Roses and Black Glass: a dark Cinderella tale (14 page)

Cindy stared, feeing
a sudden blood-rush to her head.  This couldn’t be happening!  She slumped to
the ground and placed her fingers in the dirt to keep herself from passing
out.  The crowd moved slowly past her, only some of them looking down at her
before they passed by.

Cindy took
several deep breaths, but sadly they did nothing to calm her.  What was she to
do now?  Amanda was her only hope.  How could they have known?  This must have
been Isabella and Charlotte’s doing!

Rage filled
the girl’s eyes as she shot from the ground despite her heavy head and blindly
raced back to the house on the hill.  Those van Burrens would not get away with
this!

She burst into
the house, quite hot and out of breath from her run, but she was too angry to
notice.  The front parlor was vacant, but she could hear her sisters’ noises
from the dining room.  Pushing her way inside, she was met with the straight
faces of her sisters, both sitting at the table, awaiting her return.

“You’re
finally back, I see,” said Isabella without emotion. 

“How could you
do that?” Cindy screamed, holding back nothing. “She was an innocent woman!”

“She was a
witch
,”
corrected Isabella coldly.  “It had to be done.”

“She did
nothing to you!” Cindy defended.

“Only because
I didn’t give her the chance!” Isabella screamed back at her.  “If it weren’t
for dear Charlotte’s return home to hear your conversation with her, I may have
been dead by now!  You were going to give her something of mine so she could
put a curse on me, weren't you?  We would have sent
you
with your
friend, but then I thought simply keeping you here would be the better
punishment.  Consider it mercy.”

“You can’t
keep me here!” shouted Cindy.  “I can’t believe I’ve stayed this long!  I
wouldn’t have if I didn’t think it was what my father wanted!”

“You’re
forgetting something,” said Charlotte.

“She’s right,”
Isabella said with an evil smile. “You
are
forgetting something.”

“What is
that?” Cindy seethed.  Her fists were clenched so tightly that her ragged nails
pinched her palms.

“Everyone
thinks Cindy Madison is gone,” Charlotte explained.

“That’s right,
little sister,” said Isabella.  “Cindy Madison is in Massachusetts, married
off.  As far as the locals are concerned, your name is Ivy Richardson, a servant
girl and orphan – and we practically
own
you.”

“You bitch,”
Cindy growled, shaking her head and clenching her fists.

“That’s not a
proper attitude for a servant,” said Charlotte said laughingly.

“Correct
again, Charlotte.  She’ll have to learn better.  Oh yes,” she said suddenly in
remembrance, “we will be going on an outing tonight. 
Do
make sure you
do all of your chores before we return.”

“I will not do
this any longer!” Cindy shouted, taking a few steps closer.

Isabella
stepped back in a wave of exaggerated panic and grabbed a knife off the table.

“Back, witch!”
she threatened. “Perhaps I haven’t made myself clear.  You
will
do as I
say.”

“You’re a
fraud!” Cindy muttered.

“What did you
say, witch?”

“I know your
secrets,” she said darkly, and behind Isabella, Cindy saw Charlotte go pale.

“And I know of
yours, witch – so what?” demanded the blond girl.

Charlotte
glanced back and forth between them in silent worry, but Cindy knew her secret
was more important, and she had been waiting since the moment she'd discovered
it to confront them with this.

“It’s sad what
you’d do for money,” said Cindy, the words rolling out of her mouth like black
water.  “It was your mother who suggested the Charmings to you, and you went
for the bait. 
She
wanted his money – and though I suspect you wanted
more than that, you were going to go along with her plan.  You were going to
kill
him
for it!”

Isabella’s
eyes shot open wide.  “How dare you!” she screamed.

“That’s not
the only thing I know,” said Cindy, gritting her teeth.  “You killed my father
as well – and sucked him dry!”

“How did you
find out about that?” asked Charlotte bursting up from her chair.  She grabbed
Cindy by her collar and shook her violently. “
How?”

“Back up,
Charlotte,” Isabella said, pulling her away. “Stay away from the witch.”

Charlotte made
her way back to her chair on weak legs.  She planted herself and didn’t move, a
tear trickling slowly from her eye.

“It wasn’t my
fault…” she whispered to herself.

Isabella shot
her eyes back to Cindy, still clutching the knife.  “Of course we killed him,
you dead girl!” she screamed.  “He was obsessed with the dead and we did him
the favor of sending him to them!”

