by Anita Valle
~*~ 29 ~*~
I crawl into a corner and throw up. Still sobbing, still shaking, I return to The Mirror and sit against it, leaning my head on the glass. Oh my poor, poor mother! I never knew! My father told me she died because of trouble with her lungs. I guess that was true. She couldn’t use her lungs when he was strangling her!
I press my cold, trembling hands to the glass and feel the love pour into me like warm syrup. She is here now. In her final moments, she managed a spell that transported her life essence. My mother became The Mirror. She’s been here all this time, waiting for me to grow up. Waiting to help me become the queen I was always meant to be.
I ask why she nearly killed me when I looked in The Mirror as a child. She helped me understand that she needed Cinderella then, drew power from her constant worship. Cinderella thought The Mirror loved only her and so it had to look as if The Mirror didn’t want me. But she would not have let me harm myself. She summoned my father to pull me off the window sill. He was unaware my mother still lived in the mirror and so she could manipulate him in small ways.
On my sixteenth birthday, The Mirror rejected Cinderella. It threw out a force of hate so strong that Cinderella was knocked on her back and across the floor. She went wild with grief as she realized The Mirror would never want her again. Cinderella never knew who The Mirror truly was. Only that it was something that made her feel loved.
I cry until I have strength for no more. I nearly fall asleep on the floor but The Mirror reminds me I have a job to do. I get up and wipe my swollen eyes. Of course I will kill Cinderella. She had no right to take my mother’s place. I will avenge my dear mother and become the next queen. Hunter will have to understand.
Finally, The Mirror shows me the Dwarves’ cottage. It sits in a distant part of The Wood, segregated from the nearest village. The cottage looks like the Dwarves, big and rustic. It’s got two floors, a timber frame and stone walls, and a thatched roof like a hood of messy hair. The shutters are crooked and one window is broken, but otherwise it all looks sturdy and solid. The Mirror tells me which roads I must take to get there.
I return to my little tower room to fetch a shawl. Then I tiptoe down through the dark palace, holding my breath whenever I pass a snoring Dwarf. The Mirror assured me it could hold them in sleep for a little while. I sure hope they won’t come after me when they wake up, especially Cooper. Hopefully, he won’t realize I’m gone and just assume I’m with The Mirror.
I slip out of the palace through a side door because the big ones in front are too groany. The sky is deep-water blue but the edges are paling. I unfold my shawl of white wool, drape it over my head, and hug it to my body. The hanging folds conceal the jeweled dagger on my hip. I must look like a ghost as I cross the palace grounds and weave between the trees of The Wood. I walk slowly and methodically, without looking back. Today I am an angel of death. I will return Cinderella to the ashes from which she came.
It’s a long, lonely walk. Far past the cave that leads to my tower. Someday, I’ll go back there, at least for a while. It’s good to have a secret place where the horrible world can’t find you.
I’m still sickened by the memory of my mother’s murder. Devastated to learn my father was such a monster. Did he even think about what he was taking from me? Why do some parents think their own children don’t matter, that their feelings are somehow inferior? Whatever that assassin lady did to my father, he deserved much worse. I hope she beat him to death with a hot poker.
Speaking of hot pokers, the sky has become a nice fiery orange. The sleepy silence of The Wood has been replaced by chirpy birds. I’m moving through a patch of forest with stripes of slender birch trees when I see the cottage at last. Suddenly, all of this becomes very real.
I hover behind the trees, afraid to be seen. The cottage looks so peaceful and warm, glowing in the buttery light of morning. I clutch the dagger beneath my shawl and try to calm my stomping heart. It’s not easy to just walk into someone’s house and stab them with a knife. This is bound to give me some scarring memories.
“Hello, brat.”
I shriek and whirl around. The old lady is back! She’s wearing a heavy brown cloak with a hood around her face and the pipe pokes out of the hollow. She grins and her stained, yellow teeth are disgusting.
“Up early today, aren’t you?” she says.
