Heart Thief - The Sinister Fairy Tales

They’re dressed in matching uniforms, their hands latched before them holding their hats, their badges glaring their authority. No matter how much my father wants to shut out the outside world, their laws have spilled onto our island .

“Mama?” I call out, worry eating away at me. “What’s happening? Why are they here?”

“Mona,” my mother hiccups, clawing her way up my father’s legs until she’s standing. Rushing forward, she grasps me in a tight hold, pinning me to her body.

“Oh, Mona. She’s gone, she’s gone,”

I realize she means Clara.

Da-dum. Da-dum. Da-dum.

“It’s okay, Mama. She’ll come home,” I assure her. She has to. She told me she would show me the world.

Sniffling, she pulls away, holding me by my arms. “No, Mona. She’s never coming home. She’s in the arms of the angels now.”

My heart begins to pound in my ears, fire setting my eyes ablaze. “No, she’s coming home,” I state, my voice cracking. She’s coming to collect me, show me the world. She promised.

“She’s coming home,” I state again, firmer.

“Katherine,” my father barks. My mother releases me and sidles up next to him. I strain to listen when the policeman says, “Murder investigation. Her body will need formal identification.”

Murder…her body…

My legs give way beneath me.

I see now.

I understand.

She’s not coming home.

Murder?

“Mama?” I cry out.

Someone stole her light.

A killer.

A thief.

Five

Mona

5 years later…

“Mona.” Clara’s voice calls, beckoning me. Even in my dream state, I recognize it’s too late. She’s gone. Sirens scream in warning, the red and blue lights haunting.

“Mona.” The voice distorts, changing, deepening. “Mona.” Hot air bursts over my ear, and I jar awake, sitting upright like a spring in a jack-in-the-box.

“Shhh,” Eli hushes me, an amused grin on his lips. “You didn’t meet me,” he whispers, and it takes me a couple seconds to shake the sleep fog from my brain. The room is cast in a slither of moonlight, a heavy breeze billowing the fabric of the drapes from the open window. “What are you doing here?” I whisper-yell, rushing to my feet, pushing him toward the open window.

“I was worried when you didn’t meet me.” He slips his lean body back through the window he snuck in from. I look down at my clothes. I never changed into my sleepwear. I must have fallen asleep while reading. “Come on,” he urges, reaching a hand back inside to help guide me out.

Checking behind me to see my bedroom door closed and the harbor is clear, I bite my lip and climb out. A rush of adrenaline spikes through my blood as we head off running toward the tree line hand in hand. The wind is bitter tonight and bites at the flesh of my skin.

Once the canopy of trees hides us, we slow to a walk.

“Have you thought about your plans tomorrow?” He shoves his hands into his pockets.

Rolling my eyes, I kick some leaves gathered by the tree stump that’s been our meeting place for the last two years. “I don’t want to go.” I frown.

Thoughts of Megan’s cleansing tomorrow sends dread through me.

She, like Clara, dreamed of more and crept onto one of the boats leaving for supplies. She was caught, imprisoned for a year, and now she’s being forced into a cleanse. My father speaks of the evil of the outside world yet inflicts his own form on the women here.

“I was talking about your birthday.” Eli frowns.

“You know I hate celebrating my birthday.” I shrug. Images of my sister flutter through my thoughts, bringing the usual ache that accompanies the memories.

“She wouldn’t want you not to celebrate. All she ever wanted was for you to live.”

“And what is living?” I pull a leaf from the branch hanging overhead, tearing it into pieces. Circling this island day in and day out. Listening to words read from a book manipulated to benefit my father and the men who are just like him. I look down at my plain gray dress, irritation flaring inside me. I want color in my life, to pick my own clothes and wear them however I please.

“Marrying me. Together, we can rule this place. Your father is ready to train you. He wants you to take his place as the head of our people. It worries him that he didn’t have a son to take over his rule. He wants you to marry someone devoted, willing to carry on his legacy of ruling our people.”

“Our people? You mean the island? People aren’t possessions, Eli.” I fold my arms over my chest, facing him. His dark eyes look like soggy mud in this light.

“And since when do you understand so much about what he wants?”

I feel betrayed by his need to get close to my father to become one in the inner circle.

“Don’t be like this. You get I have the ambition to lead one day.”