“In the stories, didn’t the Fae leave a child of their own when they took a child?” Sam held the door for Marissa as he entered the hospital. He realised that the action was pointless, and let go. Marissa flinched as the door passed through her.
“Yeah, changelings. They were supposed to be a terror to raise, and their magic always screwed with people’s emotions. Fairies are all about balance. Take something, give something. Not sure where Mab was when they gave those lessons though.”
“Isn’t there a contract? A deal that was agreed upon?”
“I didn’t think it worked. The Fae that responded was supposed to feed on the berries, lavender, a bit of my life force and in return bless my womb. There was nothing about taking the baby, or me dying…” Marissa trailed off. “I don’t know. Things aren’t supposed to go this way, Sam.”
The hospital smelled just short of sterile. It was a uncomfortable smell, lingering in the nose. As if no matter how hard they scrubbed, or the chemicals they used, they couldn’t get the smell of death out of the walls. Harsh fluorescent lights painted the hallways pale. People passed Sam with their heads down, not wanting to see more suffering than they were here for.
A large and colourful mural greeted Sam as he entered Labour and Delivery. The large giraffe in the mural seemed to be leering at him as he passed. Knowing there was some kind of child stealing fairy lurking around, turned every attempt at making the ward cheerful into sinister.
“How does this normally work?” Marissa asked. “The detective stuff, that is.”
“I look at the scene, look for the clues, talk to witnesses, mayb-”
“Huh, what about that door?” Marissa interrupted. She pointed at an unmarked door down the hall.
“Why that door?” Sam walked over to it. It looked like every other door in the hall, minus a room number. “Probably just a storage closet.”
“Can’t you see it?” Marissa’s eyes were horrified. “There’s all these strange symbols around the door frame. Looks like it’s painted in blood?”
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
He had returned. Why had he returned? The magic had been cast. He shouldn’t remember his child. Was it the grief of losing his wife? Did that break the spell? Mab sat in her dark and cluttered throne room, a feeling of concern spreading inside her.
She had earned this. She had taken the child, having given her own essence to make sure it would be born. It was rightfully hers. This man had no claim. He had ruined his own life. Mab was just the one who exposed it. Why had he returned?
Her concern changed to indignation. He thought of himself as better. Just like they did when they cast her out. Everyone looked down on her. But she had survived. She had built this place herself. She had stolen others when they were not looking. Her will had kept her alive, stopped her from fading.
Was he the next step? Her way back to her rightful throne? Yes, his wife had changed him enough. Mab could bring this man into her hidden place. Feed from him. Use his life to go home. Strength. She needed more strength. Even to face this broken man.
She turned to the infant and began to feed on it. Caressing it, she felt the life power flow into her. Thoughts expanded and became more concrete. It wouldn’t be hard. She would simply open the door to him, and like all foolish mortals, he would willingly sign over his mind.
Stars above, she was hungry. How long had it been since she had fed? She had thought it had not been that long, but now she realised how close she had been to being a mindless monster, driven by instinct. Nearly feral. The child looked pale now, and let out soft cries as its life energy was siphoned off. Mab stopped feeding. She was still hungry, but if the child died she wouldn’t have anything to trade.
Mab looked around her throne room. It was dark and strewn with lifeless husks from past feedings. She needed it to be more presentable. A snap of her fingers made the room bright and spotless. It cost her more magic than she wanted, but was needed. The man needed to see her in a position where he couldn’t do anything but bargain with her. Bringing the child to her breast, she settled onto her throne.
She unlocked the door and waited.
Little Words, Big Dreams 