Ghostly Snow: A Dark Fairy Tale Adaptation (Girl Among Wolves Book 3)

by Lena Mae Hill

  I burst into Zora’s room and find it just as it always was, the bed neatly made up with the flowered quilt. Dad is right about this one. I can tell by the feel of the house that no one is here. The empty spot above her dresser catches my eye, a spot where she hung the mirror I found in my attic room. A twinge of guilt darts through me when I remember how much she loved that mirror, how she fought to keep it, how selfish I was about it. As horrible as she could be at times, she was just another product of Mother’s hatred. I should have been nicer to her, should have seen she loved that mirror enough to haul the heavy thing away from a fire, maybe the only possession she could carry.

  Dad yells for me, and I run back downstairs. “You’re right,” I say. “They’re not here.”

  We leave the house, hurrying through the woods. I look up, and that’s when I see it—Harmon’s big, beautiful lodge, the one at the very end of the community, is burning. It’s the one nearest the mountainside, and now, it’s being dowsed with fire hoses, water pouring in through a smoldering hole in the roof. My throat catches, and I push closer, despite the heat. Wet leaves steam under my feet, the snow completely melted by the heat. Outside Harmon’s house, I see dozens of people throwing buckets of water.

  “It’s them,” I gasp, my legs almost going out from under me. I can just imagine the firemen telling them to leave, and everyone standing in line, stoically refusing to abandon their leader. They are loyal. No matter what they say, they are here, serving their Alpha.

  My Alpha.

  Tears well in my eyes as I stumble forward.

  “Wait,” Dad says, grabbing my arm. “You can’t go out there. They’ll kill you, Stella.”

  “I have to,” I tell him, pulling my arm away. Above us, a tree crackles with heat. There are no leaves to help spread the fire, which is maybe why it has moved so slowly. But the branches eventually catch, and the one above us begins to smolder before it burns.

  “Dad, come on,” I urge. “They need our help.”

  “We’ve both seen their basement prison,” he reminds me. “I don’t want to end up there again.”

  “They won’t hurt us for coming to help,” I say, pulling him away from the tree as the branches flicker with flames. “If anything, they’ll thank us. Think about it. This is your chance to make amends, to show them you’ve changed. To make another truce.”

  “A truce?” he says, looking at me like I’m crazy. “Look at this place!” He gestures to the tree behind us, flames now shooting ten feet from the massive branches. My heart twists when I think how old that thing is, probably hundreds of years. For all I know, another ghost like Doralice is trapped inside it, either longing to get out or terrified to finally meet its end.

  “I’m going to help,” I say, turning to the house.

  Dad grabs my arm again. “Don’t you see it?” he asks, his eyes almost gleeful. “This time, they’ll be begging us for a truce. They’ll be begging to hunt our land. You’re right—we’ll make a truce. But this time, we’ll make the terms. I’ll make them grovel the way they made me. I’ll show them what it’s like to see their people going hungry, their children crying from cold in the winter, while I turn my back on their pleas for help.”

  “Dad,” I say, horrified.

  “That’s what they did to us,” he says, his eyes dark and hard as coal. “You don’t know how bad it was before I married your mother. Why do you think I pushed so hard for it, gave up my valley and moved here for her? For my people. For our people, Stella. You’re not a wolf. You don’t owe them. You’re a shifter.”

  “I’m also a human being,” I say, prying his fingers from my arm. “And they need my help.”

  I turn and start towards the lodge. When I look back, Dad is walking away. But he must feel my eyes, because he stops under the flaming tree and turns back to watch the fire consuming the lodge, his face a weird mask of delight and malice. A loud crack splits the air, and as if in slow motion, the massive branch above him detaches from the tree and falls. He pitches forward at the last second, but it’s too late. He disappears under the inferno of flames.

  Chapter 18

  With a scream, I charge back towards Dad. But the heat stops me short of reaching the branch. “Dad,” I scream, but I know he’s gone. Something inside me feels it, like a slice of my heart is cleaved from the whole.

