by Alison Pensy
“Hello, I’m Rose,” she said brightly as they shook hands. “Please don’t tell me yours,” she continued as Faedra opened her mouth to return the greeting.
Faedra clamped her mouth shut.
Rose gestured for Faedra to take a seat. She then picked a small sign off the table that read Reading in session and hung it on a hook that was on one of the tent posts. Once she returned to the table, she made herself comfortable and picked up a small black velvet pouch that was lying in the center.
“Now, I want you to think of a question or a situation you would like guidance on. You must not tell me what it is; then pick out six Rune stones and hand them to me,” Rose explained as she opened the pouch and held the open end to Faedra.
Faedra thought carefully for a moment before dipping her fingers into the pouch and pulled out the first stone, handing it to Rose who placed it onto the crushed velvet tablecloth. She did this five more times until all six stones had been extracted from their pouch. Faedra watched as Rose carefully arranged them in the shape of a cross. Rose then pulled the strings on the pouch to close it, and placed it to one side.
Faedra watched as Rose examined the Runes intently, and stifled a giggle when she thought back to Zoë’s remark. Rose was certainly putting on a good show, umming and ahhing for several minutes, but Faedra began feeling a distinct shift in the once pleasant, if not slightly kooky, atmosphere in the tent. Suddenly, there was a very tense sensation surrounding her, and she drew her eyebrows together in a frown.
Rose’s eyes widened. “No, this can’t be,” she mumbled to herself, “it’s just a legend.” Then she drew her burning gaze from the Rune stones to Faedra.
Faedra shifted uncomfortably in her seat.
“What do you see? What’s just a legend?” she asked.
Rose didn’t speak for a moment.
She was contemplating something important. “You,” she stated bluntly.
Faedra laughed, it escaped before she had a chance to stifle it. “I’m sorry, but I think my friend was right. I’ll not waste any more of your time.”
She started to get up to leave but Rose beat her to it. Before Faedra even got her butt off the seat, Rose stood up, rounded the table, and was standing behind her. She let out a gasp.
“What?” Faedra demanded, turning in her seat to see Rose eyeing the back of her neck. “It’s a birthmark, what of it? Look, this is ridiculous. I’ll give you ten out of ten for the dramatics, but I was hoping for a serious reading,” she stood up and spun around so that she was now facing Rose.
“You have no idea who you are, do you Faedra?” Rose whispered.
“I know exactly who I am, thank you very much,” she stated obstinately, “and I know who you are; you are a fraud… Hey, how did you know my name? I never told you my name.” An uneasy feeling started to well up in the pit of her stomach.
“How old are you?” Rose asked.
“Seventeen,” Faedra snapped.
Rose closed her eyes, dropped her head, and let out a heavy sigh. She had already said too much.
“Tell me how you know my name,” Faedra demanded, “and why you’re so interested in my birthmark!”
“I can’t, you are not of age yet. I’ve already said too much.”
“Not of age yet? What does that mean?” Faedra demanded again, starting to get annoyed.
“I never imagined I would be in this position. I thought it was all just a myth, but our people have a pact with yours. You will find out soon enough. Sorry, Faedra, I can say no more, you must go.” She moved over to the entrance and held it open.
Faedra glared at Rose as she brushed past her.
“Faedra?”
“What?” Faedra snapped.
“Good luck.”
Faedra looked at her and shook her head. “Come on, Faen, let’s get out of here.”
She stomped off in the direction of the music to find her friends. She was almost too angry to notice the burning in the palms of her hands until it got too unbearable, so she stopped at a drinks stall to ask for some ice.
“I don’t know who I am, indeed,” she muttered as she held a couple of ice cubes that melted instantaneously.
“Who did she think she was anyway?” she grumbled to Faen who was keeping very close to her side, much closer than usual. He was always with her, but most of the time kept several feet away. At the moment, he was glued to her leg.
Faedra continued her mutterings until she found her friends dancing in a crowd that had gathered in front of a stage playing modern music this time.
“How’d it go?” Amy shouted above the music when Faedra reached them.
“Zoë was right, she was a fraud.”
“Well, I hope you didn’t give her any money,” Zoë shouted.
“Didn’t get a chance to, she kicked me out before I even got a reading,” Faedra complained.
“What?” Amy and Zoë shouted in unison. “Why did she do that?”
“She said something about me not being of age and not knowing who I was.” It sounded ridiculous to Faedra even as she said the words.
“See told you,” Zoë chimed in, “frauds, the lot of them. Well, don’t let it spoil your day, Fae.”
Faedra decided she wouldn’t and joined her friends in a dance. The rest of the day passed without incident and they arrived home safe, but exhausted. After dropping her friends off, she pulled into her driveway. Her Dad was still out, and she hoped he was enjoying himself with Uncle Leo and Nicki after a day on the boat.
She darted up to her room, ran around the bed to her dresser, and grabbed her small hand held mirror. Holding it up in front of her, she turned her back to the vanity mirror on her dresser and examined her birthmark. She’d never paid it much attention before because it was at the nape of her neck between her shoulders. It wasn’t easy for her to see, and, as her hair usually covered it, she forgot it was there most of the time. Today she had put her hair up because it was so thick; it was like wearing a scarf on a sunny day. Now she could see it clearly in the reflection in the mirror.
