Lord Hondon looked on in horror as the rising wave of blackness came closer to his home. They were close enough that he could make out individual crows, their black eyes flashing, their beaks and talons tearing at the fae barrier before them. From the heights of Hondon Home, he could see across the valley, the dark shadow of the murder falling across it. Beneath the wings of the swarm, he saw his people fall, torn asunder by thousands of beaks. He sent his prayers skyward, hoping they would fight their way past the cruel cloud of wings to make it to the ears of the Gods.
As his pleas escaped his heart, he saw the body of his servant Melisan fall to her knees. The light that he had seen emanating from the hands of her possessed form began to fail, flickering and dimming. Lord Hondon could almost feel the cry of triumph cawing forth from the million throats that flew above his lands.
To his horror, as he stood stunned by the turn of events that threatened to crush everything he held dear, his daughter Luvia stepped forward to the place where Melisan’s body lay. He reached forward as though to stop her, but Hondon knew somewhere deep in his soul, there was no other answer.
Luvia felt it pull her forward, step by step. Viscerally, in the very core of her being, there was what she needed. Deep within her, the power lie, a tiger deep within the kitten. She put her hands into the stream of power, taking the reins of the Wards into her control. She uttered a single thought, putting everything she could into its utterance. “Puht’ta.” Stop.
The sun was bright. Too bright, it hurt Luvia’s eyes as it snuck past the blinds and across her face. She rolled over in bed, wanting to sleep some more, thinking it wasn’t time yet for classes. She opened her eyes, and looked about her. When had she come to bed? The memories came rolling back to her as her mind caught up. Her father carrying her to her room, his eyes dark and drawn, her siblings asking what was going on as she clung to Papa, the images from before came into her head. Luvia slid her tiny feet out from under the covers and sat up. Her head felt…empty. She swayed a little with the effort of sitting.
“Oh, Mistress, you are awake! And I was not here…oh, forgive me, Mistress. I just stepped out to get you something to eat.” Her maid, Arnalia, was kneeling just inside the entryway, a bowl filled with cherries and almonds from the Hondon Orchards before her.
“Did I hear she is awake? Luvia, are you awake?” Lord Hondon’s voice came booming from the hallway. It seemed interminably loud to Luvia. Her head rang with the sound echoing in her bedroom.
“Shush, Papa. Not so loud, please.” Luvia had her delicate hands over her ears.
With a smile, Lord Hondon bowed in apology, and with a finger over his lips, gave his daughter his largest, hairy smile. Whispering he said, “My little Luvia. You gave us all a scare. Are you ready to rise?”
Luvia nodded her head. She put the robe that resided on the hook next to her bed around her body. “Am I very late for classes, Papa? Tell Tutor Hamman I am sorry I slept so long.”
Lord Hondon forgot his promise and laughed out loud. The ringing peals of his amusement as thunderclaps to Luvia’s sensitive ears. She clapped her hands over them again.
“Papa!” she said sternly.
Lord Hondon, with effort shushed himself. “No classes today, Daughter. It is a feast day; there will be games and entertainments on the green. Come, come see what the people have brought.” He held out his hand for his daughter to take.
As they walked out of Luvia’s room on their way to the balcony at the end of the hallway, Luvia felt a slight tug at her soul. She pulled her hand out of her father’s and stepped into the salon. With a determined set of movements, she moved every figurine in the curio cabinet to face out to the window.
“That’s better,” Luvia said to herself, and then rejoined her father in the hallway, eager to see the festival shaping up on the lawn below her.
The One and Only
Victoria Kinnaird
*This story is written in UK English*
This story features characters from “Fake It”, the first book in The Keswick Chronicles Series. The story is set before the events of the novel.
Jessica Rosenfeld was easily one of the coolest girls JJ had ever laid his baby blue eyes on. Everything about her, from the careless holes in her fishnets to the regal way she carried her petite frame seemed absolutely effortless. If there was one thing JJ prized more than anything, it was a confident girl.
