I've always known about the existence of fairies. Not the kind with the pretty pink petal dresses and little bells, oh and that sparkling dust that makes them fly. No, those kinds of faeries hide the truth so humans can sleep well at night. Well most humans, I personally sleep with one eye open and I'm considered a friend to the folk. True faeries, my bosses, are just as tall as you or I and covered in scaled skin. Their faces are angular and reptilian, with claws the size of my foot (when they want them, normally they go for a French manicured look) and eyes the size of the moon. I guess humans did get one thing right... every single one has pointed ears and a tinkling little laugh. Oh, and the best thing of all, they look just like any other human in the daylight. Guess that explains how my Dad knocked one up, yep... I'm the one and only hybrid human-faerie in the world, yippee!
Guess I should probably explain my mom wasn't the kind of stay at home and sing you to sleep kind. I was often found wandering the streets at night after my mom had become distracted by a bleeding human somewhere in the city. Raw meat is a big deal for faeries, they suspect they are what founded the vampire myth... if that gives you any hint as to their god awful diets. Luckily I escape that element of faerie genes, though I do love a burger on the rare side now and again.
Being the only human-faerie made me a target for both supernatural groups, the Weres and the Faeries. The Weres and the faeries have been at war for centuries, using every human conflict to hide each uprising, and I'm an asset to both sides. That's how I came to work for the Faeries; my mom was killed by the Alpha Wolf from a pack in New York City, right before my eyes. I hadn't decided where my loyalties lied before that point, but my mom's murder? Got to turn any kid a little bit nuts. So my insanity is utilised by the faerie queen (oh yes she's actually real, as old as dinosaurs), the faeries assassin... that's me. You, however, may know me by the term terrorist. Now I'm not proud of the human casualties but I have become a pawn in an ever desperate war, there are casualties everywhere.
It's one such job that I was pondering as I wait for my appointed audience with the Queen, sitting in her palace of gold and red. I hate it in here, the walls seem to drip with snobbery (is that a word?) and seem to sneer at anyone who dares to look at them. I spend my time contemplating the male fae who stands guard at the golden doors of the Queen's chambers. He stands a good 6 foot, with dark blue skin, slightly green towards the corners of his face. His arms ripple with muscle and his hair is a short, army buzz cut, which somehow makes him softer at the edges. He is unnerved by my stare, most fae are, I have only a slight level of the magic they posses but have no control over it, so it continuously flows from me, influencing the world to suit my needs. It scares the fae something awful. From birth they are taught control and the power of subtly, then there's me who they think has no problem altering the world and has enough power to do so. We could have won the war eons ago if they had only stopped beings so aloof when it comes to a few spells and chants.
'Courtab? You can go in now, she's ready...' his deep voice broke through my thoughts, dragging me back to the reality. I need to choose a new name; Courtab just doesn't register enough to get my attention. I stood up, barely acknowledging his words, walking through the now open doors. Here is a secret, how do you make magical ancient reptiles respect and fear a young human girl? Act like they should.
'Ahh Tia, how did you mission go?' The tinkling voice filled the room, leaving no room for whispered conversations, commanding all your attention.
'My Queen, I asked you not to call me that... You know Tia is no name from which to earn respect or fear!' I hate the name my mother gave me, it makes getting around in this man led world so much harder.
'Yes, yes, I'm sorry my dear but you know how much your late mother loved that name' I did. But the Queen hated my mom, I'm sure that the old bitch did it purely to ensure that I knew my place, I get the message, She is Not to be Threatened. Rounding the corner I finally came to rest before her, just beyond the reach of her golden dress (seriously? A gold dress? Could you get more cliché?). The Queen sat on her wooden throne, the story of the fae carved into every inch, her pale pink complexion at subtle contrast to the wood. Her dress hugged her form, buxom breasts almost spilling from the low cut top, a thin waist emphasised by flared hips. Her brown eyes carved into mine as she glowered down at me, clearly annoyed with my human form of respect.
'Tia, I have told you before! The fae do not kneel, it is a sign of weakness!' She tends to bark ever so slightly when she gets annoyed, plump lips pulling into a slight frown.
