Fractured Fairy Tales (15 page)

“Tell you what?”

“How to break the curse.”

I sigh, he asks me this same question every day. And every day I refuse. Today is no different.

“Not yet,” I say quietly.

He hugs me closer and whispers in my ear, “Someday soon, you will trust me enough.”

“It is not a matter of trust, Alex. It is just something that I must do myself.” He has been told this every day as well, and yet he still tries.

I hear rustling coming from beyond the far wall behind us. Maybe a rabbit. I turn, wanting to see if I can catch something of worth and cook Alexander a pleasant meal. He has cooked every meal since the day I was stabbed, and I feel that I’d like to return the favour. No matter how small it is.

It is not a rabbit that rustles the long grass at the edge of the wall. It is a human. A human with a sword pointed in my direction. My breath hitches in my throat at the sight, and I am powerless to do anything but stare at the man who has just thrown his sword with the might of ten men.

“Joringel! No!” I scream, I can see the sword, as if in slow motion, headed towards me, but I am not fast enough to move out of its path. I see a flash at my side—Alexander. He dives in front of my body, protecting me, and taking the metal blade in his chest.

“No!” I wail.

Joringel looks on in horror at what he has done, and before I can gather my senses, he has gone. I fall to the ground beside Alex, tears falling in grief for the first time in my life.

“Alex. You’re going to be alright. I’m going to take care of you,” I say quietly, my tears dropping onto his chest.

“Never mind, my love. I am not worth saving. Save yourself.” He doesn’t realise that there is no one to save myself from now. He didn’t see Joringel run.

“I am saved,” I say, as I realise what this grief symbolises. “You
have
saved me.” His breathing is laboured, his eyes finding it hard to focus.

“How?”

“Because I love you,” I say as I bend to place a kiss upon his lips. I feel a burden lift from me, as if the weight of a thousand years has been lifted from my shoulders. I watch as Alexander closes his eyes, and I weep.

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It has been five years since that day. The day that changed my life. I think about it as often as I can, my love for the man who took a sword for me, growing, and swelling within my heart every time my mind crosses the memory.

I am in the rose garden. It is more beautiful now than it has ever been. I see a man strolling toward me cautiously. Word had spread through the kingdom of my curse being lifted. Any who came close, turned away rapidly. I have not placed a curse upon a single soul in seven years, and they still fear me, but not this man.

“Abrielle. Have I told you today how much I love you?” he asks tenderly.

“Only about ten times my love.”

“Why stop there then?” he asks, as he picks me up and twirls me around. I lift my head towards the sky above. It is daylight, I am human, and I am in love. I am happy.

Lorelei: The Nightingale

Catherine Stovall

John Emperor’s seaside home was damn near a palace. Everything within was costly and fragile, right down to the platinum records hanging on satin covered walls. His favorite place was his garden full of exotic and native flowers, which bloomed next to each other in glorious twisting arrays. The opulence and precision that had gone into creating the paths, beds, gazebos, and fountains had been his solace. These things were the only family he had, and as his fame grew, he threw great parties to show off his success and the beauty of his gardens.

Beyond John’s property, a forest of tall evergreen trees stretched down the rocky cliffs, straight to the white sand beaches, raging waves, and the seaside bars with their neon lights. Large ships sailed right up to the port, and bobbed on the waters, bathed in the glow of a pink and blue sign that read: The Nightingale.

At the same time John stood in his garden, lonely and sad, a fisherman upon one of the large ships paused in his work at the sound of the loveliest voice he’d ever heard. Lulled into a blissful place by her song, he stared out across the shimmering, moonlit waters as the waves gently rocked the vessel.

“How beautiful the lady sings!” he breathed as the music ended and he returned to his work.

People came from all over the world to dine at John’s table, to discuss record deals and stardom, and to walk in the beautiful gardens as they dreamed of fame. Yet, when the left the kingdom on the hill above the sea, they would slip down to the seaside bars to celebrate among themselves, leaving him alone in his palace of marble and solitude.

If these people happened to hear the woman at the Nightingale sing, they all exclaimed, “She’s the best I’ve ever heard!”

All the best magazines talked of John and his home, the small seaside town where he lived, and the beauty of it all. The articles often spoke of the magnificence of his gardens and the other attractions in the area. Almost all of them mentioned the Nightingale, and the woman who could bring a man to tears with her sweet ballads.

One day, too tired to walk in his gardens or return to the endless stack of work on his desk, John turned to the stack of magazines that came like clockwork to his home. His face peered back from several of the covers, headlines dubbing him ‘the Emperor of Record Labels’ and boasting of his success. He opened the first of the publications and scanned the article there. To his surprise, all the good words ended with a strange comment.

