Castle Heights: Crown of Glass

by Sasha McDaniels

  “So, this whole prince and ball thing, let me guess, is supposed to be like the Cinderella story, right?” I asked.

  “No one knows exactly how it all works. Anansi keeps his secrets.”

  “Crap!” I said. “I don’t want to marry a prince. And frankly, I don’t know all of the stories, so I feel very ill-prepared.”

  I had only managed to make my way through three stories in the Grimms’ story collection that afternoon. I also searched for information on Anansi on my way to the mall because the school librarian had informed me that they kept no books on Anansi in the school library. The librarian referred to the omission of such material as ‘risk management’.

  The gist of what I found online was that Anansi was the god of stories. He was also known to be a trickster. In some narratives, he was the god of wisdom; and the creator of the sun, moon, and stars. And it was believed that he presented himself in many forms, namely in the form of a spider and a man.

  “Your mother said that you were an avid reader,” my Aunt Jennifer said as she flicked through the dresses. “I’m surprised you haven’t read all of our stories.”

  “I do read a lot, but to be honest, and please don’t take offense, I find your stories to be quite morbid. Unlike you and my mother, I don’t get my jolly’s from terrible things.”

  “The Prince is looking for a princess. That’s not horrible. That’s a fairy tale with a happy ending.”

  “After dismemberment and death,” I said. “I don’t see why it has to be me.” Cinderella was one of the few Grimms’ fairy tales that I had read. Of course, I also skipped ahead to Rapunzel.

  “Just keep your eyes peeled. You may find that the stories inside you make life interesting.”

  “I highly doubt that,” I said.

  “So none of these dresses interest you?” My Aunt Jennifer asked. “Then let’s talk about how you will wear your hair.”

  “I’m guessing that you were the one adding the flowery details to the stories while my mother wrote the darker parts.”

  “The flowery parts were all me, indeed, but I added my share of darkness too,” My Aunt Jennifer said. “I have a dark side, you know. Now, I think blue would be a nice color on you.”

  “I think the color blue fits my mood exactly.”

  “Let’s be glad you didn’t suggest the color black. Red would be atrocious. Blue will be beautiful, and the ball will cheer you up.”

  “Where’s my fairy godmother?” I asked. Maybe she can zap me the perfect dress.

  “Not a part of the story,” My Aunt Jennifer said tisking me with her index finger. “At least not our version anyway. If you recall, we did our workings with a hazel tree.”

  “Well, I prefer a fairy godmother.”

  My Aunt Jennifer flipped her hair. “Then write your own story,” she said.

  “I’m sorry, Aunt Jennifer. I didn’t mean to trash your work.”

  “Pish posh. I have a thick skin. Couldn’t survive without it.”

  It all made sense. I understood why I could talk to animals. I didn’t do it much. It wasn’t like they were always around, especially in the cold. But when the spring arrived in full glory, I was sure that the opportunity would present itself.

  My Aunt Jennifer pulled a blue dress down from the rod and handed it to me. “Try this one on.”

  “Do I have to?” I pleaded. My mind was stuck on thoughts of my parents. My mother was spent. My father was evil.

  I carried the dress to the dressing room area. My Aunt Jennifer took a seat on the small sofa situated in front of the dressing rooms.

  The lady working in the dress shop approached us. “Oh, this is lovely,” she said about the dress. “I suppose you’ve been invited to the royal ball. You’re so lucky. I would give anything to go.”

  “You can have my ticket,” I murmured.

  “Tickets, Dear? Please,” my Aunt Jennifer said, rolling her eyes. “What sort of tacky event do you think this is?”

  “Have you met this prince?” I asked my Aunt Jennifer from inside of the dressing room. “Yes, I have. He’s lovely. Probably the most handsome man in all of Castle Heights.”

  “More handsome than Allen?”

  “Well, Allen is handsome.”

  “More handsome than Dracula?”

  “You little nit,” my Aunt Jennifer replied. “I so hoped that you’d turn out to be more like your dear old aunt than your hag of a mother.”

