You’ve made it to the final installment of my novella! Yay, you! Thanks again for the encouraging feedback. I would love to hear your take on how it all wrapped up in the end. It’s tricky for us long-winded, full-length novel types to par down our stories, so I hope I was able to provide a well rounded fairytale in the *mere* 20,000 words I was allowed.
If you need to catch up, here is part one, two, three, and four. Also, I realized, after my last post, that I had faulty links to the Rooglewood contest, a collection of 5 Beauty and the Beast retellings, that inspired this story. Here is the link to that!
Chapter 15
“If you’re going for ‘shock and awe,’ you failed,” Wendy said. “Somehow I’m not surprised to find you nosing around my stuff. It’s obvious that civility doesn’t suit your little narcissistic universe. But I live in the real world and I’m going to have to ask you to remove yourself from it.” Wendy yanked the door open and stared expectantly.
Celestria stood with a smirk. “Hate to shatter your version of ‘reality’,” she finger quoted, “but I’ll let you in on a secret . . .” She walked to Wendy. “The reality you see in this cozy castle is my world. The way I decreed it to be in my so-called narcissistic universe. You’re in an asylum, Wendy dear.” She pinched one of Wendy’s curls in her fingers, pulling it straight, “And it’s my goal to make all citizens of my world certifiably insane.” The curl sprang from her fingers with her last word and she walked out.
Wendy shook. Her vision blurred with angry tears and a profusion of ways she could retaliate with sharp, pointy objects. She
hadn’t been this furious since her stepdad emptied her mom’s bank account and went AWOL.
What to do?
Quit? Not an option. Leave? No way. Lay low? Never. Wendy knew she must see this through. Not for the sake of her story, but for the sake of her friend’s. Friends that seemed at the mercy of this nefarious woman. Though Wendy didn’t grasp the implications of Celestria’s presence, she would not let that vixen keep the upper hand.
It felt vital to ride out this storm . . . but it didn’t feel like it would be easy.
Chapter 16
A fitful night of sleep morphed into an out of sync morning. Wendy found herself sharing breakfast with Carmen and Cookie. Awkward.
“Where is everyone?” Wendy asked over a forkful of scrambled eggs.
“Dealing with things in their own way, I guess,” Cookie said. “We’re not used to this much commotion.”
“Me neither.” Wendy didn’t have much of an appetite and put down her fork.
“It’s partially your fault, ya know.” Carmen shoved her plate away, untouched.
“How’s that?” Wendy was growing weary of the housekeeper’s steady sneer.
“We were all doing dandy, til you showed up. You’re the only reason she’s here.”
Wendy narrowed her eyes. “Oh really? Any idea how she might’ve learned of my whereabouts?”
Carmen rolled her eyes. “What? You think I’d invite that witch into this house?”
“Well, you do share similar warm and endearing personalities,” Wendy said.
Cookie snorted.
Carmen stood, indignant. “Look. I may not be a ‘people person.’ But I care about Drake Brantley and each patient here. And I almost like you,” she jabbed a finger toward Wendy. “In case you hadn’t noticed, Celestria is more than the world’s worst house guest. She . . . she . . . ugh!” Her fist pounded the table.
“Let me guess. You’ve said too much already?”
The gangly woman folded her arms and gave Wendy that sideways stare. “That’s right. I have. I tried to warn you when you arrived that this place would make you crazy. Maybe you’re starting to believe me.”
Wendy gripped the edge of the table. “Look. You’re right. I am about to go crazy. Crazy because I know there are undercurrents of truth that no one wants to discuss.”
“It’s not that we don’t want to,” said Carmen. “We simply can’t. We can’t even disclose why we can’t.” She started to leave then turned back. “The reason I don’t like you being here is that you bring false hope to a hopeless situation. It’s not your fault. It is what it is. But the pain will hurt just as much in the end, whether you mean for it to or not.”
Wendy stared after the housekeeper, perplexed. “Do you have a translation for that?” she asked Cookie. “I think it’s the nicest thing Carmen has ever said, but I’m not sure what it means.”
