“So you’ve been setting aside these stones for how long?” I ask.
“Only a thousand years or so.”
My brows lift. “One thousand years?”
“We’re dwarves. We don’t toss good stone.”
I’d never heard that before; I set the thought aside for later. “Thanks for the tour. I’ll look into the food situation for you.”
Wilhelm’s face reddens. “Don’t do anything! We don’t wish to worry Legend and Diamond. We’re doing our part, that’s all.”
You can bet I won’t worry Legend and Diamond. Something is going on with Le Charme, and if I press too much, I’ll get more happy talk.
When it comes to the dwarves, I’ll take care of this myself.
18
Alec
A few minutes later, I’m back in the penthouse library. My heart sinks when I see how the room has changed.
Now Legend and Diamond are here. They do not look happy.
“What did the dwarves tell you?” asks Diamond.
“Nothing.” I rise from the chair and dust off my pants. “They just showed me the latest stones they’re digging up, that’s all.”
“Did they say we’re bankrupt?” asks Legend. “We aren’t.”
“My family just secured a new line of credit,” adds Diamond.
I set my hand on a nearby shelf and go into what I consider a causal pose. “They showed me some new stones. That’s it.”
My parents share a long look. Not good.
Legend is the first to speak. “If you wish to help the dwarves, then you must adjust to the idea of the Le Charme curse.”
“You’re getting married at eighteen,” adds Diamond.
This conversation is getting ugly, fast. I will not stand around fighting about whether I’ll marry at eighteen. Yes, I could use magic to distract things, but my parents would see that coming a mile away.
So I use technology instead. What my parents don’t know about cell phones is a lot.
I glance down at my phone. “Knox is on his way. He plans to let himself into the penthouse to play video games. I better go.” My parents won’t keep me here if Knox is around. He has werewolf hearing.
“Here’s the thing,” says Diamond. “We don’t have funds to lavish extras on the dwarves. They aren’t entirely necessary. It’s not like we’re selling out of jewels.”
“Of course, our current inventory is still incredibly popular,” adds Legend.
“Yes, and we’re doing very well,” states Diamond. “As a company.”
Surprise prickles across my skin. These are my parents, taking in tandem and riffing off each other’s sentences. It’s a little upsetting.
A lot upsetting, actually. Mostly because I know what’s coming next.
Legend grins. “All that we’re saying is this: keep an open mind about the curse.”
And that would be what I was expecting.
19
Elle
Days Later
I wake up to the sound of Second Avenue traffic. Ah, sweet music. Yawning, I slog myself to the kitchen. There’s no sign of Dad. Huh. Normally, he’s up by now. I walk around our apartment. No sign of anyone.
I’m about to knock on my parent’s door when Dad steps out of their bedroom. His eyes are rimmed with tears.
“How is she?” I ask.
“Let’s talk in the kitchen.”
The world takes on a dream-like gleam. I sleepwalk into the kitchen. Once we’re there, Dad leans against the counter. He grips the countertop like it’s the only thing keeping him upright.
“Your mother is getting worse. I have to make plans.” He sighs. “And you don’t like Marchesa and her daughters.”
A chill crawls up my neck. This is it. The moment I’ve dreaded. It’s really here.
I swallow past the lump of sorrow that just lodged in my throat. “We aren’t best friends or anything, no.”
“The girls are young for their age.” Dad stares at the floor. “I know you have differences. But I’m asking you to look past all that.” His shoulders shake with a held-in sob. “Things are really hard now.”
I step closer. When I next speak, I take care to keep my voice in a soothing tone. “There are other things we can do.”
“I know what you think. This is the fairy tale life template at work. You’re a Cinderella. I’m your my father. The template says that I’ll end up with Marchesa.” His chin wobbles. “I don’t know what will happen, Ellie Belly. All I know is that right now, Marchesa and her daughters are running Cynder. I need them.”
I’ve never seen my father more miserable. At this point, I can’t deny him anything. “Sure, Dad. I’ll try harder.”
“And Ellie? Some things are just destined. Fighting them is useless.”
I hug my elbows. “I don’t agree.”
All the sorrow in the world shines out in his face as he speaks two final words. “You will.”
20
Elle
Six Months later
I’m wearing black.
Again.
Which makes sense. Again. After all, today marks my second funeral in six months.
I grip a little card with my father’s picture on it. Looking down, I stare at the words along the top.
In loving memory of Declan Cynder.
I’ve another card just like this one back on my dresser. Only that version reads Raelyn Cynder and is dated three months ago. My dresser also holds a wedding invitation (of sorts). It’s a hand-written Post-It that Dad left on my computer. On it, my father wrote the date we’d all meet at the court house for his second marriage. Marchesa and Declan tied the knot one month after Mom died.
And now, two months after that second wedding, my father is dead. The coroner said Dad’s heart just gave out.
That sounds about right.
I meander about my family’s apartment. With every step, my body feels more numb. Voices echo around me. A few phrases seep into my mind.
Where would you like the flowers, Lady Cynder?
