â€œIdiot,” she said with a sigh before she twirled around and stomped out of the room.
    I glanced at Aunt Lizzie.
    She shook her head, lowered her meat cleaver, and walked away.
    Women.

Chapter 12
    T he rest of my day didn’t get any better. After a hearty breakfast of oatmeal, eggs, toast, and a half slab of this little sausage, I stalked around the castle questioning any random servant in my path. Most didn’t speak English, or so they told me in astonishingly decent English accents.
    One servant, a thin-as-a-toothpick boy with an extremely long, pointed nose, gave me a bit of information. “On the day Cinderella died,” he said, “the king was on a hunt. The queen was out shopping. And Princess Dru was backpacking through the Enchanted Forest.”
    Interesting. No one in the royal family had an alibi. Not even the troll-like butler. “What about Prince Charming?” I stroked my chin. “Any word on his whereabouts?”
    â€œHow dare you!” The kid gasped as if I’d just called his mother an oak tree. “Prince Charming would never hurt anyone, least of all his intended. Besides, he was here, in the kingdom, the whole time. Ask anyone.”
    â€œAll right, Pinocchio. I believe you.” I tossed the kid a couple of bucks. “Let me know if you remember anything else.”
    His eyes lit up as he stared at the cash. “Oh, you can count on it.”
    I smiled and patted the kid on the head. The poor pine-scented bastard. His nose had grown at least an inch in the time we’d talked.
    After my chat with the kid, my search for clues went south. Or north. Could’ve been east. Villains have a terrible sense of