He’d charmed his way into the hearts and pants of girls like her before—from acid tongued London punks to fast talking, ambitious girls from the boarding schools upstate. He hadn’t been nervous when he’d been seducing them, but something about Jessica Rosenfeld made him jittery in a way he hadn’t been since the last time he’d taken cocaine.
With a sigh, he pushed away from his parked car, ducking to check his reflection in the window. His blonde hair, which usually fell around his handsome face, was pushed back and held in place by his Wayfarer sunglasses. His summer tan clung to his skin, a mischievous glow that made his blue eyes seem even brighter. He looked good and he knew it. Jessica would know it too, if he had his way.
“Well, Miss Rosenfeld, you get prettier by the day,” he said, loud enough to catch her attention as she walked by.
She skidded to a stop in front of him, her chunky boots kicking up a cloud of dust.
He’d never really looked at her up close, and he regretted that slip up as soon as their eyes locked. The contrast between her precisely cut black hair and pale skin was distracting, making him lose his train of thought. Throw in her grey-green-blue eyes, delicate features and full, mocking mouth, and she was definitely one of the most beautiful girls JJ had ever seen.
“I’m surprised you noticed,” she snorted, her flawless face even more captivating when it was animated by her disdain. “Although I’m flattered you tore yourself away from your own reflection to notice, JJ Keswick.”
The laugh that bubbled in his chest was startled but genuine. She cocked a perfectly shaped brow; he had clearly surprised her as much as she had surprised him.
“I like you,” he announced, crossing his arms. He felt the soft cotton of his tee shirt riding up, exposing a flash of carved hipbone and flat stomach. Jessica’s eyes flickered between his hips and his smiling face, disbelief warring with amusement on her pretty face.
“Really? You decided that just now?”
“I’m impulsive,” he replied with an easy shrug and a wicked grin. “I want to invite you to my back to school party this Saturday. Your friends too.”
“My friends?” She repeated, disbelief winning out the battle of expressions.
“Yeah. Those guys you hang out with. The girl too.”
It was hard for him to play it cool, act like he didn’t know exactly who he was talking about.
He might not know much about Jessica Rosenfeld, but one thing he knew for sure about her was that she was Jack Daveyson’s best friend and had been for as long as anyone could remember. She played bass in his band too, although JJ hadn’t been able to find out the band’s name.
As lovely as Jessica was, in JJ’s opinion, she was a close second to the elusive Jack Daveyson. When JJ had left Wayville destined for boarding school in England, Jack had been a weedy little boy. By the time JJ had returned to the small town, expelled and bored, Jack had been nothing like the kid he remembered.
He’d filled out, but hadn’t bulked up like most of the other boys. His slender frame was roped in lean muscle, his arms toned and strong. His dark hair had been kept neat as a child, before his mother had died. Now it fell around his high cheekbones in shaggy layers, making him look like he had just crawled out of bed after a spectacular night. The loss of his mother had sharpened his gaze, adding a sadness to the sweep of his eyelashes that drove JJ quietly wild.
Yeah, he had it bad for the guitarist. They were both starting senior year, and it was JJ’s last chance to secretly seduce him. But boys like Jack didn’t hook up with boys like JJ. He was too sensibl
e for that, smart enough to know any guy who couldn’t openly date him probably wasn’t worth the hassle, even if he was hotter than the surface of the sun.
That’s why he needed Jessica. If he could win her approval, Jack was sure to follow. There wasn’t a girl in the world he couldn’t eventually charm, Jessica included.
“Why?” Jessica asked, crossing her own arms. Was that a flash of ink on her pale skin? He’d have to ask her about that, later.
“There’s only so much pom-pom talk I can take,” JJ replied. “You guys would add a bit of…colour…to the proceedings. Figuratively speaking, of course,” he said, taking in her head-to-toe black outfit.
