Always Golden Read online

  Always Golden

  A dark retelling of the French fairy tale ‘The Story Of Pretty Goldilocks’

  by

  GINA DICKERSON

  Always Golden Copyright Gina Dickerson 2015

  This Kindle edition published worldwide Copyright Gina Dickerson 2016

  The right of Gina Dickerson to be identified as the Author of the work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  All rights reserved in all media. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording, photocopying, the Internet or otherwise, without the prior written permission from the author.

  All characters and events featured in this publication are purely fictitious and any resemblance to any person, place, organisation/company, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Cover design and art by RoseWolf Design

  http://rosewolfdesign.wix.com/rosewolfdesign

  Images: Prometeus/Stockmile

  Gina Dickerson can be found on her website:

  www.ginadickersonwriter.co.uk

  and over on

  www.authorsreach.co.uk

  * * *

  Also by Gina Dickerson

  Mortiswood Tales

  Mortiswood: Kaelia Awakening

  (Book One)

  Mortiswood: Kaelia Falling

  (Book Two)

  The Pennington Christmas Curse

  Twisted Thoughts

  A poetry collection

  Underleaf

  A short story collection of twisted, dark tales

  Unveiling Lies

  For the links to read two free short stories visit Gina’s website

  www.ginadickersonwriter.co.uk

  * * *

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  The meaning behind the names

  Also by Gina Dickerson

  About the author

  Prologue

  Oriana

  Oriana wrapped her leather coat around herself and tied its belt at her waist. The air was cold, freezing her lips as she breathed in. Night had yet to be blown completely away but rising trickles of the sun’s rays ran multi coloured rivulets through the sky. Dried leaves, coated with sparkling droplets of early morning dew, crackled underneath the soles of her boots as she made her way from the road to the line of trees opposite. A noise sounded behind her and she froze. Her breath caught in her throat and the racing of her heart filled her ears.

  Had He found her? Had He found a way to return?

  Turning slowly, Oriana surveyed the dirt road behind her. Not even her own footprints were visible on the ground. All that was in view, other than trees, was her own, sleek black car. Straightening her shoulders, she strode towards the trees and wended around the gnarled trunks. Pushing aside the lower branches as she moved, Oriana breathed in deeply, savouring the scent of fresh pine and fir trees which brought to the surface memories of the last time she had been in this forest. Exactly a year ago to this very day, at the exact same time.

  Although it was still early, or extremely late depending on one’s perspective, the gentle murmur of voices was easily distinguishable as the trees swallowed Oriana within their shadows. She paused for a moment, tilting her head to one side to listen.

  Damn it, why were there people here today of all days?

  Keeping to the darkest areas, Oriana slipped towards a small clearing from where the voices were coming. Calculating the crowd was about fifteen strong; Oriana slunk between the trunks of two Norway spruces and folded her arms across her chest, surveying the group from her hiding place. Her sharp, amethyst eyes took each of them in, in turn. Ranging in age from teenagers to the middle aged, they all looked relatively harmless.

  Non-threatening.

  Even if they were dressed rather peculiarly.

  Arranged in a circle, the group of people did not notice Oriana in the shadows. Each person wore a dark grey robe which reached to their ankles and was adorned to the chest with a single, stitched image of a silver disc. The image alone sent a shiver down Oriana’s spine but she mentally kicked herself; there was no way the emblem on the gatherers costumes could ever mean what she had thought. Nevertheless, she pressed closer to the trunk of the tree she was behind, peering cautiously through its foliage.

  ‘I’m cold!’ complained a teenage girl standing just a few feet away from Oriana. She twirled a strand of ebony hair around the well-manicured tip of one finger. ‘Why do we have to wear these stupid costume thingies? If any of my friends could see me now they’d take the piss out of me. It’s soooo embarrassing. And we’ve waited here for ages now...standing around in a circle like a bunch of weirdo witchy idiots.’

  The woman standing to the left of the girl, smiled over the top of the girl’s bent head to the man standing to the other side of the teenager. ‘It’s only been ten minutes and you know full well why we’re here. I told you. It is time you joined the group, you are old enough now. It’s important for all of us to be together.’

  ‘But I don’t even know these freaks!’

  ‘Keep your voice down,’ the man reprimanded, his low voice stern. ‘You are one of the so-called freaks yourself.’

  The girl snorted. ‘I am not! I’m nothing like them.’ She flicked her head in the direction of a teenage boy across the clearing. ‘He’s so pathetic. I’m not like him. If I saw him at school I wouldn’t even look at him.’

  ‘Enough,’ cut in the woman. ‘We need you, end of conversation.’

  ‘You don’t need me.’ The girl folded her arms over her chest. ‘I don’t believe in all of this bloody shit anyway.’

  The woman’s voice was strained. ‘Don’t you speak like that, young lady.’

  ‘What you gonna do?’ the girl asked sharply. ‘Magic me away?’

  The man’s voice dropped even more than before, forcing Oriana to edge closer to hear properly. ‘You know you can’t let Her hear you speaking like that.’

