Slippers and Thieves Special Edition Read online

  Cynder Mercantile is my little cocoon of perfect. Living upstairs with my parents… keeping my warden identity secret … taking online lessons … And helping the animates. It’s a pretty awesome life, even if I do have to deal with Marchesa and her spawn.

  At that thought, a ball of worry settles into my stomach. I’m a Cinderella. A perfect life isn’t exactly in the cards for our kind. Still, I’ve got back-up plans. I can handle whatever happens.

  At least, I hope I can.

  9

  Elle

  Right at noon, Mom opens the back door. “Ready, Elle?” She wears another sundress. Sadly, this one seems to hang even more loosely on her frame. My throat tightens. How much longer does she have?

  “Almost,” I reply. “Just need to lock up.” I reach the front door and navigate our collection of bolt locks and key codes. “What’s the plan for today?”

  “We visit fourth floor for a party of some kind. That’s all I know. The animates are organizing everything.”

  “Whatever it is, I’m sure it will be nice.” The animates adore my parents.

  Once I’m done with the locks, I flip the sign to read closed. After that, I follow Mom through the back exit and into the warehouse itself.

  “Did I tell you about our latest artist?” asks Mom.

  “No.” This isn’t a surprise, though. Somehow, new animates always find their way to my parents.

  “It’s an enchanted violin. She’s a Stradivarius.”

  I let out a low whistle. “She must have had a ton of emotion around her.”

  Here’s the deal. When a human pours feelings into an object, part of their soul becomes attached to the item. Later, when an enchanter casts a spell on that same object, those traces of soul can get activated as well. If there’s enough emotion, then the object comes alive. Permanently. We call those animates. They appear like objects to humans, but those with magic can see their true nature.

  “Has she chosen a name yet?” I ask.

  “Varrie,” answers Mom.

  “Oh, pretty.”

  While we chat, Mom and I pass through the maze of inventory shelves and then march up the back staircase. On the third floor, there’s Harvest’s studio. She’s an enchanted scarecrow who carves things with a farm theme. This level also has animates who paint, sculpt, and do old fashioned photography. As we climb up more steps, my pulse speeds.

  I love the fourth floor. That’s where the phoenixes work. I also love the story on our phoenix population. It goes like this.

  Once upon a time, there was a human artist, Zander White, who lived in New Mexico and carved marble phoenixes. Zander put so much feeling into his creations, we now have a whole flock of his work living on our fourth floor. They’re majestic creatures: eight feet tall with flowing red feathers and a long tails. Our phoenixes are also experts in glassblowing, which goes with the whole rising up from fire thing. Their leader is an alpha named Kokkivo.

  The fourth floor is a wide space that’s filled with a lot of tables—the phoenixes use them to cool new creations. Their enchanted furnace sits against the far wall. It’s a dark mound with a circular, fiery mouth. I scan the scene. The only folks here are Kokkivo and Dad, who both stand by the furnace.

  “Where’s Blackaverre?” I ask.

  Blackaverre is Mom’s fairy godmother. Mine too, I suppose.

  “Not sure,” says Mom.

  Some Cinderella trivia: ever wonder why the fairy godmother doesn’t show up until the end of the story? It’s because fairy godmothers follow the classic fairy life template. Which means they are supremely unreliable and prone to deceit.

  Speaking of fairy godmothers, Blackaverre appears before us. She’s a small blue creature with pink wings and pointed teeth. While hovering before Mom, Blackaverre bows wildly.

  My mother beams. “You’re so sweet.”

  Sweet isn’t the word I’d use. Blackaverre likes to turn our cream cheese moldy for fun. Plus, she only speaks in broad hand gestures. It’s like having a permanent mime on site.

  Mom turns to me. “Don’t you think Blackaverre is the best?”

  Actually, I think my mother is the best. Mom stubbornly refuses to see anything but good in everyone she meets.

  “Something like that,” I say.

  Blackaverre sticks out her tongue at me. I return the gesture. Mom laughs. “You two! Always playing about. I love it!”

