Chapter 29
CHRISTOPHER
I can count on one hand the number of dress shirts I’ve worn in my life.
There are countless reasons why I steer clear of anything elegant when it comes to clothes. The ripping hazard, for one, and don’t get me started on the guilt I would feel if I stained the bloody thing.
But the main reason I don’t dress up?
I can’t be fucking bothered.
Rubbing some gel through my hair, I’m grumbling under my breath as I fidget and play with the sleek black dress shirt pressed tight against my body.
It feels like it was made for me in the worse way, a projection of who I might have become had I tucked my tail between my legs and gone crawling back to mum.
If it weren’t for the wolf snarling over the top of my collar, I wouldn’t even recognize the guy in the mirror. Dressed in designer labels from head-to-toe, I’m the perfect accessory to Cruella Deville’s outfit for the evening – a skintight dress covered by a lush fur coat.
The white to my black.
“Oh, good. I was worried you would show up wearing those ratty cargo pants you always have on.”
Cupping the end of her cigarette, Cruella lights it and takes a long drag. Her fake eyelashes flutter as she casts an assessing look over me, looking for minuscule imperfections she can easily fix.
If only she approached motherhood with as much care and concern.
“I wouldn’t want to offend your aesthetic with my particular shade of grey.”
Rolling up my shirt sleeves, I rub my thumb along the jagged branches covering my forearms. The past bulges up through murals of ink, the familiar texture serving as a reminder of how far I’ve come.
The surface can break but no one has to know how deep it goes.
The words I whispered to Mae all those years ago bounce around the space between my ears. It was before our first tattoo appointment, the first test to see whether body art could ever repair the scars of the past.
It didn’t heal a damn thing but it did change the way people looked at us. First impressions became wild and reckless instead of broken and vulnerable. We got to change the narrative of our stories, erasing the past and redefining the marks on our bodies until they became something beautiful.
Something worth keeping.
“It is rare I get to see you looking like my son.” Blowing out a perfect ring of smoke, Cruella sighs, “You really ought to do something with that hair. It’s gotten terribly unruly.”
“Your opinion is the one I treasure most in this world.”
She snorts, flicking ash onto the marble floors, “Still feeling snarky, I see.”
Sucking in a deep breath, I glance at my reflection one last time.
“Let’s get this over with.”
Together, we venture out into the front courtyard and climb into the neo-classic luxury vehicle my mum shipped from England. Painted in a fitting aesthetic, the black and white automobile sits low to the ground with a long nose and a tire fitted to the back.
It’s one of Cruella’s many signatures, and one that aligns tragically with her inability to drive in a straight line.
“Holy fuck.”
White knuckling the passenger seat, I just about shit my pants as we go careening around a corner. Tires skid and the smell of burning rubber fills the air as we launch, hyper speed, towards the building built into the side of a hill.
Cruella laughs, her gloved hand coming off the steering wheel to pat my leg, “Just getting you ready to dine with the Mistress of Wolf Hollow.”
We round another bend and my stomach clenches with the motion.
The Drache Manor erupts through the trees around us, a blade bursting out of the ground and soaring high into the sky. Guard towers are stationed along every spare inch of the mile-long driveway and we have to pass each one before finally pulling through the main gates.
Torches illuminate the gate pillars, leading us to where another car is already parked. It’s a rusty old thing, an ancient Honda that looks depressing next to our ride.
“Remember, start with the utensils on the outside and work your way in. The one at the top is for dessert, and if there’s a spoon-
“I use it for soup.” Unbuckling my seatbelt, I fight the urge to fling myself from the cramped space, “You don’t have to worry. The animals who raised me ensured the rules of fine dining were covered.”
I swing my haughty shoes out of the car and step onto the polished walkway. Minerals, carved and shaved into their most exquisite form, lead us past the uniforms stationed around the bottom of the stairs and up towards the winged statues guarding the door.
“The black onyx is just darling, but a splash of colour would do wonders for this place.” Wrinkling her nose, Cruella brushes past the dragons without a hint of hesitation, “Gothic settings can have their charm but without the right opposition...”
Her words die off as the Drache Manor spreads out before us. Sparkling chandeliers and walls dripping in the richest silver chase away any lingering doubt that an adequate opposition was achieved.
Glass and mirrors so fine you can walk right through them glitter at us from every direction, offering a mind-bending illusion of an endless foyer. Arched ceilings rise high above us and more dragon statues watch from the shadows, their gargoyle-like forms an odd yet majestic presence to the room.
