by Alex Flinn
The other people in the room are nurses, and then a doctor shows up too. And Kendra, who looks like Kendra and a little worse for wear too. I know I’ll hear what happened later. They’re all pretty shocked to see that Celine is, in fact, not dead, but I resist the urge to gloat. What are doctors supposed to know about magic spells? So we let them think they cured her. After some debate, they unhook Celine’s feeding tube and everything, and after about six hours of tests and my dad (who filed an emergency petition to become her legal guardian, after Jonah and I explain about Violet attacking us in the elevator) filling out a ream of paperwork, and photographers taking tons of photos to prove Jonah was here, the hospital lets Celine go home. With us. With me.
“So what do you want to do when we get there?” I ask Celine on the way downstairs.
She squeezes my hand. “I was thinking we could make some smoothies and watch Some Kind of Wonderful.”
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PART 4
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1
Kendra
The elevator door slams shut behind them, and a ball of fire comes at me.
“Hey!” I yell. “If you don’t stop, you’re going to kill us both!”
“Does it really matter?” Violet asks.
“It does to me. I want to see how this turns out, whether he wakes her.” For I have realized that Violet wouldn’t be here if she didn’t think Celine would wake. And I’ve realized something else. I’ve figured out who can wake her. It’s not Jonah Prince.
I see Violet gearing up for another attack. Her magic is no greater than mine. It may be less. But she’s more ruthless. She loves no one and has nothing to lose. I used to feel that way, but now . . . well, I want to check on Celine. I can hold Violet at bay long enough for Goose and Jonah to reach her, I hope, but I can’t stop Violet forever.
I’ve frozen the elevator on the fourteenth floor. Another explosion rocks it.
I dodge the fireball, putting it out with a neat blast of water.
“Play with fire,” I say, “and we’ll both get burned.”
Violet smiles. “The difference between us is I don’t care if I die. I don’t care about anything.”
“Then why hurt that sweet child?”
“Because that child is evil, the spawn of evil.” She walks away as much as possible in an elevator. I know why she’s doing it, to make me think she’s pacing, make me let down my guard. But I never let down my guard with Violet. I did it early on, and I regret it.
“You think she’s like her mother?” I say, eyes firmly on her.
“Her mother, or her father. Greg was no better. I see that now. He wanted Jennifer as a trophy, no more. That’s why he preferred her even when we were both beautiful. She had more status.”
“Maybe he loved Jennifer, and not you.” I can’t resist twisting the knife. What difference does it make? Being careful around Violet didn’t help.
Violet ignores me. “He wanted her as a trophy. And then, when she was gone, he wanted me for the same reason. He never loved either of us, not really.” She shakes her head sadly.
“Celine loved you,” I say. “Before she knew you killed her mother, she loved you.”
Violet looks over her shoulder at me, her face like a crumpled gardenia. “No one has ever loved me, not really.”
“You know that isn’t true.” I walk over to her and lay a hand on her shoulder. “I have loved you like a daughter since the first day we met.”
And, like a real daughter, she fights against me, pushing me away with hands suddenly burning hot. I cringe, and she says, “You don’t love me.”
“I do, though I did you a disservice, allowing you to change yourself so much.”
I remember how she looked that first day, so small and pale, beaten down by those horrible boys. I’d had my own experiences with boys like that, and I’d have done anything to help her. I had done anything. I had given her my knowledge, my instruction, my magic, my heart. At what point did I give too much, do too much? And could I have stopped her if I’d tried?
“A disservice?” Violet murmurs, as if she hasn’t quite heard. “I was miserable. You . . . tried to help me.”
“But did I help you? Or did I make things worse?”
She shakes her head, still not looking at me. “I don’t know.”
A voice comes through the elevator’s intercom. “Are you all right in there? We’re sending help.”
“It’s fine.” But, obviously, time is running out. I can’t keep Violet in this elevator forever. She could leave if she chose. I only hope she’ll stay. I must persuade her to make peace with Celine or, at least, leave her alone.
“Celine isn’t who you think,” I tell her.
“Of course not,” Violet snaps. “I’m always wrong about everything.”
“Maybe not everything, but this. You told Goose that Celine could never care about him. You were wrong about that too.”
She shakes her head. “I wasn’t. Little bitch would only want the captain of the football team. She’d never appreciate that kid, even after all he went through for her.”
I pull a mirror from my voluminous skirt. Violet knows what it is because she has one just like it. I gave it to her so many years ago, and we have spoken through it almost every day. I say, “Show me Celine.”
The scene in the mirror shifts to Celine’s hospital room. Celine is awake, looking around the room. She says, “True love, right?” My heart feels tight in my chest. It worked!
Violet pushes the mirror back toward me. “That proves nothing. The pop star, he woke her up.”
I angle the mirror toward her. Now, Celine is holding Goose’s hand, gazing into his eyes.
“She loves him, always has. So you were wrong about that. What else were you wrong about, Violet?”
She stares at the mirror like someone in a fog. “I don’t know.” She takes it from me, gazing at the happy couple. “This is all I ever wanted. This. Love. But when Greg died, there was no chance left for me.”
