Scarlette by Davonna Juroe & Jim Whiting & Lavonne Mueller

Author:Davonna Juroe & Jim Whiting & Lavonne Mueller [Juroe, Davonna & Whiting, Jim & Mueller, Lavonne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy, Historical, Young Adult, Paranormal, YA, red reding hood, Grimm, fairytale retelling, Perrault
Amazon: B009PU7TJQ
Publisher: BumbleB Media, Inc.
Published: 2013-12-22T05:00:00+00:00

The rest of the way home, I tried to banish all my anxieties. I gave myself a moment to pretend I'd never seen the pierced man and that the Baron was going to believe my story.

My mind wandered to the Baron's kiss. I touched my lips, remembering how his lips felt against mine. My body warmed. As I closed my eyes, the scene replayed. I felt his hands around my waist and his passionate touch.

I blinked my eyes open after reliving the moment at least five times.

I still couldn't believe I would be accompanying him to the ball. Did he really think me his equal? He must. Otherwise he would've never asked. I smiled. I would have to get used to calling him Louis.

And the sheep....Mother would be so happy. I'd go straight home and make amends. Then I'd run to Jeanne and Marie's to tell them I was all right. Perhaps everything between Mother and me would be all right now, and I'd be able to sleep in my own bed tonight.

I'd been so lost in my thoughts that I'd barely realized that night had already darkened the valley. The carriage pulled up to Mother's cottage. A half-moon hovered in the sky, illuminating the outline of the house.

A servant opened the carriage door, unlatched the wagon behind us, and put the sheep into the pen.

I thanked him and the rest of the Baron's men. After they left, I ran towards the house, almost skipping. Inside it was dark. I hated to wake her, but I couldn't wait to show her the sheep.

"Mother?" I beamed. "I have a surprise...." I leaned against the doorframe, covering my mouth. All our furniture was upside down and strewn every which way. Grandma's sewing basket lay spilled, its items scattered. And a smoldering fire puffed smoke into the room, half-disguising a horrid smell.

Hair.

Burning hair.

I breathed through my mouth. What had happened?

A low wheezing sound filled the room.

My eyes shifted to the corner. I held my stomach. In the moonlight, Mother stood at the back of the room, naked and hunched over. The pale moonbeams made her skin unnatural looking, ghost-like. Her hair had been cut off in chunks and short thick patches blistered her scalp. She held a stone in her hand, and a gash lined her forearm. She brought the wound to her lips and drank.

"My God," I whispered, almost not hearing myself. "Mother?" I stared blankly.

She turned her head slowly toward me. Her eyes were unfocused, glassy. She muttered something I couldn't make out.

I grabbed a blanket from my overturned bed and tried to cover her. But she ran from me, screaming: "Sacrifier, sacrifice!"

"Mother, please," I said, catching up and putting the blanket around her.

Her cheeks were marbled with tear trails, and her eyes darted wildly.

"Mother? What's happened to you?"

Her expression turned sullen. She gazed at the floor. "She's gone," she said.

I furrowed my brow, trying to understand. Who was gone? Did she mean Grandma? I put my arms around her. "It's all right.

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