NB: I love you guys. Yes, all of you who read my stuff, even if I don't know you're there. You keep me going on days like this. For that I thank you.
Enough mush. It's story time. For the record, 'J' is a dreadfully frustrating letter. This is what happens when you have to contrive plot to fit structure. Apologies if it's not up to par.
Alexandra tightened her grip on the small hand that was in perpetual danger of slipping out of her own. Her five year old son was desperately tugging at his arm, straining to escape her reach. She quickened her step to keep pace, amazed at how someone with such short legs could move so fast. They'd come to a so-called fair. Transient carnivals would set up camp outside of Petersburg from time to time. Like their American counterparts, they had a number of booths showcasing various games, foods, fortune-telling, and of course, the sort of mechanical rides that had been erected in a few hours. Alexandra had always been wary of such contraptions. But explaining the dangers of carnival rides to Nikki had proved ineffective. They had just come off a large Ferris-wheel wherein the individual boxes flipped upside down as the wheel turned. She was still reeling. Nikki, on the other hand, seemed fully recovered as he looked around for the next distraction. Her little boy now pushed through the winding streams of people, enchanted by the brightly colored booths that seemed to positively glow at night.
"Nikki, slow down," she gasped. He was bursting with energy tonight, it seemed, and she smiled broadly at his exuberance. He had always been a precocious child, equal parts intelligent and reckless. She adored this about him—they were so very much alike. He stopped abruptly in front of a large tent, allowing her to catch up. It looked out of place amongst the lively stalls on either side of it, as though the structure itself warded away the more animated visitors. Midnight blue velvet was draped over a gigantic iron frame to give it shape. The fabric was dotted with metallic stars, and over the entrance hung a gauzy silver curtain. Alexandra could smell the incense coming from within. She smirked. A fortune-teller. How cliché.
"Mommy, let's go in here!" Nikki jerked his thumb at the tent, his wide eyes causing her refusal to melt on her lips. It was an expression that his father wore often, and in an equally efficacious manner. She rolled her eyes. I'm going to kill Isaac for teaching him that.
Alexandra stooped to her knees and placed her hands gently on her son's shoulders, hoping to talk him out of it. "Honey, you're too young to have your fortune read. It wouldn't tell you anything except that you're going to start school very soon and that your parents love you very much." This was partly true. Workaday fortune-tellers like the one no doubt occupying this booth couldn't perform true divinations. Even magicians were mediocre diviners at best. This was one of the reasons that fortunes were so very vague. Despite this, she didn't want to take the chance that a cheap sideshow act would say something to her son that might worry him. One could never be certain about such things.
Nikki bowed his head in disappointment. He then shuffled his feet, continuing to stare at the ground. "But you're not."
"What?" Damnit. He just keeps getting smarter, doesn't he? No more books!
"You can have your fortune read, Mommy. Please! I want to see." She sighed and closed her eyes, knowing she'd relent. It was her own fault, she supposed. She'd never really insulated him from the magical arts. As such, Nikki had grown up knowing that the otherworldly existed. Like any child, he'd accepted this without hesitation and with absolute delight. He loved magic; it was yet another thing that the two of them shared. Alexandra even wondered if he had latent supernatural powers of his own.
"Okay. But we're going home straight after. Your father's probably making plans to cook dinner right now," she said, making sure to convey her anxiety to the boy.
"Yuk. Daddy's food sucks."
She bit back a laugh. There was something to be said for culinary results so terrible that they were an affront to a five year old's palette. "I know. That's why I want to get home soon. And you shouldn't say 'sucks'. Where'd you learn that anyway?"
"Uncle John."
Of course, she thought. "Your uncle John shouldn't say that either. Be sure to correct him next time, okay?" He nodded, clearly relieved that he wasn't going to get into any major trouble for using such coarse language. She tied the balloon that she'd been holding for him around his tiny wrist, knotting it carefully so that it wouldn't float away. "Can you hang on to this while we're inside?"
"Yep." She ruffled his hair and stood.
"Okay. Let's go." Alexandra took his hand again, the bright green balloon bouncing up and down gently between them as they entered the tent. The smell of incense flooded her nose, and she wondered if it was bothering Nikki. But he seemed, if anything, rather awed by the sight greeting them. A small, round table had been placed in the center of the circular tent. The ubiquitous crystal ball sat upon it, surrounded by a number of half-burned candles that were dripping wax of various colors onto a plum-colored silk tablecloth. The ball glowed from within with an eerie blue light. In the dim lighting, Alexandra could barely make out an electrical cord coming out of it. Jeez, it's like they've seen one too many movies, she thought as she walked towards it. She squinted in hopes of finding the conspicuously absent seer. Four small, cushioned chairs circled the table. They looked like they'd rarely been used. She'd just moved to sit down when she heard a rustle of clothes and a bell-like tinkling coming from the shadows, just outside her line of sight.
