by Helen Harper
‘Jacob, which department?’
His mouth moved and the words came out but for some strange reason I couldn’t actually hear him. What he said did not compute.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I didn’t catch that. Which department?’
He remained calm but there was an odd glint in his eye. ‘The same one you applied to three times. The supposed top of the faery tree.’ A hint of sourness coloured his tone.
‘The faery godmothers?’ I asked stupidly. ‘The faery godmothers have asked for me?’
‘You don’t have to do it,’ he said. ‘You don’t have to attend the interview.’
I was already on my feet. ‘When?’ I asked, my blood fizzing in delight at the very thought. ‘Where?’
Jacob’s mouth tightened. ‘Their Assistant Director would like to talk to you as soon as possible. In fact she’s waiting outside. She’ll interview you here. You don’t have to use the Metafora to transport yourself to their building. She is,’ Jacob added darkly, ‘a remarkably humourless person.’
My feet were already propelling me towards the door. Why hadn’t I put on smarter clothes this morning? Damn it. There was no time to go and change. I didn’t want to give the faery godmothers the chance to change their mind. They’d asked for me. For me. This might turn out to be the best day of my entire life. ‘Thank you, Jacob! Thank you so much!’
‘You don’t have to take the job,’ he called out once again after me.
I barely heard him. Sometimes wishes really did come true. My mum would never believe this. Neither would Harry. Frankly, right now, neither did I.
Chapter Two
From the outside, the office block looked like any other building in this mundane suburb of Colchester. Grey. Nondescript. Neither clean enough nor dirty enough to provoke comment. In fact, the façade offered about as much interest as a tooth faery talking about the perils of toffee. It was designed to discourage anyone from looking twice, in case the repel spells surrounding it failed and a human decided to wander inside. As soon as you stepped over the threshold, however, you could feel the frisson in the air. This was where the magic happened.
Even with my best suit and my brightest blouse covering most of my body, I could feel the delicious goosebumps rippling across my skin. It seemed unreal. Adeline Motus had only interviewed me on Friday and here I was, less than three days later, about to actually start my new job. I’d wanted this my entire life but I’d never really expected that it would happen. I knew how things worked and I knew that I would never be top of the godmothers’ recruitment list. And yet I was here. Years of hard work with the dope faeries and I’d actually proven I was worthy. I drew in a deep breath, allowing myself to savour the fragrant scent of honeysuckle, before striding up to the desk with my heels clicking.
‘Hi.’ I presented the receptionist with my most enthusiastic smile. ‘I’m Saffron Sawyer. I’m here for …’
‘Take a seat.’ She didn’t lift her head from her magazine.
I tilted up my chin and hardened my voice ever so slightly. As of this moment, I was someone important. Someone to be reckoned with. I was no longer the person who permitted herself to be delegated to the uncomfortable chairs set out for visitors. ‘I said,’ I repeated, ‘I’m Saffron Sawyer. I’m the new faery godmother.’ Then, because it seemed important to say it, ‘it’s my first day. The Director is expecting me.’
For a moment, the receptionist didn’t move. I was half tempted to cough impatiently and start drumming my fingernails on the marble counter, even though my mother had insisted on phoning before I left home this morning to remind me to be polite and courteous to everyone, regardless of who they were. Then, however, the receptionist slowly raised her head and stared at me. She wasn’t smiling. In fact, she looked as if she’d swallowed a sour plum.
‘I know who you are.’
She didn’t say anything else. I supposed she didn’t need to. Perhaps her job entailed an enforced paucity of words. I had a brief memory of one of my old teachers telling me a story about how particularly garrulous fairies used to be chastised to the point where they were given enforced word limits for each day. Speak more than a thousand words in any twenty-four period and receive a pig’s snout instead of the cute button nose that was indicative of our kind. At the time I’d assumed it was merely a teacher’s ploy designed to make me shut up. I could have been wrong, however. You could never be entirely sure where faeries were concerned. In any case, I swallowed my tart reply and nodded minutely. Then I meekly turned and made my way to the nearest chair. It was more uncomfortable than it looked.