  The girl laughed. ‘Yeah, right. I’m so scared. This is totally lame. I thought it would be way more fun than this. The way you and Mum spoke about The Trackings I thought we’d be catching things and practising real magic. All we’ve done so far is stand in a stupid circle waiting for this Her you keep talking about, hold hands like some hippies and chant. Pathetic.’

  The woman poked her daughter in her side. ‘Shut your mouth, Samia. You’ll land us all in trouble if you carry on speaking in such a way. You need to learn respect. I thought you were old enough to join us. I thought you could deal with the importance of what we’re doing. You’re fifteen not five so quit your bellyaching.’

  ‘But nothing’s happening!’ Samia complained. ‘It’s boring...these bunch of weirdo freaks are boring...and I’m bored. I’d rather be at home in bed!’

  Samia’s mother shrank back as a tall, robed figure strode into the centre of the circle. ‘Do I hear a non-believer?’

  Still shrouded in the shadows, Oriana’s heart missed a beat and raced to catch up. The thundering of her pulse partially obliterated the voice of the person in the middle of the circle. Time slowed as she watched the tall figure lower the hood of its robe.

  Oriana gasp
ed, although the person’s face was still obscured by a mask. The ground shifted beneath her feet and she stopped herself just in time from head-butting the tree trunk she was hiding behind. Rubbing her eyes, she drew in several deep breaths to steady herself.

  It couldn’t be...it wasn’t possible...was she hallucinating?

  The woman next to Samia trembled from head to toe. ‘I’m s-s-so-rry,’ she stammered. ‘It’s my daughter’s first time.’

  The masked woman gestured expansively. “And all of these other young people, is it not their first times as well? Yet, we do not hear mockery falling from their mouths.’

  The mother hung her head. ‘I apologise for my daughter.’

  Samia laughed. ‘This is stupid! Mum, don’t apologise for me.’ She broke from the circle and stepped closer to the woman in the centre. ‘Why are you all taking this so seriously? I thought re-enactment was supposed to be fun!’

  ‘Re-enactment?’ the tall woman parroted. ‘Re-enactment? This is no re-enactment!’

  ‘Then what is it?’ Samia squared her shoulders.

  A murmur of unease rumbled through the circle of people. Pressed close against the tree trunk, Oriana held her breath. Part of her wanted to run, part wanted to watch. She swallowed nervously. She had not prepared for this.

  She had nothing to fight with.

  The tall woman’s hands disappeared inside her robe and she withdrew a metallic disc. The crowd gasped, each taking a step backwards as if they were all connected.

  ‘What?’ Samia demanded, looking around the circle. ‘It’s a saucer...why are you all acting so weird?’

  The woman in the centre laughed, the sound echoing strangely in the clearing between the trees. With a flick of her wrist she sent the disc spinning to Samia. For a moment Samia froze before her mother lunged for her, pushing her out of the way.

  Oriana stifled a scream. Not wanting to watch as she was certain she already knew what was coming, she turned away. Beads of sweat broke out across her forehead and she slipped around another tree, leaning against it so her back was to the clearing. She closed her eyes as the girl’s mother emitted a scream so terrifying it turned Oriana’s blood cold. A tear slid from between her puckered eyelids as there was a second scream from the girl, followed by another from the mother.

  No, she thought, gulping back sobs, not again.

  ‘Remember,’ the woman bellowed from the middle of the group. ‘Remember what we are here for. Remember what we have been searching for all of these years. Remember what I promised you in return for your assistance.’

  ‘Yes,’ cried a voice from the far edge of the circle. ‘We are here as we have always been, as our parents were here before us.’

  ‘And why?’ shouted the leader. ‘Why are you here?’

  ‘Because we are all of your blood,’ replied another voice.

  ‘And?’

  ‘We are of his blood.’

  Oriana’s vision flashed in and out of focus. Stumbling, she made her way back towards her car as quietly as possible.

  Of His blood?

  Surely they didn’t mean who she thought they did?

  No, it was not possible.

  The woman’s voice rose. ‘I have something of extreme importance to share with you today, my bloodlings.’

  Oriana made it as far as the scrubby verge of the dirt track where her car was parked before she doubled over and collapsed to her knees, the memories of the past making her vomit.

  Chapter One

  Oriana

  Many, many years ago

  The gilded mirror on the wall bounced on its hanging. Oriana, busy sectioning her ultra-long blonde hair over one shoulder, frowned. Vibrations rumbled through the building, easily reaching the tower where Oriana’s quarters were.

  ‘I thought your father was having a new table made for the Grand Hall, not knocking the room down!’ said Oriana’s friend, Karima, from where she was sprawled on the guest bed, varnishing her fingernails a fetching, and expensive, shade of metallic gold.

  Oriana tied a band around the immense bun she had fashioned her hair into and grabbed the mirror as it slipped off its hook from the force of the vibrations.

  ‘I don’t know what he’s having done!’ she replied as she set the mirror down on her own bed and gestured to Karima. ‘Come on, let’s go and investigate.’

