Page 4 of Sweet Silver Bells

Page List

Font Size:

She threw out her arms, and the tree mimicked her. Branches exploded outward, thick and wild, ripping through the marble at every level. Guests stumbled and fell. They ran out of the dance hall and out of the estate.

She spotted the boy she had danced with. He had fallen on the stairs in his escape. He stared up at her, horrified, as if he hadn’t believed in witches.

Not really.

Not until now.

"Christmas is here,"she sang.

She wouldn’t stop. They had seen it. They knew now.

"—bringing good cheer."

"Olivia!"

Her father gripped her shoulder. His face was inches from hers as his eyes pleaded.

The kindness there, the love, had stopped the following lyric from leaving her lips. She shuddered.

Olivia felt ice cold. Her body shook.

She looked around, eyes wide and wild. She only saw ruin and fear. There were people still inside who hadn’t managed to escape.

"I told you," said her blond suitor. He stood now, steady on the stairs. His beautiful eyes burned with fury. "She’s a witch."

Olivia’s hands smoothed the top of her corset. She clutched her skirts and looked down at her feet, weighing what came next.

Because the boy was right.

“Olivia, are you okay?” her father asked.

“Tell Mother I’m sorry,” she said through a sob. Tears streamed down her face. Shame burned inside her, but worse than the shame was the hate. The hate for who she was. For what she was.

“Olivia!” her father cried, reaching for her.

But she grabbed her skirts and ran up the stairs and out of the dance hall. Her heels echoed through the foyer.

Guests gasped and froze. Eyes tracked her as if waiting for something, waiting to see what she’d do next.

All she could do was run.

Get away from them all.

Run, Olivia. Run.

“Olivia, stop!” her father shouted again.

The chase began.

Now, in the woods behind the estate, her body screamed. She was exhausted. Her legs dragged, breath ragged.

She knew she couldn’t go much farther.

Olivia splashed through a stream, crying out as icy water soaked her ankles. Mud clung to her hem. Snow latched onto her bodice, her shoulders, her hair.

And still, she ran.

Her father was nearly behind her now. The gap between them had almost vanished. She couldn’t let him catch her. She couldn’t let him hug her, love her, or change her mind. She had to keep him away.