"Welcome. Madame Scheherezadhe has been expecting you." A surprisingly young woman emerged from the shadows, dark-haired and exceedingly beautiful. Her long curls were not unlike Alexandra's, except that they seemed more wild somehow, and almost alive. Strings of red and yellow were woven throughout her hair; they stood out sharply in the bluish light. She wore oversized rings on each of her thin fingers, and numerous shawls were wrapped about her neck. A tinkling followed her as she moved, the sound a strange mixture of playful and creepy. Madame Scheherezadhe peered at Alexandra with clear, grey eyes. Her appraising gaze sent a small shiver up Alexandra's spine. Clearly, the woman was practiced in art of crafting a mysterious air about herself.
She's got a great affect, but the getup is trite, Alexandra thought dismissively. An abuse of the gypsy fortune-teller trope if I've ever seen one. And an offensively Orientalist one at that. She thought she heard the slightest hint of amused laughter echoing through the tent—a soft chuckle almost musical in nature, but she detected no other presence and decided that she'd imagined it. Despite the fact that her patience with this charade was already wearing thin, Alexandra responded politely, more for Nikki's sake than anything else. "Hello. I'm Alexandra."
"Yes, I know." Madame Scheherezadhe's accent was no doubt as much of a performance as her clothes and overwrought persona. The 's' of her 'yes' snaked into a 'z' sound, and even knowing that it was all for effect, Alexandra felt a creeping fear inching along her skin. Again she looked at Nikki, wondering if he felt it too. He was completely unafraid and quite taken with the woman in front of them. Maybe I'm being skittish. She shook her head to clear her mind and gestured to the chair in front of her.
"May I?"
The other woman inclined her head. "I'd be honored."
Nikki settled himself happily in a chair, his feet swinging back and forth, sending minute vibrations through the balloon at his wrist which now looked luminescent in the darkness. Alexandra sat beside him, resting one hand on his knee and the other on the table. She scratched idly at the silk, hoping the reading wouldn't take very long.
"What can Madame Scheherezadhe do for you? Have you come on behalf of the little one?" Those cold, cloud-colored eyes alighted upon Nikki for the briefest of instances, making the hairs on the back of Alexandra's neck stand up. She felt a sudden urge to throttle the woman who was now seated across from her. Feeling rather unnerved that she'd experienced an extreme range of emotions in such a short while, Alexandra looked again to her son to see if he'd noticed anything strange. He seemed as unaffected as he'd been the whole time, looking up at her and fixing her with such a sweet smile that she relaxed instantly. He's fine. I'm overreacting. She squeezed his knee.
"No. I would like you to read my fortune."
"Ah," Madame Scheherezadhe intoned dramatically, "I can do so in any number of ways, my dear. Would you like me to look into the depths of the mystical crystal ball? Or would you prefer that I read your palm? The palm is more accurate I think."
"Can you read tarot?" Alexandra asked. If she was going to have her fortune read, she might as well have it done properly.
The seer seemed rather pleased that her client was no novice. Her lips curled up in a grin that looked almost menacing. "Indeed. Is there a spread you prefer?"
"No spread. One card." Let's cut this short.
The fortune-teller brought out a deck of tarot cards from somewhere within the folds of her robes. She shuffled them, her bangles tinkling ominously in the otherwise silent chamber. She held the deck out to Alexandra, who cut the cards, placing the cut half on the table. The diviner then inclined her head towards Nikki, and again Alexandra felt the inexplicable desire to push the woman as far away from her son as possible. "Would you like to draw the card, my child?" But her manner softened considerably upon turning her attention to the little boy. Nikki squealed in joy as he slid the card off the top of the deck. He flipped it and placed it face-up on the table. Alexandra nearly gasped.
"The Jester." Madame Scheherezadhe said with a finality that sounded like a death sentence. Alexandra recomposed herself. There was nothing to indicate that this fraud knew the real significance of the Jester card—a meaning that had been passed down among magicians for centuries. Most popular diviners claimed that the card suggested an innate wisdom yet a childlike comportment towards the vagaries of the world. It was, for all intents and purposes, a rather harmless reading that could accurately describe a considerable number of people. Doubtless such an interpretation helped many a fortune-seeker sleep soundly. But like anything else, the Jester card carried a darker valence, a meaning hinted at by the fact that the fool depicted in the card was often seen teetering on the edge of a precipice, completely oblivious to his imminent fall. But Madame Scheherezadhe could not know such things; she was no magician, after all. Alexandra was certain that she would have felt the other woman's supernatural power otherwise. And if the seer was a fake, so too was the fortune. "You have knowledge that the world knows not. Yes?"
"Yes." And so does everyone else. Alexandra agreed almost automatically, relieved as she was to confirm that the seer was a charlatan.
