Roses and Black Glass: a dark Cinderella tale (19 page)

Charlotte
smiled and laughed madly, tears streaming down her face.

“My toes!” she
cried. “Of course!”

Peeling the
shoe off her foot and ripping away the already sticking blood, Charlotte placed
her foot on the chair and wiggled her dainty toes one last time.  She laughed
down at them.  Raising the knife, she forced the blade down and chopped off her
smallest toe in one swipe, cutting the toe next to it in the process.  

She chopped down
at the toes, hacking them to pieces, screaming and crying and
laughing
. 
Her bloody job being complete, she shoved her foot inside the shoe.

The glass slid
around her foot perfectly, hugging tightly and causing the blood to split over
the top of the shoe.  Charlotte smiled happily, smelling her own blood as she
threw down the knife and stood, placing weight on her injured foot in triumph.

“I did it
mother!” she said deliriously, swaying for the pain. “I did it!  It’s just like
you wanted!”

The girl
received no reply.

“Mother?” she
questioned.

It was only
then that Charlotte realized that she was truly alone.  She looked at the mess
she had made as she stepped on one of her own dismembered toes, splitting it
into a bloody mush across the floorboards.  She moved the muscles that would
normally operate her toes, yet there was nothing left to move.  All was numb
with a dull pain.  The girl began to cry in fear as she looked down at her own
blood trail. 

What have I
done?

She looked at
the blood across her hands and felt confused.  How could she have done this?  She
felt a shot of insanity to her heart.  Then her eyes rolled into her head and
she fell towards the floor, lying in her own blood.

Beside the
fireplace, she fell and her hands disturbed a log from the fire.  The burning
log flipped across Charlotte’s unconscious body and touched the end of the
tablecloth that had fallen into the blood.

The fire
ignited instantly as if there was a strange force feeding it.  The door was
locked on Charlotte and the girl’s selfish actions had led to her demise.  The
fire burned the whole of the dining room and kitchen, spreading through the
house, not giving time for anyone to try and save it.

1

Down by the
lake, Christian smoked while he waited.  The rain had passed on, but droplets
still dripped from the trees.  He was here for only one reason, and it was not
because of the pretty young woman standing beside him.  He had lured Isabella
here because he wanted to give Charlotte plenty of time to destroy herself with
that glass shoe – however she might manage it.

“What is it that's
so urgent that you had to drag me all the way out to this bank?” asked
Isabella’s pleasant, laughing voice.  “Advice about your dearly beloved?  Or
perhaps you’ve had a sudden change of heart?”

“I
have
been thinking about you,” he admitted a bit smugly.  “It seems that even in my
engagement, I cannot escape you.” 

Though he
sounded somewhat disgusted by the notion, Isabella felt pleased to hear it.  He
had finally realized it then?  He could not be without her.  A few falling
drops from a tree branch hit against the parasol over her head.  

“I lied to you
before,” he went on.  “I lied when I said I could never love anything.  I
realized just recently that there’s something that I’ve been in love with ever
since I saw it.  I knew I wanted it more than anything else, and even though I
had given up on attaining it, I know I could never be happy to settle for
anything else.  That something was, surprisingly, a girl.  I never thought I’d
find one I liked, but I did.  I only just opened my eyes enough to realize it.”

Isabella had
never imagined such sweet words could come from his lips!  But it was alright. 
She forgave him for being so blind as to not realize this thing until now.  Now
that she knew he loved her, all was well.

“Christian, I–
” she began, but was swiftly cut off.

“The girl’s
name is Cindy.  Or a servant named Ivy, if you prefer.”

Isabella’s
look of happiness fell to harsh anger and jealousy.  Christian turned to her
then, dropping his smoke and leaning close to her – just as she had once done
to him in this very spot.

“She was gone
last night,” he said lowly, but not as in a secret.  “Perhaps you didn’t
notice?  She was with me – in my bed.  That must make you angry, having strived
so long just to be surpassed in the race by the one you hate most.  And it was
so easy for her.  She had to do nothing but be herself." 

“I only did
the same!” 

Isabella had
become hateful toward him for the first time, her voice coming to a low growl
of insistence.  Christian moved further into her face.  If he’d aimed to get
closer, the only thing left to do would have been to bite her.

“Well I
suppose then that
yourself
wasn’t good enough.”

It was raining
now.  The pitter-patter of tiny drops was hitting atop the parasol, striking
the leaves, and adding themselves to the lake.