“The most astonishing thing about our visit to John Emperor’s little seaside kingdom was a trip to the seaside bars, where talent runs thick. On many of the late night stages, one can partake in a variety of talents and skills. One such place is a club called The Nightingale, where a waitress, known only as Lorelei, sings somber and soulful tunes. Personally, we were shocked that Mr. Emperor has not discovered this gem for himself.”

“What the hell?” John dropped the glossy pages onto the desk. “The Nightingale? Where the hell is that? What kind of nonsense name is Lorelei? She can’t be that good. It’s not possible for a star to be singing in a night club right at my front door.”

Swiping up the phone, he called his local agent, Chambers. “Supposedly, there is an extraordinary singer performing at a club called The Nightingale. I’m reading an article in
Song!
that says she’s the best thing since Whitney Houston. Why haven’t we signed her yet? Why has no one told me about her before?”

“I’m sorry, boss. I’ve never heard of such a girl. She’s never sent in a demo or came to the open mic nights at Rockards,” Chamber’s voice shook.

“I want her to come here, tonight, and sing for me,” John demanded. “The whole world knows about her now, and it won’t be long before someone else snags her up from right under our noses.” The impatience in his voice was clear.

“The Nightingale? Never heard of it.” Chambers quickly added, “I will search for her. I will find her, sir.”

“You’d better, Chambers. You’ve never let me down before. But if you let this girl get away, I will fire you and your entire staff. I won’t be made a fool of.”

The line went dead, leaving Chambers staring at it blankly for a full minute before he turned to his keyboard. A quick internet search didn’t bring up any clubs on the coast with the name. He flipped through his black book, and called all his trusted contacts. No one had ever heard of the club or the woman, Lorelei.

Exasperated, he cradled his head in his hands and sighed. “Impossible, John. This Emperor crap has gone to your head. This is madness,” he cursed his boss under his breath.

A knock on his door shook him back out of his thoughts. “Mr. Chambers, can I empty your trash, or should I just come back later?”

With a dismissive wave of his hand, Chambers admitted the young housekeeper to his office, and continued to search his rolodex for anyone who might know of the bar. He couldn’t think, the maid was humming and the tune was off. He raised his head to yell at her, when he noticed the earbuds in her ears, and the way she bounced across the room with the trash bin.

Of course,
he thought.
The young always know where the hottest spots are.

“Young woman!” he shouted. “Young woman!”

The second time he screamed at her, she turned and pulled the earbuds out with an apologetic grin. “Yes, Mr. Chambers.”

“Have you heard of the Nightingale or a local singer named Lorelei?”

“Oh, yes! The Nightingale is the best place to go. I know it well. Lorelei, she sings there every night! She has the most beautiful voice. My friends and I go down to the shore, and I love to go listen to her sing. We all do. Her voice is unexplainable, all deep and husky. It’s like whiskey, smoke, and something that makes you want to cry.”

“Take me there,” he demanded. Then with a softer tone he added, “I will arrange it so that you get a raise, or a better position. I can even arrange for you to meet Mr. Emperor. He insists on meeting this girl, tonight.”

With a quick eagerness, the maid agreed, “Yes, sir. I’d be happy to show you.”

“Excellent,” Chambers cried. “Let me call my consultants, and we will set out.”

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A half an hour later, the small entourage parked the car and began making their way down the boardwalk. From the entrance of a jazz club, they could hear a crooner’s voice, and Squire, the company busy body said, “We’ve found her! Do you hear that? What a voice!”

“No,” the maid shook her head. “That is Sammy J. Not Lorelei. We are still a ways from the right place.”

They walked farther, the crowds of people pushing to and fro and the exotic smell of seafood wafting in the air. From the open door of a country bar, a strong voice belted out a solemn ballad.

“Lovely,” proclaimed Chaplain, yet another assistant. “Her voice is so classic, so pure.”

Again, the maid shook her head. “No. That’s Alyssa, not Lorelei. We have a bit further to go.”

They continued on, not even bothering to pause and watch the jugglers, dancers, and other street performers that paraded about.

When they’d almost given up hope, and had begun to whisper that the maid had taken them on a wild goose chase, they heard Lorelei’s voice. Strong and mournful, it called out to the soul and the heart. The sweetness of the tone suggested youth, but the spirit sounded as old as one of the many greats.

“There, do you hear her?” the maid exclaimed as they turned toward a small club with blue and pink neon lights. “Listen!” she insisted as she pointed toward the stage. “That’s Lorelei.”

“That can’t be her,” Chambers stuttered. “I don’t think she is quite what Mr. Emperor had in mine. She looks like a street urchin in those rags. She must be homeless, just look at the holes in her jeans and that ugly sweater. The hat, that terrible sock cap!”