Cookie sighed. “Really quite touching. And I couldn’t have said it better myself.” She patted Wendy’s hand. “If you don’t understand it now, perhaps you will. Lord know’s I’ve prayed every night that you will, somehow, understand.”
“Understand what?”
“If I could explain it, love, I would. I’m sorry.”
With a grunt, Wendy pushed her chair back and stood. “Whatever. Thanks for breakfast.” She walked away, her food barely touched.
Taking the stairs two at a time, Wendy pounded toward her room. Carmen stepped out from behind a potted plant in the upstair’s hallway.
Wendy slowed and watched the housekeeper approach. “I’m assuming this isn’t a social call?”
Carmen looked each way and whispered, “I need to speak with you in private.”
“Okay. Here we are.”
“In your room. If you don’t mind.”
Wendy pushed her door open, and gestured for the woman to step inside.
Once the door closed, Carmen said, “I don’t want Celestria catching us speaking together.”
“Very well.”
“There’s something I need to give you.” The tall woman looked around suspiciously. “But you cannot let it be seen by anyone, especially her.” She reached into the pocket of her apron and retrieved a gilded, circular object which she held between her thumb and pointer-finger.
Wendy stepped toward Carmen with a gasp. She reached for the ornate item. “Is that a mirror?”
Carmen pulled it out of reach. “Hang on. Allow me to explain. As much as possible, that is.”
“Minimal information seems to be the motto around here. I’ll keep my expectations low.”
“I understand your frustration. And though I’m unable to offer satisfactory answers,” Carmen lowered her voice even more, “perhaps this will direct you to the right conclusions.”
Wendy was touched to have Carmen reach out in this way. “Much of what’s going on is surely none of my business. I appreciate anything you can offer to help make sense of the puzzle pieces. Forgive me for misjudging you.”
“I’m afraid you may retract that statement before this conversation is finished.” The tall woman gave Wendy her odd, cockeyed stare. “But I can live with that. I have for a long time.”
“Live with what?”
Carmen turned the round object over in her palm. “This is a unique mirror. It belongs to Master Brantley, but he tossed it in a fit of rage when his condition set in and never bothered to retrieve it. For several years it lay behind his chest of drawers. I finally decided to risk rescuing it. Brantley has never sought it out, as far as I know.”
“There are several mirrors throughout the house. Surely Mr. Brantley sees his reflection.”
“I said this one is unique.” Carmen held the mirror up, and peered at it. “You cannot see your reflection in this mirror, Wendy. What you do see may be so horrific you’ll want to run. It may leave you with more questions. But maybe—hopefully—it’ll provide some form of explanation as well.”
The housekeeper placed the mirror in Wendy’s hand. Wendy curled her fingers around the carved frame, surprised by its weightiness.
“It’s lovely. Where did it come from?”
“It was given to Master Brantley around the onset of his disease. Where it originated, I can only speculate.” Carmen pointed to the carving on the frame. “You see the arrows that are part of the engraving? The arrows on this side, point inward. I want you to look at me through the mirror, with that side facing you.”
“Okay . . .” Wendy picked up the mirror and held it between herself and the housekeeper. “Oh my goodness!” She startled at the changed image in the glass. Carmen grew younger. Her soft, dewy skin and kind grey eyes looked wistfully at Wendy.
“How is this possible?” Wendy asked. She lowered the mirror and looked at the sharp-featured woman.
“I don’t know what kind of magic makes it work.”
“Magic? Like an illusion?”
Carmen shook her head. “It’s not smoke and mirrors. No tricks. Just real, powerful magic. What you’re seeing is how I looked when Master Brantley became diseased.”
Wendy scowled. “That’s impossible. I don’t believe in that sort of magic.”
Carmen gave a bitter laugh. “Your belief is immaterial. You saw what happened, despite your ideology. Now turn it over and look again. And don’t drop it.” She crossed her arms.
The other side of the mirror looked the same, except the engraved arrows pointed outward rather than in. Wendy held it between herself and Carmen then jerked it back, appalled. Carmen raised her brows, daring Wendy to look again.