I drop my hand from my mouth to my chest and lean against the nearest birch tree. “Oh my stars, you scared me! Where did you come from?”
“I followed you. Looked like you were up to no good and I see I’m right. That knife’s not for cutting a birthday cake, is it?”
I draw out the dagger and hold it up for her to see. “No, it isn’t. And you better leave now before you become the cake.”
“Ha!” Her sudden laugh blows a gust of smoke in my face. I cough and swat at the air while the old lady cackles. I really wish I had the power to scare people.
“Nice try, pumpkin-pie. Now listen up! I’ve come to make a bargain with you.”
“What bargain is that?”
The old lady draws something out from under her cloak and holds it before my face. It’s an apple, plump and pretty, and pink as a carnation. “Leave my Cindy alone,” she says. “And you can have this.”
I stare at it, awestruck. It’s too pink to be natural. Which means it’s enchanted. And I know of only one spell that makes an apple turn pink.
“Is that-?”
“Yep. A Love Apple.”
I draw my breath. A Love Apple! I had all but forgotten. This will solve everything between me and Hunter, make him stay with me forever. I reach for the apple with trembling fingers. I knew the old lady had magic, I knew it!
She pulls back. “First you must promise not to harm my Cindy. Give me the dagger to prove it. And everlasting love will be yours! Isn’t that what you want?”
I bite my lip. Yes, that’s what I want. More than anything. Hunter loving me forever, even if it’s enchanted. I would rather have artificial love than an all-natural heartbreak.
“Sure, yes, fine,” I say, anything to get that apple. The old lady smiles and drops it into my hand. “All yours, tootsie. Take it to your honey. But remember! The lady has to bite first.”
I nod quickly though I don’t remember that part. But I did read the spell only once. “Thank you.” I hold out the dagger, blade downward. The old lady takes it and smirks. “Sweet dreams, angel-face.” She pokes the pipe in her mouth and walks away from me, chuckling to herself.
I hurry up the path to the cottage door, grinning like a fool. This is so perfect! First, Hunter and I will bite the apple. Then I’ll take his hunting knife and kill Cinderella. He can’t hate me for it once he’s under the love spell. The Mirror and I will both get what we want. As for the old lady, I’m sure The Mirror can tell me how to handle her. The Mirror can do anything.
I’m lifting my hand to knock on the door when suddenly it swings open. And there’s Cinderella, standing right in front of me.
~*~ 30 ~*~
“Snow White?”
“Hi.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I… came to see Hunter.”
“Oh. He’s not here.” Cinderella doesn’t budge from the doorway. She’s carrying a fat basket that appears to be full of laundry.
I drop my hand to my side, under the shawl, and hope she won’t notice the apple. “Do you know when he’s coming back?”
“Soon, I think.” She just stands there, staring at me, not inviting me in. It’s so rude.
I clear my throat. “So… how are the babies?”
“Good. I was coming out to hang their clothes before they wake up.”
I smirk. “I don’t remember you doing stuff like that.”
“I did before… before I became the queen.” Cinderella sighs. “Come with me.” She leads me around the house to a little yard in the back. It’s mostly dirt, with weeds and wild flowers growing at the edges. There’s a clothesline strung from the house t
o a wooden pole, and a table with benches for eating outside.
She plops the basket beneath the clothesline and lifts out a tiny white gown. “What have you been doing?”
I shrug. “Stuff.”
“At the palace?”
“Yeah.”
“And talking to The Mirror?”
I hesitate. Cinderella narrows her eyes at me. “Yes, I can see you have. I suppose you want to be queen now, don’t you?”
“Maybe.”
Cinderella pins the little gown on the line. Her face looks peaceful. “You can have it if you want. I’m not going back there.” She closes her eyes momentarily. “You know, once, I wanted to be the queen. And I got what I wanted. But it wasn’t what I wanted.” She looks at me and almost smiles. “I don’t hate you anymore, Snowy.”
“You don’t want to be the Evil Queen?”
“Not anymore. I think I’d rather be queen of somebody’s heart than queen of a kingdom.”
