A Whole New World (Disney Twisted Tales) - Liz Braswell Page 0,58
decided to grind them into the dust under his heel. “Nor have I any interest in your daughter. Now, I ask again. Do. Any. Of you. Know. The location. Of the princess?”
The tray of treats waggled suggestively in the air. Aladdin could smell the intoxicating aroma of dates and honey cake even up where he was. He wondered if it was more magic.
No one stepped forward.
“Let me put it another way,” Jafar said calmly.
The silver tray clattered to the ground, treats rolling in the dust.
“You there.” He pointed at someone with his ebon cobra-headed staff. The man, short and bony, looked left to right quickly to see if anyone else was meant. Without a word, two of the black-and-red-clad palace guards approached him on either side and grabbed his arms, wrenching them behind his back. Unsure what was going to happen to him, the man began straining against them.
“Tell me,” Jafar said. His eyes glowed red—and so did the jeweled eyes of the cobra on his staff. The poor man seemed frozen like a mouse or small bird, hypnotized by the glow. His body still struggled some as if he had forgotten to tell it to stop, but his face and head were completely still. “Where is Princess Jasmine?”
“In the palace?” the man asked in a daze.
Jafar’s face broke from sorcerous concentration to crumble into annoyance.
“If she was in the palace, why would I be looking for her?”
“It’s a very big palace,” the man answered.
Aladdin tried not to laugh aloud. The poor guy was answering as honestly as he could under the spell. The problem was he wasn’t a very smart man. And he didn’t know anything.
With a sigh of frustration, Jafar jerked his staff. The red glow faded.
The man turned to look at his friends for help…but now it was like his body was frozen and only his neck and head could move.
The man’s face went white as panic began to set in.
His head continued to turn.
Muscles stood out on his neck, sinews and tendons straining against his flesh.
Jafar kept looking at the man dispassionately. Only the tip of his finger moved, making the tiniest of circles.
The man’s head kept slowly turning.
He screamed as his muscles began to tear and bones began to crunch, vertebrae grinding against each other in ways they weren’t supposed to.
People in the crowd watched in horror. Maybe they tried to look away—but couldn’t.
The man’s scream suddenly cut off in a wet gurgle. His head kept going as the skin ripped and blood gushed out.
With a final snap the head was all the way around, the man’s blank eyes looking at the crowd.
His body remained standing for several horrifying seconds before collapsing to the ground.
Aladdin turned away, feeling sick.
“Next,” Jafar said with an indulgent smile.
“A plague on you, you murderous scum!” one man in the crowd shouted, terrified and enraged at the same time.
Jafar just rolled his eyes.
“Mmm-hmmm. Next,” he repeated tiredly.
The sorcerer had gone from being an almost humorous villain to a madman of truly demonic proportions.
Aladdin had to take a moment to collect himself before heading back out into the night.
JASMINE WAS, OF COURSE, not in the palace. Ironically, however, she was just barely on the other side of its walls, in a fashionable ritzy district that was now silent with fear.
She had often dreamed of going to a teahouse to play chess or argue esoteric scholarly points with students and feisty old men and women. It was a dream forbidden to a royal princess, of course. And now that she was finally in one…she was alone. Giant urns, empty of tea, made strange and monstrous shapes in the half-light.
A telltale wisp of blue smoke curled up from behind the bar. Soon the rest of the genie appeared with a tray full of glasses and dishes on his arm, a tea towel over his wrist.
“Coffee? Tea? Who got the Egyptian wine? Little early in the evening for that, don’t you think? Have some Falernian instead.”
He glided over next to Jasmine. The tray and towel of his little joke disappeared but two cups remained; he offered one to her. It was a pretty glass thing with gold curlicues on its sides, hot tea within. She looked at it curiously, feeling the warmth in her hand.
“It’s not poisoned,” the genie said archly. “Jafar’s not that subtle. Trust me. If he knew we were meeting, you would already be strung up and saying I do against your will.”