The mirror quivered as it eclipsed her view of the housekeeper. The image in the glass was not a youthful Carmen. A blackened beak and burnished, ebony feathers covered the person on the other side. Sweeping wings crossed her barreled breast and 
beady coals blinked at Wendy. The housekeeper had morphed into a very large sort of blackbird.
“I-I don’t understand.” Wendy’s voice matched the tremor in her fingertips. “How is this possible?” She lowered the mirror, relieved to see Carmen looking like herself.
“Like I said: magic.” Carmen shrugged. “I can’t explain it. But I’ve been living under the effects of it for years. We all have. That mirror was given to Master Brantley as a reminder of who he used to be—who all of us once were. And as a warning of what we will be condemned to become, if . . .”
“If what?”
The woman pressed her lips together, clearly choosing her words. “I’ve taken a risk giving you this, Wendy. I’ve already—”
“Don’t tell me ‘you’ve already said too much!’ You are the one who came to me. You can’t hand this over without more of an explanation.”
“I want to explain. We all do. The consequence of my telling you anything more is just too great.”
Carmen looked away and sniffed. Wendy almost wanted to give her a hug.
“I’m sorry. I’ll respect your wishes,” Wendy said. “I just don’t know where to classify such an apparition. It makes no sense. How can this possibly help me?”
The housekeeper turned sad eyes to Wendy. “You’re an investigative journalist. Perhaps you can piece things together. We’re all hoping that you might, might be able to help us. But the truth is, you probably cannot.”
“I want to help! More than you know. Can’t you give me a hint on the best way to do that?”
The woman shook her head. “I can’t tell you that either. Any more information will have to be gathered on your own.” She walked to the door. “Whatever you do, you cannot let on that you have the mirror. But you need to use it.” Carmen swallowed and looked at her feet. “Honestly, it may not benefit your quest whatsoever. Yet, when all is said and done, at least one person will know the truth. One person will know who the patients in Brantley’s asylum really were, and who they were condemned to be.”
Chapter 17
Wendy watched the door close behind Carmen, then looked at the mysterious item in her hand. Her phone rang and she jumped, flinging the mirror onto the bed. She stared at it, as if it might come to life, while she fetch her phone from the nightstand.
“Hello?”
“Wendy? What’s going on over there? I haven’t heard from you in two weeks. You okay?” Seth’s voice snapped Wendy back to reality.
“Oh, hey Seth.”
“That’s it? Two weeks of silence and I get a ‘hey’?”
“Sorry. I’ve been . . . busy. Busy trying to figure things out.”
“You’re breaking up. Can you hear me? I asked if you’re okay. I’ve been worried.” Seth’s voice cut in and out but Wendy pieced it together.
“Sorry. Bad signal here. I’m holding my own, Seth. But, I won’t lie. It’s been different than I imagined.”
“Did you say it’s been difficult?”
“Different. It’s been different than I expected.” Wendy spoke slowly, hoping he could make out her words. “It’s hard to explain. It’s a strange place, but—”
“If you’re in some kind of trouble, you can leave. Abandon the story.”
“No, I’m fine.” Wendy hoped she sounded fine on the heels of her conversation with Carmen.
“Do I need to come get you?”
“You’re overreacting.”
“I can’t hear you. Are you there?”
“I’m here!”
“Wendy?”
The phone lost contact and Wendy hit redial. She didn’t want to worry him, though she didn’t feel entirely at ease. She couldn’t attempt an explanation, however. Especially one that sounded believable.
Seth’s phone rang and then the call dropped again. Wendy sighed and put the phone down. Oh well.
She returned her attention to the mirror, shivering to recall the horrific image of Carmen transformed into a bird. What did it mean? The arrows radiated like spokes . . . the inward pointing arrows seemed to point to the past, the outward arrows toward the future. At least that made the most sense to Wendy. She questioned whether she really cared to glimpse each of her friends in such a way. Did the others know about the mirror? Carmen acted like Celestria knew. What was her connection to all the mysteries in the manor? A pretty significant one, I’d bet.
