Cinderella Necromancer

by F. M. Boughan

  Doubtless my time, too, was nearly through.

  I felt sure of it.

  And just when I had given up all faith—when I knew, beyond all doubt, that my mother couldn’t hear me and I had only imagined her presence those times before—the world shifted.

  The cool damp of the night air changed. A warmth spread through my fingertips as the earth around me began to glow with a white, radiant light that I had seen once before this evening. The scent of hazelnut and lavender grew thick and strong until the air became like a thick fog that overwhelmed the senses.

  I scrambled from the place where I sat and stood before the stone, watching. Waiting. I reached to the bone key for reassurance and comfort, and shock ripped through my belly as I touched an empty space. The key was gone, the ribbon no longer fastened about my neck.

  I dropped to my knees and searched the ground where I’d sat, where I’d walked, the place by the gate—

  “Ella.”

  A gentle hand reached toward my cheek, robed in a white glow that radiated peace. Calm. Trust.

  And hope.

  I rocked back onto my heels and stared at the vision before me. “Mother?”

  She looked as beautiful as I remembered, and even more so. Flowing chestnut hair and skin as smooth and pale as cream, and the whole of her enveloped in a light that proved her glory.

  Her hand moved away from my face and I cried out at the pain of loss.

  She smiled and clasped both palms together, eyes sad and yet … not. I couldn’t place it, but it seemed as if she felt … content. But that couldn’t be true, for how could she ever be content without us?

  “Mother, is that really you?”

  She nodded, and her expression turned grave. “Ella, you must listen.”

  “No, please,” I cried, “I have an urgent request. Edward is deathly ill.”

  “I know,” she sighed, and my heart cracked. “That’s why I’m here.”

  “Then you know I need your help. We need it.”

  “On the contrary. You must help yourself.”

  I heard the words, but they didn’t make sense. Could she not hear my urgency? My desperation? “Mother, Edward is dying. I believe he has the same illness that claimed you, and with Father gone, I don’t know what to do.”

  My voice cracked and shook, and I yearned to run into her arms and remain unto eternity. But she hadn’t opened them, and I feared to test her patience. I had miracle enough that she stood before me.

  She bowed her head for a moment before lifting her eyes to mine. “I know, Ella. I know. But there is something you must understand first. I cannot help you. Not even if I wanted to, and my words will have no sway.”

  The crack in my heart split in two and I sank into the earth, down and down, at the sound of her words.

  “Ask Father,” I pleaded, “if he’s there with you. He’ll understand.”

  “He’s not here.”

  “Mother, please.” Why did she deny me? Why refuse one request? This couldn’t be my mother, no, my mother was gentle and loving and strong—

  “Ella, you are the only one who can save him.”

  And now she mocked me. “He’s going to die, Mother. At any moment. He may be gone now, for all I am aware.”

  “He lives, dear heart. I would know otherwise. He lives.”

  I swallowed hard, wincing at the ache of a dry throat. “Please, I beg you. Ask on Edward’s behalf, beseech the throne of heaven to save him. Just this once.”

  Mother’s eyes filled with tears, and yet they didn’t fall. I wondered if, in truth, there would be no more crying in heaven. I wondered if I might ever see the radiance of her spirit from the other side, and if we would weep without our tears falling at the waste of life in this moment.

  “Ella, I can’t, and I didn’t come to break you to pieces. I came to warn you, dear child, and though I may pay dearly for it, I cannot watch—”

  “Pay?” I sat further upright. “What do you mean, pay? There can be no price worth your soul, Mother.” And it came to me, then. “Your sacrifice. I found a letter, sent from you to Father during your illness … it spoke of sacrifice. What did it mean?”

  She shook her head, and in her eyes I saw the many things she could not tell me. Still, in death, protecting her children. Perhaps she spoke truth to me after all.

  “I had hoped it would not come to this, daughter. I had hoped you might escape your father’s calling.”