  I scream again, but heat blisters my skin when I try to reach out. Tears streaming down my face, I turn and race into the clearing at the front of Harmon’s lodge. I tell one of the firefighters, who must think I’m crazy as I hysterically explain, amid tears and wild gesturing, where my father is. When he goes to investigate, I join the wolves.

  “Where’s Harmon?” I ask, grabbing the first person I see, my sisters’ friend Xiu. Her face is bright red and shiny with sweat, her black hair sticking to her cheeks.

  “He went up the mountain,” she says. “When it started. He took off that way.”

  She nods towards the flaming mountain as someone supplies her with a bucket, which she sloshes onto his porch.

  I stumble back, my heart in my throat. I can’t lose him and my father on the same day. It’s too much to bear. Especially since I know why Harmon took off up the mountain—for me. Choking on sobs, I turn and plow into the woods again. I skirt around the fire, staying far enough away that I won’t meet the same fate at my father, but close enough to the edge to know that I’m going in the right direction. As I scramble up the mountain, slipping on wet leaves, choking on smoke, I pray for my father, and for Harmon, and all the rest of the wolves. And I swear that the next time I see that bitch who took away my shifting and made me into the slowest creature on earth, I will rip out her heart.

  I keep cursing myself as I trudge uphill. Why didn’t I stop and put out the fire when it started? My mother didn’t, either. She was probably happy to watch Doralice burn. But where is she now? Was she down at the fire, helping save the lodge? Or did I lose her, too?

  To my surprise, the thought makes my stomach knot and my tears start again. Yes, she was horrible. But she was still my mother. There was so much I still wanted to know. Who knows, over the next twenty or forty years, how much they could have told me. Things I’ll never know, lost forever.

  And it’s not just what he knew. It’s who he was. Yes, he was selfish and gluttonous, irresponsible and defensive. But he was my father. He gave up being a king for me. He took me away from this violent life and gave me a normal life, with curfews, movies with friends, and cotton candy at the fair. He took me to school to meet my teachers at open-house, took me to the doctor when I got sick, took me on father-daughter dates to get root beer floats at old-fashioned soda fountains. He wore socks with sandals, cheesy t-shirts that embarrassed me, and big goofy grins when he told lame jokes. Maybe he didn’t deserve to sit on the pedestal I put him on most of my life, but he was still my dad. My very flawed, very human, father.

  I arrive at the top of the mountain, my eyes stinging and my lungs aching with smoke. I have to stop, bending over with my hands on my knees, to cough and choke out the rest of my tears. When I straighten, I notice that for the first time since I left my dad’s, the air is clear. At first, I think I’m imagining things. But then I realize what it is. The wind is blowing towards the fire, blowing it down the mountain. Clean, clear air is blowing in from the other direction, bringing a few cold, hard snowflakes that sting my scorched face.

  That’s when I think of my friends up here. Another wash of guilt sweeps over me. In all the panic and concern with the wolves, I didn’t even think of my real friends, the ones up here, who took me in without question and never made me feel like a freak. Forcing my aching, leaden legs to move, I jog along the top of the mountain. It’s strange how exactly the fire has moved in the other direction. Everything up here is untouched.

  When I reach the clearing, I see the charred, blackened remains of a juniper tree, and a deeper sadness sinks in. Again, I think of all the stories that will never be told, that died with Doralice. I know she�
��s dead, like Dad. I felt her spirit leave, too. Not inside me, but that voice thanking me, planting a small seed of gratitude inside me. At least I know she doesn’t hate me for what I did to her. It might be nothing—the gratitude of a ghost—amid the destruction of what I caused. But I hold onto it like it’s the seed of a new life.

  “She lives,” a voice crows. I whip around to see Xela charging towards me. Before I can prepare myself, she launches her sturdy little body at me. Together, we topple into the snow. “You look like shit, though.”