“No chance? You have every chance. You’re immortal, magical. There is always another chance.” It’s a conversation we’ve had before, unsuccessfully. She doesn’t seem to comprehend how long her life will be. I, with hundreds of years behind me, know that life stretches before her like a patchwork quilt with many experiences, some beautiful, some heartbreaking. “Go someplace where no one knows you, and start again.”
“Someplace else.” The mirror catches the ceiling lights. “Yes, someplace else. Will you take care of her then, of Celine?”
So you can always know where to find her? But I don’t say it. She is staring so oddly that I wonder what she has in mind. “Of course Celine will be taken care of. But what about you, my darling?”
“Yes.” Her voice is a shredded whisper. “What about me?”
And suddenly, the elevator begins moving, down this time. It doesn’t stop at twelve or anywhere but goes all the way to the bottom. When the door opens, Violet steps forward, then out. “Good-bye, Kendra. And thank you. I know what I have to do.”
She presses the twelve button, gives a tiny wave of her fingers. They are, as usual, perfectly manicured. Everything about her is lovely, luminous. If you didn’t know her, you’d think she was perfect.
She smiles as the door closes, and I know I will never see her again.
On the twelfth floor is celebration. Celine, Goose, Goose’s father, Jonah, all celebrate Celine’s revival. A photographer snaps pictures. It is hours before we leave, and when we do, I go in the car with Goose, Celine, and his father. Goose and Celine sit in the backseat, holding hands
.
“I think you should stay with me,” I tell Celine. “I can protect you in case . . .” I’m not actually sure Violet intends to do anything, but I realize I want Celine with me. “You don’t need protection anymore, probably. But I’m alone and you’re alone. It was meant to be.” She can be my daughter, and I can do a better job this time.
“That might be good,” Goose’s father says. “If you two are . . . together, it wouldn’t be right for Celine to live with us.” I see him raise his eyes in the rearview, but then he smiles.
“Hey,” Goose says. “I thought you said you couldn’t just zap people someplace. Looked like you kind of zapped into that elevator.”
I shrug. “Every rule has an exception.”
Celine says, “I’d like to live with you, Kendra. But you don’t think Violet will try to harm me again?”
I start to say I don’t know what Violet will do, but that I will try to protect her.
Then, something catches my eye.
Off in the distance, a plume of smoke, a brush fire maybe. But it’s not in the right direction for a brush fire, not to the west. Rather, it’s in the direction of—
I nudge Goose’s father and point. “Drive that way.”
“What? Why?”
But then, he too sees it, an orange blur, a flame, just for a second.
Celine, noticing, shrieks, “Oh, no! No! Do you think—?”
I shake my head. “I’m not sure.”
We follow the smoke until we are on a familiar street, Violet’s street. Celine’s street. Celine’s house.
The house is in flames.
I hear glass breaking, and a crow flies overhead.
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2
Violet
Something is burning. It’s my house. It’s burning down. I myself struck the match, a wooden match from a restaurant matchbox, someplace Greg and I used to go. Greg! Did you ever love me? Or was I just a poor substitute for someone else? Did you ever even love her? A sob escapes my throat, or perhaps I’m choking. I am lying in the bed I used to share with my husband, waiting. If I rest my nose on his pillow, I can still smell him, barely. Except it’s hard to breathe. I stare into the silver mirror in my lap, expecting to see the girl I was, the ugly girl. I’m still beautiful, but all I want is to die. What the dwarf said was right. Everyone hates me. It isn’t my face, not anymore, but me. And yet, as the flames lap closer and closer to the bed, the mirror in one hand, my wedding photo of Greg and me in the other, I can’t help but wonder if that could change. Maybe there is another way, another place. I could do as Kendra said, go somewhere else where no one knows me, start over as many times as I need to. Change my appearance and fly like a crow to faraway places.
The room is hot. A window breaks, and I am sweating, blinking my eyes against the gray smoke. A mortal would have succumbed to it long ago, but I am no mortal and can only die from the pain of the flame. I dread it, coward that I am. I squint at the silver mirror. “Show me Celine,” I tell it.
There she is, black hair and white skin, a beautiful girl, a girl who once loved me. A girl I loved. She’s with the dwarf, sitting in a car holding his hand. Her eyes widen, and she leans to embrace him, gazing at him as if he is the most beautiful man she has ever seen. He turns and smiles, and suddenly, he is beautiful, dark brown eyes shining from a handsome face. I see his beauty as I wished others would see mine. I know I was wrong about Celine. I was wrong about so many things. Was I wrong about myself too? Can there be hope for me?
I feel a spark on my shoulder. The bedsheet has caught fire, and soon, I will be consumed by it. I am not tied to this bed, though. I can still flee. I make my decision. I take one final look at the photo, at Greg. Greg, who never loved me at all, not really. I feed it to the flames. I watch it burn.
