Disclaimer – I own nothing do not sue.
Authors note – This has had many different beginnings but after talking with the BFG (sorry dude, I was sat here howling with laughter as I typed that so don't hate me m'kay?)this was the one I went with. Straight into the action. The faeries featured are inspired by those in the Merry Gentry series, however, none of the characters in that novel feature in this fic. Okay?
The room was icy cold. A low round table sat at its heart, a long, black velvet tablecloth was draped over it and in the centre stood a stone bowl. The bowl had a worn look to it as if many hands had passed over it during its time on Earth, its sides were covered with intricate carvings of a long ago forgotten language. Five tall black candles surrounded the bowl, their flickering flames casting long twisted shadows on the walls of the room. A long ceremonial knife gleamed ominously in the candlelight, its handle was so black that it blended into the soft tablecloth save for a glittering red ruby which was set into its hilt, the stone sparkled and danced in the light from the candles like a menacing red eye. Watching and waiting.
Save for the odd table and frigid temperature the room was like any other bedroom. The bed was simplistic and wooden, a stylish cream duvet and bedspread covered it and a cluster of gold scatter cushions huddled near the headboard. There was a wooden bedside table, a white china cup with pugs prancing around its rim was placed on the cabinet. It was half filled with now cold, milky coffee. A photo of a black Pug sat next to it, the dog's mouth was comically open as it panted in the sunshine. The door of the room clicked open and figure strolled in, they were dressed in a long, black dressing grown. The hood of the dressing gown was up, obscuring their face from view. In their left hand, they carried a black crushed velvet bag with intricate silver flowers embroidered onto its sides.
The hooded figure knelt in front of the low table, their long robe pooled out behind them like a black puddle and they placed the velvet bag on the table next to the stone basin. There was a brief moment of silence as the figure readied themselves, the spell was a complicated one but it was already halfway through, to turn back now would be madness and it could cause serious ramifications for the spellcaster. The thought of the often painful consequences involved in stopping the curse drove the hooded figure to pick up the black handled double edged athame. They pressed the blades sharp tip into their left hands' index finger and held it over the bowl, a small droplet of crimson began to well and eventually fell into the black depths dish. The figured hissed and brought their finger to their mouth, sucking the small wound in an attempt to quell the sharp pain. They had always felt that this was the worse part of spellcasting, the early magic users must have been sadists of some form because every major piece of magic work required blood.
Grumbling to themselves they opened their little crushed-velvet bag and spilt its contents out onto the table. They picked a chunk of sandy fur up and threw it into the bowl to join the droplet of opening blood, a bone which was white with age was then tossed in and it was quickly followed by three rose petals. Reaching into their robe pocket the figure pulled out a plastic freezer bag, the still oozing heart of some poor creature was locked inside, they unclipped the top and let the heart fall into the basin with a wet thudding sound. It was nearly done they thought to themselves, just a final closing drop of blood and the curse would be near completion. The athame was then acquainted with the right index finger and another droplet of blood was added to the bizarre concoction.
There was a brief moment of stillness as the figure surveyed their work, it was a good curse they reflected, especially considering they had been self-teaching magic for little more than six months. Pride swelled in their chest as they thought of the lesson which would be learned from the unfortunate curses focus, the figure picked up one of the black candles and brought it closer to their face. They picked up a small white envelope and held it over the candle, the flame caught quickly and hungrily ate away the paper and its contents. The figure finally let the ashes fall into the bowl and blew out all the candles, slowly, one by one. Until the entire thing had burnt away into a grey, ashy crisp.
It was done, the curse was complete.
Outside the spellcaster's window, night had fallen, clouds had blocked out all form of starlight and moonlight leaving the world in an inky blackness. An icy wind had begun to blow, picking up the neat piles of autumnal leaves stacked up on front lawns and tossing them into the air with reckless abandon. It had been unusually cold for an October in New York, there was a sense in the air that something was coming, a tingly expectation that only the most sensitive could feel. A large longhaired ginger and white cat stepped out from behind a trash can, its eyes glowing yellow in the light cast from the street lamp. A dead mouse hung from the felines jaws a prize from a successful night hunting in the outer suburbs of New York City. It shook itself as one of the first snowflakes of the year landed on its fur.
A few miles away in one the richer areas of New York one of the most successful lawyers the City had ever seen was stirring fitfully in his sleep.
Jessica Pearson was rarely surprised. However, the appearance of the tall blonde woman who was sat in front of her had shocked her that morning. It was a feeling she had found most disconcerting. She was a lovely little thing with soft curling blonde hair, chocolate brown eyes, and full pale pink lips. She wore a pair of tight fighting jeans, a white shirt, and a camel duster coat. A large, nude floppy hat sat on her head and she had a pair of expensive looking nude heels on. Her hands were crossed in her lap and she had an immaculate french manicure. The woman looked innocuous, innocent and harmless. A pretty, china doll who was incapable of harming anyone or defending herself. Jessica was not buying the innocent little maiden act. It was bullshit. She knew what lurked beneath the inoffensive exterior. She was well aware of the icy fury contained in the dainty and curvaceous figure sat before her, well aware that centuries of training had honed her into a warrior and well aware that she was a High Court Royal. A Princess in fact.
