“NEW STUDENTS DROP YOUR VALUABLES IN THE SLOT AND KNOCK TWICE.”
Felicity’s cheeks inflamed, red like roses, red like a virus. She wasn’t sure what it meant. Why was she here? She had been running away from her old life and into a new one, why had she brought nothing with her? She began to feel stupid, like a floundering baby bird. One pushed from the nest whom didn’t fly, didn’t die either when hitting the ground; rather just sitting there, hopelessly useless, waiting to be saved.
But… Felicity straightened and squared her shoulders. That was the old her. She couldn’t be her anymore, not that girl. Anything but. Something inside of her was now running on spite, propelling her forward no matter what. The door wanted valuables? Well then, what did she have to give?
She shoved her gloved hand into her pocket, feeling nothing but the seam. She was clothed plainly in a black cotton shift and without jewelry. No cash, no furs, no gold. In fact, the only valuable she cared for anymore was Minnow, her cat. And she would rather have ended it all right then and there than part with her, that was unquestionable.
She stared at the sign. “I suppose I do have something.” she muttered. Something she was scared to lose, something too dear to part with, that might alter the trajectory of everything that was undeniably her.
She took her right and hand and gently pinched at the fingers of her left, sliding off a lace glove - one half of the armor her parents made her promised to wear at all times; to be so very careful of touching any living thing without it - and fed it into the slot.
————
Faye was in her office thumbing through junk mail when she heard the receptacle squeak open. A soft swish landed at the bottom, different than the tinkling of metal she usually heard. Two knocks hesitantly followed. Pausing, the thin pieces of paper bookmarked with each finger, and slid her eyes toward her calendar. No students were due today. Millie was at the scrap yard searching for useful tidbits. Who could possibly be here? A ball of terror formed in her throat, sinking down into her stomach, unfolding itself nicely around her organs. Her grip on the envelope tightened, ripping holes into a letter marked “PROTECTION PAYMENTS OVERDUE.”
Suddenly the door swung inward, and a sullen girl walked through. Faye breathed a sigh of relief. It was a girl, couldn’t be much older than 18, with red hair, pale skin and large watery eyes. One elegant glove adorned her hand - lace, traditional length, gracefully encompassing her arm. Faye couldn’t help but appraise the craftsmanship. It was perfect, impeccably sewn and embroidered with tiny black seeds. Faye would love something like that for the theater’s next ensemble. She noticed one was missing from the girl’s left arm - what a shame - and briefly wondered where it had gone. And for that matter, why was the girl wearing gloves at all? Faye was obsessed with aesthetics, yes, and understood the mercurial aspect of fashion quite well. But Faye could tell this was not necessarily a stylistic choice - the rest of the girl’s outfit was quite simple, though also well-sewn. Well, darling. Perhaps she had some scars to cover, wouldn’t be the strangest thing we’ve seen now, would it? Faye thought to herself.
Faye peered over her glasses to examine the girl’s face. Heart shaped, large forehead. Her eyes were grey and hopeless, searching Faye’s own for approval, answers of some kind. She held her hands clasped in front of her.
Although the Wandering Swan was primarily a way for Dorinne’s academy students to practice their illusory skills — charm demons luring mortals into buying tickets, to fund more fabulous productions — mortals wanting a job wandered in all the time. The watery eyes were a tell - the look of someone who had spent the night crying in despair before finding their way to her. She supposed the theater was a lighthouse of sorts, always pulling on those with a need for escape. Vesper had told her so after operating in this district.
The thing was, typically Dorinne’s accepted arcane beings. Demons, werewolves, vampires, fae. That being said, there were exceptions. A pair of daring scientists had recently breached their way into the supernatural realm, and after some careful diplomacy, found themselves as mortal allies. The Arcane aided in their human research with invaluable knowledge, and in turn the scientists lended their discoveries and medical breakthroughs. It was all quite unheard of and for the first time in a long time, there was a partnership between the natural and supernatural. And for this reason, Dorinne’s did occasionally accept mortal students to act as liaisons, especially those already born with a heightened awareness.
One thing was certain, no girl had ever arrived with such finely sewn gloves. They arrived in scratchy burlap, molded linen. They arrived with tear stains and dirt smudges and bruised bodies. Some without limbs, without sight, with disfigurement. Faye concluded some creatures felt this world’s kindness more than others.
In fact, the only time Faye saw fabrics such as these were those she liberated (ahem, stole) and left as offerings in Billie’s supply trunk. A fine seamstress, he them turned them into gorgeous bursts of attention: eye catching outfits for the wardrobe department, the glitter enough to spellbound new patrons into supporting them. She loved seeing her girls in the finest things life could have to offer. She wondered where this girl had acquired such fine lace fabric, briefly feeling a bit guilty for her selfish interest.
She relinquished her grip on the papers. “What’s your name, girl?”
The girl’s eyes, which had been studying the books in the shelves, landed squarely on Faye’s. She was silent for a moment, before her mouth opened and she quietly replied:
“Felicity.”
Faye studied her face. “And you’re here to enroll?”
Felicity blinked, not quite sure what the woman was getting at. Enroll at what? Was this an acting school? Her first impression was that of a cabaret theater. She hadn’t stopped to consider why she’d chosen to enter this place to begin with. Her feet had carried her out her front door and deposited her here without a single explanation. All she knew was she felt so utterly alone, so entirely unsure how to help herself, that she would have agreed to almost anything. She breathed in, taking a moment to survey her surroundings.