In a roar of
uncontrolled anger, Cindy lurched forward at Isabella.  Charlotte let out a
scream in surprise at the sudden action and shielded her face.  She didn’t want
to see what would happen.  She had seen too much already.  Without hesitation,
Isabella raised the knife and forced it towards the girl in her defense.

A thin line of
pain was drawn across her cheek and Cindy stumbled backwards, withholding her
screams.  She touched her face lightly, covering her fingers with thick, red
blood.  The skin of her right cheek had been slashed with the knife, but Cindy
did her best to hold it in as her hands began to shake.  As she winced, some
familiar words came to her.

Your face
will be scarred.

You will be
condemned to work in your sister’s household as she claims the Charming name.
Your face will be scarred once, and then once more by your jealous sister to
hide your identity from her husband.  As the years go, he will forget about you
until he accepts his unhappiness –

and murders
himself. 

No!
 
This could not be!  Amanda had said that if she went to the party and made an
impact with Christian that the first bit of her prophecy would not happen! 

And yet it
is happening
. 

Turning away and
running blindly, Cindy burst from the kitchen with the blood rushing from her
wound.

6

“That’s a
lesson learned,” Isabella mused, happy with her work and setting the knife down
on the edge of the table.  “Come on, Charlotte.”

Isabella
grabbed her sister’s arm and pulled her from the chair.  The girl’s tears fell
steadily.

“I didn’t want
to do this!” Charlotte cried, as if Isabella was the one she needed to
convince. “I thought it was the only way!  That was what she told us,
Isabella!”

“Pull yourself
together!” Isabella insisted. “We can’t have people seeing you like this!”

“How did she
find out about all that?” Charlotte sobbed, still in a stupor. “I didn’t mean
to.  It wasn’t my fault!”

Isabella threw
a firm slap across her sister’s face.

“You don’t have
to explain yourself to me!” she screamed. “Just wipe your face and come on!  We
have work to do!”

1

Cindy crept
through the darkness in the chill of the night.  She had left the house after
her sisters had gone to attend the party for Christian’s bride-to-be.  She
might have been disturbed by this if she’d stopped to think on it, but Cindy
had one thought on her mind, and that was sneaking down to the jail where they
were holding Amanda, and perhaps finding some way that she could speak to the
woman. 

If not, maybe
she could at least find out the woman’s fate.

There was no
real question in Cindy’s mind about what would eventually happen to her. 
Convicted witches did not survive long in this town or any other.  Furthermore,
it was not hard to say that everyone accused of witchcraft would eventually be
convicted.  They were usually forced to confess through threats and torture. 
That determined how long they were to live on before their execution, but the
courts rarely liked to hesitate.

Cindy pushed
herself up on her tiptoes when she reached the stone building of cells. 
Peering in the side window, she could see four men.  They appeared to be
talking heatedly, but she could not hear their words.  There was no doubt they
were speaking of what should be done with the witch.  Seeing this as an
opportunity to speak with Amanda, Cindy slipped around back to a row of small,
barred windows near the top of the short building.

Looking
around, she saw an empty wooden crate against the wall.  Using it as an aid,
she dragged it to the first window to peer inside. 
Empty
.  She stepped
down off the crate and again dragged the box on towards the next.

She stepped up
and looked into the dark room there.  Her ears detected a low humming sound. 
Music?  Someone had the nerve to sing here, or perhaps someone had simply gone
mad.  The sweet melody tickled her senses and sent a chill up her spine.

“Amanda?” the
girl asked quietly.

The humming
stopped abruptly and made way for the thick silence thereafter, only chided by
the crickets.  After a moment, a silky feminine voice returned to Cindy’s ears.

“You should
not be here,” it said.

Cindy looked
through the darkness for a face, but could find none, even after moments of
searching.

“I wanted to
see if you were alright,” she said.

“Tomorrow is
my day,” Amanda said distantly.  “I have confessed.  I will be hanged
tomorrow.”

The girl’s
eyes shot open in disbelief.  Cindy had seen Amanda do impossible things – knew
there was power in her.  It escaped her to think that there could be an end.

“No,” she said
with a shake of her head. “You have to get out of here!”

“You must not
worry about me.  It is
you
who you must be concerned with.”

“But you'll
die!”

The darkness
laughed.  “I do not fear death,” Amanda assured the girl. “I must fulfill my
promise to you.  You must use what I taught you.  Though I said I would help
you, even I must play my part in the prophecy – and I am convinced this is it.”

Cindy shook
her head and closed her eyes as a tear rolled down her cheek.  She had only
known Amanda for a short time, but she could hardly bear to lose someone else
that she had put her hope and trust in.