Wendy slipped the mirror into her pant’s pocket and crossed to the window seat for a self-induced pep talk. She must choose her timing wisely and be unflinching whenever she looked through the mirror.
In the garden below, Wendy noticed Spade raking leaves around a tree. She wondered if the mirror would really ‘work’ a second time. Maybe what happened with Carmen was a trick that the strange woman pulled over on a gullible newcomer.
Wendy gazed through the frame and gasped to see Spade mutate into a sleek, black animal. She jerked her arm down, unprepared to see the magic function a second time. Her pulse revved and she looked again. The distance prevented her from 
recognizing Spade’s species, but he seemed to have a muzzle and tail, rather than a beak and feathers.
A flip of the frame and the man changed again. Longer hair, the most apparent feature from her view. Wendy lowered the mirror, breathless. Against her palm it appeared ordinary. The only hint that the glass might be different was a subtle opaque quality.
The inquisitive side of Wendy swelled. It felt like a brand new puzzle had been dumped onto her lap and she was compelled to fit the pieces together. The logical course of action? Snooping and spying, of course. She made a beeline out the door.
“Ah! Miss Kaufman, I was just coming to find you.” Stanley approached from the top of the stairs.
“Really? What can I do for you?”
“Master Brantley requests your presence in his quarters.”
Wendy blinked. “Alright. Lead on.” Wendy fingered the mirror in her pocket, noting that she hadn’t been in Drake’s chamber since her arrival.
Like the first meeting, Drake sat in his wingback chair, facing the windows, his back to the door.
“Ms. Kaufman, at your request, sir.” Stanley gave Wendy a curt nod and left in a hurry.
Drake’s silence made Wendy nervous, but she forged to the nearby chair, determined not to be intimidated by his mood. She caught sight of what sat on the window ledge in front of him and stopped.
The dried rose under glass, from Drake’’s viewing room, sat there like her judge and jury.
“Look familiar?” he asked. His voice was low, as if he didn’t trust himself to speak.
Wendy swallowed and took the chair opposite. “Why?”
Drake’s nails drummed on a book that sat on the table between the chairs. Wendy noticed his nails had been trimmed and looked less like claws.
“I know you broke into my private quarters.”
“I didn’t break in. I merely discovered the false wall behind the bookcase and investigated. I’m a journalist. It’s what I do.”
Drake stood and Wendy flinched. “You can’t tell me that you did so with a clear conscience. You had no business sneaking up there.”
Wendy met his gaze, chin high. “And I suppose it’s fine with your conscience to spy on people from behind your great glass wall? I’m comfortable with that set up, frankly.”
“Then you needn’t spend time in my library. The mirrors plainly announce that you might be observed. You, on the other hand, didn’t bother to tell me you ventured into my personal space. The fact is, this is my house. I don’t owe you any explanation for what I wish to do here.”
Wendy dropped her eyes. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’ve no good excuse—other than I’m a terribly curious person. It was wrong.” If she didn’t argue, perhaps he wouldn’t ask her to leave. She brimmed with more questions than ever, and wanted to stay long enough to answer at least a few perplexing things. Beyond that, she valued his friendship and couldn’t bear to be the cause of further injury and distrust in his life.
Drake’s expression softened. “Well, no harm done . . .” his eyes flickered to the rose, “at least not much.”
Wendy recalled bumping the table and watching some petals fall. “You’ve gone to great lengths to protect that rose. It must be special.”
Drake gave a caustic grunt. “You could say that.”
“Where did you get it?”
Drake walked over to the window and looked outside. “Doesn’t matter.”
Subject closed. Wendy picked up the book from the table. “Hound of the Baskervilles, eh? You like it?”
He turned toward Wendy. The bright window backlit his hairy head and gave it a halo effect. She realized it was the first time today that she noticed his skin problem.
“It’s a good read so far,” he said. “Have you read it?”
“Yep. In high school. Creeped me out.”
“Yeah, there are enough strange things in real life—me, for instance—without giant, killer dogs roaming about.” He laughed, sheepishly, and sat down.
Wendy couldn’t avoid a little chuckle. “Glad to see you’re exercising that sense of humor.”
