Roses and Black Glass: a dark Cinderella tale (16 page)

“The smell
drew me to you,” he said.

“Because they
are wicked flowers,” she said. “And I am wicked.”

“You are not
wicked,” he assured her. “
They
are wicked – and will soon get what is
coming to them.”

“I suppose,”
she said. “But I must say that you were right when you said we are connected. 
There is something meant for us.”

“Is it this?”
he asked. “To bring back what is rightfully yours?”

“Perhaps,” she
said. “But
you
also are rightfully mine.”

He smiled
more, staring back into her, peering deep into her eyes.  His lips yearned to
press against hers gently.  He wanted to move his hands across her soft, bare
skin in a deep embrace.  He wanted to feel her heart against his chest and
count the beats as the rate sped.  He would even lick the sweat and blood from
her face to savor her taste.  Perhaps he was truly the wicked one.

“One should
not think such thoughts,” he muttered aloud, turning away from her.

“Then don’t,”
she said, touching his face. “Let thoughts be actions.”

The notion
gathered in his mind like music.  The flow of thoughts again trailed past him
and he had the mind to act.  She sat upright on the mattress.

"I didn’t
tell you about my last vision,” she said.

“What's that?”

She leaned
forward, not allowing the hunger she felt for him tarry on any longer.  She
kissed his lips, feeling the pressure of his mouth as he pressed back.  Cindy
kissed him continually, softly and slowly, and it was all he could do to keep
himself restrained.  Her fingers opened his shirt, button by button, and by
then he knew he did not have to hold back.  He urged her back onto the bed. 
Her hands slid down against his strong chest as his own touched her
searchingly, trying to discover how she might be his.  For just a moment, she
broke their kiss, looking into his eyes. 

“I need a
sheet,” she whispered, not nervous or afraid, “with a very specific spot of
blood.”

Christian was
already aroused, but the words sent a tingle of anticipation through him that
he didn’t want to – or have to – deny any longer.  He moved back in for her
lips.

“That can
certainly be arranged,” he promised.

4

In his arms,
Cindy felt complete.  There was pain, but it was worth discomfort.  She had
known suffering in her life, but this was nothing near to that.  This pain was sharp,
piercing pleasure.  It was worth every cringe and bite of the lip.

Christian was
gentle with her, though he’d admit he’d never known himself to be that way. 
Was this what love really felt like?  The true act of making it other than it
simply being the achievement of release?  It had never been like this. 
Never
like this. 

The blood was
there long before he was done, but he’d seen no reason to stop for it.  Her
breath was calm, though at times he caught her holding it.  Could she have been
more perfect or deep? 

Christian
stopped his motion before he’d had enough for the sake of sparing her greater
pain.  He’d released one flood; that was enough for now.

Cindy opened
her eyes when he withdrew, seeing that he was still there, peering down at
her.  It was like a dream.  It couldn’t have been possible that they were here
together in this bed.  How unfortunate that it would all be gone in the
morning, just as her enchanted dress had fallen away at midnight.

“There’s
something you need to do?” he asked, slightly out of breath.  She nodded
shortly, unable to gather any words at that moment. 

He helped her
up off the bed, steadying her until she could stand on her weakened legs once
again.  He gathered the bloodied sheet from the mattress.  Cindy put his ring
and her locks of hair into the sheet and tied it up.  In the morning, there
would be something there, and whatever it was would be what she was supposed to
use.  She knew that; trusted it.

Christian
wrapped his arms around her as she stared down at it.  She smiled as she felt
his warmth.

“What now?” he
asked, kissing just below her ear.

“We wait,” she
confirmed.  There was no waver in her voice now - no fear.  She was resolved to
do whatever had to be done for the sake of her revenge.

1

Just when the
light of day was visible through the curtains, Cinderella awoke in her prince’s
arms.  The bed was so much warmer and softer than the one she was used to, and
for a moment she stretched out through the sheets, sighing in contentment. 
Christian stirred slightly and nuzzled in closer against her neck.  Cindy
smiled.  She felt happy–

But then
reality crashed down upon her.