  Ah, yes. This, I understood, and my anger began to rise from deep within. “Gretel knew, and she paid for it with her life. Miss Mary, too, and the others. If only you had told me yourself, given me this one means of protection, I might have saved them before—”

  “There is a reason we did not tell you, Ella. You must believe me. You must understand the meaning of this sacrifice.”

  “I cannot understand if I am not told.”

  None of this made sense. I felt as though I’d been stuck in a horrible nightmare since the moment of her passing, and thus I told her so. Still, she smiled her sad smile and spoke.

  “That book is more powerful than you realize. You are more powerful than you realize, daughter.”

  I had no doubts about the book. But myself? That power had not shown itself to be as beneficial as I had hoped upon first discovery. It had been twisted, taken away from me this night without my knowing until it had been too late.

  “For every action, there is a consequence. Do you understand this?”

  “Yes,” I said, for I did. “When one throws a stone in a still pond, the waters move outward from where it strikes. When one is cut, he will bleed. These are consequences.”

  She nodded in affirmation. “Yes. Your father taught you well.”

  “You helped,” I reminded her.

  “I did. But no matter. Just as a stone strikes the water and creates ripples, so does speaking the words of the book—and calling for assistance from the world of the dead—cause ripples in the world of the living. Herein is the moment of sacrifice.”

  Oh, no. These were things I didn’t want to hear. These were not wonderful things to remind me of my mother’s love, or even words that might affirm I had done the right thing by coming here. I thought I could bear no more, but truly, I knew little of myself then as compared to now.

  “Mother, I can’t. Please, no more.”

  “You, Ella, must listen.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut as if this would make her words disappear, but couldn’t keep them closed. Not while she stood in front of me as light and spirit.

  “The consequence for conjuring forth spirits of the dead is far greater than you ever imagined. I know this. Your father knew this. And now, you must know before it’s too late to save him. It is imperative that you be given the choice.”

  Now she spoke nonsense. “Father knew what? Save who? Is Father in danger?”

  My mother, in all her awe-inspiring glory, regarded me with a deluge of pity. “Necromancy—for that is what it is—draws on the life of the living, dearest daughter.”

  I could not breathe.

  “For every conjuring of the dead to life, someone living must give up a portion of their life in return.”

  No. I wouldn’t hear it. I refused. I covered my ears with my hands, but still I heard myself ask, “Whose life?”

  “Oh, child.” She slipped down to rest on her knees, and I worried that her purity might be marred by the dirt-packed ground. But she cared nothing for it, and held my gaze so firm I couldn’t break away. “The price, dearest Ella—the consequence, the sacrifice—is the life of the one most loved.”

  “No.”

  “Yes, my love. That is the cost. And that is why it is both dangerous and powerful, for the most loved by the one who calls on these darkest powers must pay that terrible price.”

  An alarming, sickening, unbelievable truth crept into the base of my skull. It sneaked and crawled as I held my blessed, celestial mother’s gaze and
recalled once again, with utter revulsion, that I had seen Edward’s illness before.

  “Mother?” My voice trembled and shook.

  “Yes, Ella. But I knew the cost, and so did your father.”

  “No.” A tremor ran through my body, head to toe. “The letter … but I would never hurt Edward, and Father would never—”

  “Listen to me.” Her voice became stern and terrible. “A great evil was loosed in this world, and no one but your father could stop it. We knew the cost and I paid it willingly on his behalf.”

  I rose and backed away from her form, swaying with unsteady gait as she confirmed the words of her letter, and of Gretel’s hints toward understanding, made far clearer now. But it couldn’t be true. “I don’t believe that. Nothing is worth that. Father wouldn’t … and I wouldn’t … ”

  She stood and reached to grab my shoulders, but the instant we touched, my skin burned like fire and she cried out in pain. I pushed forward to help, but she backed away, clutching her hands to her chest.