“Trying to turn a new leaf, I guess,” he said. “And it’s entirely your fault.”
She blushed. “That’s a good thing, in my opinion. So I’ll just say thank you.”
Drake stared at her for a long moment.
Wendy felt self-conscious, but held his gaze.
“Ugh!” Drake gave a frustrated snarl and slammed his fist against his other hand.
Wendy jumped.
“I’m sorry!” Drake reached for her knee in a calming gesture. “I’m sorry. I must learn not to allow my anger get the best of me. It’s just . . .”
She waited.
“I wish things were different. Wish I was different.”
With a nod, Wendy looked away. “I wish there was something I could do for you, Drake. It’s so unfair.”
“Life isn’t fair. I’m learning to accept that.”
“Well, Celestria doesn’t make anyone’s life easier by being here. Why don’t you ask her to leave?”
“That woman’s presence is felt everyday—even when she’s not here,” he said. “But, I agree, it’s much worse with her roaming about. I hate that you’ve had to experience her wicked ways. I feared this would happen if I asked you to stay.”
“Then why did you?”
He shrugged. “One, tiny shred of hope, I suppose. Though I’m always aware of her far-reaching influence, she hasn’t bothered to show her face in ages. I wanted to believe she’d forgotten us. I should’ve known better.”
“What sort of ‘hope’ were you holding out for?”
Drake’s sad stare brought to mind Carmen’s emotions earlier in the day. “I guess I hoped to experience a taste of normal conversation and normal interaction. A temporary reprieve from solitary confinement.”
Wendy’s vision swam. Why did she think she could make a project of this man’s life and come out a hero? How arrogant. There would not be a story. She couldn’t possibly do justice to what he and the others suffered. Wendy stiffened, remembering the object in her pocket. How did it factor in? The only thing she clearly understood was why Drake would’ve wanted nothing to do with the mirror.
“If I can contribute any happiness, it’s worth putting up with that woman.” She offered a rueful smile.
Drake reached across the table and took Wendy’s hand. “I’m afraid she will only become worse, Wendy. She rules her little world with an iron fist, and you aren’t cooperating like she expected.”
In his grip, Wendy’s hand felt small but safe. “That’s because I assumed this to be your world. Maybe it’s time for a mutiny.”
His eyes flicked back to the rose and he released her hand. “I wish.”
Chapter 18
Everything felt disjointed. Though Drake wouldn’t ask Celestria to leave the manor, he asked Wendy to leave him alone with his thoughts. She’d watched his emotions shift from angry, to forgiving, to hopeful, to downcast. All because of her. She felt like a heel.
The mirror in her pocket refused to be ignored. She wondered if she should return it to the housekeeper, or maybe even Drake. Using it to spy on others felt much worse than sneaking into his private quarters. Still . . . Carmen insisted Wendy use it to find answers. Perhaps Wendy needed to play the part of investigative reporter awhile longer.
Voices in the drawing room reminded her that it was teatime. She decided everyone must be feeling more congenial than they had at breakfast. She also recalled the bushes outside the drawing room window and saw an opportunity.
Once outside, she tried to look nonchalant as she wandered toward the hedge. Assured that no one was near, she sidled up to the house, and ducked behind an oleander bush.
Happy chatter floated through the window, which made her feel worse about her stealth intentions. With the mirror’s arrows facing inward, she held it to the corner of the window. Wendy hoped that it wouldn’t work this time, and she could declare it broken and return it to Carmen.
Instead, like a flashback from a movie, her new friends grew younger before her eyes. Cookie and Grayson also grew a few 
pounds lighter. While the group chatted and stirred their tea, Drake joined them, along with a fluffy, grey schnauzer. No one acted surprised by the appearance of a strange dog, even when it jumped into a chair. In fact, Cookie poured it some tea.
Wendy ducked away from the window, confused. Where had this pet been hiding?
She inched back toward the glass without the mirror, surprised to see Stanley seated in the same chair as the dog. Wait a minute . . .
