Chasing Midnight - A Cinderella Retelling (Once Upon a Curse Book 3)

by Kaitlyn Davis

  “Absolutely not,” I murmur, scared at my own tone—I sound like the priestesses who used to catch Aerewyn and me sneaking out at night. With a shake, I push the thought away and square my shoulders. “We’re leaving, now.”

  “No, we’re not. We can go tomorrow.”

  I scoff. “Your sister’s been waiting eleven years to see you”—not that I care about that, per say, but it sounds better than I’ve been waiting a millennia to destroy you—“and your father is on his deathbed.”

  “You just said he was okay.”

  Curses—she’s right. “Well, I mean, I think he is, but no one knows for sure.”

  “One day isn’t going to make a difference. Like you said, I already waited eleven years. This ball is the first exciting thing that’s ever happened in my whole life and I’m not going to miss it.”

  “You are.” I reach out and grab her hand, trying to pull her toward the door.

  “No, I’m not.” She digs her heels in with a strength I didn’t know she possessed. Mother help me, I don’t want to wrap her up in vines, but I will if I have to.

  “Let’s go.”

  “No.”

  I yank hard, and she yelps. “Ow, you’re hurting me.”

  Suddenly, the power dynamic shifts. Heat explodes across my chest, the pain so intense it stuns my entire body so I instinctively let go. Every inch of my skin burns as though on fire. My heart is drenched in flames. I sizzle like scorched petals overexposed to the sun.

  It’s the blood oath.

  I hurt her, so it’s hurting me.

  “Are you all right?” she asks, studying me, trying to understand.

  Through gritted teeth, I mutter, “I’m fine.”

  “What was that?”

  “Nothing.”

  If I give this human an inch, she’ll take a mile. They always do. I can’t give her any ammunition to use against me.

  “It didn’t look like nothing.”

  “Well, it was.” She’s annoyingly perceptive. “Let’s go.”

  Ella opens her mouth to respond, but then freezes.

  I do too.

  Muffled laughter pierces the silence, trickling through the crack beneath the door. We make eye contact. Her expression is panicked in a way I understand all too well—it’s deeper than an interruption, deeper than being caught out of her room. It’s the fear of a baby rabbit being taunted by a pack of wolves, backed into a corner with no way out.

  Something protective stirs inside of me.

  Before I can determine if the sensation comes from me or the bit of Omorose’s soul trapped beneath my skin, the metal knob clicks. I barely have time to wrap the shadows around myself before the door behind us swings open.

  “Hi, Cinder-soot,” an overly sweet voice greets. I don’t need to see the speaker’s face to know her soul is rotten to the core. I hear it in her tone. I see it in the way Ella’s face falls and her previous strength seems to melt away. “Talking to ghosts again?”

  “Maybe it’s the voices in her head,” another girl comments. “Gone a bit daft, have you, all by yourself? Too bad none of us want to talk to you.”

  It takes all the power within me to keep from commenting that they are, in fact, talking to her right now. They’re the ones who sought her out, not the other way around.

  Logic doesn’t work with teenagers—especially the nasty ones.

  “I was reading,” Ella mumbles.

  “Dreaming of a knight in shining armor to come save you?”

  The girls giggle.

  Then one gasps. “I bet she was dreaming about Prince Frederick.”

  “I was not,” Ella grumbles, but her rosy cheeks betray her.

  “You were, weren’t you?”

  “Cinder-soot and Prince Frederick?”

  They both laugh again.

  Ella turns away, trying to hide her face, but it just gives them more ammunition.

  “Do you think he came all the way to the orphanage for you? I bet you do, don’t you?”

  “What do you think is going to happen tomorrow? That he’ll ask you to dance and fall madly in love?”

  “Do you really think he even remembers who you are?”

  Ella backs away and the girls step forward, finally close enough that I can get a good look at them without having to move and risk being seen. They’re a little older than she is, maybe sixteen—the same age as Aerewyn and I before our world fell apart—which means they’re old enough to know better.

