Prologue

Many years before the events in Hood’s Caper…

The invitation for the masquerade ball took me by surprise. I’d not expected anything when I filled out the form for the contest being run by our local rock station, but the golden ticket, hand-delivered to me at work, indicated I’d won.

What would I wear? I couldn’t exactly afford anything chic on my minimum wage salary. My tiny attic apartment cost me most of my paycheck. A good thing my work let me eat leftovers for free or I’d be starving.

Luckily, I enjoyed thrifting. The vintage store a few blocks from my place had a lovely gown in a light rose hue marked down due to a tear and a stain. With a little help from the attic spiders, who were wizzes with thread, and the mice who’d taken up residence under my bed, we turned the shabby gown into something presentable.

Dare I say I even looked like a princess? So long as no one glanced under the hem to see my battered ballerina flats.

Since I couldn’t get the day off work—and I still needed to pay rent—I brought my dress with me and hung it in the employee break room. It led to questions and criticism from my coworkers.

“How did you get an invite?”

“I can’t believe they’re going to let you in.”’

“It’s probably because she slept with someone.”

I ignored them all. I’d spent a good portion of my childhood listening to the taunts of my stepmom and stepsisters. I lived by the mantra that being pushed in front of cars and shoved down stairs would break my bones but words couldn’t hurt me.

You know what did hurt? The jealousy someone exhibited at the end of my shift, which turned out to be a half-hour longer than everyone else since I got assigned kitchen cleanup when we closed at nine, an hour after the ball started. I didn’t let it bother me because, after all, didn’t everyone say it was good to be fashionably late?

I finished putting away all the dishes and scrubbed the stovetops before heading to the break room to change. At least I wouldn’t have to wait for a taxi. The hotel with the massive ballroom would only be a ten-minute walk.

Only it turned out I wouldn’t be going to the ball after all.

I stared in shock at my dress, ripped from the hanger and tossed to the floor, trampled and torn. The maliciousness shouldn’t have stunned me, and yet I found myself silently sobbing, fat tears rolling down my cheeks.

So much for having something nice for once.

As I lifted the rag from the floor and balled it up for the garbage, the air suddenly felt strange. Charged even, kind of like that weird sensation you got before a storm.

Poof.

I blinked my eyes, and yet the woman with gray hair in the bouffant dress remained floating a few inches above the floor.

“Hello, Cinderella. I am your fairy godmother, here to ensure you go to the ball,” a claim punctuated by the twirl of a wand, which emitted light sparks.

My mouth rounded. “A what?” Given my mom insisted on naming me Cinderella, I’d read the story that pertained to my name. However, I didn’t recall ever hearing about any fairy godmothers. In the original Grimm books, the woodland creatures helped Cinderella. “The original Grimm Story of The Little Ash Girl didn’t have a fairy godmother,” I objected. “In that tale, the tree planted by the heroine’s mother’s grave was the one granting wishes.” A tree I didn’t have since my mom was buried in a graveyard that only allowed grass.

“Because your curse is one of the few that includes some aspects from modern adaptations,” Godmother softly chided. “Now, just accept that I’m your fairy godmother, here to make your wishes come true.”

“How?”

“Magic, of course. Now we don’t have much time. Put on your dress.”

“But it’s ruined.” I pointed out the obvious.

“Not for long. Hip, hop. The clock is ticking.”

Despite living in a world where fairytales could come true, I remained skeptical as I put on the rag I’d worked so hard on.

“Shoes, too,” she insisted.

I slid the scuffed slippers onto my feet.

“Excellent! Now hold still while I do my thing.” The Godmother waved her wand and sang, the words not any I understood but the effect proved astonishing. My ruined gown transformed, pink and poufy but also shimmering with gold to match the shoes on my feet.

The magic also coiled my hair into ringlets atop my head, and a glance in the mirror showed a light layer of makeup to accent my eyes and lips. The crowning touch, the intricate gold mask that covered half my face.

“Oh my,” I exclaimed, stunned by the transformation.

“Perfect,” declared Godmother. “Now you just need to get to the ball so you can enchant your prince.”

Her use of “enchant” bothered. I’d seen pictures of the prince hosting, and he was old. So very old. I had no interest in catching his eye. I just wanted to dance and see all the beautiful gowns and tuxedos.