I wiggled and shifted, causing the chair to creak loudly. The receptionist’s head snapped towards me. I didn’t apologise. I’d be polite. But I wouldn’t be weak. I gave her another sunny smile to suggest that being forced into a warped posture that was already making my back ache was exactly what I’d expected when I got up this morning. She just sniffed and looked away again.
The front door opened and three people piled in, chattering and giggling. To the untrained eye, they appeared to be normal office workers but I couldn’t fail to notice the glimmer clinging to each of their dewy faces. I sat up that bit straighter.
‘Darlings,’ said the taller one of the three, whose shining blonde hair was so straight and so perfect I almost fancied I’d be able to see my reflection in it if I looked closely enough, ‘enjoy it while you can. Now that the Director has opened the office up to any shite wee faery who thinks they possess the skills to be one of us, the canteen will be serving up fish finger sandwiches, and chips and cheese for the rest of our days. Watercress and pomegranate brioche delights will be an endangered species. Much like us.’
The only male in the group snorted. ‘Alicia, you are too much. There’s only one marsh faery joining the ranks. She’ll learn her place quickly enough.’
‘She’d better. In fact …’ Her voice trailed off as she caught sight of me. A slow grin spread across her face. ‘In fact,’ she repeated more loudly now, ‘she’ll probably run out of here with her tail between her legs as soon as she realises exactly what is required.’ She sniffed. ‘It’s not all waving wands and granting sparkly wishes.’
The last of the trio, a raven haired woman with a cupid’s bow mouth highlighted by perfectly applied scarlet lipstick, opened her eyes wide. ‘Do marsh faeries have tails?’
Alicia laughed. ‘Quite possibly,’ she said. ‘I’ve never gotten close enough to one to find out.’ She raised her voice in order to be absolutely assured that I heard her. ‘They’re certainly grotesque looking enough.’
The three of them glided up to the reception desk. I felt a twinge of angry irritation that, even with their barbed digs, I remained envious of their ability to appear so swan-like and graceful. There was a sensual fluidity to their every movement which I knew I could never hope to emulate. No doubt it was this which caused me to rise to my feet. Either that or it was the suggestion that fish finger sandwiches were somehow inferior to other food stuffs. I loved fish finger sandwiches.
‘I’m not a marsh faery,’ I said in a loud voice. My words bounced across the marble expanse with the faintest hint of reproach. Not that I had anything against marsh faeries. In actuality, I liked their dusky green skin and ability to meld into almost any natural background. ‘Unfortunately, I cannot call them my kin,’ I added. ‘Much as I would like to.’
The raven haired woman tittered. ‘Did something just speak?’
Cue another round of giggles.
‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘I spoke.’ I weighed up my options in my head. How tempting it was to snidely put down the glamorous trio. As a dope faery I’d probably have slapped them around until they apologised. I doubted that would be a good idea here. Creating lifelong enemies on my first day wasn’t the best thing to do. Still, whether this pestilent trio wanted me here or not was moot. They needed me here. The very manner of my interview proved it. Besides, I’d been half expecting this sort of reception. And the most effective way
to deal with poison was with a sugary antidote. After all, I couldn’t let short term satisfaction get in the way of my own long term goals.
‘I’m Saffron,’ I said. I kept my voice light and pleasant. My sincerity, whether faked or otherwise, would be key. ‘I’m looking forward to working with all of you. Perhaps I can learn how to speak like you so that you can hear me more clearly in the future. I’ve always aspired to a cut glass accent.’ I curved my mouth into a small smile. ‘Glottal stops are so under-rated.’
‘What’s a glottal stop?’
‘Oh, do shut up, Figgy,’ Alicia muttered.
My smile grew. ‘It’s the difference between ‘flattery’,’ I said, carefully pronouncing the ‘tt’, ‘and ‘fla-ery’.’ I widened my eyes ever so slightly. ‘And may I say that I adore your lipstick. That shade is so dramatic and bold.’
Figgy fluttered her eyelashes in some sort of reflexive responsive to the compliment. ‘You’re too kind.’ She glanced at the male faery by her side. ‘I told you it was a good colour choice, Rupert.’