  With a sigh, Karima replaced the lid on the crystal pot of varnish, blew on her nails, and slipped her long legs off the bed. Pushing her feet into a pair of satin slippers, she headed to the door after Oriana. ‘If my nails ruin I’ll be annoyed.’ She fanned her hands in the air. ‘This nail coating is stunning.’

  Oriana glanced over her shoulder at her friend. ‘You’re lucky you’re my best friend, my mother will make me scrub my own bathroom floor if she finds out I’ve let someone else use the varnish...it was sent by the empress of Walpole herself...where only those of proper breeding are allowed to use it! I hear the empress has her handmaidens apply a fresh coat every morning after having removed the previous day’s layer with a special potion made of dragons’ breath.’

  ‘Dragons aren’t real, that’s a load of rubbish. Besides, I’m hardly a peasant; my father has two hundred acres of land!’

  ‘Well, mine has a castle and—hold on, can you smell smoke?’ Oriana sniffed the air, making her nose wrinkle. With widened, fearful eyes, she looked at Karima. ‘I’m not imagining it, am I?’

  Karima stopped fanning her hands and slowly shook her head. ‘It could be smoke but I can’t tell properly over the smell of this varnish. It looks pretty but I don’t care much for the stink. If dragons exist I’d reckon this stuff is scented with their foul droppings!’

  Ignoring her friend’s chattering, Oriana opened the bedchamber door.

  Wispy fingers of grey-white smoke crawled along the cold floor from the opposite end of the corridor, rising up from the staircase. Warmth clung to the fingers of smoke, caressing the walls and floors as it crept closer.

  Oriana licked her lips, tasting a distinct burnt aroma rather like a wood fire.

  Her bedchamber was one of three small rooms on the East Wing at the very top in the tower. It was the reason she had chosen it, for the quiet it afforded being so far removed from the everyday bustle of the rest of the castle. Her father employed a lot of staff and by rights she should have taken the Garden Suite with its spacious rooms and doors straight onto the grounds, but having a plethora of rooms wasn’t high on her must-have-list. She had no need for a separate sitting room, a study, dressing room, garden room, plus a dining room. No, she preferred the quiet of the East Wing over the grandeur of the Garden Suite, so she was able to spend her time reading. The fact her bedchamber had only two windows, and a modest adjoining bathroom not an en-suite, had never concerned her. She quite liked the fact her bedchamber was too compact for her desk and shelves of books meaning she had taken over the last remaining room on the wing and made it her personal library.

  ‘Oh no!’ Karima clutched Oriana’s elbow as they edged into the narrow corridor. ‘It really is smoke...we’re going to die...I can’t die, I’m only twenty-six!’

  Oriana shook her friend’s hand from her elbow. ‘We’re not going to die. Stay with me and we’ll get out of here just fine.’

  ‘What about my bag?’ Karima babbled. ‘And the new dress I brought with me for your twenty-first birthday celebration tonight. I must take it with me, Mother will kill me if anything happens to it. It took three dressmakers to make it!’

  ‘What a great birthday this is turning out to be!’ Oriana grabbed Karima’s hand, tugging the latter behind her along the narrow corridor until they passed the door to Oriana’s library which was closest to the stairwell. ‘Don’t worry about your dress. It’ll be fine. I’m sure my father has everything under control.’

  The wisps of smoke thickened as they reached the top of the winding, stone staircase. Coughing, Oriana held her hand over her mouth. Her voice, when she spoke again, was muffled. ‘Hold onto the ro
pe, I don’t want you slipping and knocking us down the stairs, we both know how clumsy you can be at times!’

  ‘Oriana, I’m frightened.’

  Oriana squeezed Karima’s trembling hand before releasing it and grabbing hold of the thick rope which was looped through iron brackets in the wall. She released a long breath, her heart thumping wildly in her chest and started to descend. She did not want to admit to Karima that she too was frightened. It took longer than usual to reach the floor beneath Oriana’s, considering she had to push her way through the ever thickening smoke. With every blink, her eyes itched and watered. Trying to keep her gaze lowered, Oriana could do nothing to stop the smoke from burning its way under her eyelids. It was difficult to breathe. Every breath was a tortured mix of smoke and oxygen that both relieved and tormented equally. With her vision blurred by itchy tears, Oriana tumbled from the bottom step and landed on the floor with Karima flopping beside her. On the ground it was easier to breathe and Oriana gulped in deep mouthfuls. The corridor was wider than the one leading to her rooms above and had four large windows in the outer wall. The doors to the five rooms opposite were all shut, and indiscernible cries could be heard from the floors below.

  ‘Who set alight to all of the curtains?’ Karima scrabbled across the floor, edging away from the source of the fire. ‘Your father will lose his temper, weren’t those curtains handmade by his grandmother?’

  ‘Yes but don’t worry about who made the curtains now. Come on, we need to fetch water to try and put the fire out.’

  ‘You’re right.’ Karima started to crawl on all fours towards the opposite end of the corridor.

  It was difficult to crawl with the layers of her skirts so Oriana grabbed the material and held the front hem in her hands as she struggled forwards on her bare knees.