The Last Ever After

by Soman Chainani

  A tense silence filled the cave as Agatha took in the painting of a dead maiden and her seven dwarves—the same scene the witch had presided over as it transformed. Agatha rubbed unconsciously at the deep bruises on her forearm and wrist.

  “S-S-Snow is dead?” Pinocchio whispered.

  “Pretty, sweet Snow?” echoed Peter Pan.

  (“Wasn’t that pretty,” Cinderella mumbled.)

  The League members all gazed at Snow White’s terrible new ending, their eyes wet and scared, as if her death suddenly made the others real.

  “I saw who killed her.”

  Agatha’s voice came out before she even knew it.

  The whole League slowly looked up at her.

  Agatha slid her focus to the floor, palms clammy as she relived the scene in the glen. “It was the wicked queen in an old woman’s disguise, her ankles and legs burnt up, just like the fairy tale said. Her skin was peeling off like a corpse and she smelled like decaying flesh. And her eyes . . . they were bloodshot and dead, like there was no soul inside of her.” Agatha shook her head, trying to understand. “She could have killed me or Uma or Tedros, but she didn’t. As if she’d already done what she came to do.” She looked up at the League. “The wolf and Jack’s giant talked about it on Necro Ridge too . . . getting a turn at changing their stories . . . we didn’t know what they meant—”

  “Wolf on Necro Ridge?” Red Riding Hood cut in. “My wolf?”

  “And my giant?” echoed Jack, clutching Briar Rose.

  “They’re all out there, then,” Agatha said anxiously. “Dead villains. Waiting for their turn to rewrite their fairy tales. That’s what’s happening, isn’t it?”

  “Doesn’t make a shred of sense,” said Tedros, turning to Yuba. “Why would the School Master’s army waste time rewriting a bunch of old stories? Why kill old heroes who aren’t a threat to anyone? Why not attack the Ever kingdoms instead?”

  Even Yuba was tight-lipped, fingers fidgeting on his staff, as if he’d pondered the question and had no answer.

  The old heroes blinked at the gnome, fear filling their faces.

  “We are heroes, yes?” Hansel challenged. “We must fight back!”

  “Against two hundred dead witches, monsters, and who-knows-what running around the Woods? Don’t be an imbecile,” Gretel snapped. “Why do you think we’re here in stinky cave hiding?”

  “Can’t hide for long. They’ll find us all eventually, no matter how often we move Headquarters,” soured Cinderella. “School Master’s got love on his side now. He’s invincible. What do we got except age spots and cricked necks?”

  “Ella’s right,” Jack sighed. “As long as the School Master’s got a queen who loves him, all of us are gonna end up dead as Snow.”

  “Then what do we do?” mewled Red Riding Hood.

  “The only thing we can do,” said Yuba, eyes shifting to Agatha and Tedros. “Convince his queen to destroy that love.”

  The League went quiet.

  “The crackpot plan again,” Cinderella murmured.

  “You really think you can do it? You really think you can make your friend destroy the School Master’s ring?” Peter Pan asked, peering at the two young Evers.

  “Why would she give up true love for you?” Pinocchio prodded.

  Agatha felt emotion rising into her throat. “I wish there was a way to explain me and Sophie. We’re different—very different—and still the same. Sure, we fought and pushed each other’s buttons and we’re terrible at listening to each other, but we shared the same heart. Saw life through each other’s eyes. I never thought I could live without her.” She paused, tangled in memories. “Somehow things changed. Maybe that’s growing up, I don’t know. Every time we tried to hold on to each other, we hurt each other instead. It was both our faults, but mine most of all. I stopped telling her the truth. I stopped trusting the one person who taught me how to trust in the first place. I thought I’d lost her forever, that it was too late to ever make things the way they were before . . . but deep down I still feel like there’s a way. There has to be a way.” Agatha managed a sad smile. “Because if anyone can make Sophie see what love really is . . . it’s her best friend, isn’t it?”

  The League’s old faces melted to childlike stares, as if finally seeing the young girl with hope instead of disdain.

  Tedros stepped next his princess, chest proud. “Exactly. Leave Sophie to me.”

  Agatha’s smile vanished.

