Title: The Fae Fortune
Chapter Title: The Wanderer
Summary: A girl at St. Bartleby's! Preposterous! But she's there, and she seems to be part of an elaborate and strange bloodline...That's somehow connected to the Fowls'.
Boonville, MO, USA, Present Day
Walking the dusty streets of Boonville, Farren Rhian Kilburn was looking for a job. Fay, as most called her, was an orphan, and she was allowed to walk the streets. Fay didn't really want to work, but upon turning fifteen, the only thing that was required of her was to help the orphanage in any way she could. She remembered never even being looked at for foster homes, and she was the universal Big Sister at Helping Hands Orphanage.
Fay was a mutt of several different heritages. Her mother had been a Cherokee, as pure as was possible in these modern days. Her father was a whole slew of other things, such as Irish, Italian, Spanish, and German. For Fay, the darker genes won out.
Her hair was slightly waved and dark auburn. Her eyes were the color of ground coffee, and her face was an arrangement of angles behind a pixie nose. Her eyes were almond shaped and somewhat slanted, giving her the look of round-the-clock suspicion. Her mouth was thin and almost fiercely pulled across her face. Her hands were calloused from chores at the orphanage, and her skin was the tone of the Native American. Fay had braided her hair in the morning, and stray tendrils were becoming loose, and hanging in her face by midday.
She had belonged to the orphanage since the age of four, when her house had a gas explosion, and her parents hadn't survived. Fay had been at her friend's house at the time, and was immediately taken to Helping Hands. Fay didn't know why she hadn't gone with her other family. She'd never asked. The orphanage was good to her, and she did whatever she could for them.
As she approached the old building that was Helping Hands, she saw a very expensive looking car in the parking lot. None of the employees could afford to drive such a car, and Fay's shoulders sagged. One of her little ones were leaving her. She prayed they would go to a good home.
Upon entering, the patroness greeted her with a exuberant hug. "Fay, darling, wonderful news!" she cried. She held Fay's face in her hands as her eyes threatened to tear.
"I know, Mrs. Merriwhether. One of the children is going to be adopted," she said lightly. She hid her grief as best she could.
"That's right. Someone is going to be adopted. These people want to adopt you. They even asked for you by name!" She looked so giddy and happy, this sixty year old woman. She hugged Fay, again. "You're going to have a proper family for once, child!"
Fay was speechless. Normally, permanent parents weren't looking for a child that could slip away in three years. They didn't want a teenager already hardened from a life in the streets.
Before she knew what was happening, Mrs. Merriwhether had dragged Fay into the meeting room where her future parents were waiting.
The man was large and muscled, and the woman was dainty and tall. He was bald and had an earring of diamond. The woman had platinum blonde hair pulled back severely away from her face in a high bun. She wore little make-up, and a respectable dress suit in beige. The man had a white button down and ironed slacks. Fay didn't like the way their shoes shined.
"Meet Mr. and Mrs. Smith, Fay."
The two of them smiled, and Fay immediately determined that she didn't like them.
"We hope you'll come to love us, Farren. We're very glad to meet you." Mrs. Smith said this, in a soft, cultured voice that reeked of money. She had an odd accent that spoke of a foreign country.
Fay kept a mental list of why she didn't like them. Their shoes shined unnaturally, that was one. The woman had just called her Farren, that was the second. She took a look at Mrs. Merriwhether, and, trying not to disappoint her, Fay had a smile so forced it rivaled the Smiths'.
Mrs. Merriwhether burst out in happy tears as she hugged Fay. "You're sure you'll keep her?" she asked between sobs.
"Of course, we want Farren, Mrs. Merriwhether. We've always wanted a daughter." The man spoke this time, and he had the same accent. Sincerity seemed to flow from his words, but Fay heard the underlying impatience. As if they had better things to do.
Fay put on a happy face. "Mr. Smith, please, call me Fay," she requested with icy politeness. Before he could respond, Fay inquired as to where their accent originated from.
"We live in Monaghan, Ireland," Mrs. Smith supplied. "We'd like to take you back there with us."
Now that sounded good to Fay. She figured she could put up with these phonies, if only to get a glimpse of the Emerald Isle. It all sounded so magical to her. Normal life had been binding, any way. Now she'd probably have a castle, pets, and mysterious forests with glittering water holes and beautiful flowers...
Fay was brought with the Smiths that very day. She packed up what little possessions she had and did not speak to the Smiths unless they asked her any questions. They asked her very few questions, and those were about what she remembered from her parents. The plane ride was excellent for Fay, and she realized that she hoped to do it, again. They entered the airport the next day in Dublin, Ireland.
Instead of the shiny sports car that had awaited her at the orphanage, Fay saw a beat-up utility van. She mentally shrugged and didn't question. She was in a different country, for what more could she ask? As they approached the car, Mrs. Smith opened the back and looked expectantly at Fay. She understood and sat down in the back.
After a few phone calls and a few stops, the Smiths were behaving very oddly. They were happy, jovial, and didn't even notice Fay in the back of the van. Mr. Smith bought a bottle of wine from a store, and continued driving until they passed a sign that read Welcome to County Wicklow.
Fay had found a map in the back of the van, and read it quickly. Soon, she became confused. Monaghan was north of Dublin, why were they traveling south? Mrs. Smith stole a glance behind her and noticed what Fay was holding, and her expression. With agility that seemed impossible for the leggy woman, she climbed to the back and forced a towel over Fay's mouth. Before Fay was able to fight back, blackness surrounded her, and she couldn't fight for consciousness as she slipped away.