Another look through the mirror instantly changed Stanley into a schnauzer. Wendy gasped and crouched down, afraid someone might hear. Panic welled up and whispered that she was treading on dangerous ground—though she knew she must see the experiment through. Willing her shaky hand to be still, she flipped the mirror over and inched back to the glass.
A good lip biting kept her from crying out at the scene before her. A collection of half-human, half-animal creatures, sat around the table drinking tea. Instead of Cookie, Grayson, Spade, Clara, Carmen, Drake and Stanley, there appeared a freakish mutation of goat, owl, panther, bat, blackbird, wolf, and—somehow—Stanley remained a man.
Wendy jerked the mirror down and hunched over, taking slow, deliberate breaths. She could not wrap her mind around the strange exhibition. She despised Carmen for giving her access to such magic. In no way could such knowledge be in anyone’s best interest.
Maybe the housekeeper didn’t want to help. Perhaps she worked in cahoots with Celestria in an effort to scare the nosey journalist away.
Wendy clamored out from under the bushes and ran. She needed to clear her head. The first thing that came to mind was to run and run fast. She sprinted around the corner, towards the back of the house, and ran smack into Celestria. The two tumbled headlong on the grass.
“What’s the hurry, Wendy dear?” A quick, maneuver and the vile woman had Wendy pinned beneath her.
“Hey!”
Celestria narrowed her eyes and leered, inches from Wendy’s face. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Have you been snooping around where you shouldn’t again? You know, Drake was none too happy when I told him about your excursion in the library.”
“Get off me, you crazy witch.” Wendy struggled uselessly. “Why can’t you just leave us alone.”
“Us?” Celestria looked savage. “Since when are you part of their little family? You’re an intruder, little girl. You’re the one who needs to go.” She shimmied her knees on top of Wendy’s arms, and pressed cold fingers around Wendy’s neck.
A cruel cackle and a need for oxygen were the last things Wendy remembered.
Chapter 19
Wendy’s head felt like cement. Her neck ached and she tried to observe her surroundings without moving more than her eyeballs. Moonlight spilled through a bay of windows and cast enough light to make out a door on the opposite wall.
Muddled memories jostled for attention, until she recalled being pounced on by Celestria. With a groan, Wendy sat up, glad to be alive but on the verge of panic. Though she guessed she remained in the manor, the room did not look familiar.
She tried the door. Locked, as expected. She jerked the cord and heard the bell chime—though certain that no one would come.
“Ugh!” She kicked the door and walked to the window to try and decipher her location. It looked to be the lower level of the tower, beneath Celestria’s room. Apparently the witch had a dungeon.
Wendy’s hand brushed something on the windowsill. The magical mirror lay on the ledge beside a note. She yanked the paper towards the moonlight and read:
“You won’t be needing this after tonight. Enjoy the show.”
“What show?”
As if on cue, Wendy spied movement outside. Familiar figures stumbled into view and headed slowly towards the broken fountain. They appeared to be bound at their wrists, while their feet were hobbled with short lengths of rope. Celestria glided behind the group in a silvery cloak. She held something before her that gleamed in the steely moonlight.
Wendy pounded the glass and screamed, “No! Leave them alone!”
A futile attempt.
She looked for something to break the glass, but the room was empty. Desperate to get to her friends, she swiped up the mirror, raised it in her fist, and smashed the edge of it against the glass.
A small crack zipped across the window, encouraging her to try again. Several blows later, the glass began to fall like jagged teeth from a rectangular mouth. Wendy stood on the sill and kicked enough glass free to make a safe opening. She climbed through, thankful to be at ground level.
Celestria appeared to levitate onto the base of the broken fountain. She launched into a diatribe that Wendy could not make out from such a distance. But as Wendy closed the gap, hugging the shadows cast by the hedge, she recognized what the woman held in her clutches.
It was Drake’s rose, under glass. With a dramatic tug, Celestria removed the lid and flung it behind her. A collective scream resounded.
“You wicked woman! You cheat! We still have time. There are three petals left.” Drake snarled, spittle flying.
