She was careful to check behind her for Granny and the other housemates. When she saw no one, she set the cleaning products on the floor, propped the broom against the wall and stuck keys from the set that Aura had given her into the lock until one opened the door. It did indeed seem to be a closet, smaller than the one Bella had pulled her into. That one hadn’t been locked and looked, for all intents and purposes, just as one might expect a closet to look.
This room, however, completely baffled Snow.
As soon as she opened the door, a bright light greeted her, illuminating the space. The walls, shelves, floor and ceiling were all painted a stark, flat white. On top of that, numbers were scattered everywhere. Some were glued on like those you might find on a mailbox or screwed in like you might see for a house address. Others were painted or drawn on with crayon, colored markers, colored pencils, charcoal and even nail polish and lipstick. Snow noted that the numbers ranged from one to fifty-nine. Built into the walls were shelves, also white, stuffed with piles upon piles of time pieces: Digital clocks, alarm clocks, cuckoo clocks, wrist watches, pocket watches, even clocks fashioned into jewelry—necklaces, bracelets, rings. All of them were dutifully ticking away, although they didn’t all keep the same time.
The noise was enough to drive anyone mad. Snow made a note in her book and shut the door.
She collected the supplies and continued past the next open room and found herself at a crossroads. Should she turn left? That would circle her around (she thought) the backside of the kitchen.
Or perhaps she should go right.
She was contemplating her decision when a bushy-tailed squirrel hopped past. He stopped, stood on his hind legs, and cocked his head. Then he disappeared down the hall and to the right.
Snow followed, wondering if she had left the door open when she put the frog out near the pond. Or perhaps someone had let Beast out and forgotten to close the door.
As the squirrel bounced across the paisley green carpet, he picked up the pace and Snow rushed to keep up with him. He made a right turn at the end of a wide, paneled corridor and Snow followed suit.
She stopped short when she came upon a second set of stairs next to another forbidden room. She looked up. The squirrel was gone.
Snow reached into her pocket for the key ring. She tried several skeleton keys from Aura’s copies, but each one failed to open the door until there were no keys left to try. Curious, she thought.
She climbed the stairs and found herself standing before what appeared to have once been a grand ballroom, with wide windows cut in a diamond pattern and dressed in sun-faded velvet burgundy curtains skirted with gold fringe that had lost its luster. A huge chandelier dripped from the center of the space, a grey ring above it on the ceiling as if it was missing a medallion. The crystals caught the sunbeams from the light filtering in through the windows, casting a pattern across the tapestried walls that reminded Snow of waltzing couples.
Or were they real couples? Snow whirled around, sensing she wasn’t alone.
But there was no one else.
The floor was parquet, good for dancing. Snow couldn’t recall the last time she had moved her feet to music, so she decided to try it out. She set the supplies tray down, kicked her shoes off and glided across the wood gracefully. She giggled to herself, feeling just a bit silly, but since there was no one around to witness her playfulness, she may as well have a little fun while she cleaned.
She got to work sweeping and dancing across the scuffed parquet, occasionally using the broom as her partner. A tune ran through her head as she moved her hips, and she hummed along to its haunting melody. She didn’t quite recognize it, but somehow, somewhere, it was familiar to her. She swung the broom from side to side, skipping and dusting her way over toward the massive fireplace that anchored the far wall under a magnificent bronze stag’s head.
Suddenly the fire blazed to life and Snow gasped, jumping back from the heat. The broom clattered to the floor, practically leaping from her hands. The flames formed what appeared to be an arm. Snow watched, awestruck, as the fire grew a hand, then fingers. It motioned her forward.
Come with me, the flaming fingers beckoned.
Snow stepped forward as the fire retreated back into the fireplace. A mirror, taller than she was, fizzled into place above the black marble mantle. Its gold frame was topped by a diamond-encrusted crown with a magnificent ruby heart at its center.
Snow thought it was the most gorgeous mirror she had ever seen, and yet...she felt she had seen it before. But where?
