Tear You Apart

CHAPTER ONE

VIV STOOD IN FRONT OF THE MIRROR, painstakingly sabotaging her appearance. She needed to look presentable, but not attractive. Plain enough not to upstage her stepmother, neat enough not to embarrass her dad at the party.

She ran her fingers through her shoulder-length black hair instead of brushing it, until she was satisfied that it looked sort of tame, sort of wild. She put on a shapeless white dress that was only slightly more flattering than a hospital gown—then turned to make sure it looked like a sack from every angle. As a bonus, she had red scratches on her arms from getting nicked by thorns in the woods—that had to detract from her so-called beauty.

She looked younger than seventeen: petite and waifish. Her lips were the color of a cherry Popsicle. Her skin was ghost-pale, and when she stared into her own eyes, she felt like she was staring into two dark holes.

“So, Mirror,” she said, gazing warily at her reflection, “what’s the verdict?”

The glass rippled slightly, considering; and then its oily voice filled her ears:

“Fairer than she is. Like a forest nymph … beautiful.”

Viv swore and started over.

It never mattered what she did.

The mirror looked at Viv in the same warped way her stepmother, Regina, looked at her.

Viv threw open her closet, startling a chipmunk that was sleeping on a stack of T-shirts, and started rifling through her clothes, pulling dresses off hangers and flinging them onto her bed. Nothing was right. None of her clothes would make Regina forgive her for being herself.

She tried on a boring black cocktail dress, a prissy white lace dress, a slippery red wrap dress that was borderline hideous—and modeled them all for the mirror.

It answered in its typical slick, ingratiating tone:
“Divine … so innocent … gorgeous. More beautiful than she is.”

Viv sank down into the pile of discarded dresses and called her dad. He was already at the clubhouse at Seven Oaks, where the party was being held. He was rarely home these days. He didn’t even bother to lie to them anymore. By now, Viv and Regina understood that he stayed at his girlfriend’s place or in a hotel and he wasn’t going to talk about it, and they weren’t supposed to ask about it, and he just wanted to steer clear of them until the curse was over. At which point, Viv would be out of the house or dead.

“Do I have to go tonight?” she asked when he picked up.

“What?”

She could hear activity in the background. The party
was under way. “Do I have to go to the party? I don’t feel good.”

“Just make an appearance, Vivian. You sit around all day; I don’t ask you to do anything.”

“Well, are you coming home first? I don’t want to be alone in the car with Regina.”

Her dad sighed. “No, I’m not coming home. You two can ride in a car together. Stop being so dramatic.”

He hung up.

That was about the extent of the support she could expect from him. He knew how Regina felt about her. He didn’t want to be bothered. Sometimes Viv felt like it made no difference to her father whether she ended up poisoned by her stepmother or gutted by a Huntsman. Just as long as he could show her off in the meantime.

A brown mouse climbed onto Viv’s knee. It held a wilted daisy in its mouth and made sure that she saw the present before dropping it onto her leg. Viv took the tiny, bitten-off flower in one hand and stroked the mouse’s back with the other. “Thanks,” she murmured. “Although if you really loved me, you would have given Regina a disease by now.”

When Viv was a baby, a fairy had gifted her with animal magnetism—fairy blessings were de rigueur for Royal babies in Beau Rivage. Birds, butterflies, chipmunks, and other woodland creatures were drawn to her, and sometimes they found their way into the house and stayed, like the mouse, and the rabbits in her closet who were always shedding on her clothes.

Finally, she decided on the black cocktail dress, since the loose rabbit hair clinging to the fabric kept it from looking chic, and headed downstairs. Dread filled her, and a sense of
helplessness. Usually she opted for being nasty to Regina, but nastiness worked best when she could leave afterward. Tonight they’d be stuck together for hours.

Just before Viv stepped off the staircase and into the front hall, she heard the same oily mirror-voice she’d heard upstairs.

“Your stepdaughter grows more beautiful each day. And each day, your beauty fades.”

Viv wondered whether Regina had asked the mirror, or the mirror was offering its unsolicited opinion. All the mirrors in the house were like this. There was one truly magic mirror—the one in Viv’s bedroom, which couldn’t be broken—but as soon as another mirror was brought into the house, it became part of the network.

Regina capped her lipstick, bared her teeth to check for smudges, then swiveled around to face Viv.

Regina was twice Viv’s age, but they could pass for sisters. Regina’s hair was the color of black coffee; Viv’s was black as ink. Regina’s skin was creamy white; Viv’s was the stark white of snow. And while Viv’s lips were a natural reddish pink, Regina wore berry-red lipstick. Their bodies, however, were completely different. Viv had the slight, boyish figure of a ballerina, without the grace or strength. Regina was toned, voluptuous in a Hollywood way, and had a good four inches on her stepdaughter.

Tonight they were both wearing black dresses. Regina’s was flashier, sexier, low-cut, and tight. Diamonds sparkled in her ears and her chest was so shimmery with lotion that Viv couldn’t
not
stare at Regina’s boobs. She often had that problem. Regina had lived with Viv and her dad for twelve years; Regina’s breast implants had been with them for three.

Regina was looking Viv over, too. She could examine every inch of her in about three seconds.

“Don’t your parents feed you?” Regina said. “I’m kidding.” She tipped Viv’s chin up to the light before Viv jerked her face away. “I don’t think you have any pores at all. You could be a model if it wasn’t for those dead eyes.”

“Keep your hands off me.” Viv hated when Regina touched her. She used to like it when she was a kid—it had felt motherly then, and she’d craved that affection. Now the memory was a reminder of how naïve she’d been.

“So touchy,” Regina said. “Shall we get going? I know you’re looking forward to this evening as much as I am.”

Viv hesitated a moment too long and the mirror caught sight of her.

“Stunning. Perfection. Your stepmother doesn’t compare.”

Regina’s cool dissipated for an instant; something raw took its place. Viv stepped out of the mirror’s view so it wouldn’t say anything else.