  The League looked between them, thoroughly confused who Sophie’s best friend was.

  “All that matters now is that we get to Sophie—” Tedros started.

  “Right,” Agatha interjected. “And we know she’s somewhere in the School for Good and Evi—”

  “Which means getting in and finding her without being caught,” Tedros spoke over her.

  “Wait, wait, wait,” Gretel shot back. “School Master is young and strong, School Master has both castles, School Master has army of dead . . . and you think you can get into his school?”

  Agatha frowned. “Um, that’s the whole reason we came to you, obviously. Because we need your help breaking into—”

  “Help? Your mother’s message said ‘hide you,’” Hansel jeered from his wheelchair. “Does it look like we can help?”

  “We can barely can get to the toilet these days, let alone lead a raid on a castle,” cracked Cinderella, expelling a loud fart.

  The League members burst into laughter. Even the White Rabbit.

  “Some sneak attack! With my joints, they’ll hear us five miles away!” Pinocchio quipped.

  “Don’t worry, P! We can beat them with our canes!” said Peter.

  “Or my basket of goodies! Hard and crusty by now!” giggled Red Riding Hood.

  Gretel shrieked a snort and the others howled so loudly, doubled over with tears, that even Uma jolted awake at the noise.

  Agatha glanced at Tedros, who scowled at her venomously for trying to make him believe in these useless old fogies. She swiveled back to the heroes. “But t-t-that’s why we came all this way! That’s why we trusted in you! My mother wrote the League to protect us—my mother told us you’d help—”

  “Because your mother knew that the League of Thirteen had a thirteenth member,” said a deep voice.

  Agatha and Tedros turned to see a tall shadow standing at the cave entrance.

  “She knew these twelve would keep you safe. But help?” the voice said, as the shadow slid into the light. “I’m afraid that’s only me.”

  “Ah, just in time . . . ,” smiled Yuba.

  Agatha stared at a long, gangly nut-brown old man with a thick white beard and twisty white moustache. He wore a sweeping violet cape lined with fur tippets and stitched with the signs of the zodiac, a droopy, dented cone hat patterned with stars, large horn-rimmed spectacles, and a pair of plushy violet slippers.

  I’ve seen him before, Agatha thought, too tired to think clearly. In the Woods? No . . . it was a storybook, wasn’t it? . . . a storybook that Dean Sader had taken her whole class inside. This old man was there, inside a dusty cave, filled with burbling laboratory vessels and shelves of grubby vials and jars . . . arguing with a king about a spell . . . a king that looked a lot like . . .

  Agatha’s heart seized, her eyes shooting open, and she spun to Tedros behind her—

  But her prince was already pale as a ghost.

  “Merlin,” he gasped.

  His legs crumpled and he fell all at once like a tree in a forest, his princess right there to catch him.

  11

  Appointment with the Deans

  As midnight came and went, Sophie sat calmly in the School Master’s window, her hair wet, her ebony dress bunched at the knees as she pressed bare toes against the wall. She looked out at the fluorescent green bay, reflecting the shadows of two black castles, both dark and quiet.

  Just this morning, she’d been reeling with doubts: from a school that turned Evers into Nevers . . . from Agatha’s voice, impelli
ng her to destroy Rafal’s ring . . . from a schedule that called her a teacher of Evil when she still didn’t feel Evil at all.

  She turned to the Storian over her storybook, painting a scene of Agatha and Tedros following a white rabbit through the Woods. With every minute, her friends were getting closer to school, closer to seeing her again, closer to convincing her to leave Evil behind forever . . .

  Sophie smiled, feeling the gold ring lock tight on her finger.

  Or so they think.

  How quickly things changed in a fairy tale.

  Twelve hours earlier, Sophie had been chasing after the School Master, as he crossed a green breezeway tunnel into the old Valor tower.

  “Teach Evil? Teach Curses and Death Traps?” Sophie yelped, gripping her schedule as she floundered after him in her black nightgown and glass heels. “Have you lost your mind!”

