An Unseelie Court

One foe loomed above them all. Boredom was her constant companion, eating at her, nibbling on her will, convincing her to take chances and unsound risks. On her left was millennia of the quotidian, on her right was endless ennui.

And then came the magical girl.

Mab brushed her thumb over Cynthia's cheek, her bright red nail so close to the child's eye. Brows arched, she smiled without artiface. "Oh, we're going to have so much fun."

Tired, sore and sweaty, William entered the house after his aunt put him through the wringer and went to take a shower. After the shower, he went to his room and spent some time looking into stories and myths about Mab, the Sidhe, the fey folk and the Unseelie. Time slipped by and his rumbling stomach rebelled against his five-hour abstinence from food. He was a teenager, that's not how these things worked.

William loved his father, but he didn't want some fancy meal with imported ingredients. He wanted a burger, maybe two. Some American cheese, bacon and ketchup on top and some fries on the side sounded like heaven. Needing an ally to push back against Finn's culinary extravagances, he went to recruit Cynthia.

She was laying on her bed, sound asleep.

"Wake up, lazy bones. It's almost dinner time." She didn't stir. "Cynthia, get up." She didn't stir. "Hey." He shook her arm. She didn't stir. "Cynthia!" Checking, he saw that she was breathing.

"MOM! MOM!"

Jennifer rushed up the stairs as fast as she could. The remnants of her stroke still affected her balance, but she struggled to hurry when she heard her son's tone. Following his voice to Cynthia's room, she saw him holding her hand and patting her cheek.

"Cynthia, get up. Cynthia, please, please, just get up."

Checking for breath and then her daughter's pulse, Jennifer's voice was tight and controlled as she spoke to her son. "William, call Dr. Khalil. Right now. Tell her we need her here, immediately."

Finn returned from the fish market he was part owner of to find a number of cars in the driveway. As he stepped up the porch towards the front door, Jim, the man who headed up their security, burst through the door carrying Cynthia. Jennifer and Dr. Stacy Khalil were right behind him. His wife fell into his arms.

"Finn, they can't... They can't wake her. Stacy's taking her to the clinic. Finn, what if..."

He pulled her tight. "It'll be okay. Whatever it is, it'll be okay."

William convinced his parents that he should stay home. He was afraid that they would think he was selfish or didn't care, but he didn't have a choice. Once they were all gone, he sent an email to Alistair, an almost-uncle who had dealings with the more-than-natural. If anyone could help them, it was Alistair.

Alistair,

Cynthia is sick or something. She won't wake up. This is crazy, but I think she's in the dream places she goes to and can't get out. We think that some fairy or demon or something named Mab is taking kids and has been for a long time. Somehow, she's connected to the spiders I was asking about. This is the location for where the nest is. Do spiders have nests? I don't know. Whatever. They are in the trees to the south east just after you enter. 41.0650° N, 71.8755° W

I know that I sound crazy. Mom said that Cynthia took a nap after killing a spider that was crawling near Marissa. That can't be a coincidence, right?

I'm going to try to get her back. Please, please help. If you can, get Cynthia first. I'll figure out something for me if I have to.

Please come quick! She's my sister.

William

He had been preparing since Cynthia first spoke to him about her concerns. In a larger sense, he had been preparing all his life. His great-grandfather had been a decorated police officer who retired as Suffolk County Police Chief. The uncle William was named for had been an NYPD detective. The man in charge of his father's security and his Aunt Daisy both told him tales of George, the mentor to both of them who had kept his Great-Aunt Cynthia safe. No one ever said it aloud, but Aunt Daisy was the Corrigan family's protector.

William came from a proud line of people that put themselves in front of danger for those that they loved. He idolized his Aunt Daisy and was determined to follow in her footsteps. If his sister was in danger, William was going to confront that threat. It was time to arm himself.

Going to his room, he dug out the necklace and bracelet his mother had given him. Running down to the basement, he went into Finn's workshop, scraped up some detritus and put it in a bag. He grabbed the small fan they kept in the Jennifer's office and then ran back upstairs. Reaching under his bed, he pulled out his prized possession.

