Unlikely Magic: A Cinderella Retelling (Girl Among Wolves Book 1)

by Lena Mae Hill

  Maybe I’ll pull this off yet.

  I glance around the circle, where everyone close to our age seems to have gathered—Harmon, Rochelle, Xiu, Zora and Fernando, the nerdy guy who’s perfectly named Ernest, the three Frisbee players I saw on my first day, whose names I don’t know because Elidi doesn’t talk about them much. They are a few years older, maybe twentyish. A skinny blonde girl hovers at the edges of the group, adjusting an ill-fitting green dress that washes out her complexion. I catch her eye and give her an encouraging smile. She’s at that awkward age, too old to play with the kids and too young to really fit into our group. Elidi’s group.

  Suddenly Harmon shoves another cup into my hand and one into Xiu’s, not even looking at us as he rushes to his father, who has just stepped out of the pavilion. Xiu gives me a look I can’t read. Harmon tries to take his father’s arm, but Zechariah shakes him off, leaning heavily on his cane.

  “I can do it,” he growls at Harmon, who takes a step back but hovers just behind his father, making sure he won’t fall. We watch in awkward, painful silence as he makes his way to the fire, one agonizingly slow step at a time. He looks irritated, shooting Harmon thunderous glares as he goes. His hair, once almost as thick as Harmon’s, is now pure white and thinning. Shadows circle his eyes.

  I swallow hard, my stomach a sick lump sitting heavy in my middle. I don’t want to see this, but I can’t look away. I force myself to endure his lurching gait, his knuckles white on the head of his cane. After all, I only have to see this. He’s the one who has to live with it. He’s the one who lost his position, his ability to be what he is, an Alpha.

  When he reaches the fire at long, long last, he clears his throat, and all the adults and littler kids come streaming over and encircle the fire.

  “As you know,” Zechariah says, even his voice sounding like that of an old man now. “I am no longer fit to lead this pack, having lost my ability to transition.”

  I gasp. No one told me it was that bad.

  Several others gasp, though they must have known. Still, they avert their eyes, shift uncomfortably, clear throats. Apparently, this isn’t something they expect him to say aloud, in public, like this. Zechariah’s jaw is set, his eyes flashing defiance. I can see why he’s their leader, and when I glance over at Harmon, I hear my mother’s words in my head—he’s just a naïve boy. Compared to Zechariah, he looks like a kid, wanting so much to help his dad, to make him proud.

  Zechariah waits for the reaction to die down before he continues. “My son will be your Alpha, and I will be here to advise him for as long as he needs it. But you need a strong leader, one who can defend this pack. And my son is that man. The prophecy will be fulfilled in this shonke.”

  A bit of polite murmuring meets this. Not raucous applause, though, I notice.

  “Hey, everybody,” Harmon says, glancing at his dad as if making sure he’s allowed to speak. “I know you think I’m young to be leading a pack, and I am, but I want you to know that I’ll do everything I can from the day I take over, so, tomorrow, I guess…to bring unity. Within the pack, with the neighboring tribes, the Winslow Witch coven, the forest dwellers, and the outside world…everyone. But first of all, I want us to be strong and successful within the pack.”

  A few people call out in agreement, and Harmon continues. “It’s been a tough few years, but I hope you’ll forget about that for the night and just have the best time. That’s all I want.”

  Zechariah gives a curt nod, and Harmon steps back again, a sheepish grin on his face. I watch him moving, moving, filled with uncontainable excitement…his fingers tapping his thighs, foot tapping the ground, his tongue wetting his gorgeous lips. We do a chant, which of course I don’t know, but I mumble nonsense words. And then we all turn at once and watch the tiniest sliver of the round, glowing moon begin to disappear.

  Harmon lets out a howl, and everyone else starts howling along, and then there’s laughter and chaos. The adults retreat to the pavilion or sit on blankets on the grass. The little kids run around on the lawn, chasing each other and shrieking with excitement. And we’re all bunched up, laughing and chugging the lukewarm apple cider from our plastic cups.

  I feel a definite warmth spreading through me, but also a little burn as I swallow.