Sign here, Ivy.
It was a beautiful ceremony, Agatha.
I stand in a corner of my own living room. No one speaks to me. That’s fine. I don’t want to talk anyway. I simply stare at the little card and try not to weep.
At some point, the visitors take off. Marchesa asks me to help her move some boxes around in the basement. It’s not a place I visit much, but fine. I gave my word to Dad.
I’ll try.
Marchesa and I step down into a concrete room. There are no boxes here—only a bare mattress in the corner. My breath catches. Marchesa closes the door behind her.
She isn’t.
She wouldn’t.
There’s the click of a lock turning.
She just did.
Marchesa glares at me. Hatred blazes in her brown eyes. “My best friend Rae is gone. Declan married me and then died of a broken heart. This marks my second time as a widow. It makes me miserable.”
“This hasn’t been a picnic for me, either.”
“I’d disagree. Life has been rather easy for you, Elle Cynder. But now? It’s time to balance the scales. You’ll learn what it’s like to suffer.”
I blink hard, trying to process what I’m hearing. Sure, you can suspect that someone loathes you. But then there’s having that someone lock you in a basement and talk about making you suffer.
“My family tried to help you. Doesn’t that mean anything?”
“Help me?” Marchesa’s voice takes on a hysterical edge. “You know nothing. Declan was my only true love. Rae stole him away. That ruined my life.”
That’s a shocker. “I know you three hung out when you were young… but Mom stealing Dad away? Why would she do that?”
“Because she could. Everyone adored Rae. So your mother did what all spoiled women do … she took what she wanted and left others to pay the price.”
“Price.” Like suffer, it’s all I can do to keep repeating things here.
“My
first husband was horrible, and that’s all on Rae. She had other choices than Declan. Scads of men worshipped Raelyn Livie. Yet me? I only had one chance. Declan. And Rae took him. I should have lived her life. My daughters should have been you!”
Memories flicker through my mind. Mom and Dad always gave Marchesa and her daughters a free pass. Now it all makes sense.
“My parents bought into your personal pity party. If my Dad loved you, he would have chosen you, end of story. He didn’t.”
“Declan truly loved me! Rae just dazzled him.”
Rage overtakes my mind. “Dad only felt sorry for you and we both know it. I can’t believe you manipulated my parents all these years, using your fake crush on my father to leech off their kindness.”
Okay, that was really harsh, but it’s also totally true.
Marchesa’s eyes flare with rage once more. After that, she turns strangely calm. “I am done with your attitude,” she declares. “Let’s discuss your false identity as Abigail Smythe.”
Now I have multiple false identities. It goes with the whole jewel bounty hunter thing. I checked the Abigail Smythe accounts this morning. They were emptied but the funds moved to another account. I didn’t remember doing it, but I balance a lot of numbers.
“What about Abigail Smythe?” I ask.
“I’ve discovered your sad attempt to save money. All your bank accounts have been drained.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to say draining and transferring money isn’t too scary, but there’s no need to point that out. Clearly, Marchesa’s unaware that her plan failed.
“Welcome to your new home.” Turning, Marchesa leaves the basement. The door lock clicks behind her.
I pull my cell from my pocket. Dead. Well, Marchesa gets points for actually doing that part right. Still, she thinks she’s locked me up with no way to call for help.
She’s wrong.
My parents always said to hide my true powers. Right now, that advice will save my life. If Marchesa knew what I could really do, I’d be dead already.
Closing my eyes, I summon my fae powers. In my mind, I send a message to Gustav.
Need some help, bud.
An hour passes before I hear the familiar scritch-scratch of mousey feet on the basement floor. By this point, I’ve taken to sitting on my mattress with my back resting against the wall. Gustav hops up onto my knee.
“So sorry I’m late.” When Gustav speaks, his voice is even higher than usual. The little guy is pretty upset.
“Not to worry. I knew you’d get here eventually.”
“You shouldn’t have waited. Marchesa could have done who knows what to you. Why not use fairy dust to open the door?”
“I know how to reach out to you and some pigeons down the block. That’s it.”
“Why not enchant the door to open?”
“I’m not sure I even have any enchanter powers.”
Gustav grips his tail tightly. “When I think about what could have happened—”
“But it didn’t,” I state. “How about getting me the key to that door?”
“Of course.” Gustav runs off. A few minutes later, he returns while dragging along a key with his tail.
“Thanks.” I take the key in my hand. “Can you tell me when the coast is clear?”
“Absolutely.” One thing about mice, they can flatten themselves like pancakes and it doesn’t even hurt. Gustav slips under the door. This time, only a few minutes pass before he returns.
“How’s it looking?” I whisper.
“You can go if you leave right now. Just stick to the far-left warehouse wall. It’s dark there. And that will lead you to the back door.”
“Thanks again, Gustav.” Holding the key tightly in my grip, I step up to the door. Sure enough, the door opens with the quietest of clicks.
With that done, I march off into the shadows and my future.
