No one ever knew what exactly happened that night. How Minna of Nowhere kept her head and got rid of the vilest king they ever had. But to this day, some people claim to hear a creepy laugh in the dark of the night, and some still talk about a powerful enchantress who goes around saving souls, haunting greedy men and telling magical stories.
ALSO BY MARCIA SOLIGO
FIND MARCIA SOLIGO ON AMAZON
INSTAGRAM
ENGRAVED ISOLATION
BY N TERRY
A CHARMING RETELLING OF BELLE’S STORY IN AN URBAN SETTING.
I sighed as I placed the box of documents down on the table. I had been at it all day, going through Papa’s things and sorting the official documents needed to settle his estate. I was his only surviving kin, so it was an easy feat, more time consuming than I would have thought.
I opened the box labeled ‘Keep’, praying I would find anything resembling a will, but Papa was never one to think too far ahead, his mind always focused on his ideas. I looked around the small house we had lived in for as long as I could remember. It was hard imagining Papa never sitting in front of the fireplace or tinkering in the shed, trying to bring those ideas to life.
I wiped a stray tear from my cheek. Pull yourself together Belle; Papa would never have wanted you to cry.
I focused once again on the box in front of me. I opened the box; dust flew into the air, whatever was in there hadn’t been touched in years. Rifling through it, nothing stuck out at me, some random pieces of Papa’s life. There has to be something important here. My fingers brushed against something metal, and a zing of electricity shot up my finger. Weird.
I found a silver mirror, the glass mirror shattered, leaving fragments left around the frame. Frowning, I ran my fingers over the smooth metal. Why would Papa keep a broken mirror? I turned the mirror in my hand.
A child born without thy blood, a sickness shall descend.
A curse to follow you and your children, death’s thy only friend.
A curse? What? I turn the mirror again. What is this? It looks too real to be a prop for anything. Weird, just weird.
Putting the mirror down on the table, I grabbed the next item in the box. A letter, written in familiar handwriting, addressed to Papa from twenty years ago. I read the letter and gasped.
Mama had written the letter to Papa, confessing her love for him instead of her betrothed. I picked up another letter and another and another, all from Mama to Papa speaking of love and longing. The final letter I picked up was written weeks before their wedding day. It explained how Mama wanted to run away and get married, and how they could make it on their own, they wouldn’t need anyone.
My stomach turned, nausea settling in. This was not the romantic story Papa had told me growing up, how they fell madly in love with each other. He had told me neither of them had been close to our family, and no other family existed. In reality, they had run away, cutting ties with their families.
I picked up the mirror once again and examined it once more. Mama’s name was inscribed at the top.
‘A curse to follow you and your children’…a sickness? None of it made any sense. This mirror insinuated magic… insinuated Mama, who died after giving birth to me, died because of this curse instead. But, magic wasn’t real. It was no longer the 1600s where people couldn’t explain strange occurrences with science, so they believed in things like magic. This was the 21st century, where science and forward-thinking explained everything.
A white satin box caught my eye next. I picked up the box, warm in my hands as if it had finally found its place. I opened the lid and froze.
A silver mirror, exactly as Mama’s, sat waiting for someone to pull it from its white coffin. Only this mirror had my name inscribed at the top, along with the same ‘curse’ inscribed on Mama’s mirror.
A shiver ran down my spine as if insinuating the misfortune left to come to pass.
My cell phone buzzed beside me, pulling my concentration and bringing me once back to the present.
I scoffed. Magic and curses didn’t exist. This mirror was a joke, a bad one, from my parents.
I picked up my phone and answered the call, letting go of the breath I hadn’t realized I had been holding.
“Adam, hey… no, you’re not interrupting anything… I’d love some company.” I laughed; my boyfriend Adam always knew how to cheer me up. Food. “A sub sounds amazing. Could you stop by the cafe on your way here too? I’d kill for a latte right now. Okay, see you soon. Love you, too. Bye.”
