'When you alter the fabric of time. . . there can be grave consequences.' Maddox Hatter had told her. How was she to know that had only been the tip of the iceberg? Magic, as it turned out, was much more dangerous than she had thought, much more unp...
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The next day Camilla took a deep breath as she returned to the Isle. She and Harry had delivered Uma her ship and Harry was to captain it while Uma used the crew to arrange furniture in her new office at Auradon Prep. Camilla took the bridge back home, Harry had offered to go with her, but she assured him she could do this on her own. He had looked at her concerned under his black eyeliner. He knew she wasn't keeping secrets from him, he knew what she was leaving to do. But he respected her wishes, promising he'd be there when she got back if she needed him. He had been her shoulder to cry on during her life flipping upside down. After Carlos. . .
She grew more and more nervous as she approached Hell Hall. Picking at the buttons of her half black half white jacket, which matched her pants that were black and white just on opposite sides. The perfect waves in her hair bounced as she walked and she did her best to not run her fingers nervously through the locks. She kept buttoning and unbuttoning the jacket, unsure about whether it looked better to show the red top underneath or not. But focusing on her outfit helped take her mind off her worries.
The last time she had seen her mother was a few weeks ago and while she would love to just give up on the foul woman who had poisoned her and her true love - she knew Carlos wouldn't want that. He would want them to be a family. So, even if Cruella was stubborn and awful, Camilla faced her with her chin raised and a stiff lip. She would not crumble, not until she returned and fell into Harry's strong arms.
The black iron gate squealed as she pushed it open. The place looked like it had fallen into even deeper disarray since the last time she'd been here. Lots of the other villains places had received supplies and teams to help repair them, the shops looked newer, the homes were nicer. Not one person on the Isle had turned down Auradon's generosity, most felt they were owed something for all their suffering anyway and Auradon was happy to supply wood and rugs and furniture if it sated the villains thirst for revenge. Everyone won. But Cruella hadn't been heard from. Carlos was the one who had extended the olive branch, he had a less troubled past with their mother. When they. . . lost him, any progress Cruella had made vanished and she secluded herself in their home. On past trips Camilla did what she could but her and her mother always seemed to end up arguing.
The front door was pulled open for her by her own father who looked at her with sadness. Horace and Jasper still stopped by but they had their own children in Auradon who needed them now. And Cruella needed round the clock care or she might just let herself wither away into a shriveled old bag of anger and misery. Camilla nodded at him and he patted her head lovingly. He left her to her privacy when she entered the parlor room and found Cruella as she always was, a martini glass with clear gin and a few olives in one hand, her long red cigarette holder in the other. The end smoked as she tapped it off over the ashtray. Cruella was hidden by the deep red wing backed chair she sat in but when she sat up, leaning over the small side table to retrieve a new cigarette she noticed her daughter. Her heavily eyeshadowed lids drooped over her eyes, "Oh, so you've returned."