  See what I mean? It’s literally impossible for my mother to be nasty. Or to see evil in others, for that matter. She’s like a fairy miracle.

  Kokkivo moves closer while fluttering his great wings. It’s how Phoenixes say hello. It’s also a welcome break from interacting with Blackaverre.

  “Greetings, Elle and Rae.” It’s amazing how Kokkivo can talk with his long beak mouth, but he manages it perfectly.

  “It’s good to see you,” says Mom.

  “Greetings, Kokkivo.” I wave. “Hey, Dad.”

  My father winks at me before focusing on Mom. “My Rae of sunshine.” Dad positively beams as Mom approaches. He’s had a chance to nap, shower, and change clothes. It’s a much better look on him.

  Mom leans against his shoulder. “My Declan.” She turns to Kokkivo. “So what’s all this about?”

  “I need everyone present first.” Kokkivo whistles.

  Animates march onto our floor from every corner of the building. There’s Harvest and her scarecrow crew. Jacoby materializes with Doc Eight, who’s an enchanted set of medieval armor. There are also enspelled Greek statues (the guys all wear togas), life-sized paintings (you have to look at them straight on or you’ll miss them), and even our new Stradivarius. Best of all, there are dozens of phoenixes.

  Dad waves me closer. I stand beside him and Mom.

  Marchesa and her daughters step out form the stairwell and rush over.

  “Rae, you look gorgeous.” That’s Marchesa.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Cynder, how can we thank you enough for including us?” asks Ivy.

  This goes on for two full minutes. Kokkivo and I share a dry look. Technically, this is the animates’ party. Like her husband, Marchesa is powerful potion master. She doesn’t see animates as legitimate life forms. It’s rude.

  “We’re ready to begin,” announces Kokkivo at length. “I’ve been elected spokesman for the Cynder animates.”

  By now, the floor is filled with about a hundred animates of all shapes and sizes. They let out a hearty cheer. I angle my body so I don’t have to look at Marchesa, Ivy, and Agatha. No reason to let them ruin my day.

  Kokkivo flaps his wings again, which makes the audience fall silent. “If it hadn’t been for Declan and Rae Cynder, all of us animates would have been ruined. Am I right?”

  More cheering follows.

  Kokkivo continues. “We wanted to give something back to show our appreciation.”

  Dad shakes his head. “Rae and I don’t want anything.”

  “Ah,” counters Kokkivo. “But this gift isn’t for you. It’s to support Cynder Mercantile.”

  “What do you mean?” asks Mom.

  “I’ve been working on a special glass treasure chest,” explains Kokkivo. “It’s tiny in size, but massive in power. All of us animates contributed a little of our life force into it. Once a day, the owner may open it and the box will provide whatever the store most needs. I call it the Coffer of Wonders.”

  Mom pops her hands over her mouth. “Oh, my. That’s lovely.”

  I get a little misty, too. The animates know that things are turning dicey with Mom’s illness. They’re trying to keep things going.

  Kokkivo leans back his head and caws. All the other phoenixes do the same. At that call, a magical red mist surrounds Mom’s hands. One moment, there’s nothing in her palms. The next second, Mom holds a small box made of red glass.

  “Go on,” urges Kokkivo. “Use it.”

  Mom pulls off the box’s lid. Dad then asks, “What do we need most for today?”

  More red mist flows out of the Coffer of W
onders to fill the room. When the haze vanishes, the tables are all covered with cakes and punch.

  Mom grins. “Oh, I love it!”

  While we all dive into the food, Marchesa lurks in shadows. I’d worry about it, but my parents are happy and enjoying their lovely gift from the animates. My little cocoon of happy surrounds me once more, and I’m going to enjoy it.

  10

  Elle

  Months later

  Delivery duty is the worst.

  I march down Second Avenue while dragging a little red wagon behind me. Two large boxes lay stacked on the cart. And inside those containers? A thousand little glass slippers and tiny carved pumpkins. Today, it’s my job to deliver them to the L Center.

  The good news is that the center isn’t far from Cynder Mercantile.

