Cinderella's Secret Witch Diaries Box Set: Lost, Stolen, Found

Chapter 11-2

Renée made eye contact with Phoebe and said, “I cannot protect all of us alone. We must pool our powers together. Release your magic now.”

Phoebe questioned her with a look and Tenskwatawa was beside her, holding her. He held her close and whispered above the praying. “Open the light in your hand.”

She closed her eyes and outside they could all hear a creaking sound as though the trees tried to uproot themselves and run away. The noise distracted her and all she could think of was the spirit’s tentacles reaching out to her like they had done to Mary, searching for them all, bringing with it sickness and death. A dark shadow fell over the wagon and Mr. Radley prayed louder, but still Phoebe’s magic would not come.

Renée kept her eyes closed and held tightly onto two of the Radley’s children’s hands and they onto to the rest of the group. Phoebe opened her eyes and began to panic. She tried to get Renée’s attention but could not do so. And she knew that death hung over the wagon, creaking down to them, waiting to grace its gift onto all of them. But still her magic would not come. It remained dormant within.

Tenskwatawa pulled her closer and whispered to her, “Think of your mother.”

Phoebe closed her eyes and imagined her mother’s face. She missed her so much and wanted to be with her. Her blood then spoke to her and energy surged through her veins, focusing itself in her hand. She lost herself in her thoughts and then simply let go. Searing white light streamed out of her hand. And with a protective instinct, she thought of the light like honey, needing to coat over all of them. Her light spread, mixing with Renée’s and, together, they covered them all.

She saw her mother in England and could see that she slept but had been attacked earlier in the night. Her eyes were closed and her long blonde hair spread out over the pillow made her resemble a sleeping beauty. The connection between her and her mother remained strong and she called out to her. In the dream within a dream, her voice took shape and soared out across the sky, falling into the dreamline, bringing with it hope and light. Her mother saw her, nodded, and she knew all would be all right.

When she finally opened her eyes, Phoebe noticed that the shadow over the wagon had gone and that everyone had become quiet. Mrs. Radley was the first to react, sobbing still, but she stood up and climbed out of the back of the wagon. Renée followed and together they saw Mary’s remains. Mrs. Radley put her fist up to her mouth to attempt to stop her sobbing, but could not. She walked close to her daughter and fell to her knees. Renée stood beside her and said, “I am so sorry.” She put her arms around Mrs. Radley and gently lifted her back to her feet.

“My baby,” she sobbed, and Renée turned her away.

Mr. Radley came to them and asked, “Can you go watch the children?” He held a shovel in his hand but took Mrs. Radley from her and held her close. “We need a few minutes.” Renée nodded and left them to say their good-byes to their daughter.

When she arrived back at the wagon, she saw Tenskwatawa mending the children, refusing them to leave.

He saw Renée return and told the children to stay put and joined her outside. “Has the spirit gone?”

Renée looked up at the sky and nodded. “Looks like it has.” She turned back to look at Mr. Radley burying his daughter and asked, “What happened?”

Tenskwatawa put his hands on his hips and shook his head. “She tripped and fell. I couldn’t reach her in time. By the time I came close enough to her, it was already too late.”

Renée nodded and noticed Phoebe spying on them. Her face stained with tears. She poked her head out from the wagon and asked, “Has it truly gone?”

“Yes, the spirit has passed on. Just stay inside for a bit.”

Phoebe nodded. “Where did it go?”

Renée did not answer and she saw that Tenskwatawa had come to stand next to her. “I think that it’s gone back to England to where your mother is.”

Renée shot Tenskwatawa a glance that would silence a king. “Phoebe, we do not know that for certain. Just rest.”

Tenskwatawa shook his head. “No, I’m certain it’s there now. She needs to know the truth.”

Phoebe looked up at Renée distracted as though she could see far away. “Auntie, he’s right. My mother’s called the spirit to her.”

Renée crossed her arms and glared at Tenskwatawa but kept silent. He ignored her stare and looked up at the first star starting to shine in the twilight and said, “She saved us. I only hope she can now save herself.”