“I want you to
know that whatever it is that you did to Morgana only put Cindy and I one step
closer to being together.  And we
will
be together.” 

Isabella
fought with the words that should come out of her mouth.  She opened and closed
her lips several times, shaking her head in small jerks while staring into his
face.  He tilted his head to her like a curious animal.

“Is there
actually something you want to say to that?”

Just by chance
in her desperation, Isabella’s eyes drifted past Christian’s shoulder, and with
a sharp furrowing of her brow she forgot what she had meant to say.

“Is that
smoke?”

For a moment, Christian
had no idea what she was speaking of.  It might have been some ploy to make him
look foolish, but Isabella’s eyes stayed fixed, and a strange realization
dawned on her face.  Christian could not help himself.  He turned to look.

It
was
smoke!  Large billows of it!  But where…?  Could it have been coming from the
Madison house?  It had to have been!  That was the only building in that
direction!

Cindy!
 
It was the only thought he could think.  She was in the house!  She would have
been there until night when she came back to him!  With little more thought
that that, Christian began to run.  He did not stop to think that the flames
must have been too high by now, or that he could never get there in time. 
Forgetting all else, he moved toward the hill. 

“
Christian!
”
Isabella screamed behind him, left standing alone on the bank.

He did not
heed her voice.

2

Several people
had come to see the fire, but none of them moved to stop it.  There was a great
deal of smoke coming from the Madison-van Burren home, but it was not as if the
whole place was taken by the fire yet.  There was a glow in all the windows of
the first floor, and a couple of the panes had burst for the heat within, but
perhaps it was not impossible to put out the flames.  Still, the people did
nothing.  They only watched quietly, letting the house burn before them. 

It was a
terrible, inappropriate spectacle, like people gathering a picnic and heading
out to watch a war rage.  Perhaps they felt saddened by the possibility that
Isabella and Charlotte were still inside, but in their hearts, they couldn’t
help but feel that some demon was being removed from their town.  The house
would burn, its presence would no longer loom over them all, and as days passed,
it would be forgotten.

The people stood
stiffly and without emotion, like statues, as if they would not believe the
house was gone unless they watched it fall to the ground with their own eyes. 
This was the scene that Christian found when he reached the hill.

Even though it
might have been distressing to see that no one was doing anything to save the
house or whoever might have still been inside, Christian was more concerned
that no one was standing in his way.  He moved up toward the house as swiftly
as he could after his run back from the lake.  His legs were tired and his
clothes were wet, but he elected not to care.  A short sprint through the mud
and his boots were clomping on the wooden porch.  A moment later and his
shoulder had knocked down the weakened door.

“Cindy!” he
bellowed as soon as he’d come into the house.  Immediately, smoke came into his
lungs, stronger than one hundred cigarettes.  He coughed once. “
Cindy
!”

Small fires were
burning in various places, farther toward the dining room and kitchen than the
main hall.  There was a haze over everything.  His eyes began to itch and burn,
but he could not leave – not until he found her or until he had assured himself
that she was not in the house. 
The main stairway
.  It seemed untouched
by the flames yet.  He could get to the attic room.  He could see if she was
there!

He began up
the steps eagerly, breathing as little as possible, but coughed nonetheless. 
Christian had made it past five steps when he stopped dead in his tracks –
staring at the figure at the top of the staircase.

She stood with
her back to him, dressed in a white gown.  Long dark curls hung down her back. 
He had seen her before.  He knew he had.  She had been the one who led him up
to the attic room several nights ago.  She looked like Cindy, but was not
Cindy.  Who was she?  Though he could hardly breathe and could feel his lungs
struggling, he could not break his trance.  Slowly, he climbed the steps toward
the mysterious woman as the flames rose around him. 

He reached the
top of the stairs, unable to move and unable to address her.  Slowly and
deliberately, she turned to him, and he might have gasped if he was able but he
could not breathe at all.  The woman’s face was like Cindy’s, only older –
different
. 
He stared at her and she smiled gently at him.  She pressed her hands to his
face on each side.  Her touch was clammy and as cold as death despite the
fire.  Christian knew her then for who she was.  She was a mother that was lost
but not forgotten, a lover who had been the center of everything, and one who
was finally finished. 