  “Does this have alcohol?” I blurt out, because I’ve never drank more than a sip of fizzy champagne on New Year’s before, and I wasn’t expecting werewolves to drink spiked cider. As soon as I say it, I wish I could bite off my tongue and swallow it.

  Xiu looks at me like I’m insane, and I curse myself savagely. Fernando repeats my words in a mocking voice and everyone laughs uproariously, and I force myself to join them, as if I was kidding all along.

  Harmon starts singing, “I Just Can’t Wait to be King,” and everyone is laughing while I wonder where he even saw that movie, if they have outings to things like movies. I glance over at Zechariah, thinking he’ll be mad, but he’s laughing with Mother and Fernando’s dad and a couple other adults in the pavilion. I remember what Elidi said about wolves never loving anyone but their Chosen One. Is that why Mother hates me so much? In a way, I took away her mate. Dad left to raise me out in the real world.

  “Fernando, let’s get started,” Frisbee Girl calls, interrupting my thoughts. Fernando downs his cider and runs to the wooden platform on the other side of the fire, away from the pavilion. He braces his palm on the edge and hops nimbly onto the platform, where a bunch of musical instruments are set up. Frisbee Girl has a bass guitar, and the blonde preteen has an acoustic guitar. Fernando slides in behind the drum set and counts them in. This really is like prom, or how I imagined it would be. A live band, some spiked drinks, gorgeous dresses…

  “Come on, let’s dance,” Xiu says, grabbing me and Rochelle and dragging us to the stage. Suddenly I’m in a time warp, back at a school dance, moving to the music with my friends around me. I feel another stab of guilt that I took this from Elidi. But she chose it. It was her idea. And besides, we’ll have lots of chances to dance once we’re in a real school with tons of friends and guys around.

  And maybe it’s okay if I actually enjoy this a little. I’ve had plenty of time to sit in my room feeling guilty about Zechariah. Maybe I deserve to have a little fun, to laugh for the first time that I can remember laughing since I’ve been here. Maybe I deserve to drink a cup of warm cider to keep the chill away as the April night closes in around us, to throw back my head and howl at the half-red moon when everyone else does. Why shouldn’t I have friends and a pretty dress? Just because I wasn’t born a werewolf like Elidi, that doesn’t mean I’m less than she is.

  But I’m watching the moon, too, not losing sight of why I’m here. I can be here, and have fun, and dance. The toothless old lady I saw sunning herself on this very lawn so long ago is lifted onto the stage and starts beating out a funky rhythm on a bongo drum while everyone whoops and cheers. I move to her rhythm, but I watch the moon the same way they are all watching it. Waiting. The tension in the air coils tighter and tighter, like a spring around me, as they all fight off the transition.

  When the moon is half covered, I am supposed to leave. But it took so long to get there that I don’t want to leave too early. I can’t risk someone coming after me, making sure Elidi is back before the full eclipse. So I wait, and every time I look at the moon, my heart starts hammering all over again. When the blood-red eclipse side finally moves to the three-quarter position, I start looking for an escape.

  7

  I will leave towards the house, then circle back around the fire to the road. Though my plan is the same as my first escape attempt, I know that this time, the music is far too loud for anyone to notice snapping branches in the woods.

  “I need a bigger jacket,” I say to Xiu. “I’m going to run home and grab one real quick.”

  “But you can’t leave,” she wails, throwing her arms around me. “Just dance harder. It’ll warm you up.”

  “I—I think I drank too much,” I say, whic
h isn’t exactly a lie. Though I’m not drunk, I’m definitely not as clearheaded as I should be right now. “The walk will help.”

  “But he’s been dancing with her for like, five songs,” Xiu says, cutting her eyes at Harmon and Rochelle, who are jumping around together.

  “So grab his arm and make him dance with you,” I say. “In that skirt, I don’t think you’ll have any trouble getting his attention.”

  “Shut up,” she squeals, pinching my arm. “And just wear my jacket if you’re cold. It’s on the table.”