“I don’t
understand,” she said.

Amanda
approached the window and peered up at Cindy with a bruised face.  The woman
looked exhausted and old in the faint moonlight.  She leaned her tired body
against the wall near the window, reaching up to place a hand on Cindy’s.  Her
fingers were broken.

“You must not
cry for me,” she said.  “Everything must take its course.  This is my purpose
here.  It is my destiny to be part of the prophecy.  I will die a public death,
just as it was foretold.”

Cindy shook
her head.  “But it is only my sisters’ fault that you are here!  It is not
destiny!”

“Everything
has its own course of action,” said Amanda. “Like your mother.”

“My mother?”
Cindy asked, stunned. “What about my mother?”

Amanda took a
deep, shaky breath.  “Your mother knew.  She knew that they were killing her.”

“What?” Cindy
asked in shock, clutching the top of the stone window tightly.  How could this
have been possible?  Her father had never even known Anna and her daughters
until after her mother’s death!

“It’s true,”
Amanda insisted.  “They killed her as well.  The van Burrens were after money. 
That was all they wanted.  They came to this town and saw that your father was
wealthy.  They poisoned your mother as they later did to your father.  They
also killed other innocent people to make it look like it was some sort of
strange illness.  The woman was young and beautiful back then, but after her
girls had grown, she decided to use their wiles instead. 

“Your mother
found out near the end – just as your father did.  She was ill with fever and
could no longer speak.  With her last strength, she called to me.  She promised
her soul in exchange for protection beyond mortal boundaries.  She wanted you
to be safe and she wanted revenge against those who killed her.  It was not
your father who was chosen to bring this justice.  He could not.  But it is
you
!”

“She promised
her soul to you?  But, that would make you…”

Cindy wanted
to withdraw her hand, but she could not.  Amanda stared back at the girl with
her hollow eyes.

“I am not what
you think,” she said.  “I am neither good nor evil.  I am whatever I
need
to be.  I am a keeper of souls.  I make the deals and pass the souls on to
whoever wants to have them.  Sadly, most souls that are given only want wicked
things that God will not tolerate.  The Devil, however, has no problem dragging
souls to work in his endless mines of burning coal and acid.  He will give them
what they want – for a price.  Your mother made a noble sacrifice, but it could
not save her soul.”

Cindy lowered
her eyes as more tears came.

“I don’t want
that to happen to me,” she said.

“It will not,”
the woman assured her.  “Your mother’s sacrifice was to protect you.  You will
not be held responsible for conjuring these forces.” 

“
The
sacrifice has been made
…” Cindy muttered, remembering the demon’s line from
her dream.

Amanda nodded.

“But what
about this?” Cindy asked, brushing back the hair in her face to reveal the cut
that Isabella had given her. “You told me that if I went to see Christian this
would not happen!”

“I told you
that if you made an impact with Christian.”

“But I-!”

“Did you?”
Amanda asked.

The girl fell
silent and lowered her head.  She thought of the night at the party, when they
had danced, talked so earnestly, when he had kissed her…  Had it all meant
nothing? 

“I don’t
know,” she answered quietly.

Amanda nodded
in thought and looked across her cell.  “Perhaps it is your resolve that is
wavering,” she said.

Cindy looked
down to her with wet eyes.  “What should I do?”

The woman
shook her head.  “That, I cannot say.  It is on your shoulders now.”

The girl
stared back in disbelief.  What?  How could Amanda be saying this to her?

“You cannot
leave me alone!” Cindy insisted.  “I don’t know what to do!”

“You must
leave now.  Tomorrow I will be no more.  You must not think of me again,”
Amanda told her, turning her face away into the darkness.

“How can you
give up like this?” Cindy asked.  “I need you beside me!  I’m afraid!”

“You must
think for yourself.  I can help you no longer.  Go now.  Before your sisters
get home.”

Cindy’s tears
fell steadily, but Amanda refused to respond to her any longer.  The girl
stepped down from the crate but didn’t bother moving it to its first position. 
She was too overcome with grief at Amanda’s simple acceptance that she could
think of nothing else.  She raised her eyes once again to the window.

“You were a
mother to me these past few days,” she said quietly.

Those last
words said and with no way of knowing that Amanda had heard them, Cindy lowered
her head and moved back to her prison on the hill.

2

The distraught
girl trailed back up the lonely hill, tears streaming down her face.  What
could she have possibly done wrong?  Had she not made that impact with
Christian?  She was certain that she had felt it happen.  Had he not promised
her anything she would ask – felt close enough to her to give her his ring and to
not want her to go? 

