The Fairy's Tale

by F. D. Lee

  “I’ve found her,” Melly said, coming down the stairs.

  Ana jumped to her feet. “Is she safe?”

  Melly looked uncomfortable. “I… I think so. She’s not far away. She’s in a cave, I think. Somewhere dark. Look, I’ve only got a glass shoe to work with! I’m pretty certain she’s fine.”

  “Not good enough,” Ana said. “I’m sorry about your story and your Mirrors and everything, but I’m going to find her. If she’s in a cave she must be on the coast.”

  Bea stood up. “I’ll get her. Now. Melly, can you get started on Ana’s dress?”

  “What? How are you going to get her?” Melly asked, confused.

  “Don’t worry about that. I… I’ll get help.”

  “You’re going to ask him, aren’t you?”

  Bea shrugged. “Something like that. Please, will you get Ana ready? Ana, I’ll have Sindy back soon. I promise.”

  The look on Ana’s face suggested she didn’t place a high value on Bea’s promise. But she wanted her sister back, and, though she wouldn’t admit it, she also wanted her chance to speak to the King.

  She nodded. “You’ve got an hour.”

  “I won’t need that long,” Bea said. “Melly – the dress, please? We’re going to be late as it is.”

  “Fine. But I hope you realise how dangerous he is,” Melly said. “Come on, Ana. Let’s see what we can do…”

  Bea left the two and began to clamber up the thankfully wide staircase to Sindy’s room. It was as she remembered it, but then she realised Sindy probably hadn’t been back since they’d been there together. She remembered Sindy’s tears when she had told her she would be marrying the King and not Will.

  Bea glanced over at Sindy’s mirror and thought about what she was going to do. She took a towel from the wardrobe and covered the glass.

  Here goes.

  She’d travelled twice with Seven. She could remember the feel of it. She really wished she couldn’t, as it felt like being crushed by the beat of the universe, but there you go. She was pretty sure she could do this. Pretty sure. And someone needed to do it. If Sindy was in danger, she couldn’t wait until after the Ball to get her back.

  Someone needed to make things right again.

  She thought about the little glass slipper that Sindy wore because she loved it and because it reminded her of the person she loved. That might help, if she kept it in mind.

  Bea closed her eyes, levelled her breathing and thought about her first and last heroine, trying to build a connection. After a moment or two she felt the faint tug in her stomach, the odd little heaviness that, when using the Mirrors, told her she had a link.

  Bea took a deep breath.

  This is really going to hurt, she thought.

  Her stomach clenched, causing her to fall forward, a scream already escaping from her mouth as she…

  …the noise was no longer a hum but a roar, a furnace of molten hot sound that crashed into her, searing her skin and her blood and bone until it reached her soul, exposing her and stripping her away, burning her, melting her…

  …landed hard on a cold, stony floor. A giant flare of pain shot through her, burning outwards from her chest in an arching, spitting inferno… black and white spots in her vision… she reached up to her eyes, feeling a strange, sticky hotness there…

  Her stomach convulsed and she pitched forward to throw up, the acid taste of bile stinging her throat and nose. She closed her eyes, hoping somehow the action would stop the violent spinning that caused every gloopy, soft, damp organ in her body to churn. It felt like someone was reaching into her with a red-hot iron poker and stirring.

  “You’re bleeding! Oh my! Here, here, let me…”

  Bea tried to focus on the sound of Sindy’s voice. She felt something soft wiping at her mouth, her nose, her ears, even her eyes, and everywhere it touched she became aware of more of the hot, sticky liquid.

  She started to lift herself up, if nothing else but to get her away from the stench of her own vomit. The screaming, scratching wail in her mind rose, her stomach pitched again and she buckled forward, throwing up. Her whole body had turned against her.

  Sindy caught her and heaved her backwards.

  “Sindy?” Bea wheezed, “…Are you alright?”

  “Am I…? Yes, yes, I’m fine. But you’re… I don’t know what you are. Where did you come from?”

  “Your house,” Bea said. She wiped at her mouth, ignoring the blood that spotted her hand. She wiped it absently on her dress, and then realised what she’d done. “I’m here to rescue you.”