Celestria’s arctic eyes pierced Wendy as she approached the group. “Well, well, look at this spunky little girl you’ve got here, Drake. Looks like I need to take care of her over zealous nature.”
“Leave her out of this!” Drake turned toward Wendy, just as a set of ropes appeared on her ankles and wrists.Wendy stared and tried to jerk her hands apart.
“Let her go, you nefarious ninny,” said Cookie. She lowered her head and looked like she might head-butt Celestria from her pedestal.
“Lame, lame, lame. All of you!” Celestria glared at everyone, seething. “You missed your chance, Drake. Now you all will pay. You and I were once the ultimate power-couple. Your dashing good looks and loads of cash, my beauty and powerful magic . . . the world would have been worshipping at our feet in no time. But you turned all self-righteous and made me out as some evil nemesis.
“Well, I’m here to ensure the deadline strikes. Your last-ditch effort with this bleeding-heart reporter serves only as a dose of salt for your old wound.”
“Leave her out of it, do you understand me? Don’t lay a hand on her.” Drake looked like he might spontaneously combust.
“Or what, Drake? You’ll huff and puff and blow me away?” Celestria sat the wood base, on which the vase and flower rested, between her feet. “Now, before I toss these petals from here to kingdom come, let me get everyone in their proper attire. Since we are a few days shy of a full moon, I shall assist with your final evolution.”
Wendy looked from Celestria to her friends, desperate for an explanation. She noticed Stanley wasn’t among the hostages.
An arcane screech from Celestria made everyone stiffen and look her way. With hypnotic movements, she waved willowy fingers over the group and intoned:
“A full moon, there need not be,
Your cells shall be transformed.
Forged into a loathsome wretch,
Your former life to mourn.
Were-animals you’ll now become,
No remedy! No cure!
Stripped of your humanity,
‘til death you must endure.”
A collective sound of pain mingled with Celestria’s deranged laughter. Wendy cringed, terrified to watch her friends morph from humans into various animal forms. The same animals she’d seen through the mirror. Drake let loose a mournful howl and the others complained in various caws and grunts and hoots.
The witch pointed to each helpless creature and named them one by one. “Weregoat, werebat, wererevan, werepanther, wereowl and, of course, werewolf!” She turned narrowed eyes on Wendy. “I’m still deciding what to do with you.”
Drake’s tethered arms encircled Wendy protectively. Although he had transformed into a hulking werewolf, his face all muzzle and fangs, Wendy only feared the evil woman.
Celestria scoffed. “Such chivalry! Trying to protect the poor little doe. Ah . . . that’s it! I’ll—what’s this?”
“Freeze! Police!”
Wendy looked toward the house. Several officers ran toward the group, guns drawn. Behind them she recognized her editor, Seth.
“Put your hands up!” Shouted one of the cops.
“Let the woman go, you beast, or I’ll shoot,” shouted another.
“No!” Wendy clung to Drake.
Bam!
Drake went limp in her arms and pulled Wendy down with him.
“No, no, no!” Hot tears blurred her vision.
“Get those other animals too,” someone shouted. Shots rang out and bodies dropped.
Wendy heard Celestria scream something unintelligible and turned in time to see the woman pluck the flower from its vase and flick away the last few petals with a diabolical laugh.
“Well, boys,” she shouted, “you’re a little late. For my next trick, I’ll—”
Another shot. Celestria careened to the ground.
“Drake! Speak to me. Please.” Wendy’s face hovered just above Drake’s wolf-like features. His eyes were closed. “Drake!” She shook his shoulders, her tears peppered his fur.
“Miss, are you okay?” An officer approached Wendy, gun leveled on Drake.
“Leave him alone! He didn’t do anything. He hasn’t hurt anyone.” Wendy waved the cop away and dropped her head.
“Oh, Drake. What have I done?” she whispered. “I only wanted to write a story. I didn’t mean to destroy you.” Wendy realized she still clasped the mirror. She released it onto his chest and lifted her head, staring. The mirror and the man . . . two pieces that didn’t quite fit together.
“Please forgive me for destroying everything you, loved,” she sobbed. “If you can hear me, I want you to know that, although I came here hoping to help you . . . I, I grew to love you.” A teardrop spattered the mirror.