She was not
married to this man.  He was to wed another in three weeks.  She was nothing
more than a servant girl whose name was no longer Cindy Madison, but now Ivy
Richardson – as far as anyone was concerned.  A woman who she’d come to care about
was about to be hanged for crimes that Cindy had urged her to commit.  Also,
she was here in Christian’s bed and not at home in her own. 

Fear had
subsided somewhat since her stepmother’s death, but even so, she could not
afford to disrupt things now – not until she and Christian made it safely past
the deaths of the prophecy.

She rose up
out of his embrace, knowing that if she didn’t force herself, she never would. 
He raised his head to the disturbance on his mattress, seeing Cindy stoop down
to retrieve the old green dress she had worn there.  The cloth fell from her
fingers before she'd even managed to put it on when she remembered the sheet.

Christian rose
up as well to observe.  Cindy took the sheet carefully, spreading it open
before her on the floor.  Something inside was shining back at her, smooth and
black.

Cindy took the
object in her hand and brought it closer to her face to see it.

Resting in her
grasp was a smooth shoe made of the darkest glass.  Cindy could only stare at
it a moment as though some force was holding her gaze there.  Behind her,
Christian stared down at it as well, feeling the same draw.  Cindy only thought
it strange that it was one shoe that didn’t have a twin.  Christian couldn’t
seem to wrap his mind around how exactly a bloody sheet, a ring, and some hair
could have formed into this. 

The girl
thought of the letter Amanda had written. 
Cindy, the object you will be
left with is a magical item, but it will not bring powerful results just by
wearing it.  But, like an ordinary item, when placed within the right
obsession, even the unthinkable can happen.  Use what I have given you wisely,
Cindy.  I think you will know the best way to use it. 

“What are we
supposed to do with that?” Christian asked from behind her.

She shook her
head as she examined the glass shoe. “I’m not sure.  We’ll have to think about
it.”

“So this is
some dark relic, then?”

“I suppose,”
she said, unsure of exactly what the thing was capable of.

The man
laughed slightly.  “Using the devil’s power to please God and man?  It seems
someone
isn’t getting their fair share.”

Cindy smiled
slightly at his joke, though she wasn’t sure if making fun was the proper thing
to do.

“I don’t know
what I believe about the legacy Amanda left with me in her short time here, but
I plan to use what she has given me – even if it makes me wicked.  I
trust
it. 
I will avenge my father.”

“As your
sisters and step mother’s souls are condemned for their crimes,” he finished
for her.

That sounded
good to her ears.  Yes; those three were certainly part of the prophecy.

"We shall
rid the world of those wicked ones even if we shall die along with them, but we
will do it together.”

“Yes,” he
said. “To save the lives of rich men and to avenge your father and mother.”

Her lips
curled in a sinister smile.  Evil or not, Christian couldn’t help but smile
back.  He could feel the truth in the prophecy, even though he didn’t
understand it.  Their souls were bonded – and around that the deaths would
come.  

“I’m going to
leave it with you,” she said, putting the glass shoe into his hand. “I have to
be somewhere.”

The joy fell
from her face suddenly, and Christian remembered then that not all was perfect
yet.  He had things to do, and even though Cindy was with him now, she’d not
made any mention at all about him breaking off his engagement to…
What was
her name again
?

“So do I,” he
replied, remembering that they had to go back into town to look at flowers and
tapestries and so forth for the ceremony.

“You
will
put your pants on first, I hope,” she teased, pulling on her dress and wrapping
the shawl around her.

“Oh, of what
consequence is a little public nudity?”

She smiled,
leaning up to kiss his lips.

“I’ll return
tonight when I can,” she promised.  “I need you to continue on like nothing has
changed.”

"Of
course,” he agreed, simply glad of the fact that she planned on returning to
him.

The young
woman passed around him, moving to the door and opening it a crack to peer out,
assuring that no one was about in the house before she crept down and out to
the courtyard.