  Sindy inched backwards, a fearful look on her pretty face.

  “I’m not going back,” she stated with something like firmness.

  “No, look, I’m not-”

  “I’m not marrying the King. You can’t make me. I’m going to stow away on one of the steamers and make a new life for myself.”

  “Sindy, I…” Bea paused, trying to think what she could say. She wondered if she could simply take her by force. She shook her head against the thought, a shock of pain stabbing at her temples in retaliation. That was the old her.

  “I’m sorry Sindy,” Bea said with difficulty. “It’s my fault you ran away.”

  Sindy chewed her pink lip, not sure what to say. She’d been taught never to refuse an apology, but she had also spent the last two days determining to follow true love, and she wasn’t about to back down now. She’d done too much of that in her short life, and had decided to take not just a few pages from her sister’s book, but whole chapters.

  “I shouldn’t have tried to make you marry someone you don’t know… and don’t love,” Bea choked out, a screeching siren ringing in her ears. She couldn’t focus. She felt her chest heave and her throat constrict. Her mouth filled again with the sickly sharp taste of bile. She swallowed it back. “But please come home now. Your parents are frantic, and Ana, and Will – Will’s so worried about you, Sindy. You must come back with me.”

  “I…”

  Bea held out her hand, which in most circumstances, given its current state, wouldn’t have had the desired effect. But, as beautiful as she was, Sindy was a country girl, and she understood blood and vomit better than most people would have credited.

  Sindy wanted to go home. She didn’t like the cave. It was cold and damp, and she’d already run out of food. She missed her family. She wanted to see Will again, even if he didn’t love her back. She reached out her hand and…

  …a strange humming buzz against her skin, like the tickle of the rain if the rain were made of the roll of a drum, the soft insistent susurrus of creation surrounding her, making her feel giddy and sick when it touched her…

  …found herself sitting on her bed, back home. Everything was as it had always been, except that there was a fairy in a large dress on her bedroom floor, stone dead.

  Chapter Thirty-six

  “Please someone! Come quickly! She’s dead, she’s dead!”

  Sindy didn’t wait to see if anyone had heard her. She flew back into her room and rolled Bea onto her back. She spent a few seconds rearranging Bea’s arms and then reached her fingers into Bea’s mouth to check nothing was blocking her air. She heard footsteps on the stairs and felt a quick sense of relief. She wasn’t alone.

  She leant forward and breathed deeply into Bea’s mouth, fearing as she did so that she was already too late. She pulled back and began to beat a rhythm onto Bea’s chest with her clenched fist, counting under her breath.

  “Bea!” Melly cried from the doorway.

  “What happened?” Ana demanded.

  “I don’t-” puff puff puff “know.”

  “Sindy, can you do it?” Ana asked, wrapping her arms around Melly, who was shaking.

  “I don’t know,” Sindy said, bringing her lips to the godmother’s again, sharing her oxygen.

  Ana turned to Melly, who was crying wild, hysterical sobs that made the house sound like a new-born was announcing its entrance into life rather than an ol
d elf fearing her closest friend’s exit from it. “Can’t you do something – magic or a spell or something?”

  “No,” Melly wailed, “we’re not allowed to!”

  “For God’s sake! Your friend is dead. Do something!”

  “I don’t know- The Teller-” Melly was shaking.

  Ana slapped her, hard.

  “Listen to me,” Ana said as Melly stood frozen in shock. “You’re a witch, right? Do some magic.”

  “That’s just my job,” Melly said, panic still threaded in her voice. She couldn’t take her eyes off the sight of Sindy, leaning over Bea’s body. “I’m an FME, like Bea is… was… ohgodsohgods… witching is just what they assigned me after the Redaction.”

  “So you can’t do anything magical at all?”

  “No. Yes. I mean, I used to know how to heal people – but we’re not allowed to in front of the characters… Anyway, I can’t do anything if she’s dead.” Melly’s voice cracked. “I can’t bring someone back from the dead!”