“You’re hilarious,” she said, rolling her glittering eyes. “Is this some sort of set up? Popular kid invites a bunch of misfits to his party, so the other equally attractive and morally bankrupt popular kids can play a cruel trick on them?”
“Wow, that’s a lot of words,” JJ breathed, head spinning. “Firstly, none of the other kids are as attractive as I am. Morally bankrupt…well, I’ll let that one slide. Look, I know that I come across as a bit of a…”
“Dick,” Jessica added with a grin.
“Right,” he agreed. “But you were wearing an A Day to Remember tee shirt last week. I saw Jack in a Glassjaw shirt a few days ago. Fucking Glassjaw, in a town like this? You’re my kind of people.”
She kept her expression blank, but he could see the shock in her eyes. Shock, and curiosity. That was his favourite combination, he could work with that. He only realised he’d called Jack by name a second after he’d finished speaking, but if Jessica noticed, she didn’t mention it.
“And what if you’re not our kind of person, JJ Keswick?” She asked, her petal pink lips caught in a revealing little smile.
“Come find out.”
JJ had never actually set foot in the Daveyson Music Store. Jack worked there most afternoons and every weekend from what he could tell, which was the reason JJ hadn’t gone inside. He’d felt a pang of guilt every time he ordered a CD online instead of supporting the local shop, but he couldn’t just stroll in there and turn on the charm. Not on Jack.
It was a small store, the smallest on Main Street, but it was by far the coolest. As far as he knew, the store was owned by Jack’s dad, although he’d never seen an older man working there. He’d only been “researching” Jack for a few hours a day over the summer though, so he might have just missed Mr. Daveyson. Or, been so distracted by the sight of his son that he just didn’t notice anyone else.
He set up camp at the coffee shop across the street, sitting by the window and pretending he wasn’t glancing across at the music store every few minutes. Jack was sitting at the counter, flicking through a magazine and nodding along to the beat of whatever he was listening to. He seemed completely relaxed, his shoulders hunched and his hair in his eyes. He was so still, seemingly at peace with the fact he was working on a Friday afternoon.
Jessica was walking along the street, guitar case slung over her shoulder. She’d added blue streaks to her hair, JJ noticed, smiling to himself. The flashes of pale skin through her torn jeans were almost as dazzling as the smile she aimed at Jack as she stepped into the shop.
She put her guitar down and leapt on to the counter, her heavy boots banging against the already scuffed wood as she swung her legs over the counter top. Jack’s answering smile was exasperated but fond.
Jack had lit up in her presence; it was visible even across the street. His eyes were brighter, his smile wider as they spoke. He even pushed his hair away from his face, like he didn’t have to hide anything from her.
JJ couldn’t read lips, but it looked like Jessica was trying to talk Jack into doing something. The young shopkeeper rolled his eyes, shook his head, shrugged his shoulders, and judging by the way Jessica threw herself into his arms, eventually caved in.
A nervous fluttering unfurled in JJ’s stomach at the realisation that she had probably just convinced Jack to attend his party. Come hell or high water, he was going to come face to face with the boy he’d been fantasising about all summer.
JJ wasn’t sure what scared him more – meeting Jack and messing it up, or meeting him and having it go perfectly. He’d wanted enough people to know that the only thing more terrifying than rejection was getting exactly what he wanted.
Jessica didn’t stay for long, leaving Jack alone in the store again. JJ watched as he finished reading his magazine and re-arranged the vinyl display, stopping only to pick a record and put it on. He moved with the quiet confidence of someone who had spent his life working diligently under the radar. JJ wondered what Jack’s favourite song was and who inspired him to make music. He wanted to know where Jack’s dad was and if he avoided his son the way JJ’s dad did.
But more than anything, he wanted to know what Jack’s smile would feel like pressed against his own.