She took another step, gazing at her reflection.
In a whirl of colors and shapes like a kaleidoscope, the mirror sputtered and spun until it spit out a completely different image of Snow. She was in a cottage, only it wasn’t her cottage in Everafter. It was a foreign place. Smaller, with tiny furniture and a doorway to match. This cottage seemed less homey than her festive house. She was wearing a dress she didn’t recognize and a red ribbon in her hair. Then the reflection changed again as if she were watching television and someone had flipped the channel. Snow saw herself perched on an exquisite throne, her high-heeled feet barely touching the ground. Her hair was pulled back into a chignon, shielded by a tiara. Her dress was white and gold, with tiny pearls threaded throughout the strapless bodice. She was smiling at someone. A hand reached for her, but just before she accepted it, the picture flickered and changed again.
This time Snow saw herself scream as two armed men dragged her across a tiled floor. She struggled, shouting volumeless pleas as a single tear tumbled down her cheek.
No one came to her rescue.
Snow felt her heart leap into her chest. She rubbed her eyes and tried to steady her breath.
What was that? What had she just seen?
She blinked and looked back to the mirror. It was gone, along with the fire. Snow stood there for several moments trying to make sense of what had just happened. Of what the mirror had shown her.
Remember, Granny had told her.
Was the mirror trying to tell her a story? Something about herself? Something she had forgotten? Except that wasn’t Snow, not really. She had never sat on a throne. Never been dragged away by soldiers. Was it some sort of future version of herself? A costume party? Would she someday meet a prince as the magazine downstairs urged young ladies to do?
More than ever now, she knew she had to get inside all the locked rooms. This house held secrets, and whether she liked it or not—whether she even understood it—didn’t matter. There was something important at the heart of all these strange experiences, and Snow was bound and determined to figure out exactly what it was. She reached inside her pocket and examined the keys Aura had given her. Why had none of them worked on the last room? What was so special about it?
She stood there in the center of that once-illustrious ballroom and jingled the keys around the ring, enjoying the clinking sound.
Then she heard something that nearly stopped her heart.
“And just what the hell do you think you’re doing, Missy?”
16
Every Rose Has Its Thorn
Doctor Jack Bean enjoyed Saturday nights because on Saturday nights Gretel served turkey legs, green bean casserole, biscuits, and mashed potatoes with homemade gravy, followed by a slice of cherry pie for dessert. It was paradise on a plate for a man who’d never had a woman in his life to cook him a homemade meal. Certainly he could cook for himself, but he found the process tedious and time consuming and altogether boring when there was no one to share it with. Not that he preferred to dine in company, but the chatter in the cafe and the comforting clatter of plates and forks were a symphony that Jack enjoyed once a week. It made him feel less lonely. He relished the aromas of fresh baked bread, rich coffee, and sweet pies. And the cheery atmosphere with the brightly painted folk signs on the wall offered a welcome change of pace to his utilitarian office and his sleek condo. There was a sense of community at Gretel’s and he enjoyed that. In small doses, of c
ourse.
Gretel, her brown hair pulled into a ponytail, her face free of paint, was just setting down Jack’s plate of food when Aura whisked into the restaurant looking frazzled. She made a bee line toward Jack, who averted his eyes.
If there was one thing he hated more than unannounced visitors to his office, it was unannounced patients at his dinner table. Unfortunately, Jack was a creature of habit, which meant he always sat in the same spot whenever he ate at Gretel’s, and everyone knew he loved turkey legs.
Aura reached the edge of Jack’s table short of breath. He had never seen her look so unkempt. She was usually cool as a cucumber.
“Doc, sorry to bother you, but can I have a minute?”
Gretel set some cutlery down next to Jack’s dinner plate. She gave Aura a punchy grin. “Hey sticky fingers. Steal anything today?”
“Bite me, bitch.”
“No thanks, I don’t know where you’ve been,”
Aura ignored Gretel. “Please Doc, it’s important.”