  I wipe at my face, but the back of my hand is black with soot, so I doubt it does much good. Sitting up, I see Haven holding up both hands to the wall of flame, her eyes shining, her black skirt billowing out behind her and her hair whipping around her face. Her feet are planted wide, her fox sitting motionless between them, staring into the fire as if hypnotized. For the first time, I’m witnessing Haven’s true power, and it’s a little bit frightening. Beside her stand two women I’ve never seen, and the girl from the lighthouse, all of them chanting and waving their hands in different motions at the flames.

  I jump up and run towards them, desperation clawing up my spine. “Stop!” I scream. “You’re burning the wolves’ valley.”

  When I get closer, Haven turns, soot smeared across her face like war paint. “Oh, good, you’re back. I have something that belongs to you,” she says, dropping one hand from her task and reaching behind her, batting at the fabric of her skirt. At first, I think she’s putting out a spark, but then she gets her billowing skirt under control and I see the form lying behind her. It blends in with her black skirt and the snow—a black and white wolf.

  I cry out and fall to my knees beside Harmon’s bound body. “What did you do to him?”

  “I didn’t do anything but save him from the fire,” she assures me. “If he hadn’t been hellbent on diving straight into a wall of flame to go searching for you, I wouldn’t have had to tie him up like a…well.”

  “Harmon,” I say, grabbing his head. His eyes are wild and desperate. I tug at the knots, quickly undoing them. The moment he’s loosed from the bonds of rope, he begins to transition back to human form. Though I hate the snapping and popping of bones and cartilage rearranging itself, I don’t let go. I wrap my arms around his neck and press my face into his fur, not releasing my hold until he’s fully human.

  “Keep your dog on his leash,” one of the other witches says. “We can’t have him doing anything to break the spell we’re weaving.”

  Harmon’s voice is choked and ragged when he speaks. “Stella,” he says into my hair, pulling me into his lap, his hands moving over my body as if to make sure I’m really here, that I’m real. “I thought you were—I thought…”

  “Me, too,” I say, taking a shuddering breath.

  “You’re okay?” he asks, loosening my arms and holding me away, taking in my filthy face, my tangled hair, my torn clothing.

  I nod, not trusting my voice.

  “Where were you?” he asks. “What happened?”

  “Dad…” I swallow. “He’s gone.”

  Harmon pulls me into his arms, cradling my head against his chest. “Oh, Stella. I’m so sorry.”

  Before he can feel too sorry for me, before I can let myself cry and accept sympathy I don’t deserve, I blurt out the truth. “It’s my fault,” I say. “I was fighting with my mother, and I caught a tree on fire. I didn’t know it would burn.”

  Harmon swallows, studying me for a long moment. “We all make mistakes,” he says quietly. “Sometimes we do things we don’t mean to do, or we don’t know what we’re doing, or we’re forced to do things that might hurt someone we love. I’m sure I’ll do things that hurt you sometimes, too. Forgiveness is part of love.”

  I nod, unable to look at him. What has he done that requires my forgiveness? Mother’s poisonous words trickle back to me. But no matter what he’s done, it can’t be anything compared to what I’ve done—killed their Alpha, burned down their valley…

  I am worse than a curse on them.

  “Wait…” I say, drawing away. “What do you mean, we do things we don’t mean to do?”

  Harmon drops his gaze. “Nothing.”

  “You knew,” I whisper. “You know, don’t you? What I did, when I was a kid? Why I was sent away. Everyone knows, that’s what she said. She’s right, isn’t she? You know I’m a mirror.”

  He swallows, but drags his eyes up to meet mine. “I know.”

  Betrayal burns through my veins, turning them as cold as his eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I—I’m sorry.”

  “That’s all you can say? You’re sorry? You could have told me, all that time.” I start to get up, but he pulls me back.

  “For a long time, I had no idea that you didn’t know. It was something you did, and I assumed your dad had told you, if not your mom. When you came back, no one here knew that you had never shifted, either. You have to realize, Stella, no one knew anything had been kept from you.”

  “And when you found out?”

  “When your mother told us you weren’t aware you were a shifter, or that any of this existed…I guess everyone was afraid of you. Afraid you might get mad and…do what you did to Efrain, your grandfather. If you’d done it by accident before, they thought you could again. They were terrified of you.”