  “Oh, now I get it.” The one with brown hair and a cruel smile steps forward. “You’re going to tell the prince who you really are. That’s brill. You still fancy yourself a right princess.”

  The other scoffs, shaking her head so her black curls spill over her shoulders. “Princess of what? A kingdom that vanished and a royal family who never gave a damn what happened to the rest of us?” They’re from her world, I realize—that’s how they know she’s a princess. It explains the animosity a little bit. Long ago, birth gave her all the power. Then the world changed, and fate gave them the upper hand. It’s not right, but it’s an explanation. “Ashes and dust, as far as I’m concerned, just like the smudges all over your cheeks. Maybe that’s what we should call you—the Princess of Ashes.”

  “Don’t,” Ella growls as the magic simmering beneath her skin flares. All I hear is Aerewyn in her voice. All I feel is her magic pulsing invisibly through the air. My sister always had a penchant for defending the weak—it’s why she always stuck up for me.

  These girls don’t see the fighter that I see.

  “Don’t what?” they both snap.

  Ella doesn’t respond, but I sense her power build. They don’t know the beast they’re awakening, but I feel the wild, untamed force just aching to break free. Aerewyn’s magic is responding to the threat whether Ella wants it to or not—my sister never did like being contained.

  “Who’s going to stop us?” Girl number one sneers. “You?”

  “Your mum might’ve been queen once, but she died along with the rest of them.” Girl number two steps in. “You used to go on and on and on about Saint Omorose. She’d be here soon. She’d use her magic to find us. She’d give us a home. But your sister never came to save any of us. She took her power and ran and didn’t bother looking back. She didn’t care about the people she left behind.”

  Ella flinches at the mention of her family.

  The hairs on my arms rise as a static energy builds, crackling like a fire ready to be let loose.

  The girls close in.

  “We’re all you’ve got left, Cinder-soot. No one is coming to save you.”

  “Especially not Prince Frederick.”

  They stare at Ella tauntingly, daring her to fight back. If she does, they’ll undoubtedly crush her further. If she doesn’t, well, then they’ve already won.

  I know the dilemma well.

  Watching Ella curl her fingers into fists and purse her lips, I’m thrown back into another time, another life. As a young faerie, I used to have nightmares, horrible dreams of forests burned to the ground by wildfires, lakes devastated by poisoned water, and oceans overcome by black sludge. There was so much natural death, so much decay. Coral reefs bleached white. Fields of wildflowers turned brown. The sky was thick with so much dust I couldn’t breathe. Without my realizing, my magic responded to a threat that wasn’t there. The power created storms while I slept—casting lightning, calling thunder, taking my fear out on the sky. By the time I woke, it was always to stifled giggles and thinly veiled judgment. The priestesses would tell the other girls to shush. They’d tell me I was having premonitions, very powerful visions given by the Mother, but they only said it to make me feel better. The other girls saw the truth—that I was a coward.

  Everyone except Aerewyn.

  She’d take my hand and squeeze my fingers until the panic of my dreams fled. I was never alone, because she was always by my side. No matter how much the other girls laughed, she never faltered. Her loyalty was steadfast. I don’
t know what I would’ve done without her.

  Actually, I do.

  I would’ve broken under the pressure, the way Ella is doing now as her shoulders cave in and her strength weans out, leaving her as hollow as a rotted tree, even as the magic fights against her. These girls are the bacteria that invade bit by bit, eating away at the core until there’s nothing left but scraps.

  I forget that I’m supposed to hate this girl.

  I forget that I need to kill her.

  I forget everything as I close the small gap between our hands and hold her the way Aerewyn used to hold me. Ella clenches her fingers around mine. Her frantic magic seeps beneath my skin, much the same way it did when her sister healed me, but this time I’m not yanking it away with loathing. I’m silently whispering that she’s not alone, a message I think both she and Aerewyn somehow hear, because the power calms.

  Well, it starts to calm.

  Then one of the human brats reaches across the space and snatches the brown fluff from Ella’s arms, bringing her fury right back to the surface. “What’s this? A teddy bear for the baby?”

  “Give it back,” Ella growls, stepping forward.