She leaned closer to get a better look and her eyes widened with surprise.
“Wow, it must have grown. I can’t remember it looking that big before. What does it remind me of?” She drew her eyes away from the mirror to look straight ahead at her collection, and then reverted them back to her reflection again, narrowing them as she did.
“It’s a fairy.”
CHAPTER FOUR
The next couple of nights Faedra did not get much sleep, it was fitful, at best. The events of the past few weeks, and more recently the past couple of days, kept repeating in her dreams. She would wake often, usually in a cold sweat.
She dragged herself out of bed as she had done the previous morning, and all but crawled over to the dresser. She thought about calling in sick, but integrity fought against her and won.
“Urgh,” she groaned when greeted by her reflection in the mirror. Dark circles framed her once sparkling eyes that were now dull and lackluster.
“If this carries on too much longer, I’m going to have to steal some sleeping pills from somewhere,” she croaked to Faen.
She fiddled with her makeup and after applying a healthy dose of concealer and foundation, started to look a little less like the monster from the deep. Faen, who was sitting beside her, looked up at her with what she considered was a look of concern.
“It’s okay, boy, I’ll be fine. Not sure what’s going on, but I’m sure it will pass.” She said it more as reassurance for herself than anything else. After she was done putting on the finishing touches of her ‘disguise’, she wandered over to the closet and picked out something smart but casual for work.
She had a job at a company that shipped freight all over the world. It was located at the local airport. It wasn’t a large airport but did have flights to Scotland, Ireland and various European countries. She had flown out of there herself in the past, on holiday to Spain. The view from her office almost made the abuse she was dea
lt worth it. Her office looked over the entire airfield, and she could see the planes take off and land all throughout the day, but she hated her boss.
Jerry Thompson was the most unpleasant person she had ever met. It wasn’t just his very poor attention to personal hygiene, but he also seemed to go out of his way to make her life a misery, and, quite obviously, enjoyed doing so. She often wondered why she put up with it and didn’t just leave. She wasn’t a quitter, that was why.
Dressed and caked in make up, she almost stumbled down the stairs to the dining room. Her Dad was already sitting at the table in the kitchen having his breakfast when she walked in.
“Cup of tea, Fae?” he asked. “God, you look awful,” he continued when he looked up to see his daughter.
Faedra groaned inwardly, her attempts at applying make up hadn’t had the desired effect.
“Yes, please, and, thanks, I love you, too,” she replied testily to his question and subsequent observation. She was never her best when tired. A bear with a sore head was an apt comparison.
Henry poured her a cup of tea as she joined him at the table.
“Are you okay, darling? Maybe you should call in sick today,” he suggested.
“I haven’t slept very well the past couple of days. I’ll be fine though, I’m not about to give Mr. Thompson any more reasons to pick on me than he already feels he has.”
She ate her breakfast in silence. Today was not going to be a good day and she could already feel herself wishing it were over. Apart from the fact that she felt like a zombie, and probably looked like an extra from the Thriller video, it was also the anniversary of her mother’s death. She closed her eyes for a moment and gave herself an inward pep talk.
Come on, Fae, pull yourself together. It’s only twenty-four hours and then it will be over for another year.
She always spent some time at her mother’s grave on the anniversary of her death. It was a tradition of hers that she started some years ago now. She would take a blanket, a small picnic, sit down next to the headstone, and talk to her mum about anything and everything. Somewhere deep inside she knew her mum was listening. She had to believe it, it was one of the things that kept her sane.
“Morning, Faedra, you look like crap,” Mr. Thompson greeted her as she walked in the office dead on nine o’clock. “Another minute and you’d have been late,” he continued in his smarmy voice as he looked down at his wrist and tapped his watch.
She took a deep breath and bit her lip. “Morning, Mr. Thompson,” she sighed as she took her seat behind her desk.
Mr. Thompson was a greasy looking middle-aged man. He was fat and balding with a shiny head usually covered with a sheen of sweat. He had beady little eyes that were positioned far too close together on his face to be natural, and, for some unknown reason, he decided it looked good to have a beard. Faedra had felt her stomach lurch on several occasions when he had come back from lunch with bits of greasy food stuck in it, and imagined him in his office picking bits off for an afternoon snack. She stifled a shudder. His clothing was always dirty, especially his shirts, that, more often than not, had splotches of spilled food on them. It was as if he didn’t know what a washing machine was, or cared.
Everyone in the company hated him, but they were relieved when she started working there because his attention was now directed completely on her, as it was on all the new employees before her, and would be until some poor soul was hired in below her. Something that wasn’t likely to happen, as her position was the lowest on the totem pole.
Faedra was the receptionist for the freight company, so her main job focus was to answer the phones, direct people to various departments, and greet people who walked through the door. She was the first person you saw when you walked in, and the last when you walked out. Mr. Thompson did throw in some filing for her to do for good measure. Just such a task would set the wheels in motion for Faedra to become very aware that something was seriously amiss.