  “So they treated me like a freak. Lovely.”

  “Like a loaded gun,” he said. “You could kill anyone here, Stella.”

  “So could you,” I explode.

  “That’s different. We’re all the same. You can do something that’s sorcery to our people.”

  “It would have been nice if I’d known that from the start.”

  “I’m sorry,” he says again. “I didn’t know how to tell you. How do you tell a person something like that?”

  “Um, it goes something like this. ‘Hey, by the way, everyone hates you because you killed our last Alpha.’ How hard is that?”

  “You’re right,” he says. “I didn’t tell you because it was too hard.”

  His admission melts some of my anger. “I just wish I didn’t have to find out from my mother.”

  “She’s probably exactly the person who should have told you,” he says quietly. “A long time ago. But it doesn’t change anything now. You were barely more than a baby. It has nothing to do with what’s happening now.”

  It’s hard to believe that when I can barely hear him over the roar of the fire, a fire I started because I was so furious about finding out. When the pack can’t look at me without knowing I’m a killer.

  But so what? They fight and kill all the time. It’s not so shocking that I killed someone. It’s who I killed and how I did it. I vow then that I’ll never do this evil thing. Being a tiger is enough. I don’t want to be anything or anyone else.

  I cut my eyes to the girl who cursed me. “What is she doing here? And what are they doing?” I hiss, nodding my head in Haven’s direction. “Are they burning your valley?”

  He shakes his head, his eyes sad and resigned.

  “We’re keeping the fire from the First Valley,” Haven says. “By keeping it at bay. We’re not making it burn anything. We’re just stopping it from spreading this way.”

  “And what is she doing here?” I ask again.

  “I’m helping,” the girl says in her breathy, childlike voice.

  I turn back to Harmon. “That’s the girl. The shifter heir.”

  “Do you want to fight for the position?”

  I try to squeeze words past the lump in my throat as I realize that she’s not the heir anymore. My father is dead. The shifter king is dead. And she doesn’t even know it. I nod mutely, cutting my eyes to the others.

  “We should go somewhere and talk,” Harmon says quietly.

  I lower my voice, too. “What about you? Will the pack see it as a betrayal that you ran off to find me and left them?”

  “Maybe,” he says with a frown. “Or they might see it as romantic. It dep
ends on if your mother showed up. She was gone when we got wind of the fire.”

  “You can bet she’ll be down there stirring up dissent,” I say bitterly.

  “I should probably get back, now that I know you’re safe,” he admits. “Thank you for telling me about this. For being honest. Not everyone would take responsibility like that.”

  I nod, my body stiffening in his arms. I know there’s more.

  “We probably shouldn’t tell the wolves,” he says quietly. “Not yet.”

  “A lot of the valley burned,” I tell him, forcing myself not to sugarcoat it. I know he doesn’t want to hear half-truths. “Some of the cabins, too.”

  He nods, looking pained. “I was afraid of that.”

  “We can offer a place,” says the older witch, the one who told me to keep Harmon leashed. It makes me wonder if she heard everything, my confession included.

  “I’ll have to see the damage,” Harmon says. “Maybe it isn’t as bad as it sounds.”

  “It is,” I whisper.

  “For now, you are welcome in our valley,” the witch says. “If not into our homes, you can make your homes up here until you’ve recovered. We have plenty, and few hunters. You are welcome to hunt here during the Moon.”

  “Thank you,” Harmon says, his voice strong but humble. “I will let my wolves know they have the option, should their homes be destroyed. I can only hope we don’t have need to take advantage of such a generous offer.”

  I can’t help but be impressed by how dignified he manages to sound while sitting naked in the dirt, with me still on his lap.

  “Oh, goody,” Xela says, clapping her hands. “Lots of newcomers!”

  “I should go,” Harmon says again, his eyes dropping to mine. “I don’t want to, but I should. If you’re okay…”

  I wrap my arms around his neck and squeeze him hard. I want to help him through this time, want him to help me. But we can’t. Hopelessness of the situation cloaks me like a blanket. Will we ever be able to be together?