  I squeeze her hand, trying to keep her back. The number one rule Omorose told me was that her sister should not, under any circumstance, use her magic. The electricity in the city would go out. The humans would panic. They’d hunt us down. They’d do anything to find and destroy the source of the magic. Which, normally, I wouldn’t mind. They’d be doing my work for me. But with the blood oath, I can’t risk it. I need to keep Ella safe for the time being.

  “Where’d you find this rubbish toy, anyway?” the brown-haired girl asks. “I’ve never seen it before.”

  “Nowhere,” Ella grumbles.

  “Nowhere?” the black-haired girl comments, far too lightly. The curl of her lip promises punishment. “Then you won’t care what we do with it.”

  “Give it back,” Ella tries again, this time shaking free of my hold to reach for Mister Winky.

  It’s the wrong thing to do.

  Now that they know it’s important to her, they’re relentless. The girls toss it back and forth while Ella chases after, magic and rage seething. An invisible charge pulses through the air. They move closer to the fire, holding the bear over the flames. Ella’s magic surges, fighting to break free of her control, aching to win a battle she shouldn’t wage.

  I need to do something.

  My magic flares and I blow a wind through my lips, long and hard. It flies across the room, whipping the girls’ clothes and swirling the flames until they go out and the entire room is cast in shadow. Still hidden in the Father’s realm, I run to the window and toss it open, trying to cover the traces of my magic. Then I send another breeze in, until the air whistles with warning.

  “What, may I ask, is going on here?”

  The chiding voice cuts through the darkness, and with a click, light floods the room. All four of us jolt. I barely manage to hold on to the shadows as the other three girls turn toward the new arrival. She’s an older woman with her hands on her hips and an undeniable aura of authority.

  “What are the three of you doing out of bed?”

  “Sorry, Headmistress Hinkley,” the two girls say in unison, sweet and apologetic.

  Ella reaches down to snatch the brown fluff from the ground, then hugs it to her chest before muttering, “Sorry, Headmistress Hinkley.”

  The so-named Headmistress Hinkley raises her brows, staring each of them in the eye as the silence stretches.

  The black-haired girl gives in first. “We heard Ella having a proper nightmare and we thought a bit of fresh air might help. Right, Ella?”

  Ella shrinks back.

  “We didn’t mean to wake you,” the other girl chimes in. “We’re sorry for being out of bed after curfew. It won’t happen again.”

  All three of them look at Ella.

  An aura of defeat stains her eyes, making me wonder how many times she’s been in this situation before—how many times she’s chosen the path of least resistance. “We’re sorry.”

  “You’re forgiven,” Headmistress Hinkley says curtly. “But don’t let it happen again. Now, off to bed.”

  Given the opening, they scatter.

  In the bright artificial light, I can’t move or I risk being seen, so I have no choice but to stand still and watch Ella disappear into the dark hall. Headmistress Hinkley crosses the room and forces the window closed, muttering to herself about the “mad weather” and the “incessant wind.” I stifle a smile as she walks around the room to straighten the pillows on the chairs before returning to the door. With her hand hovering over the light switch, she casts one final glance around the room. I wonder if she has an odd feeling that she’s not alone. Like most humans, she’ll write it off as a trick of the mind, which in a way, I guess magic sometimes is.

  She turns the lights off and leaves.

  By the time I make it back to Ella’s room, she’s already in bed beneath the covers hugging the teddy bear to her chest, but her eyes are open and focused on the door as though waiting for me.

  “I’m going to that ball,” she whispers, voice quiet so as not to wake the others, but that doesn’t mean it’s meek. All the bravado she couldn’t bring herself to turn on those girls has been forced onto me instead.

  I take a step forward and lift my hand.

  “I’m going to that ball,” she repeats before I have a chance to open my mouth. I’m not entirely sure who she’s trying to convince—herself, me, those girls, the world? “And if you try to stop me, I’ll scream. I’ll have a fit. I’ll make sure everyone in the building knows who you are and that you have magic, and then I’ll find a way to get to my sister on my own.”

  Humans.

  They’re so dramatic.

