Forever Snow (The Everly Girls Book 1)

by V. B. Marlowe

  “Hello there,” Henry’s mother said, wiping her hands on the sides of her jeans. Her husband smiled and nodded.

  “Going somewhere?” I asked, pointing to the car packed full with luggage.

  Henry’s dad slammed the trunk closed. “We sure are. We’re driving down to Dallas.”

  “Oh, that’s nice. Henry didn’t mention you were going on a trip.” I guess with the bomb I had dropped on him last night, it had slipped his mind. I couldn’t believe he would leave without telling me. I’d probably be gone by the time he got back, and we wouldn’t even get to say goodbye.

  The couple exchanged looks, frowning. Henry’s mother cocked her head to the side. “Who’s Henry, dear?”

  What kind of question was that? “Henry—your son.”

  The man chuckled. “We don’t have a son. We have a daughter who lives in Dallas. She’s having a baby any day now. Our first grandchild.”

  My stomach dropped. “Are you sure?”

  The woman stared at me, biting her bottom lip. “Yes, we’re sure. Why would you think we had a son?”

  They don’t have a son.

  I took a step backward, feeling incredibly stupid. “I—I thought someone said you did. I must have gotten confused. Have a nice trip.”

  I turned and hurried back to the house, leaving them to finish loading their car. I looked up at the upstairs window of their home—the one I had thought belonged to Henry. The curtains were still.

  Part 3

  The Boy Next Door

  19

  I spent the rest of the afternoon sneaking away from packing to see if Henry was at the fence. He wasn’t. I was completely and utterly confused. Who was he, and why had he lied to me? I even contemplated the possibility I had been imagining things the entire year I’d known him. That couldn’t be true. Maybe Henry was just some strange kid who’d seen me move in and pretended to live next door so we could become friends. Nothing about it made any sense to me.

  That night, we cleaned out the refrigerator and had a potluck dinner. Father said he would have to tie up some loose ends the next day before we could leave.

  I was exhausted, yet I couldn’t fall asleep. I stared at the moonlight pouring in through my window, thinking about Henry. Of course, no one I knew had ever seen him or talked to him. I only caught brief glimpses of his hoodie through the spaces in the fence. I’d never heard his mother calling him when he said she was. Was Henry just some strange boy trespassing on their property? That didn’t make sense. Someone had been looking down on me from that upstairs window.

  Despite all the troubled thoughts swirling around in my head, I fell asleep at around 2:00 a.m., only to be awakened by the creaking of the ivory rocking chair in the corner of my bedroom. That chair had been mine for over fifty years. It was white with intricate carvings painted in gold. Father had seen it in the window of an antique shop and knew I had to have it. I loved it, because it reminded me of things I’d had in my first life.

  It never rocked on its own—only when someone sat in it. I shivered. “Who’s there?” I asked.

  The creaking stopped, but no one answered. A part of me wanted to believe it was Father watching me sleep, but I knew it wasn’t.

  “Henry?”

  There was a long pause.

  “Yeah.”

  I shot up.

  “Don’t turn on the light,” he said abruptly, and then he had a coughing fit.

  I waited for him to stop. “Where have you been, Henry?”

  “Around.”

  “Who are you? I mean, who are you really?”

  The creaking started again. “I’m just like you.”

  I was growing impatient. I wanted answers, and I wanted them now. “What does that mean?”

  “I’m a kid who was cursed by the Crimson Coven.” My body stiffened.

  I didn’t believe it. Besides Father, I had never come across another person who had been cursed. I should have never told Henry my secret. Now he was using it against me.

  “Stop it, Henry. Who are you?”

  “I never told you my story. Not my real story.”

  I pulled the covers tighter around me, feeling like I never knew Henry at all. “Your real story? Tell me.”

