Cinderella, The Return of Genevieve (2 page)

“All is forgiven.” Mother said.

***

It was time to
relax, everyone was gone, no Mother no Liza, the Prince had finally exited the brownstone. Cinderella closed the door behind them and slumped against the door, sinking to the floor. She sat there breathing steadily, enjoying the peace.

“What an
intense evening.” Hilda said, “Do you think Minerva’s gonna let you show the Prince your work?”

“
I don’ really care. But if it helps him get them outta here faster, then I hope so.”

“Perhaps he
’ll be your ticket out of here? Did you see his face? He is infatuated with the arts. I’ve seen your work, it is something to be recognized.”

“Dream big Hilda, dream big. Let’s clean up.”

Chapter Two

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with us? We can come back before the witches get home. What do you say?”

“Hilda, you know I’m only allowed out when Mother lets me. It’ll be just my luck that she catches me. I’ve just been exonerated from drinking the last bottle of AB- and chatting with the Prince, didn’t you hear?” Cinderella scoffed.

“Seriously, she really thinks she’s something, doesn’t she?”

“She does. Especially now that she’s rubbing shoulders with the Elite.” Cinderella slumped forward. How do bad people always manage to get the best things in life? Just doesn’t make sense. Cinderella didn’t like playing the victim, but it was the only role offered to her. She hated her prison. She hated her life. She’d lost all ambition for fun and had become quite circumspect.

Circumspection derived from the one time she ran away.
After Albus, her father was murdered, Mother stripped her of her name, Genevieve, her inheritance and her pride. Cinderella having no family, no one to turn to, fled with her money and her possessions, but was caught by one of Minerva’s many les mérchants, so she never made it out of New York. She was made a servant, no slave to the Ceasonius household.  And since, she’s bound to Minerva, running away was useless, all she had to do was call her name and Cinderella had to come running, it was Vampire law.

Mother
went to great lengths to be able to call Cinderella slave. Minerva had confiscated the will and any policies her father had. To no avail, the Ceasonius women were cunning, their very nature was evil. She was no match against them.

Cinderella climbed the attic stairs and closed her door behind her. After being enslaved to the women of the house, they kicked her out of her room and forced her to live in the highest room, closest to the sun. Come summer, the room would get so hot that she could not sleep. She had to sneak into the
maids’ chamber to sleep. She didn’t understand why Mother hadn’t killed her, what was the point of this treatment?

An
easel holding the portrait of her father, stood alone in the corner of her room. A small light illuminated his face. His eyes peered out at her, seeming so alive and warm. “Father… Father, it’s been 20 years since your passing. And I’m still a slave to your evil widow of a wife!” She ran her fingers through her hair and paced in the small space. “How could you leave me like this? When mother died you said you would never leave me. That’s why we are what we are. Vampirism was our cure! But death is unbeatable I guess, one day it will be my turn and I’ll see you again.” She nodded her head. “But I wish, I just wish you’d listened to me. I begged you not to marry Minerva. She was only after your money and look what happened! I’m here alone. Indentured to her and her lousy daughters.” She sighed and fell to her knees. “I wish you’d answer me back. Why can’t you help me? Oh, Liza is engaged by the way, to an Elite. Can you believe her luck? Evil always wins, always. If I could, knowing what I know now, I’d be evil and selfish. I would! They seem to win at everything. I admit, I feel a little guilty for the Prince, he seems like a decent guy, and I don’t think he knows what he’s getting into. He seems just as foolish and dope headed as you. He’s too wise and honest to be with her, but I figure if I help them I can at least get rid of Liza. That’s one thorn out of my side. She sat silently for a moment, staring at her father’s still face. “Well, if you have any ideas, you know where I am.” She stood up and undressed and slipped into a paint splashed t-shirt that read “I Love Cali”.

“And what shall I adorn you with?” raising
the blank canvas and placing it on an easel. Cinderella laid newspaper on the floor. She set up her station, squeezing paint onto her palette, red, blue, green, white, black and her weapons of choice, her acrylic brushes. She found her iPod and switched it on, plugging the squishy ear buds into her ears. She closed her eyes as Mozart pushed her brush to and fro.