  I stepped back and she dropped her arms, revealing black scabs that formed over raw, luminescent flesh in the very places she’d touched my skin.

  She couldn’t touch me. That purity couldn’t be a part of me. She stood cleansed, whole, and I, already damned, for I had called forth hosts of demons and paid a wretched price.

  “Nothing is worth this,” I whispered, as the weight of my actions fell heavy on my shoulders. “What have I done?”

  Mother’s form shook as she covered her face with both hands. When she pulled them away, I saw nothing but strength. Forgiveness. Understanding.

  And perhaps worst of all, for it terrified me even more: affirmation.

  “You, too, are fighting a great evil. But I promise you, your father never intended for you to be a part of this.”

  Then he should not have left me alone with that woman. “He left. He left us, alone, with her and her spawn. Why not take us with him?”

  “To protect you, daughter. So that you might be safe.”

  Anger rose once again as her words drew an ugly portrait of yet another unbidden truth. “We weren’t, though. And he didn’t protect us at all, nor you if all is as you say. He failed. You gave your life and he failed. You died for nothing!”

  “No, Ella, listen.” Her voice grew stern and her words, fervent. “Your father loves you, but now you must be strong for him. And for Edward. Evil still crawls through your world on fleshly limbs, and your father’s fight isn’t over.”

  “Nor mine, it seems.” I thought I began to understand. “But if I act, Edward will die. Unlike you, he hasn’t had a choice. How is that fair? I can’t, Mother, for his death will be on my hands and I cannot lose him.”

  “I’m so sorry, child.” She drew up to full height, the blaze of her being setting the field of stones aglow with white light. “Beyond this, I can’t help you. My time is done. I came but to warn you and let you know, one last time—”

  She couldn’t leave now, not yet. Not before I had answers, for what could I do that might not jeopardize Edward’s very life? “You can’t go, I need you still. Mother, tell me what to do! I have nothing, no one here to speak for me, and I’m afraid.”

  “—I love you.”

  And despite my pleas, my screams, my grasping at air, and all cries and supplication to the saints and angels, she vanished. One moment she stood before me, the next, gone. The ache of loneliness returned, and I remained unmoving as the clarity of her memory faded with each passing moment.

  I no longer knew how to save my family, for what could I do that would not cause further harm?

  She had left me with one terrible, agonizing truth.

  I, for all I thought I did to protect him, had been killing my brother instead.

  34

  The Announcement

  I must have fallen asleep after that, for I woke in the early morning hours with a crick in my neck and scratched elbows from lying against the stone in place of a bed.

  Memories of the night before returned in a flood, and though I had wept all my tears for Edward, for Father, for Mother, and for myself, it didn’t stop the fresh rivers that fell as I pushed from the stone to stand upright. I would do no good sitting here while my brother still suffered. I would return to him and carry forth my plan—to leave and never return. I would find a way.

  I couldn’t fight this evil, even if I wanted to, for to do so meant that Edward would die. My brother’s life for the sake of the world? I was not yet ready to make that sacrifice.

  Not yet.

  I was not as strong as Father.

  I walked home with speed and determination, though not before stopping to call at the doctor’s house. I woke his door maid, for she answered with sleep in her eyes and surprise on her face, though my questionable garb may have contributed to the latter.

  “Tell the good Sir Doctor that Ellison and Edward require his presence immediately, please.”

  The door maid blinked and wiped sleep from her eyes. “The hour, miss—”

  “Matters not one whit. Go and tell the doctor, and I assure you, he will be grateful for the disturbance. Tell him that Edward requires immediate care, and that I have requested a transfer from our home to a more suitable location as quickly as possible.”

  “I’ll retrieve him momentarily,” the maid said, yawning.

  But I couldn’t wait around for him. “Tell him I had pressing matters to attend to, but that I will assure his arrival isn’t interrupted.” I would do so even if it meant fighting Celia with physical force. Not that I had another option. “He should come to the house the instant he rises. Do you understand? He cannot wait.”

