Away with the Faeries

Chapter One

"Fired." The word escaped my lips, a hard pit forming in the center of my stomach. Weakly I fell into the plush leather chair before my employer's grand desk as my knees gave way. Fired. The words floated sickly through my mind. "I was just hired!" My hands flew up in exaggeration.

Mr. Louve pinched the bridge of his nose, full brows meeting in the middle. "Look Ms. Aubert you're a lovely girl-," he began.

A lump settled in my throat, I had heard this speech one too many times to know that it never ended well. I was already fired, why add insult to injury?

"I'm afraid you're just not mature enough to be working for this company," he finished stressing the word 'mature' as if it breached my vocabulary.

Swallowing what little pride I had left I stood with a curt nod; "I understand," I said through tight lips before turning and leaving the office. But I didn't understand, not really.

Curious faces turned and watched as I marched back towards my desk. A tiny ball of light bounced around, scratching lettering on a sticky note with a pen twice its size. I flicked the pen from its grasp, glancing at the small words.

Rayne- 0, Work- 14

Grumbling I lifted an empty box onto my chair and began piling items inside.

"Fired again," the little light ball squeaked, "what's that, the third time this month?"

Leaning in close to my desk, away from the prying eyes of my coworkers, a frown pulled at my face; "Well I wouldn't have gotten fired if it wasn't for you," I hissed, "Stupid figment of my imagination."

An eraser cap struck my temple as I piled the finishing items into the box; "I'm not a figment of anyone's imagination," pouted the tiny ball before smugly adding, "this is as real as it gets."

"Sure," I muttered, bitterly rubbing my temple. With my personal ball of annoyance following, I made my way from the large office building, box in arms.

"I don't think computer science is for you babe," chirped the little ball of light. It picked up a thumbtack, brandishing it as a blade; "It's never too late to pick back up fencing. Now there was something you were great at."

"How do you even know about that?"

"Figment of your imagination," it lulled sarcastically, "remember?"

Tiny creatures scurried all about the streets, bystanders gave no show that they were even there. Bunnies with large antlers traversed in large packs down the cobble roads. A thundering roar echoed off in the distance, shaking the streets and lamposts. Not a single head turned. My eyes widened in horror as I stumbled to regain balance.

"Your name is Rayne Aubert and you are perfectly sane," I quietly spoke the words to myself, as a reassuring mantra. As if I could draw truth through repetition.

"Are you all right miss?" A voice asked snapping me out of my daze. It was an older man, concern set finely into his wrinkles.

"Of course," I said quickly. Nodding down to the overflowing office supplies I smiled feebly, "just got fired is all."

The man gave me a small sympathetic smile before trotting off once more.

"I think he was hitting on you," my tiny ball of light giggled.

I growled in annoyance, "I'm about to be hitting you," I muttered as we navigated our way around the diverse influx of creatures and people. At this moment nothing in the world could bring me more comfort than my tiny studio apartment, and it's an even smaller bathtub. I desperately needed a nice long soak in that lame excuse of a bath. My feet moved quicker now, down the block, across the street, and up the seven flights of uneven stairs, not stopping until I stood before my apartment door.

I was exhausted, disheveled, slightly insane, and as I stared in utter disbelief at the eviction note stapled to my door. Homeless.

———

"You can stay in your old bedroom for the time being."

My mother spoke through a heavy French accent, bright red lips cast down in a scowl as she unlocked the old room. She held the door open for me as I entered, eyeing me carefully with each movement. Flicking on the light switch I threw my hastily packed bag on the bed. Dust flew, coating the air in thick smog. Waving my hand before my face a sheepish grin pulled at my lips.

"Just like I remember it," I laughed.

Her lips were drawn thin, seeming anything but amused; "Your sister, her husband, and their children have been staying here for the upcoming holidays," she said tightly, "don't fill their young minds with any of your nonsense."

With that, she left, closing the door tightly behind herself. Flicking the lights back off I fell to the hard bed, springs groaning beneath me. I glanced about the empty room, shadows creeping up the walls. Well, it's certainly as dark as I remember it.

"Nonsense," my tiny ball of light fury huffed, "I'll show her nonsense!"

"Of course you will," I agreed tiredly. "As soon as you open that door."

After spending hours arguing with my landlord the rest of my day was spent packing and commuting here. To say I was exhausted would be an understatement. Tugging the stiff sheets up over me I let the sweet notion of sleep lull me. But just as I began drifting off I was poked by a sharp draft through the thin blanket. Twisting and shrinking in an attempt to ward off the cold only made things worse. It was the middle of April dammit! Who was messing with the thermostat? The wind bit at me from all sides; cold, harsh, and bitter.

Quickly I sat up in a fit of frustration, eyes flying wide; "Who is messing with the thermostat?"

Snow. I was covered in a thin layer of powdery liquid. My blood ran cold, face paled. Wrapping the blanket tighter around me, I moved up onto wobbly legs. Frost and wind cut at my bare skin, singing a somber tune. Imposing trees towered overhead, great bounds of snow piled dangerously upon each bare branch. I close my eyes for two seconds and wake up in fucking Narnia, splendid.

"Who are you?" A deep voice boomed from behind me.

Spinning I found a man dressed in a thick crimson cloak and heavy wools. He towered above me, watching me closely from beneath the spanning hood of his cloak. A curved longbow lay slung across his back, his gloved hands itched towards it as if ready to knock an arrow at a moment's notice.

"Who are you," I echoed back. Traitorous voice trembling as I held back tears. "And where am I?"

The man paused before throwing back his large hood, revealing his face. An old scar ran in a jagged line across his dark brow. His face was distant and imposing, just like his stature. His dark eyes softened ever so slightly as they gazed upon me, his long hair moving harshly with each snap of the wind. Slowly placing a hand on his chest, he locked eyes with mine.

"I am Marcel Benett."

As he spoke a wave of familiarity crashed over me. There was something about his accent, it sounded eerily like a French one. I swore if I studied it long enough I would be able to figure out where I recognized it from.

He spoke on, motioning around himself; "And this is the Kingdom of the Fae."