***

I dreamed of Phoebe and that she needed my help. In the dream, she called my name and I answered. From so far away, I did not know how I could assist her but then she showed me and I acted. Sleep left me and I woke suddenly. I sensed its presence. It had come for us. I heard the first screams and climbed out of bed. The screams were down the hall and knew from Phoebe’s warning that there would be no hope. The spirit of Pestilence had come for us and its touch would wither us to death.

In the hall, I saw two guards running toward me and then they stopped, clutching at their throats and fell to the ground. From their bodies, I saw a twinkling and shimmering of energy.

“Cinderella, come follow me!” Jeremiah had come out of his room and ran toward me with his hand outstretched.

I grabbed his hand firmly and said, “We have to help get everyone out of the palace or they’ll die.”

He shook his head and pulled me the other way. “No, we must leave now.”

At the end of the hall, moonlight shone through the large windows and the air suddenly became alive with a glittering amorphous cloud of dust that swirled in circles as though alive. The cloud rushed forward, but then would pull back, seemingly testing the path ahead.

“Follow me.” Jeremiah pulled again at my arm and we ran hard. I pulled my nightclothes up so that I could run with ease and my bare feet hurt from the hard pace he took.

“Where are you headed?”

“I do not know. As far away from the spirit as I can get.” He reached the end of the hall and then let go of my hand and ran down the stairs, taking them two at a time. I followed, careful not to slip or fall. On the next landing, he paused for a moment and headed toward candlelight.

I chased after him and we ran into a room filled with many hanging paintings. For a moment, we stopped and I closed my eyes and concentrated. My power came through. Looking down, I saw my left hand glowing with pure white light. I focused and allowed the energy to lessen and dim. I did not wish to waste my power.

From ahead, we heard a horn being blown followed by calls and shouts.

“The alarm has been sounded and we must help or they will all die.”

Jeremiah pulled at his thick, curly hair, thinking. “Yes, but how best to do that. The spirit will kill anyone in its path.”

I raised my left hand. “Not everything. I think I can turn it away.”

“Think and know are two different things. We cannot take such a risk. Flight is our best option.”

“I will not sit by and watch others die when I could help them.” I heard the horn blow again and then rushed forward.

Jeremiah reached for my arm and grabbed it tightly, holding me fast. “Wait. Do not throw away your life.”

“Let go of me.” I pulled my arm away and then continued running.

He ran before me and blocked my path, holding up his hands. “You do not know what you face. Wait a moment so we can devise a plan.”

“People will die if we do not try and help.” I hesitated and did not continue onward.

“And what happens if you are killed? Do you not care about your daughter?” He pointed toward the stairs. “We need to get outside and run away. We can help anyone we see on the way out.”

I thought a moment and realized he spoke the truth. “You are right. Let us go quickly.” It would not do anyone good for me to be foolhardy.

The horn blew a third time and I turned to look in that direction and felt Jeremiah grab my hand. “Come, we must go.”

We turned away from the sound of the horn and ran to the next landing and made for a light that we saw ahead. We came to an area of the castle with more people awake and heard from behind us a final blow of the horn and then the screams of people in pain that lasted for several short seconds. And after, there was only silence. We ran faster and I could hear his heavy breathing as he held tightly onto my hand. We pushed onward and when we entered a room he stopped and leaned against a sofa, trying to catch his breath. I did the same using a chair to hold me up and noticed others in the room. In the darkness, I saw movement and someone came toward me with a lit lantern and I could then see that it was Clarissa.

Henri spoke with Jeremiah and Abigail clung tightly to Henri’s leg. In her white nightgown, she looked up at her father and he, without thinking, smoothed down her long, dark hair.

“Cinder, are you okay?” Clarissa’s face came into focus before me.

I ignored her, being unable to concentrate knowing that death swarmed around us, and I kept staring at Henri. Always Henri. The spirit of Pestilence came for us and soon we would be dead, but still I could not let go of him. I wondered why that was. Clarissa put her hand on my arm and asked again, “Are you all right?”

Closing my eyes, I heard more screams, but this time they were closer in distance. I grabbed Clarissa’s hands and said, “I will be fine.” Winded and out of breath, I took Clarissa’s offered arm and walked over to Henri and Jeremiah.

“Mommy, I am scared.” Abigail detached herself from Henri’s leg and flew at Clarissa. She let go of me and took her daughter in her arms.