'What are you doing here Rosenwyn?' Jessica inquired, finally breaking the silence which had fallen between the two women. She felt shaky even as she asked the question, as if the arrival of one of the Queen's had disrupted something within her and in a way it had. Having Rose turn up at her office that morning had brought back to Jessica all the memories she had so carefully stored away, memories of lavish balls and decadent feasts. The world of the Sidhe was at both times splendid and horrifying, a world in which both beauty and the beast cohabited together.
'That was very direct for a Lady of the Court Bedelia, you know some would even consider that rude.' she answered a smile spread across her lips as she said it and her eyes twinkled with humour.
Jessica had the unnerving feeling that the Royal was toying with her, the way a cat often does with a mouse. It made the successful lawyer feel on edge, even jittery inside. Rosenwyn had been a good friend when Jessica had been a member of the Sidhe Courts, out of all of the High Sidhe nobles she was probably the one least likely to try and catch you in half truths and riddles. She was, however, one of the cruelest and most inventive if given a reason to be.
'I'm not a Lady of the Court any more.' Jessica said, her eyes focussed on the Queen Her own mother had said it was unwise to take your eyes off one of the Royals, especially if you didn't know why their attention was fixated on you. It was rule that had served her well with Rose's sister and niece.
'That was your decision Bedelia, you weren't banished.' Rose replied, leaning forward and picking up a bottle of water. Unscrewing the cap she took a small sip of the frigid water before replacing the cap and placing it back on Jessica's desk. Her right hand had left icy finger prints imprinted on the side of the bottle.
'I was bored of the politics and please call me Jessica, hearing my other name after so long is rather jarring.' Jessica admitted, she had always hated her real name. Being able to leave the Courts and chose her own name had been somewhat of a relief to her. A chance to shed the past and look forward to the future.
'You were bored of politics yet you decided to go into law?' Rose snorted.
Jessica had to admit there was a certain irony to this fact, however, life as a lawyer was unlikely to get you embroiled in a duel that could, and often did, end with a death. It was a cut throat world but not deadly. A world of cold hard facts rather than a world where Fairies, Unicorns and Mermaids existed. The mortal world was a much simpler world to exist in and Jessica often envied their blind ignorance to the beings which existed around them.
'You didn't answer my question' Jessica pointed out.
The other Sidhe smiled to herself before answering.
'I'm on holiday.'
'Do Queen's holiday?'
'They do when their favourite niece is about to perform in the Snow Queen ballet.'
'Niamh is here as well?'
'Yes, she's about to play the lead role of Gerda. Titania are coming in the next few days. Kinda of ironic really, my little niece playing the heroine who defeats me. I never did like that Hans Christian Anderson myself.'
'That wouldn't be because he portrayed as an evil Ice Queen would it Rose?' asked Jessica. The uneasy feeling had now become an uneasy tidal wave, all of the Royal family in New York? At the same time. The mere thought was enough to send her prematurely grey, if she hadn't of been immortal that is.
'Maybe' the other Sidhe sighed.
'It's a shade better than the Celts though, they were always convinced I was a hag or a crone. My legacy is an old, shrivelled wise woman' she continued, her nose wrinkling in disgust at the thought of it.
'And now you're Clara Winterson, psychic extraordinaire and paranormal researcher.'
'We've all gotta have our hobbies'
However, before Jessica could continue the conversation the glass door of her office swung open and New Yorks best closer entered.
Harvey Specter was having a bad day after a terrible nights sleep. The nightmares had begun a few weeks ago, Harvey would awake from them sweaty and out of breath but try as hard as he might he was never able to recall their content. They had been taking their toll on Harvey. This morning the usually poised Mr. Specter had been unusually clumsy spilling the coffee Dona had brought him all over a neatly stacked pile of papers. The newest development in this shitty day had been the horrendous head splitting migraine, the pain palpable and sharp, every single noise felt like it had been magnified by a thousand. It had put Harvey in an atrocious mood and the whole firm knew about it, he had even snapped at the ever faithful secretary this morning. Now, he had the added inconvenience of a stranger taking up Jessica's time when he wanted to talk to her. The woman who was absorbing his boss's attention was pretty and had he not been feeling like he had been hit round the head with a shovel he probably would have paid more attention to her. Maybe even of tried some of that famous Specter charm.
'Clara, meet Harvey Specter. He's our best closer' Jessica said, waving a hand at the leggy fashionista sat in the chair opposite her.
Clara stood up at the mention of her name and strode over to where Harvey was stood, she really was leggy Harvey thought to himself as they shook hands. The woman pulled her hand away almost instantly, her brow furrowed into a frown and her mouth opened into an O shape. Harvey could have sworn that he saw her wipe her hand on her jeans after touching him as if she was trying to rid herself of the feel. She looked familiar to Harvey, he recognized her but couldn't place her face, it alluded him in the back of his mind like an annoying fly on a hot summers day.