  “It was the Dean’s suggestion. Wish I’d come up with it myself, if only to prevent her the satisfaction of a good idea,” Rafal groused, ascending the staircase carved HENCHMEN. “Now that I’m young, she’s been treating me like I’m incapable of running my own school. Even had the gall to tell me that my flights over the bay are disruptive since students keep peeking out the window during challenges. I am the School Master, thank you. If I want to go for a spin, I’m perfectly welcome to—”

  “Rafal.”

  Sophie’s voice was so sharp that he stopped and stared down at her through the gap in the black staircase.

  “I wish we had time for adolescent rants, but whoever this Dean is, she expects me to be a teacher at this school, when a) all the students are my age, b) none of them like me, and c) I don’t know the first thing about teaching!”

  “Really?” He resumed his ascent. “I distinctly remember you hosting Lunchtime Lectures for the entire school.”

  “Teaching kids how to cure dandruff is different than teaching them how to be Evil!” Sophie said, chasing him towards the top floor. “Let me get this straight. Agatha and Tedros are coming to kill you and here I am in a nightgown, expected to give homework and grade papers—”

  But Rafal was already at the lone black-marble door atop the staircase.

  “Professor Dovey’s office?” Sophie asked, accosting him. “She’s who wanted me to be a teacher? She’s Dean of Evil?”

  But then Sophie saw that the door once inlaid with a glittering green beetle was now inlaid with two violet, intertwined snakes. Beneath the snakes, letters cut from amethysts spelled out a single word:

  DEANS

  “Deans?” Sophie wrinkled her nose. “There’s more than one? But who are—”

  The door swung open magically, revealing a thin, tight-jawed woman with a long black braid and a sharp-shouldered purple gown, studying a scrap of parchment at Professor Dovey’s old desk.

  “Lady Lesso?” Sophie rasped. “But where’s Professor Dovey?”

  Then Sophie saw the second desk near the window, identical to the first, which had never been in the office before. No one was sitting at it.

  “Let me guess, Rafal. Took her for a joyride over the bay?” said Lady Lesso, not looking up from the parchment. “Supposed to have her here twenty minutes ago. Would be nice to prepare our new teacher before she assumes my old class, don’t you think? Never mind. I’ll take it from here.”

  Rafal scowled. “I believe I give the orders at this school, Lady Lesso. And I believe you forgot a ‘Master,’ along with your respect. Something your fellow Dean seems to have in spades.”

  Lady Lesso’s slitted violet eyes slowly raised to the teenage boy in front of her, dressed like a dark prince. “Apologies, Master,” she said, her tone snide and cold. “Shall I take it from here?”

  Rafal gave her a filthy look and pulled Sophie into his flank. “See you at lunch, my love,” he whispered, kissing her tenderly on the cheek. He shot Lady Lesso a last glare and slammed the door behind him, rattling the two desks.

  “Lady Lesso, how can I teach your old class!” Sophie blurted. “None of this makes any sense—”

  “Sit down,” said the Dean, eyeing the gold ring on Sophie’s finger.

  Sophie dropped into the chair facing her. Lady Lesso stared at her carefully, framed by the usual plum basket and crystal pumpkin paperweights on Professor Dovey’s desk. Why wasn’t Lady Lesso sitting at her own desk? Sophie thought, glancing at the desk across the room.

  “Our first year, we got off to a rather poor start. But with time, I’ve grown fond of you, Sophie.” Lady Lesso leaned back in her chair. “You and I share quite a bit in common.”

  “Other than our love of high heels and good bone structure, I have to disagree,” Sophie replied.

  “Look closer. Both of us are naturally gifted at Evil, both of us have a vanity that is uncharacteristic of Nevers, and both of us make sensational witches when provoked,” the Dean explained. “And yet, each of us is afraid of being alone. Each of us has tried to hold on to love at some point in our lives . . . only to see that same love turn against us one day. You with your best friend and me with my own child.”

  “You have a child?” Sophie said, stunned.

  “Nevers have children, just like Evers. But as I’ve said in class, the difference is that our families cannot last, for there is no real love at their core. Villain families are like dandelions—fleeting and toxic. Try to hold on to them and you are battling against the wind.” Lady Lesso fingered a pumpkin paperweight. “I should have abandoned my child forever when I came to the School for Evil as its Dean fifteen years ago. Just like you should have abandoned your friend when she was placed in the School for Good. Thankfully both of us learned our lesson before we could make any more mistakes.”