His Uncle Tommy's father had a chain of Jiu Jitsu schools. Tommy studied under him and that's where he met Aunt Daisy. Mr. Oliviera was a very nice man and knew a lot of stuff. Years before, when Krampus tried to take Cynthia, he touched her crib and was thrown back against the wall, his skin smoking. William took a slat from the crib and Mr. Oliviera showed him how to carve and whittle it down into the shape of a sword.

The man took delight in teaching William Iajutsu and the proper use of the bokken. He had no other students in the art form he had spent years learning and the boy soaked it up like a sponge.

It had taken some searching, but four days earlier William had found a mail-order company that sold oddly named brass-knuckles that were made of iron. He changed into his gi, slipped a set of iron-knuckles on each hand, put the bag and fan in the pockets of his coat and strapped the bokken to his waist.

Laying down on Cynthia's bed, he clutched the necklace. Time ticked by and he started to feel silly. Contemplating getting up, he gave himself another five minutes. Counting the seconds off, he got to two minutes and forty seconds when he felt oddly loose and disconnected from the bed. Within another minute, he was asleep.

The court was filled with the servants of Mab, all dressed in finery. Her retinue stood closest to her, knights, dukes, princes of the realm and various gentry. Some were human, many were far from it. A small troupe of players performed atonal compositions, and everyone smiled at all times.

Cynthia stood closest to the throne, glowing red runes in a circle on the floor surrounding her.

William slipped through the crowd, beneath their notice and contempt. His parents were billionaires and he had gone to many galas attended by politicians and social elites. None of them prepared him for this. No one here seemed to be having fun. There was a tight nervousness to their smiles and a formality to their movements. As he neared the outer-circle of nobility, Mab waved her arm, silenced the crowd and turned to him wide-eyed with a smile on her face.

"Welcome, welcome, welcome! I see that you are fascinated with my protégé." She waved her hand towards Cynthia. "You must be the Boy of Books. I have absolutely no idea how you found your way here, but I have to say, I'm simply delighted that you have joined us. She feels so strongly, doesn't she? It just rolls off of her. Can you see it, Boy? I can. It's delicious. She loves you and is frightened for you. Don't fret, you tasty, tasty Boy, that love will die a little every day until you are a tiny wisp of a fragment of a memory."

Reaching over, Mab took some of her rock-candy and crunched loudly. Eyeing William up and down, she slowly licked her lips. The crowd parted and a tall, thin man stepped forward. A sword hung at his side and he wore gleaming light armor.

"And so well dressed. I just a love a bold fashion sense. Tell me, Boy, did your necklace and bracelet help you get here?" She gestured to the smooth glowing stones he wore as jewelry.

The stones had been his treasures as a young child. To his eye, each was beautiful and exceedingly rare. He had hunted them down on the beach behind his house and saved them in a shoebox in his room. When his mother traveled to Uluru in Australia and entered the Dreamtime, she had them with her. Fashioned into jewelry upon her return, they were a gift to her beloved son.

When he didn't reply, she continued. "Powerful trinkets and baubles, child of Man. I like you. Impressive, wily and resourceful. Big things are in your future, Boy. Big, big things. You won't be serving in the kitchens or in pieces on the platters, no, not you. And what is that at your waist? A toy sword? We shall fetch you a true sword, forged from the cold remains of a dead sun and sharpened with the nightmares of the lost. My Champion will show you how to wield it. He is away putting down someone who thought themselves my rival, but returns to us shortly."

William seemed resolute and his face betrayed his cold anger. "It's not a toy. It's a bokken, and I already know how to use it."

Mab appeared to recognize the controlled anger and smiled. "You are just cute as the dickens and I'm sure your bones will be as sweet as you are. Shall we assume that you are here to rescue your sister, the mischievous damsel in distress?" She winked at William. "My representative is ready, Sir. You have the right to the choice of weapons. What shall you choose, Good Sir Knight? Longsword? Rapier? Epee? Glaive? This bokken thing?"

William looked from the man in the fancy armor, with fine features and slightly pointed ears to the beautiful but fearsome woman sitting on the black throne. The man was intimidating and made William wonder how much scarier her champion would have been. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a large felt pouch and then reached into the other side and pulled out a bulky twelve-inch by twelve-inch plastic machine.

"I choose battery-operated fans and iron filings."

The knight appeared confused and a look of horror overtook Mab's face. She began to scream as William turned on the fan, pointed it at the man in the armor and poured out some of the iron.

