Maplepunzel, Part 8

Jeffery reappeared in one of the towers as a shadow created by the next mirror ripples. Hilary sat on the gleaming white wrought-iron bed with the soft pink silk comforter. Everything was pink and lacy, from the sheer curtains fluttering in the breeze of the two open windows to the painted furniture and the soft stool at the lacquer and glass vanity. Only the battered roll-top desk, with its ink-spattered quill and bottle and piles of scrolls, papers, and books, spoke of anything less than royalty.

“You were right in turning Sherwood away. He’s no good for you, Betty.” Hilary perched on the edge of the bed, brushing Betty’s shoulder-length fawn-brown waves. The brush, with its ivory handle and soft bristles, matched the sharp comb and large hand mirror by her side.  Her brushing was far gentler than Pavla’s, almost reverent. She stroked it like every strand was pure gold rather than mere human tresses.

“You’re brilliant, beautiful, charming, and kind, everything that a princess of the most refined and cultured kingdom in the world should be. I’ve told you many times that Victor is the right match for you. I’ve heard about the amazing work he and his brother Jeffery have done at the front in Brittanica.” 

Hilary put down the brush, unable to resist preening and fluffing her own auburn curls at the mention of her beloved Jeffery. “Jeffrey is quite a dish, isn’t he? Tall, handsome, wears suits better than a model. Normally, a queen would wed the elder brother, but Jeffery was just so charming, I couldn’t resist. And such an actor! He and I were a sensation when we appeared in Razzle Dazzle at the Her Majesty’s Theater in downtown Portlandia.” 

“There!” She nestled a golden tiara trimmed with amethyst and plum blossoms in her ward’s thick waves. Betty barely noticed it. Her eyes were on her silken lap and her hands, now clad in creamy kid gloves. “Now, just look at us!” She held up the hand mirror to the both of them. “Aren’t we the most beautiful women in all of Hope Springs? I know I am.” Betty only sighed, rubbing at her ring finger.

“Hilary,” she began, “I…I was wondering.” She looked up at her guardian as she went to the floor-length mirror in the golden frame opposite the bed. “When I marry Victor, will I have to give up my writing? You know how much it means to me. Scott,” her gentle voice became wistful, “he loved to hear me read my newest story or play. Sometimes, we’d even acted out all the parts. Victor’s never once heard one of my stories. He never asks about them when he’s here. He only talks about what’s going on in Berlania and Brittanica.”

“Of course you can keep writing! We pride ourselves on being ruled by artistry. If his brother doesn’t mind being engaged to a queen who is also an actress, Victor will have no difficulty marrying the most brilliant playwright in Hope Springs.” She smiled at the two women who stood in front of the mirror. “Now, isn’t this perfect? You’ll be a sensation at the party!” 

Betty could barely look at herself. Hilary sported a plum-colored gown of silk and tulle whose skirt took up almost the entire mirror. The sparkling puff sleeves and fluffy overskirt were all trimmed with mounds of plum blossoms, and there were plum blossoms on her glittering diamond and amethyst crown. She nearly crowded out the girl in the cupcake frosting white and pink dress, whose heartbroken scowl marred her pretty, heavily rouged face.

Maple watched from the other side of the mirror as Jeffery, still a shadow, went to touch Hilary’s hand…but she never saw him. She opened her mouth to gasp soundlessly as Jeffery stepped away, his eyes flicking to the windows. Thick black-purple clouds of smoke drifted in, through the windows and under the door. Betty was the first to see it, reaching for the hand mirror as Pavla emerged from the smoke.

“Well well, what do we have here? Dressing for a party?” Pavla smirked, pulling the hood off her own velvet brown curls and razor-sharp cheekbones. “And you didn’t invite me? What an oversight.” Her black satin gown, with its clingy bustier, prickly standing collar, and blood-red lace trim, stood out in the waning sunlight. 

“Who are you?” Hilary gave the intruder her frostiest glare. “What are you doing here? Where are the guards? Why didn’t they stop you at the door? They’re probably sleeping on the jobs. I’ll have them all fired in an instant!” 

“That will be a bit of a problem.” Pavla flung the heavy wooden door open. “Your guards work for me now. I’ve made far better use of them than just letting them stand around, defending your little party.”

Hilary grabbed the brush as the ugliest creatures she’d ever seen stumbled into Betty’s bedroom. They were long and hairless, with fangs sharper than any knife, wiry long arms with clawed fingers, and uncanny faces with tiny black currant eyes and no lips or nose to speak of. They were clad in nothing but the barest shreds of maroon and gold wool. 

“Oh yes,” she hissed with a sickening smirk, “these are the new members of my army. My feathered kinsmen are eliminating the rest of your military at the barracks next door. Too bad you don’t keep much of an army. Too focused on culture for war?”