I don’t like the sound of that. Cinderella bends down to fetch another garment. As she stands up, the wind catches the folds of my shawl and exposes my hand for a moment. “What’s that?” Cinderella asks.
Rats! She saw the apple. “Oh… it’s nothing.” I show it to her, hoping that will seem natural. “Just an apple.”
“It’s pink.” Cinderella’s eyes widen. “Is that the Love Apple?”
I cover it with my other hand. “No.”
“It is. I can tell.”
“It’s for me and Hunter,” I mumble, stroking the glossy pink skin. “Did you know that my mother was killed by my father?”
Cinderella blinks. “I – yes.”
“You never told me.”
“Would you have wanted to know?”
I look down without answering. I guess she’s right. Who wants to know something like that?
“Where’d Hunter go?” I ask softly. “Maybe I can find him.”
Cinderella bends down, picks up another little dress, and pins it on the line before speaking. “You’re going to ask him to bite the apple, aren’t you?”
“That was the general idea.”
Cinderella looks at me and there’s turbulence in her eyes. She’s struggling with something.
“He’s a good man, Snowy. Kind and gentle and thoughtful. I like him very much.”
“Thanks, I like him too.” But I don’t like this conversation. Something bad is brewing, I know it.
Cinderella blows the air from her cheeks and slouches a little. Then she straightens up and faces me. “I want you to let me have him.”
“Um, what?”
“He’s the first man in so long who treats me well. I’m not willing to give that up. You’re young and pretty, you can find someone else.” She holds out her hand, the fingers curled upward. “So please, give me the apple. I get Hunter and you get to be queen. Do we have a deal?”
I glare at her. “NOT… a chance.”
Cinderella’s lips press together. Her blue eyes harden. “I would like the apple, Snow White.”
“You can’t have it, Cinderella.”
She hesitates for half a second. Then her hands shoot out and seize the apple. I gasp and jump back but her hands are over mine. She yanks my arms straight.
“NO!” I jerk the apple back to my chest but Cinderella comes with it. She tries to dig her nails under my fingers and peel them off. Her teeth are bared.
“Let it GO, Stepchild!” she growls.
“You can’t…have…EVERYTHING!” I shriek. I try shaking the apple out of her grasp. “He’s MY Hunter!”
“You don’t need him!” Cinderella shouts. We stagger across the yard, wrestling around the apple which is almost entirely concealed by our hands. I kick Cinderella’s shins. She curses and swings me around her, trying to snap me off with a whiplash motion.
“I should’ve killed you when you were a child!” Cinderella shouts.
“I should’ve killed you the day you became queen!” I shout back.
We grapple around the apple, our elbows high. I push against Cinderella, forcing her across the yard until her back hits the wall of the cottage. We’re both breathless, shiny with sweat. But I think Cinderella is tiring. She just had two babies, after all. Her face looks more distressed than angry.
She shifts, lifting her knee, and I feel a tiny foot against my stomach. Then she kicks out, hard, and I’m thrown back, flat on the dirt. I lie there, stunned, my arms spread out like wings. She did it. She beat me. Cinderella gets everything she wants with her freaking feet!
I try to sit up but my stomach cramps with pain. Cinderella lifts the apple and bites a chunk out of it. She smiles at me as she chews. “You lose, Stepchild. You will always lose to me.”
I call her something I can’t repeat.
Cinderella frowns. At first I think it’s because of my insult, but then she lifts a hand to her throat. She blinks several times and turns the apple to look at the bite mark. The flesh inside is a deep purple color.
I manage to stand, my mouth hanging open. “Is – is that…?”
Cinderella drops, smooth and soft as a flower wilting. The apple rolls out of her hand.
~*~ 31 ~*~
I back away from her, covering my mouth. The apple! It was poisoned! The old lady – she meant it for me. To stop me from harming her precious Cindy. It would have worked, too, if Cinderella had been less selfish. A shiver crawls up my spine as I realize how close I came.
“Snowy?”