Just then, the song ended, and Lorelei exited the stage.

The maid called out, “Lorelei! Lorelei!”

The young woman turned her dull brown eyes across the room, and smiled. “Joy! How are you?” Then with hesitation, “And who are these gentleman with you?”

“This is Mr. Chambers, Mr. Squires, and Mr. Chaplain. They’ve come to ask you to sing for Mr. John Emperor. Tonight!”

“I’ve just finished my set,” Lorelei responded. “I can ask the manager, or I can sing a few bars here.” Her nervousness was apparent as she began to sing.

Chambers clapped his hands together when she finished. “Splendid! Really, you have such talent! Your voice is so unique. You sing with such fierceness for such a little thing. You are going to be a giant success, young lady! I can’t believe no one has signed you yet.”

“I’ve never sang anywhere else but here. I am not sure I will do well, but okay.” The excitement of meeting the man who had made stars out of so many carried her away.


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

John had gone out to the garden and cut his most lavish blooms, setting them in priceless vases around the house. Music played softly through the hidden speakers throughout the rooms, all songs from artists he’d built to stardom. The ambiance was one of absolute richness and triumph.

In the middle of the main sitting area, John lounged on a large, gray suede chair next to a piano. Several other executives had been called in, as well as a stylist, all in preparation of seeing his next big star. Even the little maid, Joy, had been allowed to stay, since she knew Lorelei—who sat at the piano. Still dressed in her ripped jeans and sock cap, her fingers shook above the ivory keys,

John nodded to her, and she began to play and sing.

The song made tears fill his eyes and roll down his cheeks as the first soft notes wound their way into his heart. Just when he thought there couldn’t be any more beauty to be heard, Lorelei’s voice rose into high, pure notes that filled the empty house.

John was so excited, he leapt from his seat when the song was over and tried to drape his own gold chain around the girl’s slender neck. “This will be just the beginning, my girl. When we are done, you will have all the best of all the best.”

“I am just honored to have been offered such an opportunity to sing for you, Mr. Emperor. Thank you, but I really can’t accept that.”

“Nonsense,” John declared as he fastened the chain around her neck. “Sing! Sing for us again. You are our own little nightingale.”


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

Days, weeks, and months passed quickly, and Lorelei was made to sing in front of many people. Before she knew it, she found herself in a recording studio. Even the guys who ran the soundboards found her voice astounding, which was astonishing, considering that they thought themselves better judges of music than the agents and owners. Once the demo was done, everywhere it played, it was well received. Lorelei became the Nightingale and was an instant success. Her greatness became so much, even John fell in love with her, and a true passion bloomed between the two.

She was given her very own rooms in John’s house, because she’d previously lived on the wharves, staying wherever she could. She had free reign to wander the gardens, and she did so twice a day and often at night. Often finding a certain peace among nature after the toils of her days as a star, she still felt trapped. Everywhere she went, bodyguards followed—protection against her adoring fans.

The whole world talked about the extraordinary young girl who had been discovered homeless, waitressing, and singing in a bar on the docks. People named their children Lorelei, her name was on the lips of every lover of music, and her songs were number one on the charts. Her future seemed solidly set in gold and platinum.


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On a cloudy afternoon, John sat in his office at the very top of a brand new building that had been constructed with the profits from Lorelei’s success. His eyes rose at the knock on the door, and he was surprised to see the man and woman who entered.

“I have someone here to meet you,” Malone, a small time club manager, leered. “This is Adele.”

The girl was beautiful, small with dark hair and dark eyes just like Lorelei, but with large fake breasts, dyed pink highlights, and decked out in diamonds, rubies, and sapphires. Her body had been sucked, sculpted, nipped, and tucked into a sex symbol version of his little song bird.

With a bored motion of his hand, though his eyes traced the gilded curves of the woman before him, John signaled that the girl should sing. Her painted lips parted, and she belted out one of Lorelei’s most famous songs as she writhed and twisted in a sensual dance.

Leering still, Malone announced, “Emperor, your little singer is paltry compared to mine.”

“She’s lovely,” John agreed, and the contracts were immediately drawn up—Malone earning himself a job as an agent for Emperor Records as well.

“Let’s have them sing together,” Malone suggested. “A real duet. It will be an instant success.”

They called Lorelei to the studio at once, but the duet was not a success. Lorelei’s voice was soulful and full of the pain and trial that she’d suffered for so many years. Adele’s was professionally trained and full of her purchased self confidence.

As they worked, Adele was asked to sing again and again. The vocal coaches applauded, saying how splendid was her technique, and how they’d never be able to train Lorelei, at her age, as well as Adele had been sculpted. As well as her talent, the usurper glittered and shimmied until they all fell in love with her charming appearance.