  I felt certain he would arrive in due time.

  I would have the doctor move Edward from the room while I gathered what we needed, and perhaps with his help, we could make our escape in safety. Far, far away from our own terrors, keys of bone, and memories of the breaking of our family.

  But as I raced down the path to our home and slipped into Edward’s room from the passageway entrance, I stopped short and nearly perished from shock.

  The door to Edward’s room stood ajar, and Celia rested at the edge of his bed, cradling my brother in her arms as though she’d birthed him from her own flesh.

  He looked paler still than when I’d left him, though perhaps that was my own dread projected upon his limp form in her arms. As I moved forward, seized by a mad boldness, she looked me firm in the eyes and grinned a wicked grin of ivory teeth and wine-dark lips.

  “A most unfortunate situation,” she said, drawing a slender finger down the side of my sleeping brother’s face. “It appears that you continue to disobey my orders and left the house at night. What depravity have you indulged in this time? You missed quite the excitement at the palace.”

  When I didn’t respond, she took up one of Edward’s hands and drew it to her lips. “Poor child.”

  “Put him down,” I said, hoping she did not hear the tremor in my voice or see the shaking of my limbs. “He’s unwell and needs rest. It isn’t wise to move him about in this state.”

  “Oh, I’m sure it isn’t.” And to my complete bewilderment, she did just what I asked. She placed him back on the bed and covered him with his blanket, folding it back just so. “Now tell me, girl—where is your father?”

  I coughed in disbelief. “My father? You think I know where my father is?”

  She looked from Edward to me and toward the passage entrance.

  Could she see it?

  “I have reason to believe he is nearby.”

  Lord Almighty, did she know?

  “It is imperative that you tell me the instant you hear from him, do you understand?”

  I nodded, if only because she rose from the bed and it appeared as though she would leave the room if I simply agreed to her demands.

  But my tongue doesn’t always do as my mind tells it. “What if I refuse?”

  In the beat of
a bird’s wings, she opened Edward’s window and looked out. “It’s quite the fall for a young child at this height. It would be most unfortunate if he were to trip while wandering about.”

  I didn’t doubt she would do it. Indeed, that she had not already snuffed out his life was surprise enough. But no—she needed us to catch Father in her trap. I swallowed all pride and objection and relented for the sake of my brother. “I’ll tell you. I promise. But he isn’t here. Why would you think such a thing?”

  She gazed at me as though my head had been filled with air. “Certain … events have led me to believe … ” She blinked and tutted like a school matron. “It’s not your concern, girl, only that you will tell me if you receive any knowledge of his presence or whereabouts. I miss my husband.”

  I’m sure she missed having a witless peon even more. But I agreed and she smiled the satisfied smile of a cat with a mouse between its claws. I loosed the breath I held as she moved to leave the room—but in that final instant, she turned and regarded me with a wryness that churned my stomach.

  “Ah, one more thing. If you finish your tasks today, I may allow you to return to your room.”

  My room? Whatever did she mean? I’m certain the confusion showed on my face, for she sighed and continued.

  “My daughter is getting married, you stupid twit. Do you recall nothing?”

  “Married!” I blurted without thinking.

  She scowled, the expression marring her exquisite composure. “To Prince William. This evening, in the palace chapel.”

  “So soon.” My mind raced to make sense of it. Victoria? Marrying William after all?

  But how?

  “It’s natural that such an important union be confirmed as quickly as possible. Charlotte and I are having our dresses made today in town, so we won’t be needing your assistance.”

  My chest grew tight and Celia’s words faded in my ears, replaced by Oliroomim’s childlike voice: The Prince will consent to marry the last woman standing when the clock strikes midnight and brings forth a new day.

  I’d fled the ball thinking to remove myself and thereby cancel the spell, despite what I had seen, despite what I knew. Once put into motion, it could not be revoked. I had tried to find a loophole, and I’d failed.