Ups-A-Daisy Alfred

Clara, Jenkins and Flynn crept out of the alleyway, only for Sheriff Heyer to appear out of nowhere, at least twice the size he'd been before, almost blotting out the sun. He loomed over them, Jenkins swallowing hard, not wanting to be sniffed from top to toe again. Sheriff Heyer took a step forwards, making the ground shake, his eyes flickering red. "Didn't I say you smelled like trouble, old man?" he growled, nostrils twitching.

"I like your sideburns," Flynn observed, eying them with approval. "Almost as much as I like Fanta."

"You were in my daughter's hospital room," Sheriff Heyer snarled, rounding on Clara. "I could smell you half-way across town!" His fists clenched threateningly, making Clara gnash her rotting teeth at him.

"I think we should all calm down," Jenkins said, straightening his tie. "Maybe have a nice cup of tea" -

- "That thing should be on a leash!" Sheriff Heyer bellowed, jabbing a too long finger at Flynn's elephant.

"Down Deliliah," Flynn warned the elephant, who was about to pounce, incensed at the insult.

"It's an elephant, not a dog," Jenkins said, rolling his eyes.

"Whatever you are, we don't tolerate your type around here," Sheriff Heyer hissed, advancing on them. "So I suggest you make like a tree and leave" -

- "Treeeeeeee!" Ezekiel trilled from overhead, gliding past as graceful as a swan.

"What are you going to do if we don't?" Jenkins asked, brow furrowing as Flynn wandered over to a nearby shop window, studying his reflection critically.

"I'll grind your bones to make my bread," Sheriff Heyer said through gritted teeth, "that's what I'll do."

"Am I the fairest of them all?" Flynn pondered, examining his craggy face from all angles.

Jenkins just buried his face in his hands, unable to take anymore. As he did, Eve sashayed down the sidewalk towards them, trilling like a lark, her golden hair falling to her waist, bluebirds carrying the train of her dress like a bunch of over enthusiastic bridesmaids. Then Cassandra came marching round the corner, a crowd of girls swooning at her heels, the sun glinting off her red hair like a helmet, Jacob bringing up the rear, brandishing an axe.

"What have you done to my Librarians!?" Jenkins exclaimed to the sky, falling to his knees.

"Ups-a-daisy, Alfred," Jacob snapped, hauling Jenkins to his feet.

"Don't be frightened," Cassandra soothed him, "I'll be your guiding light." At this, her audience almost fainted, fanning themselves frantically with their hands.

Jenkins just glanced around him, Eve offering a sickening simper, making his stomach turn. But as his gaze fell on Jacob, he did a double-take. "You've got bird on you," he said, taking a step back.

Jacob glanced down at himself, only to see an owl perched on his arm. "Yeah," he said gruffly, eyes narrowing, staring moodily into the distance, before catching himself in time. "You have to do something, man," he fired at Jenkins, startling him. "This is getting beyond a joke. Next I'll be doing perfume adverts."

"Jacob?" Jenkins said in disbelief, hope seizing his heart. "Not the Huntsman?"

"Yeah, it's me," Jacob said irritably. "Sort of," he hastily amended, "not that there was much difference between me and the Huntsman to begin with, but I'm not sure about the others. Eve's gone all Stepford Wives, and Cassandra's become some sort of chick magnet, Ezekiel Julie Andrews on speed" –

- "Flynn's infected as well," Jenkins said, gesturing to Flynn who was now bemoaning his crows-feet to a confused Sheriff Heyer. "Apart from you, Clara is the only other one still sort of in there," he continued, making her glance up at him, the movement swift and birdlike, confirming the truth of his words, "but we are truly up a paddle without a creek," he finished, wringing his hands.

"How come you're still standing?" Jacob asked suspiciously, fighting the urge to chop up some firewood.

Jenkins just shook his head, figuring that would be a story for another day.

"And where did Carsen come from anyways?" Jacob asked bewildered. "And the electric blue elephant? Should we be expecting Archie any time soon?"

"Where Hartley goes, Flynn follows," Jenkins said, exhaling sharply, "bringing madness in their wake."

"Enough with the elegies, Alfred," Clara croaked, making Jacob's head snap up, "unless you want a spell of death, dismemberment, or a hundred year coma, I suggest you stop standing there like you're working up the courage to ask me to dance!"