“Faedra Bennett,” Mr. Thompson snapped, making her jump. She had her back to him with her hands in the filing cabinet; putting away the load of files he had given her just a few minutes ago. “How many times do I have to tell you? ANSWER THE PHONE IN ONE RING!” he bellowed, making her jump once more.
The whole office fell silent, and all heads turned in her direction.
“But, Mr. Thompson, I have my hands in the filing cabinet filing the records you just gave me and the nearest phone is all the way over there,” she pointed to a desk a good twenty feet away.
“I don’t care about your petty excuses, girl. Do what I ask you to or I’ll write you up. DO I MAKE MYSELF UNDERSTOOD?”
Faedra could feel herself get hot and her cheeks redden. She was not used to getting shouted at. Tears pricked behind her eyes, but she’d be darned if she were going to show this bully that he’d upset her. She certainly was not about to cry in front of the whole office, so she managed to blink them back.
“Sorry, Mr. Thompson, it won’t happen again,” she said softly.
“Just make sure it doesn’t, girl,” he gloated and turned to leave. “Oh, and I need the Hodgkin’s report too.”
“Yes, Mr. Thompson.”
She heard him mutter stupid girl as he stormed off in the direction of his office. Heaving a heavy hearted sigh, she finished the filing and wandered past all of her co-workers - who were looking at her with sympathy - to her desk at the end of the room. She smiled sheepishly at the ones who made eye contact with her, but most just averted their gazes as she passed.
She had only been in front of her computer for a few minutes, not time enough to calm herself down yet, before she heard the familiar weighty footsteps stomping down the office towards her. Within seconds his hefty form was taking up the space in front of her desk. Looking up warily, she grimaced at his demeanor. His face was almost puce; she thought he was going to have a heart attack right there and then. He better not because there was no way she was giving that mouth-to-mouth. The thought made her incredibly nauseous.
“Did I not make myself clear, girl?” he shouted.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Thompson, I don’t understand what you mean.”
“When I tell you I need a report, I need it NOW. I do not expect to have to wait until Christmas! Trust me to hire another imbecile!” he bellowed, before snatching the report that Faedra had already printed - just not gotten it to him yet - off the printer and stormed off back down the office again.
Faedra was shaken; she struggled to force back more tears, but this time they were tears of anger. Had she ever been this angry before? She couldn’t remember. Her whole body was trembling and her palms that were resting face down on some paperwork were burning worse than they ever had before. This time it was not just a sensation, it was downright painful. She lifted her hands to blow on them, and, as she did, her eyes widened in horror and confusion. There on the paper were two scorch marks right where her hands had been.
She scanned the office to see if anyone had noticed, but everyone had their heads down attempting to look like they were working industriously. Balling up the paper, she threw it in the bin and went to the rest room to run her hands under some cold water. She was getting very concerned about her hands now. What just happened was definitely not normal; she also knew that she couldn’t tell anyone; they would think her crazy for sure.
For the rest of the day Faedra managed to keep herself under the radar until it was time to go home. An enormous weight lifted from her shoulders the minute she walked out the door. She felt as light as a feather, as if she would float away on even the most delicate of breezes.
After going home to change and pick up Faen, and her picnic basket, Faedra pulled into the church car park. There were no other cars there, which suited her. People often gave her funny looks as they walked by when she was nattering away to no one visible. She pulled her blanket and picnic basket from the trunk, and strolled towards the graveyard.
It was a beautiful, warm evening with not a cloud in the sky. Th
ere was a slight breeze that ruffled the leaves on the trees. The graveyard was about an acre or two in size and framed on three sides by ancient oak trees, with the church standing proudly on the remaining side. She knew that the vicarage was behind the trees to her right and believed that there were fields behind the other trees. It was hard to see through them; not because they were a thick stand of trees, but because they were covered with their summer foliage.
Faedra was in a daze as she meandered her way through the headstones. She had been here to visit her mum so many times that she thought she could probably find her headstone blindfolded by now. It was just as well; she was so tired this evening she didn’t have her wits about her, and felt like she was on autopilot navigating her way through them.
The friendly black and white collie had spotted them as they came through the gate from the car park and bounded up to greet her and Faen, giving Faedra her usual toothy grin. The collie and Faen went through their established routine of him growling softly at her, while she rubbed her head against his chin in response. This time though, instead of her running off to sit in her usual spot after Faedra had petted her, she stayed with them and followed behind until they made it to Lillith’s grave.
“Here we are again, boy,” she sighed, her voice weighted down with sadness.
Faedra set down the picnic basket, threw out the blanket on the ground and sat down on it. Leaning up against her mother’s headstone, she outstretched her legs in front of her. She patted her hands on the blanket either side of her legs.
“Come on you two, you can join me, you know,” she said to the two dogs that were standing either side of the blanket and looking at her with an understanding she couldn’t quite figure out. They did as she asked and lay down next to her, putting a head on each of Faedra’s thighs so that they were nose-to-nose. The ‘sibling rivalry’ was completely gone, and they both let out a sad sounding whine.
“Hey, you two, I’m okay,” Faedra ran her hands over both of their soft silky heads and they didn’t take their eyes off her.