Her voice changed again from the amused and mellifluous to primal and terrifying. "RUN!"

The fan blew some of the filings at the knight, but William had plenty more. The bulk struck the tall man and he fell screaming. Steaming pock-marks appeared on his face and he lay on the ground, clutching his head and rolling back and forth. Mab's throne was here and then was suddenly there. In the blink of an eye, it had moved hundreds of feet away.

Others caught in the periphery by some of the filings also screamed, but ran towards the exits. Three other impossibly tall men approached from different directions. They dressed like the knight and had swords drawn. William spun in a semi-circle, crouching low and blowing more iron up and towards his opponents. Two went down, followed by many bystanders. The third hid behind his long cloak, which he then threw to the ground.

As the final knight approached, William shook the last of his filings to the top of the bag and then tossed it in an arc towards Cynthia's prison. The runes grew bright, crackled and then faded and died.

William had never heard an intimidating high-pitched voice until the knight spoke. "No more tricks, boy. You have eliminated three of my rivals and I will move up in my Lady's esteem." He bowed. "My thanks. I'll make your death quick."

Holding his long sword to his side loosely, his wrist relaxed, the knight's speed belied his languid appearance. Closing their distance in one side step, he lunged forward one-handed, aiming for the boy's chest. William's bokken flew from his waist upward and in an arc, blue lightning shimmered around its edges as the knight's sword was pushed to the side. At the apex of the bokken's turn, William stepped forward and changed the trajectory. It crashed down on the knight's forehead, flaring again, and the man lay on the ground, unmoving.

William turned to his sister to see her moving slowly, lethargically towards him. She appeared drugged and was stumbling and shuffling. As he began to rush to her side, he caught a glimpse of something falling. Diving to the side, an inhumanly large spider stood between William and Cynthia. With its legs, it had to be 14 feet in diameter. A garbled mix of chittering and moaning came from its ape-like mouth and William felt as if he could almost make out words.

When the spider spit at the boy, he rolled to his left. One of the giant legs was crashing towards him as he rose and William struck with his bokken. Blue light flared as the wood slammed into the leg and there was a sickening cracking sound as the broken appendage twitched and fluttered. Using the momentum to carry him forward, he took three large steps and lunged, swiping at one of the creature's many eyes. There was a popping sound and a thick reddish-gray liquid ran from the ruined orb.

William rolled again to his left and back, sprang up and took two steps backwards. The creature pivoted and spit again. Diving to his right, the boy avoided the black phlegm. Peripheral vision picking up movement, William saw a goblet hurtling towards his head. Jumping to the side, he avoided the projectile but was struck by more spittle.

Wiping it from his face with his sleeve, his arm felt incredibly heavy. He managed to raise the bokken as a leg came his way and the spider lost another appendage. Trying to step forward, his legs refused to obey and he fell to the ground. He couldn't move as he felt hands grab and lift him.

Mab now had a matching set of remarkable children.

Stepping out of Catch a Rising Star on 78th, Cynthia breathed deeply of the night air and waited for her friend. Watching a young George Carlin perform live was one of the perks of being sent back in time so that Jennifer and Finn could have a life together. Having her 74-year-old lungs taking in the air in a smoke-filled comedy club wasn't.

She had forgotten how ubiquitous cigarette smoke was in the 1970s.

Marie St. Croix joined her a few minutes later and they hailed a cab that took them to Patsy's in the theater district. The food was always outstanding, and it had the added bonus of being frequented by Sinatra and other celebrities who didn't want to venture down to Little Italy.

Enjoying their late dinner, Cynthia looked over at her friend. "Okay, Marie. So, what's going on? You insist that we get together, which is fine, but it had to be today. You use the pretense of Carlin to get me into the city, but I know there's something else going on. Spill."

Her friend had poured some salt on the tablecloth and was using her finger to draw glyphs in the grains. "You know that I pray for you and I listen to the loa. Erzulie whispers in my ear and I listen. Two children are trapped in Dreamtime. They are of you... and are not. I don't fully understand this. One bears your name, the other is her brother. They are so close to you that I cry when Erzulie allows me to hear their pleas, but again... it's not you. Maybe a twin?"