He rolled his eyes. But then he also inclined his head towards mine with a glimmer of brief approval. Go me. I’d avoided fisticuffs in my first hour. That had to count as a win. Then that glimmer altered slightly to something more like a leer. Perhaps I’d not won anything after all.
‘The red makes you look pale and sickly,’ Alicia snapped to the still smiling Figgy.
The receptionist, who had managed to peel her eyes away from her magazine, folded her arms and glared. A slight ripple of warmth ran through me. At least her unfriendliness was faery non-specific. ‘Are you three planning to sign in for work at any point today,’ she inquired, ‘or are you going to stand around here and make my lobby look untidy until it’s time to go home?’
Alicia opened her mouth. I waited, expecting a vicious retort. Instead, however, her response was soft. ‘I do apologise, Miranda.’ She turned her back on me and reached for what I presumed was the log-in book. She pressed her thumb onto a pristine white page, tossed her head and then sauntered for the lift. Figgy and Rupert followed suit. Not one of them gave me so much as a backwards glance. I gazed at the receptionist, thoroughly impressed. This was someone who clearly wielded considerable power. I mentally thanked my mother for her admonishment to be polite. If this woman could bring the Alicias of this world into line, then she was someone I needed to get to know better.
‘You,’ she said, looking down her nose towards me, ‘are either incredibly smart or incredibly stupid.’
‘Well, Miranda,’ I replied, ‘I’m convinced it’s the former. Naturally.’
She drew herself back with a sharp hiss. ‘My name is Mrs Jardine and you will address me as such.’ She slammed the flat of her palm onto the desk in front of her to add emphasis to her words. ‘Now sit down. You look ridiculous flapping around like that.’ And just like that, she returned her attention to her magazine. Fuck a puck. In three syllables I’d all but washed away any bonhomie I might have garnered myself. Nice work, Saffron. Nice bloody work.
***
Almost an hour later, I’d still not made it past the lobby. I’d counted all the bulbs in the twinkly chandelier dangling from the ceiling. I’d estimated the number of steps from the front door to the reception desk as thirty-eight. Twenty if I skipped. I’d even decided on the shade of paint I would choose to highlight the grand walls and soften the atmosphere once I was appointed Director (in around sixteen years if my plans came to fruition). In all that time, not another soul either entered or exited the building. And Mrs Miranda Jardine didn’t once raise her head. Maybe this was a test. Dope faeries weren’t known for their patience. Faery godmothers required it in abundance. In fact it was written all over the mission statement. Achieving optimum wish fulfillment is a slow, laborious process with immense rewards. All our faeries exercise ultimate patience and decorum whilst waiting for results. If I could show the powers that be that I could handle this sort of monotony then perhaps I’d prove myself worthy. Alas, that would have been far easier to manage if my arse wasn’t quite so numb from sitting for so long in the uncomfortable chair.
Unfortunately, I wasn’t quite as patient as I’d advertised myself at my interview. I was debating how I could rush the lift before Mrs Jardine stopped me – and I might well have done so - when there was a peculiar crackle in the air. Actually, crackle wasn’t quite the right word because it wasn’t a sound so much as a sensation. My skin prickled oddly in response.
I looked over at Mrs Jardine. She hadn’t moved a muscle. I cleared my throat awkwardly but she didn’t even blink. Biting my lip, I raised my hand tentatively in the air. ‘Erm…’
She sighed. ‘What now?’
Given that I’d sat silently for the last hour, I felt that both her tone and her remark were uncalled for. All the same, I ploughed ahead. There was an expanse of air a few metres to my right that was beginning to flicker with little sparks of red light. Maybe the entire building was about to spontaneously combust. If it did, at least sprinting for the door while screaming loudly would give me something to do. ‘Is that supposed to happen?’ I asked.
‘Is what supposed to happen?’ She finally looked up. When her eyes landed upon the dancing lights, she let out a tiny squeak of what sounded like terror. ‘No,’ she whispered. ‘Oh no.’
Genuinely alarmed now, I stood up, ignoring the stiffness in my limbs. ‘What?’ I demanded. ‘What is it?’
Mrs Jardine paid me no attention whatsoever. She reached for her phone with trembling fingers, lifting the receiver without taking her gaze from the ever increasing lights.