“Don’t forget
to come back,” he said from behind her as she eased out the door.

“Don’t forget
to put your pants on,” she called back.

2

A light
drizzle of rain cooled the air and softened the streets, but it did little for
the citizens of Greenhaven who had their thoughts on shunning murder and
witchcraft.  Beyond town, a gallows had been built, its noose waving gently
with the push of the rain.  Not many had assembled, but it was enough to bear
witness to the event.

The public hanging
of a
witch
.

Cindy came
here because she wanted to; not out of obligation.  She could have – should
have – gone straight back to her sisters, but she could not keep herself away. 
Was it truly going to happen?  Was someone as powerful as Amanda
– Cassandra
– going to allow herself to be killed by these people?  When she’d talked to
the woman at the jail, Amanda certainly sounded as if she’d resigned herself to
this fate.  But Cindy had to see it with her own eyes.  If not out of
curiosity, it was out of respect.

The woman was
brought out of the town, escorted by several men.  She was bound at her hands
and arms, and even her feet were strung together, leaving only enough room to
walk.  She was pulled along by a rope that was tied around her neck, and Cindy
could see that the woman was terribly bruised and a bit bloody, but it was
certainly her.  Her unusual black eyes did not lift to anyone around her.

A man read off
her crimes from a list, and though Cindy could not hear them – the sound being
a blur in her ears – she knew what he was saying. 
Murder.  Curses.
 
When he was done, he stepped off the platform and another stepped forward to
put a hood over Amanda’s face.  She did not protest, and Cindy saw the woman vanish
from her sight beneath that hood even though she was still standing before
her. 

The thick
noose was placed around her neck, and Cindy had stopped thinking that the woman
might try to save herself.  But to be honest, she’d not expected any miracles –
or
black magic.  The woman had given up.  Cindy was alone.

Too quickly,
the lever was pulled and the platform dropped from beneath the woman’s feet. 
Even from her place in the distance, Cindy heard the pop of Amanda’s neck, like
the snap of a crisp branch.  No one cringed at the sound.  The woman’s body
twisted and jerked, trying to keep itself alive but failing miserably.  Cindy
knew that it was already dead.  Others lingered silently, but she did not have
to see any more.  She went back to the house on the hill.

3

Christian
tugged at his collar, adjusting it as he looked at himself in the mirror.  Had
he ever thought he was perfect when he looked inside there?  Or had he always
hated himself when he’d seen his well-groomed image?  The answer to that likely
varied with his mood, but today was different.  What was this feeling? 
Satisfaction?  Things were finally going to be right for a change?  He buttoned
his cuffs, then he smoothed his jacket and looked at himself.  His lips did not
smile back, but he didn’t expect them too.  It was not time for that yet.

Before him
today was more preparation for a wedding that he was now convinced would never
happen.  Though he wasn’t completely sure of how things would turn out in the
end, that thought gave him a bit of solace.  And he still had the glass shoe.

He didn’t know
what Cindy would decide to do with it, but he could at least feel confident
that she would return to him.  While she was away, he’d wrapped it back in the
sheet and hidden them both in a drawer beneath a few shirts.  He’d thought
about the issue while he dressed, but not much had come to him.  What could
possibly be done with a glass shoe?  Especially one without a twin?  No
matter.  Surely there was
something
.  There was a reason Cindy had been
instructed to create it.

Christian
turned from the mirror and aimed to leave the room, but he found himself
stopping short.  The door was open, and he was surprised to see his mother
standing there.

Samantha Charming
was dressed, but not completely assembled.  Her powder was scarce and her hair
was untamed.  She twisted a small section of her dress with one hand, but her
mouth was as stern as ever.  She stared at him, and for the first time as far
as he could remember, her gaze made him shiver.

“Are you
alright?” he asked her.  It was not out of sympathy or concern, but curiosity. 
Was she going to scold him?  If so, he would have it done.

“It’s
Morgana,” Samantha said quietly, confusion in her eyes as if her own words
baffled her. “She is very sick.”