Jacob stared at her for several seconds, a grin slowly spreading itself across his face. "Come 'ere, you," he said, pulling Clara into a huge bear hug, before giving her bald head an affectionate noogie.

"Oh joy, the dream team are back," Jenkins said, rolling his eyes.

And we'll never be royals
It don't run in our blood
That kind of luxe just ain't for us
We crave a different kind of buzz…

Leaving the others to their own insanity, Clara had led Jenkins and Jacob back to the hospital, something about the little girl there niggling what was left of her. Inbetween cackling at the moon now battling the sun for dominion in the sky, and swapping life-stories with a black cat, Clara had recounted her conversation with the little girl, Jenkins pouncing on the part about the little girl collapsing at story-time in the library.

"The book's only limit to bring stories to life is that life," Jenkins explained, "and life has to come from somewhere" -

- "It needs a power source to feed the magic?" Jacob said, becoming distracted by a walking tree. "Wouldn't I like to sink my axe into that," he said, letting out a low whistle.

"Concentrate, Stone," Jenkins admonished, wringing his hands together, "and stop trying to eat toddlers," he fired at Clara, making her gnash her fangs at him. "As we were saying, the people who feed the story," he said, wincing at his choice of words, shooting Clara another warning glance, "grow weak, they get sick, and they die. This little girl might just be that power source, and wherever she is, the Libris Fabula won't be far."

"In here," Clara hissed, clawing at the air. Jacob and Jenkins filed into the room first, Clara prowling at their heels, brandishing her broomstick at the ventilator. The little girl lay fast asleep, her fingers clutching Clara's coin, whilst an old man sitting in an armchair by the window read aloud from a battered looking book, its bindings ancient and worn; a book Jenkins instantly lunged for, the old man raising his wrinkled hand, sending Jenkins flying across the room. Before Jacob could react, he too was airborne, crashing into the wall, knocked out cold.

"And now you," the old man said with a smile to Clara, flipping his hand dismissively at her, only for Clara to halt his spell with a wave of her own hand, startling him. "Oh, this is interesting," he said, sitting up straighter, looking intrigued against his will, "since you can't use the magic against itself" -

- "Her magic is older than time itself," Jenkins said, staggering to his feet, "and more powerful than the Libris Fabula could ever be" -

- "Really?" the old man said, tilting his head to the side. "How interesting." With a swift snap of the fingers, he sent a wave of blue fire straight at Clara's throat, only for her eyes to flicker violet, her hands shooting out and grabbing the line of fire like a rope, making it writhe like a snake between her fingers. Before the old man could react, it was around his neck, all but choking him, his eyes bulging behind his glasses.

"Where did you get the book?" Clara hissed, advancing on him, feeling the storm stirring awake inside her, alien and yet akin to her. As Jenkins had said, the magic wasn't of the Libris Fabula, but from within Clara, deep-seated within the darkest depths of her soul. The Libris Fabula had unlocked Clara's true identity, magic burning through her veins like violet fire, almost turning her true self into ash.

"It's part of a collection of rare books left to Bremen's Library" -

Clara tightened the rope of fire, cutting him off, almost quite literally.

"Clara, don't!" Jenkins cried, stepping forwards, making her hesitate. As she did, the old man seized his chance, reaching into the Libris Fabula, gathering the heart of its power in his hands, before aiming it at Clara. ending it once and for all. But as he did, the coin fell from the little girl's fingers, rolling across the floor to Clara, who spun up it up into the air, making it deflect the shard of light, splintering it into a starburst, striking everything all at once, Clara shoving Jenkins out of the way, the beams of light just missing Jacob and the little girl, before piercing the old man through the heart, causing him to fragment into a thousand pieces.

For a moment, there was just silence, and then the Libris Fabula suddenly slammed shut, the bang echoing around the room. Clara staggered to her feet, pushing the hair out of her eyes, feeling like she had fallen a thousand feet. As Jacob and the little girl stirred, she stumbled over to the armchair, ignoring the Libris Fabula before leaning over and picking up the old man's spectacles. "Who was he?" she rasped, turning to Jenkins.

"A fool," Jenkins said dourly, dusting down his suit.