  “I wasn’t royalty like you. My sister and I were just a couple of poor kids who lived in a tiny cottage in the woods with our parents just outside of Eirwen. We were poor—dirt poor. Our father was one of the men hired to hunt down the Coven. He took the job because we needed the money. It took him away from us for a long time. One day, my sister and I wandered too far from our cottage, and we stumbled upon the most amazing thing we’d ever seen—a house made entirely of candy and gingerbread.”

  I knew this story. I’d heard it many times before. He was playing games with me. Anyone could repeat a fairy tale.

  “My sister and I had never seen such treats before—I’m talking fancy cookies with beautiful designs made from icing, giant candy canes as tall as we were, all sorts of pastries filled with fruit jelly. It was a dream come true. We did what any normal children would do. We started to eat the house. We figured a bite here and a nibble there wouldn’t make a difference. Anyway, candy and cookies were made to be eaten. The first thing I went for was a purple gumdrop the size of my head.”

  Henry stopped telling his story to cough, and then he continued, “After a few minutes of gorging ourselves, we heard the voice of an old woman. She said, ‘Nibble, nibble like a mouse. Who is nibbling on my house?’”

  “I know this story. Everyone knows this story,” I said.

  “Just like you said, no one knows the true story. And like you, our story hasn’t ended yet. An old woman stepped out. She seemed sweet and harmless, like the one who brought you the poison apple. She invited us in. She said she had better food inside. Sometimes our family went days without eating, so of course my sister and I wouldn’t turn down free food.

  “She cooked for us. Gave us warm comfortable beds to sleep in. She said we could stay as long as we wanted. Who would want to leave that paradise to go back to some dark cottage where our stomachs constantly rumbled? My sister and I decided that we would stay just for a few days, even though we knew our mother would be terribly worried. We were having the time of our lives.

  “Then, out of the blue, the old woman switched. She wouldn’t let us leave. The house had been a trap set just for us because of our father’s involvement in hunting witches. Everything had gone according to the witch’s plans. She locked us both in cages like animals and fed us so we would gain weight. She said she would make a meal out of us. I don’t know how long we stayed in those cages—maybe weeks—but when we got big enough, she said it was time to cook us. I begged her to take me before my sister.

  “She had two giant ovens—not like the ones they make now. Back then, they were big enough for a person to step into, with a heavy metal door. She tied my wrists and feet together and shoved me inside. Neva, it was the worst, most excruciating pain I ever felt. Imagine how it feels to be cooked. The heat melting your skin and searing your insides. I will never forget the smell of my own flesh baking. It was a battle just to breathe. I remember coughing and gagging. I don’t know how she did it, but my sister overtook the witch before she could shove her into an oven. My sister pulled me out. She had pushed the witch into the other furnace.

  “The witch cooked. We were out of her clutches, but the damage to me was done. My sister tried to take care of my wounds the best she could, but there wasn’t much she could do. We thought we were free, until the witch’s sister arrived. She hadn’t heard from the witch, and she was worried. She saw what we had done, and she cursed us. She said I would have to live the way I was, burned and blistered. I would always feel the way I’d felt in that furnace. My sister would have a never-ending desire for sweets, and her stomach would always be in incredible agony. We’re cursed, just like you. It wasn’t just thirteen girls. A few others were tossed into the mix. When people tell our story today, they think we defeated
the witch and got a happy ending. That couldn’t be further from the truth.”

  I wondered how long it had taken him to come up with that ridiculous story. “You think I’m stupid? I don’t believe a word of that.”

  Henry coughed. “You always wanted to know what I looked like. Turn on the light.”

  Pausing for a moment, I wondered if I really did want to see Henry. Finally, I decided I had to. I reached for the lamp on my nightstand and switched it on. Sitting in the rocking chair, wearing a black hoodie, was the most grotesque thing I’d ever seen. The boy’s skin was cracked and blackened. It was missing in some areas, and it hung and sagged in others. There were bulges and bumps all over. My own skin hurt just looking at him.

  “Henry,” was all I could mutter.

  “That’s why I never wanted you to see me. I’m disgusting, I know.”