  I can’t exactly tell her that I won’t recognize her jacket, because I’m positive that Elidi would know it. I squeeze my way out of the crowd, to the table, and pick through some jackets, trying to remember which one I’ve seen Xiu wearing, from my perch in the attic window. Glancing over my shoulder, I see that no one is looking this way, and I start off towards the house.

  “Hey, wait up,” Harmon calls behind me. I pause, clenching my teeth in frustration. Harmon’s hand slips around my arm and he turns me around to face him. “Ellie baby,” he says, cradling my face in his hands. Suddenly, all I want to do is close my eyes and let him kiss me until the eclipse, past the eclipse, forever. I turn my face up to his, breathing in the night around me. The sound of frogs singing, loud around us. The murmur of voices, the crackle of the fire, the smell of smoke and food and the forest. The warmth of the fire and the chill of the night. The look in Harmon’s eyes. I’ll never forget this moment, even when I’m gone.

  His lips brush over mine and I gasp, electricity flickering through me like lightning. He chuckles softly, his breath warm and apple-tinged against my cheeks. “Don’t be jealous,” he says. “You know I have to play along.”

  I remember that day when he came to the house, when he kissed me so I’d give in to him. I wonder what else he has to do. What it would be like to marry someone like that, who kissed girls to keep them in line, or because it’s part of the job. I start to pull away, but then, I don’t know what Elidi would do. So I just nod and say, “I know.”

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks.

  “Like what?” I ask, but I’m thinking, oh fudgebucket fudgebucket fudgebucket. Now he’s studying me too closely, I messed up, I looked at him wrong. How does Elidi look at him? I don’t know that, so I close my eyes and press up against him. If he can’t see my eyes, I can’t look at him differently.

  His lips are warm across mine, soft as butterflies. His hands slide down my back, my waist, my hips, as his lips press harder against mine, growing hotter and hotter until they’re searing with heat. I can’t breathe, but I don’t care. I don’t need air. I only need him. My hands are in his hair, his silky thick hair, and my tongue is in his mouth. He growls into my mouth and I break away, dizzy with realization. I need to get out of here.

  But what if…?

  I could be Elidi. I could stay here, be a mirror, and be his. Would it be so bad, to have a guy want me this much, look at me with so much love and hunger it makes me shiver with fear and anticipation and excitement. Is that so bad? She could free my father and escape with Mrs. Nguyen, and I’d take her place here.

  “Are you going to pick me?” I whisper, searching his eyes.

  He pulls back a little, and the corner of his mouth twitches with a smile. “Why, Elidi, you rebel,” he says. “You know you can’t ask me that. I could punish you for it, when I’m leader.”

  Another mistake.

  I need to fix it, and quickly, and stop talking for the rest of the night. No, I need to get out before they transition. Because I can’t stay here and be Elidi. I’m not Elidi, and as soon as the moon is covered, everyone will know it. I glance up, and the moon is heavy and red, like a drop of blood about to fall.

  “Then it’s a good thing you’re not leader yet,” I say, giving him my coyest smile.

  He quirks his eyebrow and gives me that twitch of a smile. “You’re different tonight,” he says.

  “No, I’m not.”

  “You are. What’s different?”

  Crap. This is bad. So bad. I need to get out of here, and I need him to stop looking at me.

  “Maybe I’m just excited,” I say. “I don’t know, this feels so big. Our whole lives are changing. Not just yours.”

  He grins and seems to relax a little. “I know. It’s awesome.”

  It worked. I almost sink to the ground in relief, but I can’t, because he’s still holding me pressed against him. I push away from his chest, but he takes my hand in his huge one and pulls me towards the fire.

  “I have to run home and get a jacket.”

  “You don’t need a jacket,” he says. “I’ll keep you warm.” He pulls me into the clearing, at the edge of the pack of dancers. His body binds to mine as he holds me in his strong, warm arms. I want to enjoy it, like I enjoyed dancing with my friends, but I can hardly hear the music over my hammering heart.

  “You look beautiful tonight,” Harmon says, his fingers brushing gently across my cheek, down my neck. “You are beautiful. Every night. Every day. Every moment.” His face angles towards mine, and my body melts like warm honey in his hands. The rest of the world falls away—the damp chill in the air, the shoe strap drilling into my foot, the tinny sound of the speakers. There are no other dancers, no eclipse. Harmon is the eclipse. He eclipses the whole world, until all I can see is his strong profile, his long lashes curling against his cheek, his warm mouth seeking mine.

