Page 72 of Hallow Hill at Halloween: Part Two

CHAPTER FIFTEEN Cinder House

If there were complaints about court being shortened to only two days, the rumors didn’t get back to me. There was no doubt in my mind that a third day might’ve been too much too soon. The first day had taken a toll, but I’d had a good night’s rest, an excellent breakfast of Eggs Olivia on fresh greens and Freestone peaches. It was ridiculously healthy if you didn’t count the caffeine.

I’d told Lochlan I was saving the Cinder House case for the second and last day of court because I had a personal interest in it. I admit to being a little disappointed that he hadn’t asked what that personal interest might be, but whatever. He’d earned the right to be self-absorbed now and then.

In many ways I was more captivated by the brief on this case than any since accepting my role as magistrate because of its overlap with my world. I mean, the defendant was Cinderella. TherealCinderella!

That alone was a surprise. The part about finding out that the figure who served as heroine to millions of little girls was a living, breathing, walking person.

I’d spent an entire rainy morning cozied up in my study with a little fire going. Keir and Olivia knew that a closed door meant, “Don’t bother me unless it’s the kind of emergency that Lochlan can’t handle.” Since I wasn’t sure there was such a thing as an emergency Lochlan couldn’t handle, it was a pretty good bet I’d be left alone with no sound but the rain and an occasional pop or hiss of green wood in the fire.

I couldn’t wait to find out how Cinderella had jumped off the pages of the Brothers Grimm into my courtroom.

Grand Fae vs. The Grand House for Homeless Characters

Grand was a city in the Lorraine region of Europe. Her Majesty Queen Cinder-Ashcroft Charming, aka Cinderella, founder of the halfway shelter, stated that this location was strategically chosen for her charity because it’s easily accessible from Guivre and Deutschland, and centrally distanced from Sforza and Ulfrwulf.

I learned that characters from fanciful fictions or religions or folktales can be brought to life once they’ve reached a critical mass of belief within the collective human consciousness. Cinderella was one of those characters to find herself alive and unwelcome in a strange place. Hers was a success story. She’d managed not just to survive, but to bootstrap into a measure of success in the fae world. That led to a desire to help other characters who become newly minted and homeless persons.

Some scant details of her back story were included in the file.

After three hundred years of planning galas, overseeing menus and designing gowns, she’d had enough of being a queen. Close to the same time, King Charming had lost interest in everything but fishing in Scotland. Dragons had been hunted to extinction. Ogres were domesticated. The kingdom had no enemies, and the government more or less ran itself.

With no clear purpose, he’d pretty much checked out of everything including his marriage. He wasn’t a philanderer. He’d just become obsessed with fishing in cold Scottish rivers.He rarely came home, even to make an appearance at major balls which forced the queen to make lame excuses about fishing being best at that time of year, no matter what time of year it was. Everyone saw through the lies, but didn’t particularly care. They came for the food, the clothes, and the music.

One day while doing needlework with other ladies of the court, Cinderella’s need for something different swelled past the line of containment so that she broke through the confines of fiction. That landed her in the dimension of magic-kind with nothing but the priceless gown she was wearing. In other words, she knew no one and had nothing.

In a state of wretched vulnerability, without any understanding of where she was or how she came to be there, she resorted to begging in an amoral environment. Since magic-kind eat for pleasure and not because they must, she didn’t have to beg for food, but she did require shelter for comfort and stability. She was turned away from every door and wandered aimlessly until her dress was in tatters.

One day she was walking along the edge of a dense forest when she was bidden to follow a nice woman to her cottage. The woman, who apparently lived alone in the wood, recognized Cinderella’s strange story because she’d come to the world of fae in much the same way. Her name was Baba Yaga.

She gave Cinderella new clothes and burned the once-lovely gown. Over home-brewed ale, they talked late into the night by the fire. Baba Yaga told her everything she’d learned since finding herself in a real body.

“What skill do you have that might be useful to the fae?” Baba asked.

“Skill?” After a few minutes’ thought, Cinderella said, “I have two skills. Party planning and dress designing.”

Baba stared at her guest in disbelief for a few seconds before giving up a throaty laugh. “Party planning?” At first shethought she’d never heard anything more preposterous, but then a kernel of an idea began to take hold. “That would seem like a useless skill. But the rich fae do like parties. There might be something there.”

“What do you do?” Cinderella looked around at the cottage. It was modest, but cozy and comfortable.

“I give advice.”

It was Cinderella’s turn to laugh. “No. Really.”

Baba Yaga shrugged. “It’s true. If the receiver of my advice finds it worthwhile, they are bound by verbal contract to pay me for it.”

Cinderella cocked her head to the side. “What if they take your advice and decide not to pay?”

Baby shrugged again. “That doesn’t happen. They’d be violating their code.”

“Oh.”

“I’ve given advice to many, many fae including some who are known for parties. Perhaps I could…”

“Oh!” Cinderella practically jumped out of her cane-back chair. “That would be marvelous. Would you?”

“I would,” said Baba. “What will you do for me?”

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