'Clara is an old friend, Harvey. She works as a psychic medium.'
That was it. The mention of psychics was enough to make Harvey's last nerve snap.
'Well, if I could have your attention for a moment. That is if you're not too busy discussing ghost, ghouls, and meddling kids.' Harvey growled, the throbbing in his head had intensified to an almost unbearable level.
'Harvey...' Jessica warned.
'It's no bother, Jessica. Maybe we could meet tonight? I'm staying not too far from here, 795 Fifth Avenue, apartment 32/33' the strange woman said turning to Jessica, there seemed to be an undercurrent to her voice which Harvey couldn't decipher. She grabbed her handbag and had brushed past Harvey out the door without even waiting for an answer from Jessica.
'What can I help you with Harvey?' Jessica asked as she reclined in her chair, eyeing the ill-looking lawyer.
His grandmother had always told him not to stare at them and to never lock eyes with them. For to lock eyes with the Sidhe was to let them know you saw them for what they truly were. To let them know that you could see through their glamoured disguises to the beautiful, but often deadly, creatures which lurked beneath. The clover-eyed who did stare at them never lasted long.
The woman at the elevator had caught Mike off guard, he had known Jessica and Donna were one of them from the moment he had first laid eyes on both women but they had been the only ones he had seen in New York. But now there was another.
Her aura rippled like nothing Mike had ever seen before, gently pulsating with a power like the soft beating of a birds wings.
It called to him. All he would have to do is catch her eye and then her true form would be laid bare for his eyes to feast upon. The pull was almost too strong.
Mike shivered and clutching the files to his chest hurried back to his cell.
The apartment complex was lavish. Jessica had expected nothing less for the ruler of the Unseelie Court. She knocked on the apartments white door and waited expectedly, it flung open a handful of seconds later but it wasn't Rose who answered. Niamh's glamour was as excellent as her aunt's, her brunette hair was tried up in an effortlessly stylish ponytail and her brown eyes were just a shade darker than Rose's. She mumbled a 'hello' in-between bites of a sandwich she was hungrily devouring as she let Jessica walk into the inner sanctum. The apartment was luxuriously decorated in bright whites and subtle golds, the room was dominated by a large white sofa and a large, state of the art television which was currently playing an episode of 'Keeping up with the Kardashians'. Niamh flopped down on to the sofa.
'Rosenwyn, Bedelia's here!' Niamh shouted as she picked up another sandwich from the plate which was sat on the clear glass coffee table.
The Unseelie Queen emerged from the bedroom, her hair was wet from the shower and she had a fluffy black bathrobe wrapped tightly round her body.
'Do you do anything but eat?' she snarked at her younger niece.
'Do you do anything but bitch?' Niamh retorted back.
Jessica was shocked at Rose's appearance now that she was no longer glamoured, her own personal glamour was so familiar to her that it felt like a well worn pair of comfy slippers. The older Princess's hair was no longer blonde but a storm cloud grey, her skin was the pale silvery colour of the moon and her eyes were now tri-coloured orbs of frosty lilac, icy blue and molten gold. The gold had always perplexed Jessica when it came to Rosenwyn since she had once been a deity of death and winter. Gold seemed such a funny colour to associate with her. It had been so long since she had seen another Sidhe that the unusual colours were almost a culture shock.
'You can drop your glamour here Bede-Jessica, it must be exhausting carrying it around all the time.'
'Why did you call me here?' Jessica asked, she had been wracking her brains all day to try and figure out why the Fairy had been so desperate to see her.
'Straight to the point again' she replied, walking over to Jessica with a large wine glass full of deep crimson liquid. She passed Jessica a glass and took a sip of her own before wandering over to the window.
'It's going to snow tonight' the older Sidhe said as she gazed out of the New York skyline.
'it always does when your around' Jessica replied.
'You are the Winter Queen' Niamh piped up whilst flicking through the channels on the TV.
'True enough' Rosenwyn said absent mindedly as she continued to stare out of the window.
'You're avoiding my question. Again.' Jessica could feel herself getting irritated with the Unseelie Royal who seemed to be lost in her own thoughts.
'That closer of yours...'
'What of Harvey?'
Rozenwyn turned and leant her back against the cold glass wall, she closed her eyes and took her deep breath.
'He's cursed Jessica.'
Harvey was gripping the side of his breakfast bar like a man trying to desperately weather a storm, his head was spinning and a nausea was clawing its way steadily up his throat. He was drenched with sweat, his t-shirt clung to him and his hair was wet with it. The headache was now almost unbearable, it felt like his skull was going to split in two.
The kitchen swam and his grip loosened on the side. The world had gone black before Harvey even reached the floor.
Authors note – What do you think? Please R&R, it makes me happy. Also long chapter is long! *.* Rozenwyn/Rose same person but I like to short her name!