Snippet day
I've got a little something from an urban fantasy-ish wip I've restarted this week.
The flight to England was a strange mix of uncomfortable and nostalgic. Bea barely said a word through the whole trip, from the car ride to Belfast International airport, all through the flight itself. That definitely wasn’t the Beatrice Parry Adele remembered, and it made her feel uneasy. The idea that Bea might have changed, might no longer be the woman Adele had fallen in love with, was hard to swallow.
But despite that, her presence was familiar, comforting. She smelled the same; like ripe red apples and autumn leaves. Adele wanted to bury head face in Bea’s hair and inhale that scent, make it part of herself. She remembered countless nights running her fingers through Bea’s silky hair, combing it out and braiding it up. But that was another life. For all she knew, Bea was settled and married by now. She cast a quick glance at Bea’s hand and saw no wedding ring. Still, she was bound to have someone else in her life.
It was a painful thought but better than thinking about Rosewood. Home. Selene. Would there be a banshee wailing on the roof? Would the house be empty as Selene’s usual hanger-ons and sycophants drifted away? Was someone already jockeying to take her place, just waiting for her to die?
That last was a chilling thought, given that Selene had been cursed. There weren’t many people in Selene’s inner circle, that Adele had known anyway, capable of casting a true curse. You didn’t cast them lightly and you didn’t expect the victim to survive. Even on her worst day, Adele didn’t think Selene deserved to be murdered. But someone did. So who? And why?
It wasn’t until they were off the plane and away from the bustling crowds of Stansted airport that Adele dared asked Bea those questions. Bea was slinging Adele’s suitcase into the back of another hire car when Adele asked, and she paused mid-motion, leaving the case to slam into the car. Adele winced, thinking of her laptop, and took the case from Bea.
“Selene has lots of enemies. Probably more than you ever realised. Just having fae blood makes her a target for some people.”
“But probably not the kind of people who can cast curses,” Adele said. “They’d be fae-blooded too, it’s not like they’d harbour any prejudice, let alone any murderous tendencies.”
“You don’t know. Too much fae blood, not enough…to some people it matters, Addie.” Bea slammed the car boot shut and went round to the driver’s door. Adele got in too, turning those words over in her head.
Once upon a time the British Isles had been full of fae folk. Banshees and brownies, pixies and pucks. They lived side by side with regular humans - not always harmoniously. But times changed. The more human-looking fae married into human families, diluting their potent blood and the magic that came with it. Less human-looking fae hid themselves away and became fairy tales, children’s stories. Some, like Bea’s family, kept their bloodlines strong but dwindled anyway. The modern world was full of iron and doubt; no place for the fae. Those that couldn’t adapt faded away.
And that left families like the Ashworths. Adele had no idea what kind of fae creature had lent its blood to her ancestry, but both she and her mother were blessed with ethereal good looks and a talent for art. Adele could have turned her hand to anything - photography, painting, woodwork, sculpture - she would have excelled at any of them. She knew; she’d tried them all before settling on metalsmithing and jewellery making. Selene was an accomplished dancer, so graceful and poised it made your heart ache. She sang like an angel and could play any instrument she laid her hands on. Neither of them could cast illusions or curses; neither of them could shapeshift or read minds, but they had the purest, most classic of all fae gifts: raw charm. That was why the fae-blooded flocked to Rosewood, to Selene.
The flight to England was a strange mix of uncomfortable and nostalgic. Bea barely said a word through the whole trip, from the car ride to Belfast International airport, all through the flight itself. That definitely wasn’t the Beatrice Parry Adele remembered, and it made her feel uneasy. The idea that Bea might have changed, might no longer be the woman Adele had fallen in love with, was hard to swallow.
But despite that, her presence was familiar, comforting. She smelled the same; like ripe red apples and autumn leaves. Adele wanted to bury head face in Bea’s hair and inhale that scent, make it part of herself. She remembered countless nights running her fingers through Bea’s silky hair, combing it out and braiding it up. But that was another life. For all she knew, Bea was settled and married by now. She cast a quick glance at Bea’s hand and saw no wedding ring. Still, she was bound to have someone else in her life.
It was a painful thought but better than thinking about Rosewood. Home. Selene. Would there be a banshee wailing on the roof? Would the house be empty as Selene’s usual hanger-ons and sycophants drifted away? Was someone already jockeying to take her place, just waiting for her to die?
That last was a chilling thought, given that Selene had been cursed. There weren’t many people in Selene’s inner circle, that Adele had known anyway, capable of casting a true curse. You didn’t cast them lightly and you didn’t expect the victim to survive. Even on her worst day, Adele didn’t think Selene deserved to be murdered. But someone did. So who? And why?
It wasn’t until they were off the plane and away from the bustling crowds of Stansted airport that Adele dared asked Bea those questions. Bea was slinging Adele’s suitcase into the back of another hire car when Adele asked, and she paused mid-motion, leaving the case to slam into the car. Adele winced, thinking of her laptop, and took the case from Bea.
“Selene has lots of enemies. Probably more than you ever realised. Just having fae blood makes her a target for some people.”
“But probably not the kind of people who can cast curses,” Adele said. “They’d be fae-blooded too, it’s not like they’d harbour any prejudice, let alone any murderous tendencies.”
“You don’t know. Too much fae blood, not enough…to some people it matters, Addie.” Bea slammed the car boot shut and went round to the driver’s door. Adele got in too, turning those words over in her head.
Once upon a time the British Isles had been full of fae folk. Banshees and brownies, pixies and pucks. They lived side by side with regular humans - not always harmoniously. But times changed. The more human-looking fae married into human families, diluting their potent blood and the magic that came with it. Less human-looking fae hid themselves away and became fairy tales, children’s stories. Some, like Bea’s family, kept their bloodlines strong but dwindled anyway. The modern world was full of iron and doubt; no place for the fae. Those that couldn’t adapt faded away.
And that left families like the Ashworths. Adele had no idea what kind of fae creature had lent its blood to her ancestry, but both she and her mother were blessed with ethereal good looks and a talent for art. Adele could have turned her hand to anything - photography, painting, woodwork, sculpture - she would have excelled at any of them. She knew; she’d tried them all before settling on metalsmithing and jewellery making. Selene was an accomplished dancer, so graceful and poised it made your heart ache. She sang like an angel and could play any instrument she laid her hands on. Neither of them could cast illusions or curses; neither of them could shapeshift or read minds, but they had the purest, most classic of all fae gifts: raw charm. That was why the fae-blooded flocked to Rosewood, to Selene.