“I think she figured out how to balance the gothic setting.”
Cruella shushes me, her eyes already stationed on the only age appropriate prospect in sight.
“You must be Mrs. Deville.”
A wide, warm smile spreads across the man’s face. His blue eyes crinkle at the corners, his dark hair pebbled with streaks of grey.
“Please, come on in. Maleficent has just sent for the chef to deliver our food for the evening.”
“I didn’t know we had company.” Batting her eyelashes, Cruella lets out a soft sigh, “If I had I would have chosen a different dress to wear.”
The stranger smiles while I roll my eyes.
“I can assure you, there is nothing to be weary of. My daughter and I thought we would stop by to greet the new residents of Wolf Hollow.”
“And you are?”
“The previous transplant.” Another smile, “Afraid I was in your shoes as the newcomer only a few months ago. I know how jarring the transition can be.”
“Oh, don’t listen to him.”
The click of stilettos has my back straightening, my eyes darting around the shimmering reflections for a mane of blonde hair.
“Erik Prince is the new mayor of Wolf Hollow. He’s been leading the charge for change ever since our last mayor found himself in the hot seat.”
Long, toned legs break through the slit of a black gown. Clinging to modest curves, it accentuates the female body in a way only custom measurements can do. Dark red lipstick parts into a knowing smile, a smile that isn’t as familiar as I was hoping it would be.
“Maleficent.” Bowing her head, my mother is quick to pay her respect, “You did not prepare me for such charming company. And so handsome, too.”
Erik smiles bashfully before looking away.
I’m tempted to tell the poor sap to run while he still can.
“Ah, yes. We are always delighted to be graced with an attractive presence.” Her smile sharpens when her gaze lands on me, “No matter how rough they may appear to be.”
My eyes bounce from the dark colour of her hair to the angular structure of her face. I’m searching for traces of Calista, for hints of beauty and traces of playfulness hidden within the mask of Maleficent’s expression.
Smooth undertones frame her high brows and dark lashes, but not even the application of makeup can soften the blade of a cruel-looking woman. Her thin lips remain frozen in their position, a smile that’s a far cry from the pouty lips that taunt me every waking minute of every day.
The father must be a looker.
“I heard there was a new thief in town.” She flicks her eyes down my body, assessing and dismissing me all in one glance, “But I did not realize he was quite so rugged.”
“Don’t worry, darling. You’re a little too refined for my taste as well.”
Somewhere in the distance, a fork clatters to the floor.
“Melody, there you are!”
Relief fills Erik’s voice as the stifling silence comes to an end, “Come meet the Deville family. This is Cruella and her son – Christopher, isn't it?”
“Yeah, you got it.”
I lift a brow in Cruella’s direction but she pretends not to see.
“A mayor and a loving father? What a lucky woman you must have waiting at home.”
Erik coughs gently, “Actually, I’m a widow.”
She gasps, clasping a dramatic hand to her breast, “You poor soul! I’ve been there, you know. My last four husbands left me stranded on this earth with no one to care for and no one to hold.”
“Is that your car in the driveway?” Interjecting before Erik can melt from embarrassment, I save him the trouble, “The old Honda?”
“Sure is. I know it’s not much but,” He smiles sheepishly, lifting a shoulder, “It’s four wheels and gets the job done.”
“Oh.” Disappointment and a shred of disgust creeps along Cruella’s face, “You own that thing?”
“Melody does now, but she still lets me borrow it upon occasion.”
“How... transferable.”
She does a poor job of hiding her grimace.
“As I was saying, the last of my four husbands left me sad and alone. Were it not for the Colonel – that’s my new husband, Mr. Hellman – I wouldn’t be able to sleep at all.”
Amusement flicks past Maleficent's face.
“Well, now that we’ve got that settled, how about we proceed to dinner?”
The Dragon takes the lead and we all fall in step behind her. Our reflections glitter and merge together as the foyer seamlessly transitions into an extravagant dining hall.
Funnelling around the rectangular piece of glass standing in the middle of the room, we each take a seat. Within seconds, waiters dressed in black start filing out of an unseen door, silver trays stacked high on their hands.
Food starts to materialize in front of us and wine glasses are miraculously filled. I watch the staff work silently and tirelessly to ensure every penny of the Drache fortune is on display.