  Sindy looked up from Bea’s still body, her hands pumping Bea’s chest. “Look. If I can get her breathing again, then you can do something? I don’t know what happened to her, but,” she pressed her mouth back over Bea’s, breathing in and out in short breaths, before lifting her head and continuing, “she was bleeding and throwing up. It was like she’d been poisoned and beaten.”

  “She’s dead, she’s dead, I told you I can’t bring back the dead!” Melly sobbed.

  Ana took Melly by her shoulders and looked her in the eyes, ignoring Sindy’s grunts as she pumped Bea’s chest. “If Sindy gets her breathing, what can you do?”

  “I don’t know-”

  “Will you try?”

  Melly took a gulp of air. Her eyes darted to the mirror on Sindy’s dresser. She looked back at Bea’s body. She made a choice. “Yes. Yes. If she’s breathing.”

  Ana turned to her step-sister. “Right then. We’ve got a plan.”

  Sindy, her actions heavy with doubt, brought her lips once more against Bea’s.

  Mistasinon stood by the entrance to the Grand, looking for Bea. She was over two hours late. He glanced up at the viewing platform. Julia, the blonde Redactionist, was looking directly at him. He looked away.

  He’d have to go up there soon, and explain his fears to her. Not for the first time, he wished he wasn’t on his own.

  He couldn’t believe Bea had given up. Something must have happened to her. He knew she’d come through the Mirrors yesterday; she was recorded by the Contents Department. He closed his eyes again and tried to relax. This was no mean feat, given, firstly, the feeling of Julia’s cold blue eyes on him and, secondly. the reaction of the fae to the further rationing of the Mirrors. The latter was less of a problem. Mistasinon was used to shouting. Mistasinon was used a lot of noisy things.

  He let his mind wind out, the same way he had in the Index, the night he’d found the Books Bea had Plot-watched.

  He sniffed the air.

  Opening his eyes, Mistasinon looked up at Julia. She tilted her head, questioning him. He ignored her and headed for the Mirrors.

  Bea’s lungs spluttered back into life. Sindy jumped back and Melly sprang forward, landing heavily next to her friend, hands already outstretched and ready.

  Green lighting flew from the witch’s fingers into Bea.

  Bea’s body jumped, but she didn’t open her eyes.

  Melly, tears pouring down her face, sent another burst of healing into her, and again, Bea’s body jumped. But her eyes remained closed.

  Melly took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and sat very still. The two step-sisters stood watching, clutching at each other, too frightened to speak.

  Melly’s breathing slowed, and a strange light began to glow around her, getting steadily brighter, until Ana and Sindy had to close their eyes. There was a loud thrumming noise, a deep bass sitting in their stomachs, unsettling and alien.

  When the sisters opened their eyes, Bea was blinking slowly. Melly was leaning heavily on her elbows, a thick, black substance running from her nose.

  “You saved me,” Bea whispered.

  Melly reached her hand forward to grasp her friend’s. “Oh Bea, oh Bea, oh Bea… you died, Bea, you died…”

  Bea slowly sat up, swearing loudly when her head nearly exploded in pain. Melly laughed, a sad wet little sound that was for the four present the happiest thing they’d ever heard.

  “I think I’d like some more of that wine,” Bea said. “And a sausage,” she added as an afterthought.

  They stood in the dusky sunlight. Bea was on her third sausage and second glass of wine, and was feeling much better. Melly as well seemed improved, though Bea had noticed she was moving a little slower and more carefully.

  “It’s too late to go back, isn’t it?” Bea asked.

  Melly nodded.

  “So, we don’t have a coach.”

  “No,” Melly said. “But we do have a dress.”

  Bea smiled. It was nice to hear her friend say ‘we’. It almost made her feel like she hadn’t nearly died. “You fixed me up pretty well. I’ve got a bit of a headache, but nothing worse.”

  Melly shrugged.

  “You’ll have to tell me how you became such a good healer, you know? And where you got that Mirror from.”

  “Wait for the sequel.”

  Bea laughed. “Touché.”