There is nothing left of Greg but Celine. There is nothing at all left of Violet. Violet is dead. Quickly, I manufacture something, a dummy version of the girl I was, the ugly girl. I remember reading The Picture of Dorian Gray. In the end, when the beautiful main character died, he became the hideous old man in the picture. That was how they found him. They could only recognize him by the rings on his hand. That is how they will find me—or think they did—my charred remains lying on the bed. But I will be gone, far, far away from all of them.
Then, I make my escape, flying on jet-black wings out the window and away, into the warm summer night.
I will begin again . . . somewhere!
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3
Celine
February, the next year
“You know we don’t actually need to go shopping,” Kendra says as we pull into the Target parking lot where it all began. I’m driving the red VW Bug Jorge helped me buy with money from the trust he set up for me out of my father’s estate. Goose taught me to drive because Kendra definitely didn’t know how. “That’s one of the great things about being a witch, no money needed.”
“I know,” I tell her. “But you know you like shopping. It gives you ideas.”
Boy, does it give Kendra ideas. Since I’ve started taking her on weekly shopping trips, our entire house has gone from French provincial to Early College Dormitory with every kind of thing Target sells, all in pastel polka dots. Kendra buys none of it. It all just appears. “You know you love the dollar section.”
“That’s true. You think they have that mint foot rub?” She exits the car, fluffing her purple tulle bustle. “Maybe I should get a job there.”
Goose and I exchange a look. Kendra, work? Kendra, wear a uniform? Kendra deal with the public?
“What?” She looks from one of us to the other. “It would be easy for me and give me something to do when you go away to college.”
We start toward the shopping carts. There are tons of black birds, crows, or grackles on the lights overhead, and they’re cawing and chirping so loud it makes my head hurt. I’m freaked out by birds, have been ever since we had to read “The Birds” in English class this fall. Goose loves that and loves to mess with me. “They’re gathering, Celine,” he says in a creepy voice. “They’re making plans.”
“Quit it!” I slap his shoulder. He recoils like I’ve hurt him, but I know he’s messing with me. I hit like a girl. Still, I give his shoulder a pat.
Kendra has also been staring at the birds, but now, she says, “Come along, children.” She grabs a cart and starts booking it to the entrance.
“Maybe you should take Kendra to some higher-end places,” Goose says, yelling over the cawing. “Get ideas for a prom dress.”
“Splendid idea,” Kendra says, still walking extra fast.
I love Kendra, but since I’ve been living with her, she has this great idea I should dress like her. I’m more of a prep, but I’ll occasionally let her design a dress for me. Just not for prom.
I try to change the subject. “Is that your way of inviting me to prom?” I ask Goose.
“I sort of thought it was a given we were going together, since I’m the love of your life.”
“It is, and you are. But it’s still nice to be asked.” I was sort of expecting an elaborate “prom-posal” out of him. He’s theatrical, after all. He’s left roses in my locker twice, and once planned an elaborate scavenger hunt, involving teachers, students, even the football coach, all to give me my birthday present, a bracelet with charms representing both our families, and us. So I was expecting at least a song with the lyrics changed to include my name, sung at a pep rally. Which would be super-embarrassing, actually.
We’ve reached the entrance. I’m ready to go in, to get away from the birds. But G
oose takes my hand and gets down on one knee. “Celine, my darling, will you accompany me to the prom?”
I laugh. “Of course I will.” And part of me is thinking, Get up. But the other part of me knows he’s perfect, that I need someone just like him, someone who doesn’t mind being stared at, who helps me get out of myself. Who loves me for me. Finally. So I wiggle my fingers. “Now, kiss my hand.”
He does. The birds are screeching, cawing. I tug at his hand to help him up. “Let’s go in. The birds are freaking me out.”
Just as I say that, one bird swoops down from the rest. It’s a big one, and flying sideways, it looks like a black kite. It flaps its wings right in my face. I run behind Kendra and Goose, remembering my mother, her fear of animals. But the bird doesn’t peck or attack me. Instead, it flutters down and rests on the shopping cart handle, right by Kendra’s hand. It stands there, staring at me. I grab Goose’s hand at the same time Kendra grabs my other one. So we form a weird human chain, me and the two people I love best. No one can hurt me, not with love and magic on my side.
The bird cocks its head to one side, watching us.
It blinks, then flies away.
I stand, holding Goose’s and Kendra’s hands, and watch it disappear into the sky.
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4
Goose
And we live happily ever after.
Really. That’s all.
The End
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About the Author
ALEX FLINN is the author of the #1 New York Times bestselling Beastly, a spin on Beauty and the Beast and a major motion picture starring Vanessa Hudgens. Alex also wrote A Kiss in Time, a modern retelling of Sleeping Beauty; Cloaked, a humorous fairy-tale mash-up; Bewitching, a reimagining of fairy-tale favorites, including Hansel and Gretel, Cinderella, The Princess and the Pea, and The Little Mermaid, all told by Kendra, the witch from Beastly; and Towering, a darkly romantic take on Rapunzel. Her other books for teens include Breathing Underwater, Breaking Point, Nothing to Lose, Fade to Black, and Diva. She lives in Miami with her family. Visit her online at www.alexflinn.com.