I smiled to myself as I put my phone back down on the table. How had I gotten this lucky? Somehow, I had snagged an amazing boyfriend who treated me like a princess.
I woke, catapulting off my mattress. Images from my dream raced through my mind. I was dancing in a yellow dress with a beastly looking creature. Things in the castle had been moving and talking to me. Magic. The word bounced around in my head. It kept coming back like a crazy ex-boyfriend.
Shaking off the remnants of the dream, I hopped up and jumped in the shower. After pampering myself with my peach fizz body scrub and letting the water get as hot as I can stand, I felt much more like myself. Throwing on a pair of black leggings and a loose white sweater, I make my way into the kitchen to brew a cup of coffee. Once I have the pot going, I grab a muffin on the counter and take a bite.
The box of my father’s things I had left on the table caught my eye. I made my way to it; the mirror with my name engraved on its precious metal glistened in the morning sun, greeting me like an old friend.
Coffee. I can’t handle this without coffee.
I wanted to get to the bottom of this curse. My logical brain wanted to throw the entire idea out, while every fiber of my being knew it was true. Was this curse the reason Mama had died after I was born? They had told me it was Influenza that had killed her… but maybe it wasn’t.
Coffee. I needed Coffee.
I made my way back to the delicious smells wafting from my fresh pot of coffee. I poured a cup and made it how I liked it. Bringing my half-eaten muffin and a cup of Joe to the table, I picked up the letters from Mama once again. I re-read them over and over, trying to understand the words I had read. The name DuPont was mentioned more than once in the letters. And this was getting me nowhere.
I picked up my laptop on the other side of the table. I opened the trusty computer and pulled up a search engine. If anyone could help locate a person, it was the internet. I typed ‘DuPont in France’ in the search bar and had a few hits.
My heart skipped as excitement bloomed at this new lead. I scrolled through the search results noting each hit involved an aristocrat family and, more importantly, the Comte DuPont. Most of the articles spoke of a Maximus DuPont and, most recently, about his sickness and his death. His son Lucien DuPont was inheriting the title and would be whom I needed to find.
Locating his family wasn’t hard; you could find anything on the internet. His family’s mansion was located somewhere outside of Paris. Not too far, no more than a few hours by car. I wasn’t scheduled to work today. I could drive up and back with no issues. I picked up my phone and texted Adam my plan to go check out my lead.
I had told him about everything I had found while we enjoyed our delicious food last night. He had a nice laugh and even admitted he’d had some weird dreams lately, but ultimately didn’t believe in magic or curses. He still supported my crazy ideas, anyway. I seriously won the lottery in the boyfriend department. Adam responded with more than enough eye-roll emojis. I laughed as I grabbed my keys, purse, the mirror, and letters and walked out the door.
The trip was smooth, with no traffic, and the time went by quickly as I processed everything in my head. Over and over. I wasn’t able to find the exact address of the DuPont residence, but I was able to pinpoint the area it was located in.
As I drove around the quaint neighborhood, I passed a row of old shops, a boutique, a tailor, a bakery, and at the end, a shop called The Moon’s Phases, an old-fashioned witch shop. I sla
mmed on my breaks; the car behind me almost collided into me. I pulled into a parking spot in front of the shop and waved sheepishly to the gentleman as he passed, his horn letting me know how annoyed with me he was. I didn’t care; I had a one-track mind.
The mystery surrounding my parents’ marriage and the truth behind mama’s death had burrowed deep inside me, jamming my usual sensible thoughts. Obsessed with finding the truth, I couldn’t explain why I needed to know so badly, I just had to know. The fact that a similar curse had been placed on me was a minor detail.
I put my mirror into my purse and got out of my car. As I entered the shop, the scent of incense invaded my senses. I coughed from the intrusion, not quite used to the overwhelming aroma of cedar wood and lavender. An older woman who had to be in her eighties wobbled from the back.
“Can I help you, Miss?”
She seemed friendly enough, and despite feeling extremely self-conscious about my new belief in magic, I pull the mirror from my purse, anyway.