  But I know it’s not an empty threat—she’ll do it. And that sort of trouble is the last thing I need. If it’ll make her more compliant, I’ll suffer through a few more hours and a dance. What’s the worst that could happen?

  The prince’s face trickles to the forefront of my thoughts, but I force the image away. I’m a faerie priestess with access to ancient magic, and he’s a human boy with a toy. If he gets in our way, I’m sure I’ll be able to figure something out.

  Before I have time to reconsider, I open my lips and say, “Okay.”

  “Okay?” She perks up, lifting onto her elbow to look at me straight-on.

  “One day. One ball. By the end of the night, we’re gone. Deal?”

  Ella’s grin is so wide I’m almost afraid her face will split down the middle from the pressure. “Deal.”

  I sigh.

  What in the world have I gotten myself into?

  The next morning, I wake up with a crick in my neck from spending all night huddled in the corner of the closet. If anyone’s seen my last shred of dignity hiding somewhere, I’d like it returned.

  “Psst, where are you?” Ella whispers about half an hour after the sound of giggling girls woke me up. “The coast is clear.”

  “I’m in here,” I grumble as I let Father’s shadows drop away, revealing me to the world.

  The closet door swings open. I look up into Ella’s comically wide eyes. “What are you doing in the cupboard?”

  “Where else was I supposed to hide?” I ask as I ease to my feet, stretching my sore and cramped muscles. I must’ve been sitting on the edge of a heel for half the night, because there’s a very tender spot on my left butt cheek that I can’t quite get rid of, no matter how I rub my palm over my sore behind. “I couldn’t risk letting anyone see me.”

  “But I thought you could be all invisible? I thought you’d take half my bed or something, like Ro Ro and I used to do.”

  “I can’t cast a spell in my sleep,” I start to explain, and then stop, forcing my lips shut. I’m not going to give faerie secrets away, not to a human. My magic is my business, and that’s that. Priestesses could maintain spells in their sleep, but I never got the chance to learn ho
w. “It doesn’t matter. I’m here now. Where did everyone go?”

  “Breakfast. I’m not hungry.” Ella shrugs, then flops back on her bed, crosses her legs, and stares at me. “So, how long have you had magic?”

  “A long time.”

  “And when did you get it?”

  “I was born with it.”

  “Really? That’s brilliant. What else can you do?”

  Oh, please, not the endless questions again. I glance at the door wistfully. “Are you sure you’re not hungry?”

  She shakes her head enthusiastically. “I couldn’t possibly eat at a time like this, are you mental? I’m going to a ball tonight. I’m going to dance with a prince. And I’m hanging out with a faerie. I mean…” She trails off with a sigh. I think I see actual stars shining in her eyes. “I want to know everything.”

  “Everything? That might take a long time…”

  “Good thing we have all day,” she chimes in and then scoots over on the bed, patting the empty space beside her. I reluctantly sit down. “Start with my sister. What’s she like? I mean, I remember her. At least, I think I remember her. I have these fuzzy images of sitting with her and my mum in the gardens of our palace, laughing and running around on the grass, smiling up at the sun. My mum would use her magic to make the flowers bloom. She was so beautiful, and her magic was so beautiful…” Ella pauses to look down at the empty fingers cradled in her lap. “Though I guess it’s my magic now.”

  I thought living without Aerewyn was the worst thing imaginable, but looking at Ella now, I realize it could be worse. At least my sister lives on in my memories, bright and plentiful and stark in my mind, not adrift and barely there, like grasping for dandelion seeds being carried away on the wind. Ella was only two when her world crumbled. It’s a wonder she remembers anything at all.

  “Omorose is…nice,” I finally say. Ella sucks down the word as though it gives her life and leans in for more. I take a deep breath and try to think of what to say. Omorose was a pain in my butt? Omorose and I didn’t get along because I don’t like her, or you, or any of your ancestors since deep down the line, someone in your family killed my sister? “She’s, um, very pretty, with curly auburn hair and dark umber eyes. She told me you have your mother’s eyes, that green hue with a golden-tinted core.”