  I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t. “Is that why you cough and have trouble breathing—from the oven?”

  “Yeah.”

  I finally managed to tear my gaze away and look at my bed covers. “How did you find me?”

  “The same witch who cursed you, cursed me. Your stepmother. She told me where to find you,” he replied.

  “You’ve seen her?” I asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Where is she?”

  Henry closed his eyes. “I’m not supposed to tell you.”

  “Just give me a clue.”

  He opened his eyes—they were bright and blue, the only part of him that hadn’t been damaged by the fire. “The witch will kill me if I do. I can’t tell you, Neva, but I’ll give you one hint. You see her every day.”

  ***

  On Saturday, Father said we had to be careful because he thought our house was under surveillance. A strange car would park in front of Dot’s house, only to be replaced by another several hours later. If we were being watched, it would be very difficult to leave. A moving truck would be a sure giveaway. I was tempted to tell Father about Henry, but decided against it. Part of me was still trying to take in all the information. Although I didn’t want to believe him, I knew every word had been the truth. He was cursed, like me, and he knew where the witch was, but he wouldn’t tell me.

  After mentioning the witch, Henry had left abruptly, probably afraid he had said too much. I hoped he would return. If the witch was around, that meant I had a chance to break my curse, but only if Father and I stayed.

  That night, Father knocked on my bedroom door. I had been reading with a flashlight underneath my covers like I always did when I had trouble sleeping. I switched the flashlight off. “Come in.”

  Father pushed the door open. I could make out his frame in the light of the hallway. “I have to go.”

  I knew what that meant—he had to go out to the woods. He’d stuck around the house instead of going on his usual weekend hunting trip, but he couldn’t resist any longer.

  “Okay, Father. Be careful.”

  “I will,” he said, before closing the door. A few seconds later, the front door slammed shut.

  My eyes had grown tired from reading, so I tossed my book and flashlight to the side. Snuggling underneath my covers, I pondered over the witch’s identity. Henry had said it was someone I saw every day, but that could be so many people.

  “You remind me of her.” The voice came from the corner of my bedroom.

  My heart practically jumped into my throat. “I really wish you’d give me some type of warning when you’re here, Henry.”

  “Sorry.”

  “I remind you of who?”

  “My sister, Gretchen. Maybe that’s why I always liked you so much. You don’t look like her, but you have the same type of personality—kind and gentle.”

  “I thought her name was Gretel.”

  “The storytellers changed her name like they changed mine and yours. Her name is Gretchen.”

  “Where is your sister?” I asked. “Why isn’t she with you.”

  “She’s at a special school where there are other girls like you. Girls who were cursed by the Coven.”

  Hairs rose on the back of my neck. I knew there were others like me, and I’d always wondered where they were.

  “What are they doing there?” I asked.

  “They’re safe and protected. These girls are different from you. They weren’t lucky enough to have an immortal huntsman watching their backs. After their families died, they were alone in the world. A fairy found them and took them in. They’re working together to find the elixirs to break the curses. It’s better for them there than having to live in this world where they don’t belong anymore.”

  I totally understood. Although I managed to do it every day, it wasn’t easy. I wondered what it would be like to live tucked away at a special school with other girls like me.

  “Henry, please tell me who the witch is. At least give me some sort of clue.”

  He paused for so long I thought he was gone. “I can’t say, but I’ll show you. On Monday. Go to school on Monday, and you’ll find out who she is.”

  20

  On Sunday night, I finally broke down and told Father the truth about Henry. It was the only way he’d agree to let me stick around for a few days and return to school. He’d been calling around and found us a nice condo in California. It was warm, sunny, and near the beach. He thought a change in scenery would be good for us.

  All day in school, I went through a list of girls in my head. Was it someone I had spoken to before, or was it someone I just happened to pass in the hallways and never really noticed? Henry said I saw her every day. I even wondered if one of my teachers was the witch. Mrs. Davenport? Coach Woods? One of the office secretaries? It could have been anyone.