He felt the
need to say something then – to say that he was grateful or that he was sorry –
but he could not breathe.  His lungs were full and he was dead.  She would take
him away now. 
She would take him away…

The woman
closed her eyes and stroked his cheek.  And then she was gone.  Her fingers
were gone from his face and the smoke was cleared immediately from his lungs. 
As if by some unseen wind, the entire house was snuffed out like a match. 
Christian was left standing at the top of the stairs as small tendrils of light
smoke rose around him.  He took a deep breath.

Everything was
silent.

1

The shoe had
melted in the blaze and Charlotte’s body had been burnt to ashes.  Isabella
mourned her sister’s death but could still only think of winning Christian. 
Samantha Charming took pity upon the poor van Burren maiden and welcomed her
into the Charming household.  Cindy had not been seen since the fire…

2

Isabella
looked in on Christian as he sat in front of the mirror, staring at himself. 
How long had he been sitting there?  She did not know.  It was well past dinner
and he had hardly eaten a thing, and afterward he had retired to his room and
now that she had come to check on him, opening the door gently, this was how
she found him.  It was obvious to her that he had been here for a very long
time, but what he was doing, she had no clue.

He was quite
rattled by Cindy’s death.  Yes, Cindy’s
death
…

Isabella tried
very hard not to smile, knowing that once she came into the room with him she
could look nothing but sympathetic.  It was only that things could not have
worked out better.  Certainly it was a shame about her own sister, but cutting
that loss, her gain was far greater.  The loss of her house and the very few
possessions inside it had gotten her the pity of Samantha Charming, who took
her kindly into her home.  It was not only so fortunate that she was in the
same house with Christian, but she had been able to let everyone believe that
Cindy was dead.  Granted, no remains had been found, but Isabella had insisted
she’d been in the house.  No one was the wiser.  

The fire had
reflected in Isabella’s eyes as she stood and watched the sight.  She was
unsure of what had happened to start this fire, but she had a suspicion.  Of
course it must have been Cindy’s doing.  Some form of revenge perhaps. 
Charlotte had not been lucky as to have gotten out of the house.  Isabella knew
for certain that she was dead.  Still, she had no tears for her.  The girl was
beginning to be a burden anyway.

Isabella had
glanced around her at the people who stood in the rain with her and gawked at
the fire.  Some whispered that the house had been bewitched by the woman who
had stayed there, but Isabella would blame Cindy a million times before
thinking to blame the strange woman they had hung earlier today.  This was
Cindy’s doing.  No doubt.

It had only
been by chance that her eyes had caught sight of the girl at the rear of the
house.  She was separated from all the others, her dress damp and dirty, her
short hair wet and tangled.  Anger had risen higher in Isabella than she could
ever recall.  Most of all, she was angry that the loathsome girl was not inside
the house burning to death.

Very
carefully, she had slipped away and come behind the house, approaching Cindy
heatedly.  She cast down her parasol, letting the rain strike her.  Cindy
turned to her then with a bold look in her eyes, and past the matted hair,
Isabella saw the neat stitches across her cheek.  She remembered what Christian
had told her about them being together last night.  A beast of rage overtook
Isabella.  She struck Cindy with her open palm, pulling a couple of the
stitches. 

Cindy did not
shriek as blood began to trickle down her face with the rain.

“I want you
gone,” Isabella screamed. “Do you hear me?
 Gone
!”

“What was
that?” Cindy asked, turning back and menacing with her eyes.

“I said I want
you gone!  I still own you, servant girl, and I banish you from this place!”

Cindy stared
back in silence for a moment.  Isabella did not know what was going through the
girl’s mind and she did not care. 

“You think
that will solve your problems?” Cindy had asked quietly. “You know he doesn’t
love you.  Though it kills you to admit it, you know it eats you inside to
think you were chosen first by a man who desires men.  Beatrice got that deal;
you saved yourself.  Only now you are to have Christian ignore you as well. 
Besides that, you know it’s me he desires.”

“Silence, you
devil’s wife!  I know what you’ve done!  I know all this is your fault!  You
have taken everything from me! And I have the authority to take everything from
you!  Do you think calling the dark forces – like your godforsaken mother! – to
aid you makes you more capable than I?”

     “Perhaps
not,” Cindy said coldly, making sure to keep her voice low. “But I have
Christian’s love and that’s something that will never touch you.”

Isabella’s
anger had risen in level and she had begun to shake, staring at the girl who
stood with a simple smile.  She tried not to burst for embarrassment.  She
sucked in a deep breath and chose her words carefully.  

“I would see
you stoned were I not so afraid your spirit would come back to haunt me!  Go! 
And do not come back or you will die, you wicked
wicked
girl!  I hope
you die a cold and lonely death!”