Wendy rested her cheek against Drake’s chest, on top of the mirror. Her heart so despondent, it ached. She was aware of the police walking among the bodies of her other friends-turned-creatures. Their whispers of amazement and horror made her cringe. She wanted to tell them all to shut up and leave her to mourn in peace.
The mirror grew uncomfortably hot against her skin. She inspected it by the moonlight and could make out the arrows, pointing inward. Her tears glistened on the glass.
“What on earth?” She watched steam blossom and billow from the surface of the mirror, spreading across Drake’s shoulders.
Wendy wriggled out from under Drake’s arms.
“Wendy! Are you okay?” Seth jogged up and kneeled beside her. He fingered the ropes and helped her hands wriggle free. “What did that beast do to you?”
Wendy turned incredulous eyes on her boss. “Beast? How dare you? He’s the one laying here helpless . . . thanks to you!”
Seth recoiled. “What are you talking about? I’ve been worried sick. I’ve tried to get ahold of you for the last two days. Have barely heard from you all month. I arrive to find you in the clutches of a werewolf surrounded by creepy, overgrown animals. Have they driven you crazy as well?”
Wendy gritted her teeth and weighed her words. Then, her eyes flew open and she lurched to her feet and pointed at Drake and the others.
“Oh my goodness, look!”
Within seconds, fur, and feathers, and ropes disappeared. Wendy, Drake, and the officers stood, dumbstruck, as each were-creature returned to their human form. One policeman dropped his flashlight, another drew his gun. Seth fainted.
“Drake!” Wendy knelt down beside the man she loved. Gone was the wayward layer of hair that distorted his form. Instead, moonlight caressed smooth, muscular skin and his blonde head of hair.
In quick succession, Drake and the others began to moan and loll about the grass.
“Someone call an ambulance!” Wendy said. She grabbed Drake’s hand. “Are you okay?”
He gave Wendy a drowsy smile. “Well, if it isn’t that nosy reporter.”
She squeezed his hand and smiled back.
“Miss?” An officer approached. “Paramedics are on the way—as a precaution. However, since we were coming to a mental institution, we used tranquilizer guns. Everyone should recover shortly.”
“That’s the best news I’ve heard all day. Thank you, sir.” She turned back to Drake, relief settling into another smile.
He pressed her fingers to his lips. “A while ago I heard the best news of my entire life.”
Wendy dropped her eyes. “You heard what I said?”
“Every wonderful word.” Drake pushed up onto one elbow, eye to eye with Wendy. “Thank you for saving me. For saving all of us.”
“Saving you?”
“By loving me.” He entwined his fingers—his wonderfully smooth fingers—with hers. “It’s complicated. I’ll explain later.”
“Explain everything?”
“Absolutely everything.”
“Oh joy! Blessed joy!” Cookie sat up and clapped her hands. “It’s a miracle. Clara, Spade, Grayson . . . wake up! You, too, Carmen. We’re free!”
Drake laughed and stood, offering Wendy his hand. “Officers, why don’t we wrap this up inside? I think we’re all going to recover, but I’m sure you have some questions.”
Wendy couldn’t stop grinning as she watched the officers shrug and amble toward the house. One of them stooped to rouse Seth and help him to his feet. She released Drake’s hand and began to walk over to her boss when something in the grass caught her eye.
On the ground next to the fountain lay a statue. The statue of woman.
Spade walked over, hands on hips. “Hmm, looks like another useless piece of concrete.” He hefted it onto his shoulder. “Off to the rubbish bin we go.”
The barking of a dog made everyone look toward the house. A silvery schnauzer bounded across the lawn eliciting squeals of delight from the Brantley household. Stanley, the faithful dog, leapt into Drake’s arms.
Wendy was learning to take each surprise in stride. Though the asylum brimmed with the unexpected, the greatest wonder was what had happened in her heart. What began as the crowning story of her career, became her own happily-ever-after.
Neat conclusion! I really liked the mirror…that was a cool detail.
Thanks, Bethany!