“Thank you so much,” I gushed.

“You’re welcome, dear girl. Off you go.” Before I could say another word, Godmother waved her wand, and poof, I found myself standing on the sidewalk outside the grand hotel.

My entrance didn’t go unnoticed. People murmured, and even the musicians playing paused, most likely because an old man with much gold braid and medals tottered for me.

“Ah, at last, a beauty worthy of a prince.” Prince Henrick leered at me with his yellowed and gray teeth, the wrinkles on his face too numerous to count.

I could think of no polite way to refuse his demand we dance.

So I danced with the prince. Over and over. He seemed undaunted by the fact I kept moving his hands from my buttocks. Made no attempt to hide the fact he stared at my cleavage.

The evening I’d so looked forward to turned out to be not as wonderful as expected. Knowing the story, or should I say curse, I wasn’t surprised the prince proposed to me as the hour approached midnight.

“You flatter me, Your Highness,” I stated, tugging my hand from his clammy grip.

“We will marry, and you will bear little princes,” he cackled.

Inwardly I shivered with revulsion, and when he leaned in to try and kiss me, I turned and fled. I ran out of the hotel and onto the sidewalk, clutching my bouffant skirt. As I fled, my heel got caught in a grate, but hearing shouts behind me, I left the shoe behind.

Once I kicked off the remaining transformed slipper, I put some distance between me and those pursuing. I sprinted all the way home and thought myself safe.

Only the prince wouldn’t accept my rejection.

A search began for the mysterious woman he’d fallen in love with.

Me.

He put out a call to all the ladies who’d attended to present themselves, stating that whoever fit into the shoe I’d left behind would become his bride.

I didn’t make an appearance at the public spectacle that had dozens of women, many who’d never even gone to the ball, trying on the golden shoe. To my relief, someone managed to wedge her foot into that golden slipper—“someone” being Marilyn, a coworker who’d never been nice to me and deserved the gropy old prince as far as I was concerned.

That should have been the end of it, only my fairy godmother had the nerve to visit me a few days later wearing a frown.

“Cinderella, what’s this I hear about you rejecting the prince?”

I arched a brow. “Can you blame me? He’s old enough to be my great-grandfather.”

My observation pursed Godmother’s lips. “The Grimm Effect doesn’t take age into account when pairing people.”

“Well, it should, or maybe it should let people fall in love on their own,” I huffed.

“Be that as it may, you appear safe from Prince Henrick. However, I’m afraid something must still be done with you.”

I frowned. “Meaning what?”

“My failure to give you a happily ever has agitated the curse, and it’s pressuring me to do something about you.”

My eyes widened. “Wait, are you here to kill me?”

Godmother’s eyes widened. “Goodness, no, dear girl. However, you and I won’t be done until I make your heart sing. Alas, I’m not aware of any eligible princes. Henrick was the only current, unmarried one. There is presently a worldwide shortage of eligible royalty.”

“I’d rather not be forced into marriage to a stranger.” I spoke the truth.

“Perhaps we can circumvent that aspect of your curse. After all, more than one thing can make you happy. Any suggestions, dear girl?”

I hesitated before saying, “I would have liked to expand my education after high school. I just can’t afford it.”

The suggestion pursed Godmother’s lips. “Generating money is the one thing I can’t do. Make carriages from pumpkins and other melons, yes. Transform rags into dresses, also doable, but cash…” She shook her head.

My shoulders slumped. I should have known better than to get my hopes up. Since when did good things happen to me? Look at how the ball turned out.

A snap of fingers drew my gaze to Godmother, who beamed. “I think I have just the thing for you. Tell me, have you heard about the new Fairytale Bureau?”

While it had been established only a few years before, I did know of it. They were supposed to help people caught up in the Grimm Effect.

“I’m familiar with them. Why?”

“What if I could get you into their academy?”

“I can’t afford it.” Like any other college, the tuition didn’t come cheap.

“It wouldn’t cost you a thing, and if you pass, it’s a guaranteed job that will pay much better than what you’re doing now.”

An education and a career? “In that case, yes, please.”

And so with a little magical help, I became a Fairytale agent, foiled the curse that wanted to marry me to a prince, and, years later, finally met the man who made my heart pitter-patter.

What a shame I also disliked him.