Nevertheless,
Cindy did as Amanda had instructed her.  She returned to her own mother.

The hazel tree
stood alone behind the house.  Cindy had wondered once if her new family had
known that her mother had been buried there, would they have had the tree
chopped down?  Or maybe they did know and perhaps it was too much trouble. 

Cindy felt a
small bit of strength from this tree, and at this time, she fell down on her
face before it as if worshiping a god.  She cried loudly into the soil.  Why
was she so cursed?  Amanda had been wrong.  She was not protected by some
unseen force.  She was being torn apart by it!  The girl sobbed until the sky
also began to cry for her, soaking her with its tears.

“You said you
would watch over me,” Cindy said, resting her face in the mud.  “You said that
if I was good, God would take care of me!  Why did you let them take my father
away?”

 Thunder
rumbled gently overhead, and still the girl cried.  She wondered if it was
possible to completely cry herself dry so that she could simply shrivel and
sink into this earth, letting this be her grave as well.  She wondered; she
cried more.  She noticed that someone was standing over her.

Cindy lifted
her eyes into the rain, focusing on a pair of bare feet that led past bruised
ankles and to the hem of a white dress.  Her eyes moved further, focusing on
the woman who stood there.  Wavy black hair fell down around her like a second
covering.  She was untouched by the rain. 

Cindy stared
up at her, unable to move away.  The woman had no arms.

“Mother?” she
gasped, her eyes growing wider.  Was it possible?  No; she was seeing things. 
Still, she could not look away.

Beneath her
notice, the softened earth began to stir.  Before Cindy even had a chance to
scream, two hands shot forth from the ground beneath the hazel tree and gripped
her arms.

The night and
the rain around her faded away and she began to see a vision.  She saw
whiteness before her eyes, and it was only a short moment later that she
realized it was a sheet.  It was floating through the air, rippling with an
unseen wind.  All was silent in her dream, and as the sheet turned itself over,
she saw that there was a bloodstain upon it.  Cindy felt an ache down below in
a very sensitive place where she’d never felt pain before.  The girl winced
through it. 

She saw the
sheet again.  It was folded up, and within it, she saw her bundle of cut hair
and Christian’s ring.  The sheet wrapped itself around those objects and then
it opened shortly after.  When it did, she saw something shiny, like black
glass...

Cindy awoke,
wet and cold, in the morgue.

3

Isabella and
Charlotte were already inside the Charming house when the rain had started. 
The water splattered against the windows and brought a chill to the air.  Had
rain been called for tonight?  Neither of them knew.  Everyone else at the
party was concentrating more on the young woman that they had never seen – the
one who was to be Christian’s bride.  While Isabella and Charlotte were soon to
give their own attentions to that very thing, they could not ignore the rain. 
There was something about it that brought them an inner pain as if the pressure
in the air was squeezing them.  

This rain was
foreboding.  They could feel it deep in their bones.

Both of them shivered.  

4

Within the
silent morgue, Cindy sat.  She hoped that perhaps no one would find her here. 
Perhaps they would simply let her die alone.  That would be better than a life
of servitude under them now.  She had put her apron to her cut to soak up the
blood when the wound had reopened, but the cut was definitely in need of a
stitch or two.

She folded her
blood-covered hands in her lap and sat sobbing in the darkness.  Amanda herself
had fallen victim to her own prophecy.  She would die a public death tomorrow. 
Now, six more people would die.  Cindy wondered if perhaps one of the spaces
was reserved for her. 

She was a mess
now, emotionally and physically.  She could think of nothing else to live for. 
Perhaps she should just kill herself now and add another death to the
prophecy.  Though Amanda had promised that she would be the one to have
revenge, Cindy was convinced she couldn’t do it without the woman – she
couldn’t do it alone.

She could not
shake away the possibility of Amanda’s other prophecy coming true.  Perhaps she
had
not
made an impact with Christian.  What if she was destined to
serve her sister in his house?  Her face had been scarred once already. 
Christian would kill himself in the end, thus adding to the other prophecy. 
Perhaps it was all tied together.

Her tears
picked up again and she drew her knees in to her chest, sobbing with ceaseless
tears.  In the gleam of a droplet, she saw an ounce of light reflecting as it
fell to splatter on her skin.  Looking up, she could see that the curtains were
drawn in.  Where was the light emitting from?

Lifting her
head slowly upwards towards the top of the desk, her breathing stopped suddenly
when she saw the lantern – once again lit.  There was a sound behind her, like
a box being shut…