I spin around. Hunter emerges from the forest, holding an armload of firewood. His eyes shift from me to Cinderella on the ground. He gasps. “Snowy! What did you do?”
“She did it herself!” I cry. “She bit the apple, I didn’t know it was poisoned!” My eyes sting with tears. He doesn’t even look happy to see me. And it’s been almost a month!
Hunter drops the firewood and runs past me. He crouches by Cinderella. She’s lying on her side, the arm that held the apple stretched out before her. He holds his fingers underneath her nose and then touches her cheek. “She’s breathing,” he says. “But she’s cold.”
I nod, clutching my hands together. They’re chilled and throbbing, the fingernails blue. I don’t know why my hands do this when I’m upset.
“What do we do?” Hunter looks at me with worried eyebrows.
“We can’t do anything,” I say. “She’s under a spell. She’s not dead but she’s… never going to wake up.”
Hunter’s mouth falls open. “Snowy! How could you do this?”
“I didn’t!”
“Then how’d it happen? Why are you here?”
“I came to see YOU!” I shout.
“Not exactly, dumpling. She came to kill Cindy and then see you,” says a voice that’s not mine or Hunter’s. There’s a burst of color and the weird old lady is standing in the yard with us. Only now she looks very different. She’s wearing a fancy green dress, like a ball gown, though it’s kind of tattered and wrinkly. Her gray hair is caught up like a bush on top of her head. And she’s got two, thin silvery wings that fan out from her back.
The old lady is a fairy.
She looks once at Cinderella and the face she turns on me is sheer hatred. “Little beast!” She thrusts out her hand, pointing the tip of her pipe right at me. A gust of sparkles shoots out, hits my chest, and I’m thrown topsy-turvy across the yard. I land hard, skidding across the dirt with my feet in the air.
The old lady marches toward me. “Why didn’t you just bite it, you wretch!”
“I was! I was!” I skitter back on the ground, lifting an arm to block myself. “She fought me for it, didn’t you see?”
“Hey!” I hear Hunter’s voice from behind her. “Leave Snowy alone! Just who are you supposed to be?”
“I’m Cinderella’s fairy godmother!” The old lady watches me with blazing eyes. “Call me ‘Godnutter’ if you want – that’s what she did. Didn’t she ever speak of me?”
“Well – yes, a little.” My voice is high. “But you – you
made me think that was a Love Apple! You tricked me!”
“‘Course I did. Just like I tricked your miserable father. All I needed was a pretty face and he followed me right up to that nasty little tower.”
I gasp. “You were the beautiful lady?”
“I was. I asked your father a simple question. He gave the wrong answer, and I punished him. I left one of my pipes behind in the tower so Cindy would know I had been there.”
“So you killed him.” It really doesn’t matter to me now.
“Oh, he’s alive, dearie. But don’t go looking for him, you won’t find him.”
“He’s alive?” I stand up.
“Not important now!” Godnutter snaps. She points at Cinderella. “Do me a favor and get her off the ground. I’m going to see if I can fix this.”
And she vanishes.
~*~ 32 ~*~
Hunter and I stare at each other, speechless.
“Let’s uh, put her on the table,” Hunter says. “In case that lady wants to… I don’t know, work on her.”
I nod. We drag the long wooden table out to the middle of the yard. Looks like it was once red but most of the paint has chipped off. Then we carry Cinderella and drape her over the top. I tug down and straighten her pale blue dress. She looks pretty, sleeping there. Like a doll made of sugar.
Hunter runs his fingers through his hair and glances back at the cottage. “I should check on the babies.”
“I’ll do it,” I say, because I don’t want to keep standing there. I walk round to the front of the house and let myself in the little door. The cottage looks familiar, thanks to my Mirror spying. It doesn’t take me long to find the room Cinderella used. There’s the bed with the patchwork quilt. Near the corner of the bed, close to the wall, two infants are sleeping, curled into each other. So impossibly small it almost hurts me to look at them. Such a frightening, fragile way to enter this brutal world.