  The bad news is that one of the wheels on my wagon snapped about a half-block ago. It’s tempting to use magic, but this is precisely the kind of situation where I can’t. Dozens of people fill the nearby stretch of sidewalk, and I’m not even counting the who can watch from buildings. The chances that someone would notice my spell are just too high.

  As a result, my march to the L Center takes on a certain rhythm.

  Drag.

  Drag.

  Drag.

  Whump.

  Drag.

  Drag.

  Drag.

  Whump.

  Them there’s the jingle of glass. Wincing, I give the boxes a gentle shake. Did anything break? No.

  Back to it, then.

  Drag.

  Drag.

  Drag.

  Whump.

  It’s not that hot outside—and I’m wearing shorts and a T-shirt—but even so, I sweat up a storm.

  Finally, I’m in the final stretch for the L Center’s loading dock. I turn off the main sidewalk, navigate through a skinny alley, and then approach a small yard. The loading dock takes up one wall of this tiny space. As I haul my wagon along, I come to a major realization.

  For a new place, the L Center has nothing but broken concrete back here. It’s way more bumpy than the regular sidewalk. Hasn’t anyone delivered glass to this place before?

  As I haul the wagon onto the edges of the yard, Jacoby materializes before me. He looks very non-sweaty and annoying.

  “Hello, Elle. Fine day, isn’t it?”

  “Are you following me?”

  “Never. I have…” He taps his cheek dramatically. “Yes, I’m following you. Things are awfully boring in Doc Eight’s shop.” He glances behind me. “Why are you using a broken wagon?”

  “It wasn’t broken when I left Cynder.”

  “Would you like some help?” asks Jacoby.

  “I know what you think of as help, and the answer is no.”

  Six teenagers march into the yard. They’re all wearing fancy gowns and have VIP passes hanging around their necks. Moving in unison, they turn to stare at me. All their irises flare with silver light.

  “How may we serve you?” they ask in unison.

  I round on Jacoby. “Who are these girls and why did you enchant them?”

  Jacoby rolls his eyes. “I knew you wouldn’t allow me to help directly, so I brought in some outside aid.”

  “They’re all wearing ball gowns and high heels. They should not be schlepping boxes around.”

  “Um, they’re human.” Jacoby rolls his eyes again.

  That’s dark fae for you. And Jacoby’s one of the nice ones.

  “You’re terrible,” I counter.

  “No, I’m interesting. And completely devoted to you, don’t forget that part.”

  “Where did you find these girls anyway?” I lean in a little closer. “I don’t think any of them are blinking. That can’t be healthy.”

  “They’re here for the Le Charme Extravaganza,” says Jacoby.

  I tilt my head. “And that’s tonight?”

  “Obviously. Didn’t you notice everyone lined up in front of the L Center?”

  “Not really. I was more focused on not breaking glass slippers.” My eyes widen. “This isn’t a Glass Slipper Ball, is it?”

  “No, it’s one of those where they award a new Le Charme Lady.” He bobs his brows. “Why? Do you have your eye on Alec Le Charme?”

  “That’s a big no.” Mostly because I’ve been breaking into his office to un-steal jewels. I read online that you should never date people you work with. In my opinion, Alec counts in that category.

  I quickly scan the yard. There doesn’t seem to be anyone around. (In my opinion, Jacoby and some enspelled humans don’t count.) So I pull on a little of my fae magic and send it toward the girls. A tiny cloud of silver faerie dust flies off my fingertips and surrounds the teenagers. In my mind, I issue a command.

  Move.

  They start cooing.

  “Oh crap,” I groan.

  Jacoby grins. “Did you enchant just them to act like pigeons?”

  “I asked them to move. I really only know how to enspell two kinds of animals.”

  “Let me guess. One of those is pigeons.”

  I stick my tongue out at him. “Shut up.”

  Jacoby scans each girl in turn. They’ve started scratching at the concrete with their feet. “You know,” says Jacoby. “I like them better this way.”

  That prickly feeling on my neck again.

  Someone’s watching us.

  Turning, I see the outline of a guy standing in the back shadows of the loading dock. He’s totally staring at this situation.