  I close my eyes, and give myself to him, to the music, to the night. His full lips are soft against mine, seeking an answer, asking permission. As if I’m the one with the power here.

  Maybe I am.

  I open my lips, give him permission. This is my kiss, and I take it. I take his tongue into my mouth, take a deep breath of him, absorb the smell of his skin until I’m dizzy with it. My body is trembling, aching for more of him. Suddenly, all I want to do is get away—not so I can run, but so I can be with him even more, better, closer, complete. This is what I want. Not to run away, but to be part of this, to be his, to belong. To be loved by someone, valued, treasured.

  But I want it all as myself. Not as a fraud, a copy, a mirror. If it’s all for her, it’s not real. None of this is real.

  When I pull away, he looks dazed and sleepy. Intoxicated. “That,” he whispers, his hand spreading over the small of my back like a blossom. His extending fingers send tendrils of heat coiling and unfurling through my body. A shiver runs over my skin when his fingers trail along one collarbone, barely brushing my throat, then across the other. “I want to give you everything I have,” he whispers. “Everything that’s mine, I want it to be yours, too.”

  I can’t tell if he’s thinking about what I am, or if he’s talking about wolf things. Is this it? Is it a private thing like this, a proposal? Or something in front of the pack, at the ceremony? Is there a ceremony? I feel lightheaded, weak with his words and my rushing blood and the way his hands have heated my blood to boiling as they move over my shoulders, my back, my sides. He squeezes my waist and I twist sideways, giggling at the sudden tickling sensation where his thumbs press into my flesh, just above my hipbones. Harmon pulls me back, an amused smile playing on his full lips. He slides his hand up my back, under the cardigan, scorching my bare skin. I suck in a breath.

  I see it over his shoulder. The moon is nothing but a glowing silver crescent shining out from behind the red. I’m going to pass out. My heart is going to explode.

  His fingers slide up further, cupping my bare shoulders under the cardigan, his touch turning my bones to glowing cinders, my skin to fire, my blood to molten iron.

  “It’s almost time,” he murmurs.

  “I have to go,” I whisper, but he holds me tighter, swaying to the music. The moon is gone. Only a flare shines out from behind it, like rays of the sun but colder, as cold as the iron fist of dread freezing in my belly.

  “What’s the rush,” he says, a teasing smile on his lips. “You can’t be cold now. You’ll have a fur coat. W
on’t you?” The pointed question knocks the breath out of me.

  “I have to go,” I say aloud this time. “Let me go.”

  “I don’t think so,” he says, his hands tightening on me. “I think you’ll stay.”

  “Harmon, no.”

  “What’s the matter, pussycat?” he asks. “Afraid of a little transition?”

  I suck in a breath, but there’s no use in screaming. He knows.

  8

  I’m going to die. It’s all I can think as all around me, a rainbow of silky dresses flutter to the ground, the white ghosts of dress shirts dancing after them. But just as the first of them falls to the ground, a sudden crashing sounds in the woods beside the clearing. A couple people stop, cover themselves with their dresses. A few more only hurry to undress faster.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” rumbles a voice. And out of the woods steps a huge man, a man I never expected to see alive again.

  “What are you doing here?” Harmon demands. He’s still holding me, his grip only tightening when I twist to get away.

  “Down boys,” Efrain says, grinning lazily, slowly. He’s holding an old oil lantern, but it’s not lit. “I know dogs don’t have much self-control, but a well-trained mutt will obey his master’s command over his own nature, won’t he?”

  “You think you’re our master?” Harmon snarls.

  Zora has finished stripping off her clothes, which seems to distract Efrain from speaking for a second. Then she falls on all fours and starts the disgusting process of transitioning, and his eyes snap back to Harmon.

  “You’re their master, right?” Efrain sneers. “Tell them to knock that shit off for a minute. They’ll do anything for their alpha dog, won’t they?”