Kristen Ashley: Fairytale Come Alive

Or when she was about to say something self-mocking or teasing.

And he watched as she said something self-mocking.

That’s unfortunate. It appears I should have taken away his keys.

A jolt tore through his body.

Christ, her voice. Christ. He never thought he’d hear it again. Never allowed himself to even dream. Not like that, not husky with humor. Not at all.

Then, head still tipped, she smiled and said something beautiful.

Stay happy, my darling, you worked for it and so did Bella. You both deserve it, he heard her aching voice was now filled with love right before she started glimmering slightly then he heard her whispered, I love you, right before she disappeared.

Prentice stared into the darkness, Elle pressed to his back and he didn’t move.

He couldn’t believe he’d seen what he’d just seen.

But he’d seen it.

Then Elle pulled her hand gently from his and her arms slid around his stomach, she moved in closer, pressing deeper, her arms going tight.

“She saved me,” Elle whispered.

But Prentice didn’t move, he didn’t speak, he just stared where he’d last seen his wife, her words echoing in his head.

“She told me, when we’re safe, she’ll move on,” Elle said on a squeeze.

Prentice stayed silent and motionless.

“She doesn’t want the children knowing she’s been here,” Elle finished and Prentice closed his eyes and dropped his head, the knowledge that his wife, his beloved Fee, had been with them, and he knew then, he knew she’d been with them awhile, burned through him like acid.

How had she endured it? Any of it? All of it?

Christ. His Fee.

Elle held him close and also didn’t move or speak.

Then she whispered, “Pren, you know, think about it, you know she helped us find each other again.”

Prentice kept his eyes shut and his head bent but he murmured, “Aye.”

“I feel she’s gone, Pren, she’s going home. Do you feel it?”

He did and it was like losing her again.

There was a strange beauty in Fiona keeping Elle safe for him.

But losing her once was bloody well enough.

“Aye,” he repeated and that one syllable was so rough, Elle pressed even closer and he felt her rest her forehead to his back.

Prentice took in a deep breath, lifted his head, opened his eyes and looked where he last saw Fiona.

I love you too, Fee, he said in his head, hoping his words reached her.

He only knew they did when she came back, he felt an icy touch glide along his jaw, Fiona’s touch, her fingers trailing there like they did time and again when she was alive.

Then they were gone.

And he knew she was too.

This time for good.

He pulled in another breath, long and deep and when he released it, with some effort and not a small amount of pain, he let his wife go.

Then he turned in Elle’s arms.

She tipped her head back to look at him through the darkness.

When her searching eyes caught his, he murmured, “Let’s get you home to the kids, baby.”

He watched her close her eyes and then he watched her head fall forward and hit his chest.

Then he watched as well as felt her nodding but she did it through a sob.

Fiona

“Are they okay?” Fiona asked Colonel Sanders Messenger Man as, her hand wrapped around his elbow, they whooshed through the streaking stars.

“They’re okay,” he answered.

Fiona bit her lip and then noted, “Prentice seemed –”

“He’ll be fine,” Messenger Man told her. “You’ve done your job well, Fiona. You leave them healthy, happy and safe .”

“That was hard on him,” Fiona whispered and she knew this to be true by the look on his face, the line of his body and because it was hard on her too.

Bloody hard.

Nearly unbearable.

“No one tells the handsome prince’s story but sometimes,” Messenger Man stated, patting her hand in the crook of his elbow, his touch warm and welcome, “it also isn’t so fun.”

“Nigel –” Fiona started.

“He’ll work harder not to go to black,” Messenger Man said firmly, giving her the knowledge that Nigel was very dead.

Fiona really should have taken his keys.

And she had no doubt his mission would be more difficult than hers and considering hers was bloody hard and he was a lunatic driven to attempt murder by his cow of a wife (still, he could have chosen a different path that didn’t include mayhem), she felt that was fair.

“Hattie –” she continued.

“The police and Dougal made it to Prentice and Isabella within five minutes of you leaving. Hattie Fennick will shortly know she’s lost her husband due to her fixation. How she copes with that, I’ve no idea. Beings have free will. I have no way of knowing how she’ll react. I do know that if she makes the foolhardy decision to remain in that village, her life will be an even less happy one.”

Fiona had no doubt of that either.

She decided to change the subject. “Where are we going?”

He didn’t answer at first and she turned her gaze from the streaking stars to look at him and see he was grinning.

“You said it, you know it…” he paused and his grin turned into a smile. “We’re going home,” he whispered on another squeeze of her fingers but she felt it, the warmth, and she saw it, the brightness and she looked forward as they whooshed through it and her first instinct was to laugh which she did, loud and long.

Because Messenger Man was right.

She wasn’t home.

She was home.

Finally.

Elle/Fiona

Twenty-three years later…

Elle moved out of the room heaving with smiling, laughing, drinking people, most of their eyes on the handsome man with the beautiful woman in his arms swaying on the dance floor like they weren’t surrounded by hundreds of people who loved them but instead they were very, very alone, not just in the room but in the universe.

She moved gracefully but quickly down the hall in her high heels, stopping only to test the doors, finding most of them locked.

Near the end, knowing time was of the essence and getting desperate, she turned the knob to an unlocked door, sighed a grateful, relieved sigh and opened it to find a broom closet. Without delay, she located the light switch, flipped it on and slid inside, closing the door behind her.

She put her back to it, peered into the empty room and whispered, “I know you’re there.”

The room had no reply.

“Please,” she kept whispering. “For him. Tonight, especially. Please.”

Her eyes shifted around the closet, the shelves filled with cleaning products, piles of dust rags, the corners having brooms and mops resting upright, mop buckets on the floor but that was it.

Nothing else.

“Please,” she repeated, still in a whisper. “We haven’t much time.”

She waited and counted. One second. Two. Three. Four. She got to seven when the air started shimmering and her heart started beating faster.

Then she was there.

And Elle Cameron looked into Fiona Cameron’s ghostly eyes.

“Hurry,” she urged softly.

Fiona shook her head. “It won’t be pleasant. It might even be painful.”

Elle held Fiona’s eyes and repeated urgently, “ Hurry. ”

Fiona bit her ghostly lip.

“Fiona,” Elle begged, “ hurry. ”

With a deep breath she didn’t need to take in, Fiona nodded then she surged forward, her ethereal body penetrating Elle’s corporal one, Elle felt the shafts of ice cold slicing through every inch of her flesh, muscle and bone, the pain excruciating but she clenched her teeth and held on.