Betty looked up as screams drifted from the ballroom downstairs…screams that slowly evolved into the cries, tweets, and whimpers of forest and barn animals. “What’s going on?” She swatted one of the monsters with the hand mirror. “What are you doing to our guests?”

“You’d better not be doing anything to them!” Hilary kicked at one of the monsters. “They’re the most prominent men and women in Hope Springs! Every wealthy merchant and theater owner and my entire court is down there! All the musicians, chefs, servants, they were all supposed to be tending to them.” She smacked Pavla on the shoulders as hard as she could with the brush. “If you’ve done anything to this party, I’ll…I’ll…”

Pavla grabbed her hand and the brush. “You’ll do what?” She ran a knife through one filmy lavender sleeve, slicing it off her shoulder, then the other. “They’re no longer your glittering, glamorous court. They’re now mere rabbits, birds, and mice, little animals who can scarcely help you in your present predicament.”

She took the mirror from Betty as the monsters swarmed around her, yanking her arms behind her back. “Such an elegant mirror. Beautiful, well-crafted. Like everything in your so-called ‘perfect’ kingdom, wouldn’t you say?”

Hilary screamed as the monsters dragged her before Pavla. “Yes, and we don’t need black witches like you destroying our peace! Get out of my home!” She tried to kick at Pavla, but three of the creatures grabbed her legs and arms, holding her down. 

The largest monster tore the crown off Hilary’s head and the tiara off Betty’s and brought them to Pavla. “Thank you, my pet.” She stroked his bare head, letting him purr like a kitten. “Bring them both to me.” She stroked the hand mirror, murmuring words in Czech over it as the glass on it and the standing mirror darkened. It no longer reflected the room, but showed an inky darkness

“Ladies,” she held up the ivory hand mirror to the struggling women in the torn gowns, “what do you see in this lovely mirror?” She ran a finger over Hilary’s face…leaving a trail of wrinkles and pockmarks more like that of an ancient woman. “A beautiful, regal queen? Or perhaps the thing she’s most terrified of…admitting she’s more of an old crone than sweet ingenue?” 

Betty’s lovely face was mesmerized, her empty black eyes unable to turn from the swirling shadows in the mirror.  “Look deeply, child. Do you see an intelligent, talented young woman, filled with the pure hope of true love…or do you see a pampered pet who obeys her guardian’s every demand?" She reached over, rubbing harshly at Betty’s throat. Maple’s heart constricted. It was a gesture she knew well. Betty gasped as a black light drew a trail of gold from her throat. She threw a hand over her larynx, which felt like someone had hacked at it with a knife. 

“A pet has no need for a fine voice, or,” Pavla stroked her hand slowly, “the hand that held the pen.” Black lights swirled around Betty’s fingers. The empty eyes widened in horror as her fingers curled and clenched, turning hard, black, and shiny, until they formed a tiny deer hoof.

“NO!” Hilary screeched. “Oh Jeff, where are you? Leave her alone! Leave this kingdom at once!”. He leaped for her, but ran into what seemed like a smoke-filled glass wall. He tried to call Hilary, but her empty eyes were completely held by the mirror. His pounding left smears of viscous black liquid on his hands and the glass.

“Your kingdom? It’s nothing. Not when I get through with it.” Pavla pushed the mirror closer to the hypnotized women as the inky black shadows engulfed the garden, the waving plum trees, even the blue sky with its golden rays of sunlight. “Don’t fight the darkness. Embrace it. Let it consume you. You are your reflection, after all.”

The two women couldn’t help it. The mirror drew them, their eyes swallowed by blackness the more they gazed. Their faces became bland, placid. The pink choker around Betty’s neck glowed black, constricting tightly around her soft white neck. She gasped and tried to claw at it…but she couldn’t claw it. She had no fingers left to claw it.

Black smoke drew Betty’s long fingers together until they formed hooves. Her delicate face and slender body shrunk and  lengthened, forcing her to walk on all fours. Her sleek fawn brown hair spread over increasingly slender limbs. Only the choker remained. Pavla chuckled as she ran one long fingernail over the plum blossom jewel on Betty’s pink collar. The gem stretched until it formed a strong purple chain link leash. 

“A pet,” Pavla whispered into the twitching, furry brown and white ear. “That’s all you ever were, and that’s what you will be. A pretty prize only fit for a leash.” 

Hilary’s sharp caterwauling was the only thing heard. “No! NO! Jeffrey! Jeff, I never…” was cut off as her voice grew higher and scratchier, until it became the cries of a very, very old woman. Her face collapsed, fell into itself as her back bent over until she nearly touched the floor. Her well-shaped limbs wrinkled and contracted, the skin pulled so far in, fragile bones showed. The monsters swarmed around the fragile mound of lavender silk, blocking the frame and drowning out the withered cries of an ancient crone.