Her brush went s
mashing into some black paint, sending splatters soaring. Her face was dotted small black dots and then red as she slashed violently across the top of the large canvas. Mixing brown and white until it was a light tan and as the music softened, so did her strokes against the canvas. Ever so delicately did her brush move, creating bold blue eyes, soft pink lips and razor sharp fangs caressing his bottom lip. She filled in the space behind his making black paint swirl above his head. Cinderella stood up and stepped back as she watched the Dark Prince grin at her. He was handsome, he was charming, he was devilish, and her heart raced as she recalled their brief encounter. He knew art, he knew music, she was sure he knew much more. Patrick was too good for Liza and somewhere inside her body, she hated that she helped Liza make the best impression.

“You’re a maid Genevieve, a maid called Cinderella.” She ogled the painting a little longer. “I’ll give it to Liza,
maybe that will win me a pinch of favor from Mother. However, tonight, Prince, you are mine.” She curtsied and smiled at him.

***

“Mother would like to see you.” Liza snarled. Cinderella set down the knife she was using to slice a bell pepper. She removed her apron and set it on the shiny hook near the oven. Hilda’s colorless face was full of worrisome thoughts. Liza held the door open for her, “Mother is in the study.”

If Cinderella had a heart beat it would be beating unnaturally hard. What did Mother want with me? Probably angry at the cookies and Mozart and my
talking to Patrick. Please not the sun room, not the sun room, there was no coming back after meeting the sun. They used to throw her in there for fun, and let the sun singe her feet before pulling her out. It was supposed to be a lesson in tough love or something. Really it was a way of putting fear in her heart.

T
he conversation, I should have ignored him. I should have ignored him! But what was I supposed to do? He asked me, he spoke first.

Running her hands down her hair, making sure her face was covered completely. “Please accept my apology, Liza. I should have ignored the prince when he spoke.”

“Oh, go on scaredy cat!” Liza gave her a shove through the study door. “Here she is Mother.”

Cinderella scrambled to position herself on her knees. Hands clasped together, blood
y tears stained her cheeks. “Yes, Mother.” Her voice soft and horse.

“Last night…”
The lanky woman pushed herself from her executive chair. “No, the night before, you drank a whole bottle of AB-. You make reference to your beloved as a pack of rabid dogs. You engage in conversation with the Prince. You play music over the loud speakers, when I in particular enjoy silence when I entertain. You bring out ginger biscuits when I order only the crepe cake.” She knelt beside Cinderella, pushing her hair back and behind her ear. “Look at me Dear.” Cinderella glanced at Mother for a moment, but then quickly looked down at the floor. “Come on, Dear, Look at me.” Her cold voice had the faintest hint of warmth.

“Yes. Okay.”
Cinderella turned her head to the right and stared mother directly in the eyes. Mother Minerva took her hand and wiped the red tears from Cinderella’s eyes.

“How did you know about Patrick, the biscuits, the music? It was all subtle, yet effective.”

“I. I researched, he’s been in a few magazines, every article talked about his likes and dislikes. I just thought it might help.”

“But why would you help me? You hate me.”

Cinderella thought carefully, she couldn’t exactly tell them the truth. That she was trying to get Liza out of the house. “I, I was hoping to gain a little freedom. Time outside the house. A day off every now and then.” Good excuse, good excuse.

“Is that it? Is that all?”

“Yes, Mother, I swear. I’d like to go out and buy paints and more canvas and music. That’s all.” She gulped.

Mother Minerva stood up, walked over to her chair, and slowly crossed her legs. Cinderella watched her from the corner of her eye, watching her rap her long fingers against the oak desk.
Her nose turned up, her runway of a chin protruding beyond pride. Arrogance.

This room was where father spent most of his time, reading, thinking,
and plotting. All these books, the desk, the chair, all my father’s, it’s father’s wealth they live off. The first chance I get to take everything back, I will!

“What do you think Liza? It seems she knows more about your fiancée than you. How does that make you feel?”

Liza crossed her arms, “I feel nothing about it. Nobody looks twice at Cinderella. She only did her slave duty. Give her what she wants.”

“Would you like to accompany her to the market?”
Minerva asked.