“Aura, you know the Doc doesn’t like to eat with company. I’ll get the meals together for your deliveries and why don’t you just, oh, I don’t know. Go spit shine a hubcap or something?”
The rosé- blonde reared at Gretel. “How about I spit shine your face in the deep fryer, huh? How about that?”
Gretel smirked.
Aura fumed.
Jack Bean sighed. He looked longingly at the mashed potatoes and whipped butter that sat next to his homemade biscuit and said, “It’s all right, Gretel. Thank you.”
Gretel tossed Aura a sickeningly sweet smile, “Can I get you anything? A quart of oil perhaps?”
Aura pulled out a bill and said. “Whiskey, beer chaser.”
Gretel raised an eyebrow at Doc, then took the bill and left him to his patient.
Jack wasn’t certain what the protocol was in this situation, so he was relieved when Aura said, “Please, eat your dinner while I talk.”
“Would you like half of my biscuit?”
She waved it away and glanced around the dining room before she spoke. Several locals took up the booths, engulfed in their own conversations.
She leaned her head forward. “Doc, is it possible to develop a fear of something suddenly? Something you never had a bad experience with? Something you never really even saw before?”
Jack cut into his turkey leg. It was moist and perfectly cooked. He looked up at Aura, considering her question. Odd, he thought. Aura had always presented herself as fearful of nothing.
“I suppose anything is possible, but it’s much more likely that the fear erupted from a suppressed memory.”
The turkey leg tasted as good as it looked. He spooned some mashed potatoes onto the next bite.
Gretel slapped Aura’s drinks and change on the table and went away.
“A suppressed memory?” Aura’s eyes brightened. “What’s that?” She seemed genuinely interested in what he had to say, which was more than she ever was in group sessions.
“It’s usually the result of some trauma, often from childhood. The human mind has a way of protecting itself, so should an event or an experience be so painful that it may debilitate the person, the mind can and will bury that memory deep in the psyche—Lock it away so that the person can continue to function.”
Jack sipped his iced tea.
Aura bit her lip. She seemed to be struggling with something, hesitant to reveal any more. She downed her whiskey in one gulp, wiped her mouth with her sleeve and leaned forward again.
“Okay, so suppose this memory....wasn’t from childhood. Suppose it seems as if it just happened yesterday, except...” Aura glanced around the dining room again.
Jack touched her arm. “Except what, Aura? What is it?”
“Except it seemed like a different version of me. Like it was me, it looked like me, it felt like me, but it wasn’t me, you know?”
Jack sat back and cocked his head at Aura. “Interesting.”
Aura swigged her beer. “You think I’m crazy.”
“No, not at all. Were you sleeping? Could it have been a dream?”
“No. Wide awake.”
The doctor sat silent for a time. “Perhaps what you experienced was a vision. A manifestation of the thing you fear.”
Aura ran her hands through her hair. “No, I don’t think so. Because this...object. I’ve only seen one like it before at the home of one of the Meals on Wheels clients. She...wanted to give it to me, but I wasn’t afraid then.”
Jack rolled her words over in his mind and was careful to choose his response wisely before he spoke again. He set his fork down. “The human mind is still a vast mystery to science, Aura. It is capable of things we cannot even imagine.”
Aura nodded.
Jack leaned closer. “Is it possible that you unconsciously stole this object and now you feel remorse?”
Aura’s jaw dropped. “What? No. How could you ask me such a thing?”
“Aura, I’m just trying to help.” Jack patted her wrist. “Sometimes we regress, and impulses we thought we left behind us resurface again. We’re human, after all. We make mistakes.”
Her voice rose and heads began to swing their way. “You don’t seem real human right now, Doc. In fact, you seem like an arrogant asshole who just shit on someone who came to him for help.”