  Melly fell silent. Something was obviously playing on her mind. To her shame, Bea found herself hoping the witch would keep it to herself. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to know, but the truth was she was exhausted. Dying was not the rest she had been led to believe it would be, and she still needed to attend the Ball and find an ending to her Plot, which was thickening faster than curdled milk.

  Bea took another sip of wine. “What’s wrong?”

  “I was thinking…”

  “Yes?”

  “Did you notice, Sindy brought you back to life with a kiss? I thought that was quite fitting.”

  Bea laughed. “That’s pretty brilliant.”

  “I thought so,” Melly smiled, but it didn’t last long. “Bea, about the coach. We’ll never make it to the Ball on time without one, and you’ve been, uh, resting for hours. There’s no way you’ll make it back to the Grand from my house.”

  “You’re right. And I can hardly turn up through one of the official Mirrors.”

  Melly reached out and squeezed Bea’s shoulder. “You tried, Bea. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I think I’ve got a way around it,” Bea mused, taking a thoughtful bite of her sausage. “But I’ll need one of those pumpkins.”

  Ana gave Sindy one last hug.

  “You don’t need to worry about Will. Trust me.”

  Sindy twisted her hair in her fingers. “Do you think so?”

  Ana smiled. Sindy had been crying, but where any other girl would have had puffy, red eyes and blotchy cheeks, Sindy’s blue eyes sparkled, her cheeks were flushed a faint pink and the little purple shadows under her eyes simply made her look fragile and in need of protection. But there was a glint of determination in those same eyes that made Ana wonder if Sindy wasn’t just as maligned by her looks as she was.

  “Yes. I’m sure. Right. We’d better find out what new mess those two mad pixies have made.”

  “They’re not pixies. Bea’s a fairy, Melly’s an elf.”

  “Melly’s a witch.” Ana thought for a moment. “Bea’s a pain in the arse.”

  Sindy giggled. “Weren’t you listening? Those are just jobs they do. And, also, did you know that you don’t have to be a fairy to be a godmother?”

  “What?”

  “It confused me to, when Bea told me. But I think I understand now. Just because it seems like you should be something, it doesn’t mean you have to be. Still,” Sindy sighed, “I really did think fairies would have wings and stuff. It’s a bit disappointing.”

  “You have to be the only person alive who would say something like that, after everything that’s h
appened,” Ana said ruefully. “Come on.”

  They left the kitchen and walked through the house. They could hear the argument before they saw it.

  “It’s still too orange!”

  “Well, what do you expect me to do about that? There was only half a tin of whitewash in the shed.”

  “It looks like someone dropped it in flour.”

  “For the love of – can you at least do something about the leaves? They’re getting caught in the wheels.”

  “Yes, yes, I heard you the first time. Pumpkins aren’t exactly the easiest things to talk to, you know. It keeps asking me if I know where the manure is. It’s very single minded, in that respect.”

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d say the pumpkin wasn’t the only one here talking shi-”

  “Oh my,” Sindy breathed, staring at the coach.

  “You can’t be serious?” Ana added, markedly less enthralled. She was the one that was going to be riding in it, after all.

  Bea and Melly stopped their arguing as Sindy and Ana stepped into the garden.

  The coach was… unique. The smell of hot pumpkin, on the other hand, was uncomfortably familiar. Apparently coaxing a root vegetable into expending enough energy to expand to the size of a two-horse carriage created a lot of heat. Even out in the garden, the night was dark and full of starch.

  Bea had done her best with what she had, and in fact had managed pretty well, given the circumstances. The coach had wheels and a little door and windows, even if it was somewhat rounder than the traditional model. And, as Melly had been keen to point out, orangier. Long reins – well, alright, vines – trailed from what Bea was now enthusiastically calling the driver’s box but which Melly kept on insisting was a giant leaf rolled around a root, and were currently being attached to the livery. Here, even Bea was prepared to admit, however, they had encountered something more of a problem.

  Ana and Sindy’s parents were not wealthy people, even allowing for the endless business trips Sindy’s father took. They had one horse, which they were using to travel to Sinne with Will. As a result, Bea and Melly had had to pull in the understudy, as it were.