"But neither do you know the world." Madame Scheherezadhe's voice had become urgent all of the sudden. Alexandra tried her best not to laugh outright. You're overdoing it now, lady. "There are dangers lying in wait." She nodded towards Nikki. "For both of you." The icy, hard glance the woman trained at her son made Alexandra's blood run cold. She was no longer sure that the diviner was a sham. The woman seemed to know the true significance of the card that had been drawn. And if the fortune-teller did indeed have some power, she'd been skilled enough to mask it completely. This information was enough for the exorcist; she had no intention of remaining there any longer.
"Stop!" Alexandra held up her hand in warning. "Nikki, we're leaving now." He stood immediately, being no stranger to that particular tenor of his mother's voice. She motioned to stand as well, but Madame Scheherezadhe swiftly seized her hand. Her hold was remarkably strong and Alexandra tried to wrest herself from it to no avail.
"You can leave if you like, Your Grace, but you know the meaning of this card. The Jester. The fool whose ignorance and hubris lead him to plummet into the abyss. Take heed that you do not meet the same end." Upon those words, Nikki tore out of the tent. Alexandra wrenched her arm out of the woman's grasp and followed after her him.
He stood about fifteen feet from the entrance with his back to her, his small shoulders hunched sadly. She was thankful he'd not ventured far. "Nikki." She sank down on her knees in front of him and took his chin in her hands, smiling reassuringly at the boy in hopes of quelling his fear. "Darling, you know that she only said those things to scare us, right?" Alexandra lied smoothly. She no longer questioned the diviner's legitimacy. But she knew that whatever the world had in store, she'd fight it without her son's knowing. He would sleep soundly. He would be protected. He would have a full and beautiful life. Of this, she was certain. She had divine aid, after all.
"I didn't like that woman." Tears spilled forth from his eyes. She wiped them away and kissed his cheek.
"You know, I didn't like her either. She was really creepy." He smiled and wrapped his arms around her neck. She pulled him closer. I swear, I will burn the whole world before I let anything happen to you. "Things can get scary sometimes, my love. But remember that nothing is too big and bad for us to fight. Got that?"
"Because you have magic?" He asked uncertainly.
"Yes. And because God will always protect us." He slipped out of her arms, accidentally undoing the balloon string that she'd tied to his wrist. She reached out to grab it before it floated away, but she was too late. He stared after it dejectedly. "Let's get you another."
Alexandra stood and took his hand. She turned around in the direction of the balloon vendor, and very nearly walked into a handsome young man who seemed to have materialized from nowhere.
"Oh. I'm so sorry. I didn't see you there."
He simply held up Nikki's balloon in response. "I believe this belongs to you, young man," he said kindly. He bent down and allowed the young boy to take the string which was caught in his long, gloved fingers.
"Thank you, mister!" Nikki smiled brightly at the stranger. Alexandra rested her hand atop her son's head, grateful to see his spirits buoyed. She turned again to the man.
"Hi. I'm Alexandra. Thanks for catching that! You're really quick, Mr.—" She stumbled, waiting for him to provide his name.
He didn't smile. Not exactly. It was a half-smile that hinted at myriad secrets. "I am called Malchior."
Alexandra laughed genially, not only at his name, but also his exceedingly formal manner. Another performer. "That's not your real name, is it?"
"No." He spoke indulgently, a soft amusement underscoring the word. Mischief danced in his brown eyes as his smirk lengthened.
"Let me guess. You're working with Madame Scheherezadhe." Malchior and Scheherezadhe—what a pair. All they need is a Jafar.
"In a manner of speaking."
"I see." She wondered briefly if the man had any idea of his coworker's considerable magical power, and whether he too might have abilities of his own. Likely not. Magic is rare. To find it twice in one night would require beating astronomical odds. "Well, I won't ask for any trade secrets. Thank you again for returning my son's balloon." She held out her hand, but he didn't take it. He bowed instead.
"It has been my pleasure, my lady."
Alexandra resumed her hold on her son, gladly distancing herself from Madame Scheherezadhe. By the time they arrived home, Nikki had regained his former exuberance, which only increased upon discovering that Isaac had demolished the kitchen. Apparently, the doctor had wanted to surprise them with home-made Halloween candy. This resulted in burns covering a large part of his hands and hardened sugar littering the kitchen floor. She patched him up, tugging at his dressings a bit more forcefully than was necessary. He merely gritted his teeth and fixed her with his trademark sheepish expression. In lecturing her brilliant but domestically obtuse husband about the dangers of sugar-spinning, she forgot completely about the fortune-teller and her colleague. By the time Isaac's bandaged hands were trailing along her skin in the velvety hush of their bedroom, she felt nothing at all of the fear that had gripped her in that smoky tent. In fact, Alexandra never remembered that day at the fair, even after the diviner's prediction came to pass.
'J' is for 'jester'.