  My watch buzzed. I took to wearing it again after my Aunt Jennifer insisted that I do. The message was from Ben.

  Ben: Holmes is on her way over for dinner. I need you to be here to run interference in case things get awkward.

  Me: Everything gets awkward with you Ben.

  Ben: So that’s a yes?

  Me: I’m stuck at the mall with your mom shopping for a dress for this stupid ball.

  Ben: I’m surprised you think it’s stupid. Seems like the sort of thing you’d like.

  Me: Yeah, the old more uninformed me would like it a lot.

  Ben: Ignorance is bliss.

  Me: You’re right

  Ben: I’ll stall. Hurry home.

  Home. I was glad to have a home where more than just me and my mother resided. I hurried into the dress. I even left my black tights on underneath. Whether the dress looked good or not, I was determined to end the shopping trip.

  When I came out of the dressing room, my Aunt Jennifer clasped her hands together.

  “You look beautiful!” she exclaimed.

  “Thanks,” I said. I had no idea how I looked because I only took a cursory glance at myself before exiting the dressing room.

  “So you’ll take this one then?” she asked.

  “I will. And can we make it fast? Ben needs me.”

  “What about accessories and shoes?”

  “You pick them out,” I said.

  “Don’t you want to have a say?” my Aunt Jennifer asked.

  “No,” I said. “And I don’t see how you can focus on this when the fate of the world is at stake.”

  “Honey, the fate of the world has always been at stake since the dawn of time. When Anansi decides that he wants to track you down again, he will. Trust me. He’s a trickster. No one can guess his next move.”

  “Which is why we should stay on our toes.”

  “And you will, my dear, dancing at the royal ball.”

  My Aunt Jennifer stopped by Gino’s pizza and picked up an extra large pizza for dinner.

  Emily and Ben were playing chess inside of the green parlor. Both wore expressions of intensity.

  “We’re home,” I announced. “And I’ve got a dress for the ball.”

  “Oh, let me see it,” my Grandmother Orphelia said. She laid the dress out on a plush sofa and unzipped the garment bag. “Darling, this is lovely. I can’t wait to see you in it. Perhaps you will marry better than your aunt and mother have.”

  My Aunt Jennifer frowned. “That’s insulting. You better not let Allen hear you say that.”

  “Jennifer, Dear, please don’t have feelings. It’s unbecoming. We all know Allen is from a minor story written by ‘Anonymous’.”

  My Aunt Jennifer scowled. “Allen has earned his place in this town. It’s too bad I can’t say the same for you.”

  “I’m going to go check on my mother,” I said. I set the pizza down on the oak coffee table.

  “Elise is out,” Orphelia announced.

  “What do you mean she’s out?” My Aunt Jennifer asked. “She’s not feeling well. She should be resting.”

  “Well, don’t look at me. I’m not her keeper. She’s a grown woman.”

  “Which is code for you scared her off,” my Aunt Jennifer said.

  Orphelia shrugged.

  My Aunt Jennifer tipped her chin up at Ben. “Ben, please take this pizza into the kitchen. I can’t have pizza sauce and greasy fingerprints on my couches.”

  “Pizza, yum,” Emily said, rubbing her small hands together. “My mother usually doesn’t allo
w me to eat carbs. She says they make me act crazy.”

  “Oh, boy,” Ben said.

  I could tell he wanted to say more. I shot him a warning look.

  “So, Emily, not to put you on the spot, but I’d really like to know who you think the killer is,” Ben said, cutting to the chase and leaving out his usual brand of sarcasm.

  “You non-literary types are boring,” Emily said to Ben, and she fanned herself. She smiled. I guess that was her attempt at a joke.

  “Well, when your life’s a story, why would you want to read one? I mean, I read books, but they’re books you’ve never heard of.”

  “Don’t be so sure. Our fathers used to pass books back and forth. Did you know that?” Emily asked Ben.

  “No, I didn’t know that,” Ben said.