“Now, Aura, listen—”
“No. You’re accusing me just like everyone else.” She stood up, pointed a finger at Jack. “You listen to me, Doctor. I’ve served my time and I’ve changed whether or not you believe it.” She swept her arm across the diner. “And I really don’t give a flying monkey fuck if any of you believe me. I know the truth.” Her voice broke and for a frightening moment Jack thought she might cry.
Jack sat there stunned. Not just at her behavior, but at his own accusation. For the first time in his life, he didn’t know what to say.
Aura stood, poured the remainder of her beer over Jack’s dinner and said, “Bon Appétit.”
Her hips swayed as she walked to the door. She grabbed the bag of boxed dinners off the counter near the register and put her hand on the shiny stainless steel handle of the entrance. She stopped, turned and said, “Oh and just FYI, Doc, I know where you live.”
Jack felt his stomach twist into a knot. He hoped he wouldn’t have to move again.
Aura swung the door open just as Robin Hood entered the cafe. She pinched him on the cheek and walked out.
Across the restaurant at the counter, Tink twirled around in her stool and waved at Jack.
17
Bella of the Ball
Snow spun around, the keys jingling in her hand, to find Bella standing in the open doorway arms crossed, one eyebrow strategically arched, tapping her black leather boot on the parquet floor. Snow slid her eyes around the ballroom as if an answer to Bella’s question would appear out of thin air.
Bella walked toward Snow, her heels thumping on the floor. She picked up the broom and held it out to Snow. “I thought we had an agreement. Remember?” She pointed at Snow and in a thick, stilted voice said, “You no cleany. Cleany bad. Make work for all.”
Snow just blinked at her, stone still.
Bella sighed and dropped the broom. It landed with a smacking sound. “That was my impersonation of a giant. Most people laugh.”
Of course it was. Why was she so on edge around these women? Snow tossed her head back and cackled. “I’m sorry, I thought maybe you were having a stroke.” She slapped her knee. “That was a good one, Bella. Very amusing.”
The brunette wrinkled her nose at Snow and brushed past her. She circled the room, sniffing the air. “Did you light a fire? It smells of burning embers in here.”
She approached the fireplace and crouched down to take a better look. Steadying herself, she placed a hand on one knee for balance, grabbed a poker and prodded the bricks.
There was no trace of ash from the phantom fire, and Snow was grateful. She had enough to worry about with Aura, this mysterious h
ouse, and whatever might be in that locked room without humiliating herself in front of the only woman she respected here.
Bella had good sense. She radiated awareness, intelligence, and a longing to know things, which probably made the no-books rule all that much more frustrating. On a few occasions Snow had spotted Bella flipping through discarded newspapers, reading instruction manuals, even skimming the backs of cereal boxes, shampoo bottles, and warning labels. Snow wondered why that rule had been implemented at all. What had Bella done to deserve such a harsh punishment?
The silence had spread throughout the room and Snow thought she should fill it with an explanation. “I’m sorry Bella, but with Granny’s bad leg, I didn’t see the harm in tidying up here on the second floor.”
Bella aimed her gaze at Snow. “Really? So who cleaned up the rest of the place then? Forest creatures?”
Bella was still exploring the ballroom. She reached over and touched a curtain, staring out the window for the longest time. She seemed mesmerized by something—or someone—outside. Frozen in place.
Snow crept forward, her keys clinking. “Bella, are you all right?”
She didn’t answer.
The window was steps away, so Snow took a look for herself. All she saw was Beast lying in the grass, soaking up the sun, and Hansel, mowing the lawn, shirtless.
Bella shook her head. “Yes, I’m fine.” She seemed to break away from the temporary trance. She turned to gape at the room once more. “I’ve never been up here. I thought I heard a noise, so I followed it. I never even knew those back stairs existed.” Her face screwed into a mask of wonder and her head tilted as though she were listening to a song that stopped playing long ago. “It’s strange…it...feels familiar to me.” Her voice was soft, a whisper almost.
The Bitches of Everafter: A fairy tale (The Everafter Trilogy Book 1) Page 8