  Her clenched jaw eased. “But what’s remarkable is that for all our errors, we’re both still alive. And not just alive—we’re finally on the winning team! Once upon a time, Evil had majestic victories too: Finola the Fairy Eater, Children Noodle Soup, Rabid Bear Rex, and others, long forgotten. All anyone remembers now is two hundred years of Good victories, over and over, robbing balance from our world, until Evil became a death sentence, pitied and maligned, until Good became nothing but Balls, kisses, and arrogance. But you’ve changed all that, Sophie. For the first time, Evil has love on its side because of how hard you and Rafal have fought for each other. Don’t you see? Your fairy tale can reverse the slaughter I’ve fought against my whole life. All you have to do is prove you love Rafal as much as Agatha loves Tedros . . . that you’ll sacrifice for your love as much as Agatha would for her prince . . .”

  Lady Lesso glowered darkly at her. “Which means you must kill Agatha and Tedros when they come for you.”

  “K-k-kill— Me?” Sophie squeaked like a squirrel, bursting into shivers. “My b-b-best friends? No, no, no, no, no—I said I’d fight with Rafal—that I’d defend him if they came—”

  “Defend? No, no, my dear. Evil attacks and Good defends. And when Evil attacks, it kills. I warned you our very first day of class, Sophie. When you are Evil, there is no escaping your Nemesis. The moment you began having Nemesis dreams of Agatha’s face your first year, your fate as enemies was sealed forever . . . much as I tried to believe both of you an exception.”

  Sophie was still shaking her head, emitting yips and croaks instead of words.

  “Listen to me, Sophie.” Lady Lesso’s tone cut sharper. “I told you the story of my child for a reason. As long as Agatha is alive, you will never have a happy ending. Either you kill Agatha and her true love . . . or they will kill yours. Those are the only two ways your fairy tale ends.”

  “I c-c-can’t—I just want to be happy! Why do I have to kill anyone—”

  “Because this is your storybook. You and Agatha’s,” said Lady Lesso. “That is why the Storian has yet to close it. It is waiting for you to make your choice between who lives at The End: your best friend or your true love. Good or Evil.”

  Sophie clutched her ring with shaking fingers. “But what if Agatha doesn’t feel like my Nemesis any
more? What if I don’t even feel Evil at all!”

  Lady Lesso gripped Sophie’s hand across the desk. “Sophie. You wear the ring of Evil’s darkest soul. You brought Evil back from the dead and unleashed hell on Good, just so that you can have a boy to love. Can you think of anything more Evil?”

  Sophie rankled. “That isn’t fair! I didn’t know any of this would happen!”

  “Ask yourself, then. If you could save Good, would you sacrifice Rafal? After finally finding someone who loves you for your true self, would you choose to be alone? Just so Agatha and Tedros can be happy?”

  Sophie followed her eyes out the window to Rafal soaring over the Blue Forest, back to his tower in the sky. Everyone else in the world had betrayed her when she needed them most—family, friends, princes. But not him. She could still feel herself flying in his arms, safe and protected. She could still feel his passionate warning, cold at her core . . . “No one will ever love you but me” . . .

  “Could you give him up, Sophie?” Lady Lesso pressed.

  A single, scared tear fell down Sophie’s cheek. “No,” she whispered.

  “Then you aren’t just Evil,” said Lady Lesso, letting go of her. “You are its deserved queen.”

  Sophie shook her head. “But you know who I really am! Last year you and I fought for Good with Agatha and Professor Dovey. All of us were a team!”

  “And you and I have paid our price for that disloyalty. Your price is that you must now destroy the friends you should have disowned long ago. And my price is . . .” Lady Lesso’s lips quivered, her gaze drifting to the empty desk across the room. She swallowed subtly and straightened in her chair. “Look, I’m here to help you, Sophie. Because like you, I too have a second chance to prove my loyalty to Evil. And this time, we can’t fail. Even if our leader now has the maturity of a pubescent boy.” She grimaced sourly. “Now pay attention to what I’m about to say.”