All thoughts of hunger banished, Cynthia pushed her plate to the side. "Why are they stuck? How?"

Marie paused and looked at her friend. Fear marked her own face, determination showed on Cynthia's.

"Mab."

"Son of a... C'mon, we need to go."

Cynthia dropped a hundred on the table and the two of them left. Another cab left them in front of Marie's bookstore in Greenwich Village and they went up to the apartment above it. She made some calls and had an employee drive what she needed into the city. He arrived with a sigil laden wooden box, a small porcelain box and a pair of boots.

Marie looked at her friend, the concern obvious. "Cynthia, are you sure you wish to attempt this? You... My friend, you are not..."

Smiling, Cynthia took her friend's hand. "You can say it, Marie. I'm old. I know who and what I am. I love you for caring, but I'm beyond vanity. I was beautiful once, but I own a mirror. Don't worry, I'm stronger than I seem. I've been thrust into the fire and had my weaknesses hammered out again and again and again. The things I've been through made me... Different is a good word, I guess, but also stronger."

"Yes, but Mab?"

Patting her friend's hand, Cynthia continued. "It doesn't matter. She has them and they are the grandchildren of my heart. All I've been doing is marking time until my death. Everything that I've loved is either gone or out of reach. I survive on hope for others, dreams of what could have been and a certitude that I helped ensure what should be, even if it wasn't for myself. Those children are proof that my sacrifices meant something. I don't care if it's Mab or Satan himself. I'm going to go get them and if Mab's as cunning as we think, she should get the hell out of my way."

Marie was frowning. "My friend... your hands are shaking. This... it may be too much."

Holding her hands up, Cynthia looked at them. Her smile grew tight and her eyes narrowed. "Yes, they are, aren't they? It's not fear, Marie. It's not age. It's adrenaline. I'm needed again. You have no idea how that feels. One more adventure, my friend. I'm going to kick that bitch's ass and get my grandchildren. It's going to be epic."

Marie's expression shifted from concerned to a mix of amazed and afraid. "Who are you?"

"Someone ready to live again. This is likely my last rodeo, Marie. I'm going to kick down doors, beat some asses, get my grandkids and save the day. Then I'll come back and live out my days as a quaint old lady that people call eccentric instead of nuts because she has money. One last ride, my friend. One last ride."

Cynthia had traversed the space between time too frequently and had visited the terrifying realm between Then and Now where her sanity grew ever more fragile, but her power and sense of self became stronger. Every voyage there both cost her and gifted her. She had also been to the world of dreams before and did battle there.

If William and Cynthia were being held in Dream, she would lay waste to the pillars of that world to get them back.

Marie had friends and rituals that could grant her entry.

Eight hours later, she was wearing her custom boots and clutching the box with her provisions in one hand while sipping the tea Marie made with the other. The floor surrounding the couch was covered in chalk-drawn symbols and four women joined Marie in chanting. Draining the last dregs of the tea, Cynthia lay down and stared at the ceiling.

"Marie, I don't feel any different. I don't think this..."

And she was out.

The laughter was a bit too loud and a tad too shrill, but everyone was having a wonderful time as they attested to anyone listening. Glasses clinked and toasts were raised, all to their hostess, Mab, the Mistress of Dreams. Her mood had alternated between dour and jubilant. Mab, who never lost anything she wanted to keep, had lost half her servants. What she received in return, though, thrilled her in a way she hadn't felt in centuries.

Recent petitioners had been either rewarded beyond their aspirations or tortured beyond their bearing. Representatives from other Principalities trod lightly and found excuses to return to their realms. She alternated between capricious and calculating, often trotting out her new pet boy and girl, a matching set. Everyone was delighted to see them, and they were the highlight of the party. Everyone said so, so it must be true. There would be polite clapping of hands or appropriate appendages and murmurs of oohs and aahhs.

Neither disgusting human guests of honor nor Mab's whimsical nature dimmed the luster of the endless soiree. All guests were delighted to be in her presence, whether they could leave or not.

The Grand Hall was always in the same place, but shifted its appearance constantly. That night, it was outdoors under a star-swept sky. A chill breeze swept through the hall and branches on the newly created trees shivered, their creaking resembling high-pitched moans. Limbs reached towards the guests, hoping for contact with the living.