‘It’s me,’ she whispered into the phone. ‘He’s coming. Again.’
She wasn’t talking to me but I still couldn’t help myself. ‘Who?’ I asked. ‘Who’s coming?’
Whether she’d have been willing to answer me or not, I’d never know. The lights coalesced, swirling together into a bright red glow. Then there was a sudden bang and the lobby filled with smoke. I coughed and spluttered. I flapped my arms in front of me, wondering whether to run out or if I dash upstairs and start screaming at people to get out of the building before it blew up. There was an unpleasant ringing in my ears. Of all the ways I’d imagined my first day would go, I’d not considered anything like this.
In the end, the building neither blew up nor set itself alight. As I continued to stare, the smoke dissipated quickly, leaving little more than a few curling wisps. I blinked. Then I blinked again. Standing smack bang in the middle of the lobby was a tall, broad-shouldered man. His hair was inky dark and he was wearing a suit which appeared to have been starched to within an inch of its life. He glanced towards me, revealing an aquiline nose, haughty features and piercing jade green eyes. The faint scent of musky cinnamon tickled my nostrils. I slowly sat back down in my chair. Uh oh. Okay, I knew exactly who this was. I just didn’t know what he was doing here.
He dismissed me without a second glance and strode up to Mrs Jardine. ‘Good morning.’ His accent was even posher than Alicia’s had been. ‘I’m here to see the Director. I’m the …’
‘Devil’s Advocate,’ I blurted out.
Oops. I hadn’t actually meant to say that out loud. Fortunately, both he and Mrs Jardine ignored me so I could pretend that it hadn’t happened. ‘Of course,’ she said briskly. ‘Someone will be down momentarily to escort you up.’
He leaned in, towering over her. ‘I do not require an escort,’ he said. ‘I am perfectly capable of finding my own way.’
‘Certainly.’ Her voice grew firmer as she repeated herself. ‘Certainly.’ She pointed to the side. ‘The lift is over there.’
‘In the same place as last week,’ he said. ‘And the week before that.’
Mrs Jardine’s skin was curiously pale. I supposed I should be pleased that she was as shocked by the Devil’s Advocate’s sudden appearance as I was. In truth I actually felt sorry for her, especially given his sarcasm. I doubted she’d appreciate my sympathy. But I still felt it all the same
. I provided a reassuring smile in her direction. Then I realised that the Devil’s Advocate was looking at me again.
‘You will join me,’ he said.
I glanced round. Um … was he talking to me?
‘She will be delighted to,’ Mrs Jardine said. She threw me a glance which was laden with meaning. Unfortunately, I couldn’t tell what that meaning was.
As if on cue, the lift pinged open. The Devil’s Advocate turned and walked towards it. Unlike the other three faeries who strolled in earlier, he didn’t glide across the lobby. He massacred it with heavy, deliberate footsteps. Frankly, it was a surprise that he didn’t leave a trail of blood behind him on the marble floor.
I didn’t move. I wasn’t sure that I could. Mrs Jardine waved at me frantically, however, gesturing that I should follow. Feet, Saffron. You have feet. Usually they worked. I straightened my shoulders, shook myself off and followed after him. Naturally, I neither glided nor massacred. I pootled. I wasn’t trying to annoy the Devil’s Advocate. Not deliberately anyway. I was just still a bit stunned by the turn of events. And my legs really were still quite stiff.
If he was irritated by the amount of time it took me to join him at his side in the lift, it didn’t show on his face. I shuffled in round him, taking up refuge in the far corner. Then the doors closed and the lift jolted slightly as it began to rise.
The strains of jazzy muzak filled the air. I let out a nervous giggle. I clamped my hand over my mouth to prevent another from escaping but it didn’t do much good.
The Devil’s Advocate slowly turned. ‘What is so amusing?’ he inquired. His mouth didn’t twitch and his eyes didn’t crinkle. The man was not entertained in the slightest.
‘Nothing.’
He stared at me uncomprehendingly. Oh. I removed my hand from my mouth and repeated myself.
‘Nothing.’ I hesitated. ‘Sir.’ Was that right? No-one had ever prepared me for this eventuality. Perhaps I should genuflect?