  Oh, no.

  This man must work here. I’ve been through the drill before. I’m supposed to just unload stuff, not stand around with six girls cooing like pigeons and an evil fae.

  Things have gotten complicated.

  11

  Alec

  For the last two hours, I’ve been meandering around the L Center. Why? We’re holding the Le Charme Extravaganza tonight and my new best friend, Clarissa, is a Production Assistant trying to guide me to the dry run.

  It hasn’t been going well.

  All the dry runs have been in the hotel complex, which is admittedly huge. Sadly, Clarissa gets lost easily. Eventually, Clarissa led me to the L’s loading dock. Once here, she asked me to wait (again) while she tried to find someone to answer a few questions (again-again.) So I’ve been hanging by the back wall while staring out across a small and empty lot. In New York, this has been counting as a Zen moment.

  A girl stepped out onto the concrete and my world turned upside down.

  Which brings us to the present moment. I can’t stop staring at this girl. She’s singular in how she combines so much in a single glance: fierce and sweet, gentle and rough, lovely and strong. Beside her, a few boxes sit on a broken wagon. A bunch of human girls stand close by, along with an elf.

  My pulse speeds. Every corner of my soul becomes awash with one thought. How can I approach this girl? The humans all wear passes for tonight’s Le Charme Extravaganza. Clearly, I can’t step out as Alec Le Charme.

  A plan forms.

  I scan the dock. Sure enough, a worker’s jacket hangs on a nearby wall hook. True fact: it’s amazing what you can get away with when you wear a uniform. I slip on the jacket and march out to meet the girl.

  “Hello.” I wave in her direction.

  “Hey, I need to drop these off and…” She looks around. “Everyone’s gone.”

  That’s right. There was an elf and some humans here before. Lucky for me, they’ve all taken off.

  I gesture toward the boxes. “May I assist?”

  “That would be great.” Her face brightens with a dazzling smile. Inside my soul, emotions shift. Desires align. Excitement rises.

  This girl.

  I hoist up one box on my shoulder. The other container goes under my arm. I could use magic, but these aren’t too heavy. Soon I’m setting both boxes onto the edge of the loading dock.

  The girl takes out a little scrap of paper. “Um, can you…”

  “Sure, I’ll sign for them.” I sc
ratch out my signature. For once, I’m glad my writing is an unreadable mess. I’m not ready to reveal who I really am. Yet.

  “Thanks.” She takes in a shaky breath. “I’m Elle.”

  I grin. “Elle.”

  She gestures to my jacket. “And you’re Fred.”

  “I am?” I look down at the jacket. Sure enough, the name Fred is written on my chest. “I mean, I am.”

  Elle blushes. “Thanks for helping me with the boxes.”

  “Any time.”

  “I should probably get going.” Elle takes a step backward, but the pavement here is really uneven. She missteps and starts to topple. On reflex, I move forward and catch her.

  A second later, I’ve got Elle in my arms.

  An electric charge pulses through me. Threads of connection wind between us. Is this magic? Do I really care?

  The moment stretches on. I should really let Elle go. Yet I don’t. It’s not like I want to kiss her. I mean, I do want a kiss, but it’s more than that. It’s like we’re meant to fit together. Letting go would be some kind of crime.

  I shake my head. I’m only fifteen and Elle looks about the same age. That’s early too get feelings for someone, isn’t it?

  It takes an effort, but I release her. “You almost took a tumble there.”

  “Yes, thanks for your help. Again.”

  Think, think, think. There must be some way to keep her here.

  I step closer again. “Are you hitting the Le Charme Extravaganza tonight?”

  “No. I’m not much for cameras and crowds.”

  “Right. So what do you like?”

  “RPG.”

  Role-Playing Games. This girl really is perfect.

  I lean back on my heels. “Let me guess. Your fave these days is…” I tap my chin as if I need to think about this one. “Magicorum Killers.”

  “Oh yes!” Elle bobs a little on the balls of her feet. It’s always amazing to meet someone who likes the same games. “I love the evil pixie option.”