“Actually,” …Where do I begin? I told the woman about the mirror and the matching one with my mama’s name on it. I explained her death and even threw in some details regarding my parents eloping. As I told my story, the older woman’s face goes from cheerful to solemn.
“My dear,” she says, “I have no doubt magic has touched your family.” She reached her hand to touch the mirror and instantly pulled her hand back as if it had stung by the magic coursing through it. “No, I am certain of it.” She takes my arm and leads me to the back of her shop. A steaming kettle sat on her counter and she poured two cups of tea. As she handed me a cup, a thought crossed my mind.
Should I be drinking tea from a stranger? But this woman didn’t feel like a stranger. It felt as if I’d known her all my life.
“Magic has been ignored for decades now,” she began. “Now, we humans laugh at the idea, but what they don’t see is that magic still surrounds us. Not many know how to tap into their gifts anymore, but it doesn’t mean someone couldn’t have cursed you and your mama. Old families, like the DuPonts, have been around for generations, and it wouldn’t surprise me one bit to know they had kept close to a family of witches.”
I rubbed my temple, feeling completely overwhelmed. In a matter of days my life had completely turned upside down. It was comical.
The woman’s hand on my arm pulled me back from my inner thoughts.
“Dear,” she said with a sympathetic smile. “I know this is a lot to take in. Why don’t you see the DuPont family yourself? Their family home is just around the corner.”
That had been my plan from the beginning, so I ask, “Can you give me an exact address?”
The woman nodded and jotted an address down on a scrap piece of paper from her coffee table.
I take it and smile at her. “Thank you. You have no idea how helpful you’ve been.”
I followed her through the store to the front door. She gave me a reassuring smile. “I know you’ll figure this out, and if you’re in the area, feel free to drop by and give me an update!”
I laugh. “I will. Promise!”
I walked out to my car and plugged the address in my phone. As I made my way back onto the road, I felt optimistic, determined not to let a silly curse control my fate.
The DuPont mansion was huge. Bigger than huge… it was a freaking castle! I stood on the sidewalk outside of the cast iron gates that surrounded the fortress to keep riff-raff like me away. I took a deep breath before going through the gate, the ominous feeling in my gut-growing stronger with each step I took. There was something about the house that gave me a sense of uncertainty as if something wasn’t right; it was just… off.
Ignoring my gut, I used the knocker and was greeted promptly by a butler.
“May I help you?”
“I’d like to see Mr. DuPont, please.”
“Do you have an appointment with the Comte?”
“No, sir… but my mama was Eloise Bastien and…” I didn’t know how to continue. How could I explain why I needed to see DuPont since I didn’t understand the whole situation myself?
The butler narrowed his eyes at me before saying curtly, “Please come in. I’ll see if Master DuPont has a moment to spare.”
I followed the butler into a formal sitting room outside the front door where I was left to wait. And wait. I swear it was at least thirty minutes before there was a knock on the door, and a man entered.
I knew the late Comte DuPont had been betrothed to Mama and he had passed away recently, according to the newspaper. But the newspapers never mentioned a son who looked incredibly similar to a Greek god.
He was very young and towered over me, forcing me to look up to him. His dark black hair was neat and combed back from his face. Even though he wasn’t wearing a tie, his button-up shirt and dress slacks gave off the air of sophistication.
He narrowed his gaze at me, sizing me up, looking me up and down. I shivered under the heat of his deep brown eyes. There was something about him; something drew me to him.
“Miss Bastien,” he said, bowing slightly at his hips. “I am Lucien DuPont, Comte of Yorkshire.”
Unsure of what to do, I attempted a quick curtsy. I was positive. I made myself look like an idiot and said, “Please, call me Belle.”
He gestured to the sitting area, and I took a seat in the armchair closest to the fire. Lucien followed, his moves graceful and controlled.
I fidgeted, once again unsure of myself, unsure what to say to break the ice. Lucien was an intimidating man, and I didn’t feel like myself in his presence.
“What can I help you with today, Belle?” His voice was deep and smooth, like butter on warm toast.