  During lunch, I headed down a deserted hallway leading to the picnic area outside. There was no way I was setting foot in that cafeteria. That would be like walking into a lion’s den wearing a dress made of steak.

  Feeling a presence behind me, I spun around before whoever was following me could kick me or throw another apple at my head. Fortunately, it was only Stacia, staring at me wide-eyed. She bowed her head.

  I had no idea what to say to her. Stacia had trusted me and looked up to me, and now she, too, probably thought I was a murderer. “Stacia, I—.”

  “Don’t worry. I know you didn’t do it,” she said hastily. Relief washed over me.

  “How do you know I didn’t do it?”

  She shrugged. “I just know you. You would never hurt anyone, much less kill them.”

  “Thanks, Stacia. This whole thing is a big mess, and I just want it to be over.”

  She nodded, studying the mustard-colored moccasins she wore. “It’s really sad what happened to them, huh?”

  “It’s terrible.”

  Stacia looked up at me, batting her long lashes. “I didn’t really mean that.”

  “What?”

  “It’s not really sad. Those girls were horrible to you and a lot of other people. I saw the video of what they did to you in the House of Mirrors. I don’t think Hadley and Mia being gone is some huge tragedy. Maybe this school will be better off without them.”

  My throat tightened.

  Stacia smirked, and I was reminded of the mysterious figure in the black hoodie who’d gone into the locker room with Hadley before I’d discovered her dead body.

  “Stacia, I know Hadley and Mia weren’t nice people, but they didn’t deserve to die. Finding joy in what happened to them is just evil.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Don’t lie, Neva. Don’t pretend like you’ve never wanted to get revenge on someone who’s hurt you. I mean, it’s my ultimate dream. I would love to get back at all people who’ve treated me like garbage. Why shouldn’t I?”

  She had a different idea of revenge than me. Of all the times people had bullied me, I never wanted them to die. “I’ll see you later, Stacia.” She was creeping me out, and I wanted to get away from her.

  At lunch, I sat alone underneath the willow tree, munching on an apple. I
thought about my stepmother. She had been an incredibly beautiful woman. People had often mistaken me for her real daughter, because we had similar features—creamy pale skin, jet-black hair, blood red lips, and dark eyes. My stepmother was also very vain. Even though she’d once disguised herself as an old woman, I believed that whatever form she was in currently, she would be beautiful.

  I did a quick rundown in my mind of the girls who were considered the prettiest in school. Noelle, Mia, and Hadley were always at the top of the list. Mia and Hadley were obviously out. Then there was Noelle. Of course. She should have been my first guess. We could pass for sisters. Noelle was one of the kindest, sweetest people I knew at Rock Canyon, so she would have been the last person I’d accuse of being a witch.

  Now that I thought harder about it, Noelle had actually set this whole ordeal into motion. If the others hadn’t found out about my mirror issues, the whole House of Mirrors incident wouldn’t have happened, and I wouldn’t have had a motive to kill Hadley or Mia. Noelle had made sure she wasn’t present during the House of Mirrors fiasco. It was just like the witch to get others to do her dirty work, like she had done with Father—giving him the task of killing me, rather than doing it herself.

  My stepmother had once disguised herself as a kindly old woman—now she was parading around as an innocent high school girl.

  I had to find Noelle and let her know I was on to her. This might be my only chance to free Father and me from the curse. The only problem was I just couldn’t bring myself to murder anyone. I kept telling myself that I could do it for Father’s sake, but I wasn’t so sure.

  The morning announcements had said there would be a student council meeting after school that day. Being the student council president, Noelle would be running the meeting. I had no time to spare. I would have to wait until the meeting was over to confront her. Time was of the essence. I didn’t know how long Father would stall our move.

  ***

  Student council meetings took place in Mr. Brody’s room, since he was the group’s faculty advisor. After school, I stood outside the door, leaning against a locker, waiting for the meeting to let out.