Cindy stared
back with hollow eyes, neither of them seeming to notice that the fire had
suddenly vanished from the house. 

“I wish the
same upon you,” the girl said as her last statement, “but the difference is
that you truly
will
.”

Cindy then
turned in the street – and was gone.

While Isabella
had been so pleased that the girl had left, that last promise – and it
was
a promise – still stuck to her mind.  But now, within Christian’s own house,
staring at him through the door, she forced herself to forget all that.  To
everyone else, Cindy was dead, and so she would also be to Isabella.  All there
was left to do was claim what was hers.  Christian was still engaged to the
dying Morgana Thompson, but Isabella was not worried about that.  That young
woman would be dead very soon.  She had seen to that herself.  Now, she pushed
open the door further, letting herself in.

Christian was
still staring into the mirror, and though her form was clearly visible behind
his own, he did not even lift his eyes to her reflection.  She thought over
what she should say for a moment, but then decided she would just see what came
out.

“Are you going
to sit there forever?” she asked in a gentle tone.

He said
nothing.  His gaze did not break from his own eyes.

“Could you at
least tell me what your purpose is?”

Silence
. 
She knew she should be patient, but she felt frustrated.  She was nothing to
him, and he ignored her accordingly.  Very delicately, she rested a hand on his
shoulder.  His body did not respond – not with a flinch or recoil.

“I know I’ve
been insensitive,” she said, “but I truly am sorry to see you so upset.  I
suppose real love does that to a man.”

Christian’s
stare still did not break, and suddenly she was
furious.                               

“She had you
under some sort of thrall, Christian!” Isabella insisted, her fingers digging
tighter into his shoulder as she spoke. “I know she did!  But you can be free
now.  I–I’m going to do my best to take care of you no matter what.”

How long would
this behavior last?  It was, of course, only the first night after the fire,
but she hadn’t expected him to act so strangely.  Could he truly have cared
about that wretched girl so much?

“Do you need
anything?” she asked softly with worry in her voice. 

He did not
respond, and by now she did not expect him to.

“Well if you
need me, you know where I will be.”

She left it at
that, taking her hand from his shoulder and leaving him.  As she shut the door,
she glanced back.  It was just he and the mirror left alone, staring each other
down.

3

By some
miracle – or perhaps by curse – Isabella got what she wanted that night. 
Christian came to her as she was laying awake in the dark.  He said nothing,
brought only by the soft movement of footsteps near the bed.

“Christian…?”
she whispered lightly, but he did not respond. 

She felt the
sheets shifting as her body was uncovered.  A hand touched her side.  Weight on
the mattress.  Her breathing quickened as she felt him press down on top of
her.  His hands guided her apart–

And then
,
pain
.  She opened her mouth to cry out, but the sound was muffled by his
hand clamped across her mouth.  She heard a light, hushing
shhhhh
.  He
started again, none too kindly.  She pressed her hand against the headboard to
keep her head from hitting against it.  This was not how she’d wanted it; not
at all how she’d imagined it.  But he did not care about her suffering, and he
did not stop until he was done. 

When he had
finished, he rose and simply left her there, uncovered in the cold.  She could
do nothing as she laid there, only stare up at the ceiling in disbelief.  She
was stained with blood.  Warm, transparent liquid moistened her legs.  She
could hardly believe that it had actually happened, but the pain and numbness
was too apparent to deny.  In the dark, she could still feel the coldness of
his demeanor.

Isabella
shivered.     

4

By the
morning, Morgana was dead, and her cousin, Beatrice, passed on soon after. 
Isabella made her way, pulling her weight around the house and bewitching
Samantha with her pleasing manner.

It was only
soon after that the decision was made.  It was not by Christian, but his mother. 
After the man had stated that God had not even wanted him to marry – because of
Morgana’s death – Samantha had put her foot down and told him that he would
marry Isabella.

Christian’s
defenses had fallen.  His energy left him and his will to fight was gone. 
Every time that Isabella took his arm, he could feel her draining the life from
him.  Public appearances came and went and Isabella spoke to him as though he
was listening.  It was as if she had forgotten what he had shown her that night
on the mattress – his absence of any feeling for her.  Still, like a fool, she
loved him.  She truly was ignorant.

Weeks passed
and the wedding came closer.  Every smile had passed from Christian’s face. 
Soon, this game would be over – and the only winner would be Isabella.