The small room was warm, a fire blazing in the hearth to her right. The walls were a dark forest green, plastered with design sketches, advertisements for past shows, and photographs of luxurious sets and beautiful cast members. A large bookshelf lined the wall to her left. The woman’s desk was cluttered with wrinkled paperwork, fat rings of spilt coffee soaked into the wood. Her blonde hair, brushed out pin curls, was set with so much hairspray it looked like a wig. She had blood red nails that formed small oval talons, lips to match. Her outfit was entirely, head to toe, leopard print.
“Please,” Felicity despised the quiver she heard in her own voice.
Faye shuffled her papers and set them on her desk. She leaned to her left, opening a creaking drawer and removing a fat pad of paper. Her slender fingers clicked a pen, and she learned forward to scrawl notes as Faye peppered her with questions.
“Few questions first, okay darling? Then we’ll see if we can send you through to admissions.”
Felicity felt her muscles tensing. Terrified, she wondered if this was some sort of test, that she would answer everything incorrectly and inevitably fail. The woman in front of her seemed to notice, and warmly interrupted her despair.
“It’s alright, love. My name’s Faye. Once upon a time I was new here too, I know how it feels. But nowadays, I help potential students find their way here at Dorinne’s. But either way, we’ll take care of you, okay?” She smiled at Felicity, the sincerity reaching her eyes and wrapping around her heart like a firm hug. She nodded.
Faye rose, walking to the overstuffed armchair that guarded the fireplace and pressed her hands against the back, sliding it across the carpet and to her desk. She patted it, small poofs of dust rising each time, and beckoned Felicity over. “Sit, darling. We won’t be long. Can I get you some warm cider to drink?” Before Felicity could answer, Faye was already pouring a fragrant stream into a mug, placing it before her. Felicity wrapped her fingers around it, the steam kissing her face, notes of cinnamon and sharp apple. She settled into the chair and gratefully drank.
“Now, not to sound elitist darling, but I’m afraid Dorinne’s is quite strict on only accepting exceptional talent. The school is looking for irreplaceable candidates, talented young individuals with unwavering loyalty and promising aptitude. But before we get into that, we need to know a little about your background. Tell me about your parents.”
Faye knew this was the hardest question of all to answer, but she always lead with it. Sure, they were allowed to accept mortal students into the academy, but they were not kidnappers. If a child came to them underage, no matter which hidden talent or magic they possessed, they could not simply spirit away runaways. Faye had quite a bit of paperwork to sift through tonight, and if this young charge had parents that would come beating down her door, she unfortunately would have to bid her goodbye.
“They died last week.” Felicity said flatly. “Jack and Pippa Belmont. The department of eradication got them,”
Faye dropped her pen. “My dear, that’s… that’s impossible. I happened to know Jack and Pippa. They had no children.”
Felicity grimaced and shook her head, gently setting the mug on the desk and folding her arms across her body. “They adopted me from Rosebriar when I was four. After they took me in, we had an accident, and I wasn’t allowed to leave the house since. No one really knows I even exist.” She shrugged helplessly.
Faye was speechless. She highly respected Jack and Pippa. Yes, they were denigrated as delusional by some but… Faye had always considered them benevolent allies - capable of bridging the gap between mortal and arcane, frequently proving they hoped to use their power to help Faye’s kind. And this revelation, this confession - well, it was completely out of character. The Belmonts, hide away a child? For decades? No, absolutely not. The girl had to be sick, lying, or both.
Faye was still deep in her doubt when she felt a small tickle upon her hand. It travelled further, circling around her wrist, becoming more and more prominent until her focus was wrenched away from the girl’s confession. She briefly looked down, to brush away the sensation, and screamed when she realized a fat spider was scurrying across her desk. She grabbed her stack of loose papers, raised them above her head, quickly bringing them down upon the intruder, over and over, until its furry body lay flat. It was squished into the middle ring of a cider stain.
Faye yelped again when Felicity interrupted her, throwing her papers into the air in surprise. “I know you think I’m lying. Probably everyone will. I don’t know what to do about that. I don’t know what to do about anything anymore, Faye. It’s only a matter of time before they find out about me. Before they hunt me down. I’ll tell you everything, anything you want, just please… please. I have no one. I know you can help me. Just… please.”
Faye stood still as a statue, loose papers leafing down around her. The initial calm she’d felt at noticing it was just a girl who’d entered - nothing frightening, just a simple girl - was slowly dissipating into a fine dread. She was an empathetic woman, yes, but this was beyond anything she’d handled before. She could feel the desire to help this girl, shuttering inside like a store closing up shop, the lights going out one by one, and it made her feel irredeemably selfish.
The Wandering Swan was, undeniably, in dire straits. They’d had a string of problems lately. A string of secrets she was desperate to keep tightly wound. To add in a secret child on the run? With dead parents of prominently controversial origin? Well, Faye didn’t even know where to begin with that. With the sort of scrutiny that would bring upon her. She just wasn’t… But then again, for Pippa…
Faye was locked in an internal battle — her morals busy fighting each other to the death — and had not noticed Felicity rising from the stuffed chair. Her feet padded slowly to the desk, eyes cast downwards. Reaching out, she touched the flattened spider with the tip of her ungloved hand, and Faye saw it spring immediately back to life, running as fast as its little legs could go. It was headed in Faye’s direction, scurrying closer, and closer, before Felicity touched it again and it died, curling into a black fray of legs.
“They gave me the gift of life, Faye.”