Three Years Later
1
Elle
Age Eighteen
My alarm blares. Rolling over, I grab my cell and turn off the noise. Blinking, I scan the time.
7AM
What a strange dream. I was back with the Queen of Hearts. She told me how Marchesa and Legend Le Charme would block me from my true love.
I remember that prophecy. Meeting the Queen of Hearts isn’t something you forget. The prophecy is seared in my memory, too.
I’ll be blocked from my true love.
What a load of crap that turned out to be. My days are split between online classes and jewel un-thievery. There’s no true love in sight. Yes, Jacoby’s still around, but if I were in love with him I’d know it.
At least, I think I would.
Propping a pillow under my head, I look out across my apartment in Greenwich Village. It’s a single room with a high ceiling, big window, and loft up top (that’s where I’m cuddled up now).
Yawning, I slide out of bed and climb down the loft ladder. After hitting the bathroom and pouring myself a bowl of cereal, I head over to the couch, open my laptop, and launch my online classes. Text flashes across the screen.
Congratulations! You’ve finished junior year of high school.
My brows lift. All my final essays and exams were due last week. It wasn’t clear how long it would take to grade everything, but looks like that’s done now.
It’s official. I’m now a high school senior. Not bad for someone who’s eighteen and has never set foot inside a typical school.
I grab my cell and type out a quick message to my best friend, Bry.
OnlyCallMeElle: Graduated today. You?
By the way, Bry is short for Bryar Rose. She’s pretty awesome.
Here’s how I met the best girl in New York. After my parents died, there was no one to verify my fairy tale life template anymore. I hard to start attending Denarii League meetings. That’s where I met Bry. She’s a Sleeping Beauty life template and a super cool girl. Sadly, I can’t tell her the truth about my being a warden. Or about a lot, really. But she’s the best friend I’ve ever had and I love her to pieces.
Bry’s also taking the same online classes that I am. She might have graduated as well.
MyOwnBry: oh, lemme check
Minutes pass before my cell phone gets the dot-animation thing. Bry is typing back.
MyOwnBry: Me 2!!!
Grinning, I send her some pics of supermodels saying, you’re fabulous. Bry is the fashion type. She texts me back with some little animated ninjas because I’m so stealthy.
Did I mention Bry is the best? She is.
OnlyCallMeElle: What r u doing today
MyOwnBry: auntie lockdown :(
Technically, Bry is always on auntie lockdown. Those ladies barely let her leave their penthouse. I swear, if the Denarii League weren’t such pests about their support groups, I don’t think Bry would ever leave her room.
That said, I can work some of my fairy charm and get the aunties to set Bry loose. Yet I have to be careful about that stuff. If I use too much magic around the infamous aunties, they might figure out I’m a warden. Plus they could also realize they’re being manipulated and shut me down. If that happened, I’m not sure Bry would ever see daylight again.
Back to the auntie lockdown thing. It’s also part of the code between me and Bry. It means that her aunties are in an especially bad mood. So bad in fact, that even I couldn’t charm Bry outside. On days like these, Bry likes to hang in her room, eat ice cream, and surf the web. I respect that.
OnlyCallMeElle: text me if u need help
MyOwnBry: will do
It’s a bummer that Bry can’t get out today, but my schedule will move forward.
Time to un-steal jewelry.
Puling up my laptop, I check the Magicweb once more. Nothing new. Boo.
That said, there is one wedding ring listing that I’ve been tracking. The ad is still live, which means it hasn’t been found yet. And the bounty is a sweet two grand. Only trouble is, I’m not sure where the stolen item could be.
I know who can check, though. Mice may suck at housework, but they totally rock at surveillance. I close my eyes and pull on my inner magic.
Gustav? Are you around?
In reply, there’s the unmistakable sound of tiny claws on my velvet couch. Gustav crawls up onto my knee. His marble-black eyes blink up at me.
“I found it,” he says in his squeaky mouse voice.
No question what it is in the scenario. The wedding ring.
“Where?”
“It’s in Alec Le Charme’s office.” He flicks his little hands over his face. “Again.”
“Huh. Let me check his schedule.” By that I mean, surf the web. The paparazzi keep tabs on where the so-called Le Charme prince can be sighted. In fact, the Magicorum News Network has a special section called, Where in the world is Alec Le Charme? I hit that site first, but there isn’t anything specific.
Next up: surfing general celebrity sites. Which, since the internet is a time suck, leads to my checking out tons of pictures of Mister Fancy Pants himself. I swear, the guy must sleep in formalwear. There’s Alec in a tuxedo at a charity auction. Alec in a suit jacket during a store opening. And Alec in a … baseball cap?
I freeze. Inspect the picture four times. Blink a lot. Then I read the caption aloud. “In a rare shot, we catch Alec Le Charme hiding from the cameras on Fifth Avenue. Who knew he even owned jeans, let alone a Yankees cap? Nice try at hiding, but we see you, Alec!”
A jolt of realization moves through me.
I can’t believe I never realized this before.
That’s him.
Fred from the L Center.
Slippers and Thieves Special Edition Page 7