It was hard to keep one eye on the door and another on the drunken hockey player who was one tequila shot away from falling down the stairs, but JJ persevered. The marble floored foyer was full of teenagers, and the creepy pot dealer from the grocery store, all of them laughing, dancing and drinking. The juxtaposition of the scene – rowdy teenagers packed into his father’s expensively decorated house – made JJ smile.
The main staircase split about halfway up, sweeping dramatically to the left and right to connect both wings of the house to the foyer. JJ’s room, bathroom, music room and walk-in closet took up the left wing of the house, so he hovered at the top of the left staircase, ready to retreat to his bedroom if the need arose.
He was nervous, again. He hadn’t been nervous – really nervous – in a very long time. It irritated him as much as it excited him, knowing he could feel so strongly about another person. He had one chance to get this right and he was going to give it everything he had. JJ knew, as he gazed out at the people who loved, loathed and lusted over him that his life could change that very night. He couldn’t wait.
“Rosie, you have to get him to come to this party!” Jessica whined down the phone. “It’s at the Keswick house. JJ invited us personally. He has to come!”
Rosemary Watson sighed, her blonde fringe caught in the huff of air. She cradled the phone between her shoulder and ear, glancing up at the ceiling that formed the floor of her wayward nephew’s bedroom. A muffled rumble of noise assured her he was in there, music blaring as usual, hiding from the world.
“I’m with you, kid,” she assured Jessica, frowning. “I thought you had already convinced him? He came home yesterday mumbling something about peer pressure and stupid rich kids, so I thought you were good to go.”
“We were, then he messaged me saying he was staying in! It’s the start of our senior year, we gotta go out with a bang.”
“Alright, give me twenty minutes, then come get him. He’ll be on the porch waiting for you, I promise.”
“You’re the best, Aunt Rosie!” Jessica replied, whooping with delight. “See you soon!”
Rose hung up the phone, rolling her shoulders and bouncing on the spot as if she was psyching herself up for a fight. She’d spent all of her adult life auditioning for plays and musicals, and after the death of her sister, she’d stepped into the greatest role of all time – mother. If she could convince a casting director that she was a perky high school student, she could sure as hell convince Jack to go to one party.
“Of course I ended up with the kid you need to convince to go to parties,” she grumbled as she climbed the stairs to his room. “Who needs the freaking lottery?”
Jack’s door was shut, shaking slightly in its frame. He was listening to something heavy then, one of the bands Rose tried to keep up with but inevitably lost track of. A band he loved had split up recently, she knew that much for sure – he’d been devastated and sales of their greatest hits CD had jumped at the store. Maybe that was what he was sulking about. He was at that tricky age where she
was never quite sure what was weighing on him, not that he had any shortage of options. But he was a good kid—the best kid—and he deserved to have fun with his friends. Especially if that meant he could gather intel from within the mysterious Keswick Mansion.
She knocked on Jack’s door, finding a blank spot between the novelty license plates his dad had sent him from the road. The volume from inside decreased, so she could hear him swinging his long legs out of the bed and padding across to the door.
It swung open, revealing her favourite, and only, nephew in all his teenage angst-ridden glory. He hadn’t even dressed for the party—or at least, she hoped not. She’d raised him better than to think he could wear a pair of baggy old jeans and an oversized tour tee shirt to a party. He was such a handsome boy with his piercing hazel eyes and charmingly dishevelled dark hair, she just wished he believed it.
“Jack Daveyson, why are you hiding away up here? Don’t you have a party to go to?” She asked, hands on her hips, hoping she looked stern.
“You know, it really creeps me out when my friends call to speak to you instead of me,” he replied, rolling his eyes.
“You should just be grateful that the women in your life get along so well,” Rose pointed out, smiling softly.
“And people wonder why I’m gay.”
“Why don’t you want to go to the party, sweetheart?” He stepped away from the door, clearly sensing a long conversation. She slipped inside, glancing quickly around the room to make sure it was tidy.
Fractured Fairy Tales Page 6