I laughed to myself, once again plagued with the where do I begin.
“Mr. DuPont.”
“Please, Lucien.”
I cleared my throat. “Lucien, I found some interesting things in my parent’s belongings. Things that tie our families together.” I looked up to gauge his reaction, and his raised eyebrow gave me the impression he was already aware. I kept going. “I found letters, speaking of engagement, and an elopement. The strangest was the mirror with an inscription engraved on the back with my mama’s name on it.” I laughed. “It implied your father employed a witch to put a curse on my mama for jilting him. Which is crazy, because magic isn’t real?”
“Why do you sound unsure?”
I opened my mouth to answer, but I didn’t have an answer. Part of me was ready to believe in the magic, but the other part - that was growing smaller by the minute - still clung to the reality I knew.
“So you came here, for what? To see my father? To be a reminder of the love he lost years ago? To once again open the wound he carried until the day he died? Unrequited love… a bothersome way to die.”
My eyes widened, my mouth fell open in surprise, disgust laced every word Lucien said. He insinuated Mama leaving his father put him in his grave. Anger coursed through me, how dare he!
“My mama wouldn’t hurt anyone. She must have loved my father very much to run away with him. Something it seems you can’t possibly comprehend.”
Lucien narrowed those deep brown eyes once again, and I lost my train of thought. Giving myself a mental shake, I continued, “Well, I guess that makes us even, huh? Your father cursed my mother to die soon after childbirth. Your father died of a broken heart. At least you get to remember the time you spent with your father.”
I turned toward the fire. A single tear threatened to find its way free and slid down my cheek. I couldn’t possibly show weakness in front of this man. He would swallow me whole.
The tension between us was thick in the air like a fog. I didn’t come all this way to fight with him. If I was honest with myself, I didn’t know why I had come. It had felt like I had to. Needed to. I wished Adam was with me. He would know the next step to take. His presence always a balm to soothe me. Plus, he always seemed to have an aristocratic way about him; he’d know the proper protocol.
“Well
,” Lucien said, getting to his feet. “It seems we have much to discuss. I was getting ready to sit down for a late lunch. Join me?”
He reached his hand to me, and I couldn’t stop myself from taking it. There was something in his eyes that kept me from refusing. He had the answers I wanted; that’s why I can’t refuse him. Right?
The food I saw placed on the table was something out of a movie. No one in real life ate like that, especially not one person. I laughed to myself as I sat down next to Lucien. There was an entire roast, mashed potatoes, mixed veggies, some bread, two different salads, and an assortment of desserts to boot. And this was supposed to be his ‘late lunch.’ I rolled my eyes as the butler started putting food on both our plates. I grabbed the goblet in front of my plate and took a sip expecting water, but instead was greeted by the full-bodied taste of vintage wine.
Lucien acted as if nothing was out of the ordinary, and we hadn’t been practically accusing our parents of ultimately killing each other just moments before. He wordlessly dropped his head in prayer, and I tried to be respectful and follow along. Once he lifts his head, he grabs his fork and tastes his salad.
“Please dig in,” he says with a smile. It isn’t until he looks me in the eyes once again, I felt compelled to do as he said. I picked up my fork, and I took a bite but unable to taste anything.
This is weird. Very, very weird. In a strange person’s home, eating extravagant food made by more people, I don’t know. Lucien wasn’t feeling chatty as he made his way through more than half his salad, and I was getting more and more creeped out by the whole thing. What had I been thinking? Driving all the way here? To ask a stranger about magic curses? Why hadn’t Adam stopped me? Because he knows me too well. He knew I’d do what I felt was right anyway. I sighed, setting my fork down.
“This isn’t what I came here for,” I said, shaking my head, looking down at my plate. “I’m not here to play nice and sit and enjoy a feast. I came because I was under the impression you could help me find the truth. But I guess I was wrong.” I stood, my resolve harder than steel, and finally looked at Lucien. “I’m leaving.”
Twisted Ever After Page 24