  “My father left his library behind. I’ll see if we still have some of your father’s books lying around.”

  “That would be cool,” Ben said.

  I stood in the middle of the room unsure of what to do with myself. Orphelia sat in an armchair, fiddling with her perfectly manicured nails. Aunt Jennifer had left the room with my dress. I wasn’t really all that hungry. Too much on my mind.

  “So you really have no idea who the killer might be?” Emily asked Ben. She adjusted her sweater. Her big brown eyes were filled with smug amusement. “Ever heard of a little Penny Dreadful character by the name of Sweeney Todd?”

  “Sweeney Todd, of course,” Ben said, slapping his hand down on his thigh. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of him. The Victorian barber who mutilates.”

  “He’s here, and perhaps he’s living up to his legend,” Emily said. “I know where he lives. I say we go spy on him.”

  We all sat down to eat pizza. I wracked my brain trying to figure out where my mother might have gone. I decided to shoot Dimitri a text. It was a shot in the dark.

  Dimitri responded a few moments later saying that he hadn’t seen her. Then right after that, he sent me the following message: I need to see you.

  Me: It’s not safe.

  Dimitri: What if I come and get you?

  Me: Okay, meet me in my bedroom. Don’t let anyone see you.

  My heartbeat pounded in my chest. I knew Ben wasn’t going to be happy about it, but I had the sudden desperate longing to see Dimitri.

  I stood in my bedroom in front of the window with the lights off, swinging a flashlight back and forth as my signal.

  A crow flew into my bedroom suddenly. I startled at first and jumped back away from it. Then the crow morphed into Dimitri. I felt nervous but also excited to see him.

  Dimitri embraced me and carried me out into the night immediately. The two of us zipped through the night, and we landed with our feet touching the ground softly in the middle of a cemetery.

  “Why are we here?” I asked.

  “I want to show you something,” Dimitri said.

  I followed Dimitri past several headstones. The fog hovered in the graveyard, thick. The air was freezing cold. I heard an owl hooting, but I couldn’t see it.

  “You should not go to the ball,” a voice warned.

  “What?” I said.

  “You should not go to the ball,” the voice repeated.

  “Where are you? Where is that voice coming from?” I asked.

  “Huh?” Dimitri asked, stopping

  An owl flew to the tree in front of me. As soon as the owl landed on the limb of the tree, it turned its head. “Do not go to the ball or you will die when the clock strikes midnight,” the owl said.

  “How do you know this?” I asked.

  “Who are you talking to?” Dimitri asked me.

  “To the owl,” I said, pointing at him, or at least where the owl had been. He was gone.

  “What did the owl say?” Dimitri asked.

  “He told me not to go to the ball,” I said.

  Dimitri chuckled. “The ball. Ah, yes. I don’t blame him.”

  “You and Ben share the same opinion on something for once,” I said.

  Dimitri kept moving until he stopped in front of a stone structure. “Come here,” he said, “come into this crypt.”

  “Huh, I don’t want to go inside of a crypt,” I said.

  “Trust me,” Dimitri said. “You’ll want to go inside of this one. There’s something very important in here that I have to show you. You know, it’s funny, when you texted me about your mother, I was already on my way to see you about this.”

  “About what?”

  Dimitri engulfed my hand with his own. “I found this while visiting a friend,” Dimitri said.

  Ducking under cobwebs, we entered the cavernous crypt. In the middle of the crypt was a stone slab, and on that stone slab laid the body of a woman. She wore a white dress. Her skin was deathly pale. Her hair was long.

  A prickly feeling traversed my skin. I leaned down to get a good look at the woman’s face.

  The face was mine. The woman was me.

  Thank you so much for reading this book! Sign-up for the author’s newsletter here and visit the author at www.sashamcdanielswrites.wordpress.com

  Coming Soon

  Castle Heights Book 3: Crown of Ice

  Also by Sasha McDaniels

  Castle Heights Book 1: Crown of Thorns

  Available now!