Cinderella nervously chewed her lip. To have a moment alone, a moment of freedom. It was all that she longed for. Time to herself, to think freely, walk freely, shop freely, perhaps she would meet someone new. Yes, a new friend would be nice, someone outside the house to speak to.
They could exchange music, and painting techniques, share their favorite books. Talk about history and their own past histories. Would she tell them the truth, how she went from riches to rags? About her wretched life and her mother who was responsible for her misery, her prison. How would they respond? Mother’s fingers continued to tap along the desk, at this rate consternation was ready to kill Cinderella.

“No, I have better things to do. I have a wedding to prep for, remember?”

“Cinderella.”

“Yes Mother?”

“You may have your day tomorrow. Your curfew, 3:30 a.m., keep your hair as it is, if anyone asks your name…”

“It’s Cinderella.”

“I
am
being generous, you do understand.” Cinderella nodded. “However, next time you intend to assist, run all ideas past me first. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mother.”

“Well, we’re all done here. Please let Chef Luis know that I’ve changed the dessert to lemon almond tart, we can have the bûche tomorrow. Liza’s in-laws will be over. You may go.”

***

Night fell and the streets of Manhattan were all a buzz. Bright lights, blinking advertisements of a group of half-naked women swinging their hips to their latest album. Bottles of Pepsi sliding into the next screen, dripping with drops of water, luring thirsty people of how thirst quenching Pepsi was. Cinderella, bumped against warm flesh, the smell and sound of their rushing, fresh blood cajoling her senses.

“Oh
excuse…” The bulky man turned his nose up at Cinderella, she wasn’t the only super supernatural creature out tonight. He growled as he shoved past her, sending her into a human child. “I’m sorry.” She said gently to the girl, trying to hide her fangs. “Merry Christmas.” She smiled.

T
rying to blend in and live as the living do wasn’t always easy with other supernatural life. That’s why it was better for vampires to have their own shops, totally fitting in to a human society was impossible. They tried for centuries to go on about life as normal, but the blood lust forbad it. Vampires were natural hunters of their
distant
cousins
as the Elite called humans. So we mostly kept to ourselves, the rules weren’t that restricting, some humans mingled with vampires out of fascination and vampires mingled with humans…some for sheer normalcy and some for the fresh blood. Those caught feeding had to pay a fine and after the third charge the penalty was death—the only way to control the addiction. Keeping to themselves was the best way of survival.

The Manhattan Bazaar could only be accessed by the streets, there was no direct connection from the tunnels near Fifth Ave. Besides, Cinderella didn’t have an issue with bloodlust…anymore. Yes fresh blood was always better, but her father taught her to respect human life, it was what she used to be and without human life, there would be no vampire life. It made sense so she stuck with it.

***

This
was the first time for Cinderella, in a while to be out on her own. She had been in the city on a few rare occasions when her sisters needed her to carry their purchases. Tonight she enjoyed her time alone and she wouldn’t waste a minute of it. To absorb the world around her in peace, was like a direct gift from God. Cinderella stood in the middle of Time Square, she looked up and watched the digital advertisements plastered on crammed buildings. Ciroc Vodka, being drank by apparent people of class, pretty woman dressed in designer clothes with perfect hair and make-up. They partied, toasted and laughed as if life couldn’t get any better. Another brand of Pepsi claiming lower calories, refreshing a skinny woman with long shiny hair in a tight dress, it was more sexual than health conscience. But then again, humans believed sexy and healthy were interchangeable. The red can still had the same old cursive writing. Coke couldn’t look any different.

There was no escaping
advertisements, Remy Martin, Samsung, Phantom, Wicked, the advertisements were endless. How could anyone process all of this in one night? They flashed across giant 50 foot screens, surrounded by bright lights. She felt like her money had already been spent looking at it all.

Beep! Beep! Taxis aggressively honking, patrons flagging them down. Laughter and shouting
, the smell of chestnuts and food cut through the chill with its cozy winter smell. The energy was like a blanket of excitement, giving her chills all over her body. New York still had the best Christmas ambience. Snow crunching under her boots, carolers voices singing,
Silent Night
it rang up and around the buildings.