We heard more screams from behind us and Jeremiah turned to Henri. “We need to get everyone out of this room and outside the palace. I am not as familiar with the rooms and hallways as you. What path would be most direct?”

Henri scooped up Abigail in his arms and said, “The most direct way out is blocked.”

They all heard a series of rifle shots from a room far off to the left and shouts from the guards. Clarissa ran to Henri and pointed. “Those must be the royal guards. They are under attack. What should we do?”

Jeremiah pulled me toward the door on the opposite side of the room. “We must leave here with haste. If the spirit catches us in this room, we’ll be trapped.”

I followed him and we all walked as quickly as we could out of the room down a long hallway, leaving the sound of rifle shots and dying behind us.

“Where are you taking us?” I allowed Jeremiah to direct me and stayed close to him.

“Toward Her Majesty’s suite. If we can find her, she might know of a better way to leave the castle.”

We traveled down a flight of stairs and once on the next level we heard voices coming toward us from down the other end of the hall. Up ahead we could see the queen and several of her attendants with her. Only two of her guards were by her side. From behind, two attendants led the king who appeared more himself, but tired. The queen rushed toward us and said, “We have been looking for you. Come with me.”

She led us back the way we had come and at the stairway, she touched a part of the wall and a hidden door popped open. Without hesitating, her guards went first and then she followed, descending a spiral staircase. We followed and the queen’s group led the way. In the dark, we rushed down as quickly as we could and came out in an area of the palace I had not been before.

The queen rushed forward and from above the screams continued as the spirit made its way through the rooms, spreading its ill to all who crossed its path. “We must hurry.”

We followed without question and came to the servants’ entrance to the palace and then the queen stopped. Sprawled on the ground were the rotting remains of the palace’s staff who had run into the spirit. Their bodies were bloated and marked with the pox.

“So be it.” The queen stopped and ushered us back to an open room filled with a long table in which the servants had their meals. “This is where we will hold our ground.”

“Is there no other way out?” Clarissa held tightly onto her daughter, having taken her from Henri.

“I think we could climb out of the windows if we boosted each other up.” Henri pulled a chair over to a window and Jeremiah tried to help him.

“No, that is not the way.” The queen turned to me. “Have you decided what you wish to do?”

I did not know what to say. From an upper level, I heard rifle shots and then more screaming.

“Child, the time for action is now.” The queen pushed forward and asked again, “Have you decided?”

“I will go.” I wrapped my arms across my chest and said quietly, “But I do not know what I will do.”

“Fair enough.” She reached into a pocket of her robes and then held out a small brush and handed it to me. “This was Napoleon’s as a child.”

I accepted it and turned it over in my hands. The brush felt heavy and seemed more functional than ornate. “I need more than this.”

The queen motioned to Jeremiah and he came by my side. “He has been trained on how to help you.” From up above, the sounds of dying were coming closer. “Now go before there is no time left.”

Clarissa clung to her Abigail and I could not make eye contact with her. “What will you do?”

The queen gave me a wry and not often seen smile. “We will survive. Leave us now and do what must be done.”

Jeremiah offered me his hand and, with reluctance, I took it. The brush I held in my left and I stared at Clarissa, Abigail, and Henri. This could be the last time I would see them. I closed my eyes and focused my power, spinning it up, reaching forth to step through the veils of time and place and to be who I was meant to be, a Chronicler of history and time. I had never traveled back this far, but I had to try. I opened my eyes and saw Henri looking at me and tucked the brush into my pocket and opened the light within. In a moment of blindness, I called to Henri and pulled him to me. The room filled with a bright and blinding light and with suddenness I felt his hand in mine. The king sat slumped in a chair at the table, ignoring all around him, but the queen and Clarissa called out after me, but I ignored them. I saw Abigail run to her father, but I had his hand now and he could not become free.

Jeremiah’s strength boosted my own and I could sense him directing me where he wanted me to go, but I ignored him. The brush, its significance, and all that was asked of me, I would reject and ignore. I knew them to be wrong and not the source of where we needed to go. My instinct had often served me well in the past and would hopefully do so now. I felt pulled to a particular place and willed myself to go there. The energy in Jeremiah, Henri, and me cast us forth, expelling us from the room. With loudness and some grace, the magic called me and I allowed it to swallow us whole, and in a blink, we were gone.