She headed slowly to the far end, the floorboards creaking ominously under her feet.
Evie shifted to her right, hoping to avoid the trap, to move around it, but her foot struck another, and she jumped back as it too snapped shut with a bang, springing into the air and barely grazing her knee. Her heart thundered in her chest as she slid around the next trap, careful not to strike the metal for fear that it might close around her ankle. As long as she missed the trap’s center, she would be good.
She could do this. All she had to do was move slowly, carefully. She edged around another one. She was getting better at this; she could find her way to the back of the room and possibly another door. She cleared one and then another, moving more quickly, sliding one foot in front of the other, searching for and avoiding the traps. Faster. A little faster. The door must be close, then—
She struck a trap and it suddenly popped up with a snap. She jumped away, and as the trap fell on the floor, it hit another trap, which sprang up and hit the one next to it, all in succession—and this time, Evie saw that she couldn’t move slowly but that she had to run.
The chorus of snapping metal jaws rang through the darkness, steel blades against steel blades, as she ran screaming toward the back door. The traps slammed shut, BAM BAM BAM, one after another, one a hairbreadth away from her stocking while another almost caught her heel as she turned the door handle, left the room, and shut the door behind her.
But just as she thought she was safe, she realized she had plunged right into a dark, furry presence.
Was it a bear? A horrible shaggy monster? Had she gotten out of the frying pan only to fall into the fire? Evie twisted and turned, but only succeeded in wrapping herself deeper in fur—dense, thick, woolly fur—with two armholes?
This was no bear…no monster. She was trapped in a fur coat! Evie tried to shake it off, tried to shrug it off her shoulders, but she was smack-dab in the middle of dozens of coats, all of them black or white or black and white, made of the thickest, lushest hides—there was spotted ocelot and dip-dyed mink, silky sable and shiny skunk, all of them packed in like sardines, so full, so fluffy, so thick. This was Cruella De Vil’s fur closet, her wondrous collection, her obsession, her greatest weakness.
And those fur traps back there were her security system, just in case anyone got too close to the stuff.
Evie finally managed to untangle herself and push aside the wall of fur, just as a hand grasped her wrist and pulled her through to the other side.
“You okay?” It was Carlos.
Evie took a deep breath. “Yes. I think so. Do I win the game?” she asked drily.
Carlos laughed. “Mal’s going to be annoyed you survived.”
“Where are we?” Evie looked around. There was a lumpy mattress on the floor next to an ironing board and a washbasin, along with a vanity table that held dozens of white-and-black wigs.
When Carlos looked embarrassed, she realized it was his bedroom. Cruella’s fur closet opened onto a dressing room, where her son slept.
“Oh.”
Carlos shrugged. “It’s home.”
Even if her mother annoyed her sometimes, at least Evil Queen was obsessed with Evie’s good looks; and even when she wasn’t worried that perhaps Evie might not be the fairest of them all, she treated her daughter like the princess she was. Evie’s room might be dark and musty, but she had a real bed, not a makeshift one, with a thick blanket and relatively soft pillows.
“It’s not so bad in here, really!” Evie said. “I’m sure it’s cozy and, hey…you’ll never catch a cold. You can just use one of her fur coats for a blanket, right?” It was awfully drafty in the room: like her own home, Hell Hall wasn’t insulated for winter.
Carlos shook his head. “I’m not allowed to touch them,” he said, trying to put the furs back in order. They were so heavy, and there were so many of them. “I’ll fix them later. She doesn’t come back till Sunday.”
Evie nodded. “This is all my mother’s fault. If she hadn’t tried to challenge Maleficent’s leadership when they first came to the Isle, none of this would have happened.”
“Your mother actually challenged Maleficent?” Carlos goggled. It was unheard of.
“Well, she is a queen, after all,” Evie pointed out. “Yeah, she was angry that everyone on the island decided to follow Maleficent instead of her.” She walked over to the vanity and began to fix her makeup, delicately powdering her nose and applying pink gloss to her full rosebud lips. “And now here we are.”
“Mal will get over it,” he said hopefully.
“Are you kidding? A grudge is a grudge is a grudge. She’ll never forgive me. Didn’t you listen in Selfie class? I thought you were so smart.” Evie smiled wryly. “Oh well, I should just face it. Go back to our castle and never come out.”