Scarlett
Chapter 1
Face pressed to the ground, she attempted to roll over. Pressure like a huge animal sat on her back, holding her down. Blackness surrounded her, invading her eyes like a physical entity, blinding her. She struggled to lift a single finger, just one. Tension thrummed through her muscles as she struggled to shift some part of her body, any part. A sense of dread clogged her throat as she silently commanded her limbs to move. Struggling to breathe liquid air, she whimpered in despair and…
And woke up. Scarlett rolled onto her back to stare at the ceiling. The wooden slats seemed reassuring as she traced their familiar lines. Each morning, Scarlett would gaze up at the dark rich boards that made up the interior of her bedroom wait a moment for the residue of the dream to pass before sitting up in bed. At least lately, it was every morning.
Swinging her feet out to lightly touch the floor, Scarlett rubbed her hands through her tangled hair. With a sigh, she remembered the meeting and forced herself out of bed. Thankful for the summer heat that keep her floor warm through the night, she walked across her bedroom and felt softly sanded boards beneath her feet. In the bathroom, she popped open the window to let some light in so she could see herself in the mirror. She picked up a brush and ran it through her brilliant red hair. The colour still startled her; it was the only obvious sigh of her transformation.
Pausing to stare into her yellowish-green eyes, she felt the horror of her dream come over her, making her clutch her washstand to steady herself. Breathing deeply, her hands gripping the washbowl she leaned forward as she reminded herself that it was over, both the dream and the past. Letting go of the basin she straightened up and brushed her hair a couple more times before tying it back so she could splash water on her face. The cold water helped wake her up and dispel the dream, allowing Scarlett to focus on the day ahead.
Letting her hair down, she walked back through her bedroom to the closet. Although she cautioned to always dress for a fight, Scarlett defied that and chose a dark calf-length skirt. The sheer fabric would be nice and cool and she didn’t feel like sweating all day. She picked an equally lightweight top in a bronze colour that went well with her hair. Her only concession to ‘fight’ clothes was a pair of spandex shorts hidden under the skirt and a sports bra. She did a quick high kick and decided the outfit didn’t hinder her movements at all, even if it was a tad unconventional.
She looked over her collection of whips and chose one that matched her skirt. Carefully wrapping it around her waist, she made it into a belt. She selected a leather cuff to tie around her left wrist and checked that the silver needle was in its tiny sheath. The sandals she picked were inappropriate for fighting and chosen partly for comfort but mostly to annoy. Grabbing her purse, she slung it so the strap crossed her chest before checking that the silver knife was inside. Examining her outfit in the mirror, Scarlett felt satisfied that she was armed and dangerous but didn’t look it.
Within twenty minutes, Scarlett was ready to leave. She glanced around her kitchen as she opened the door and, deciding to ignore the mess again, walked outside to her tiny porch. Closing the door tightly, she grabbed a branch for balance as she stepped across to a tree limb so she had a clear view of the ground. Scanning the area carefully, she grabbed a lower branch and swung down to land on the ground in a crouch.
Straightening up, Scarlett double checked to make sure no one had seen her and then, because she could never resist, she glanced up to confirm the fairy glamour hid her home. With a smile of satisfaction, she wove her way through the trees and stepped through an opening in a hedge out onto a hot sidewalk in a bustling city. The noise assaulted her ears but Scarlett’s smile grew as she turned left and strolled to her favourite café. She had enough time to pick up coffee and a light snack for breakfast.
Heat and noise swirled around her, energising her, lifting her spirits and chasing away the last remnants of the dream. What Scarlett really wanted was to live in the city, not in a park in the city. Strolling slowly as heat rose of the sidewalk in waves that warmed her legs, she imaged what it would be like to live here, where she could feel the heartbeat of the city. Each apartment building she passed, she would try to picture the interiors, but she found it difficult. She didn’t find it difficult to imagine the interior space but it was difficult to picture herself living there.
A passing car furled her skirt around her calves and whipped her hair into her face as a newspaper headline stopped her dead. Scarlett set off again at a faster pace, wondering if that headline had anything to do with the meeting today.
And woke up. Scarlett rolled onto her back to stare at the ceiling. The wooden slats seemed reassuring as she traced their familiar lines. Each morning, Scarlett would gaze up at the dark rich boards that made up the interior of her bedroom wait a moment for the residue of the dream to pass before sitting up in bed. At least lately, it was every morning.
Swinging her feet out to lightly touch the floor, Scarlett rubbed her hands through her tangled hair. With a sigh, she remembered the meeting and forced herself out of bed. Thankful for the summer heat that keep her floor warm through the night, she walked across her bedroom and felt softly sanded boards beneath her feet. In the bathroom, she popped open the window to let some light in so she could see herself in the mirror. She picked up a brush and ran it through her brilliant red hair. The colour still startled her; it was the only obvious sigh of her transformation.
Pausing to stare into her yellowish-green eyes, she felt the horror of her dream come over her, making her clutch her washstand to steady herself. Breathing deeply, her hands gripping the washbowl she leaned forward as she reminded herself that it was over, both the dream and the past. Letting go of the basin she straightened up and brushed her hair a couple more times before tying it back so she could splash water on her face. The cold water helped wake her up and dispel the dream, allowing Scarlett to focus on the day ahead.
Letting her hair down, she walked back through her bedroom to the closet. Although she cautioned to always dress for a fight, Scarlett defied that and chose a dark calf-length skirt. The sheer fabric would be nice and cool and she didn’t feel like sweating all day. She picked an equally lightweight top in a bronze colour that went well with her hair. Her only concession to ‘fight’ clothes was a pair of spandex shorts hidden under the skirt and a sports bra. She did a quick high kick and decided the outfit didn’t hinder her movements at all, even if it was a tad unconventional.
She looked over her collection of whips and chose one that matched her skirt. Carefully wrapping it around her waist, she made it into a belt. She selected a leather cuff to tie around her left wrist and checked that the silver needle was in its tiny sheath. The sandals she picked were inappropriate for fighting and chosen partly for comfort but mostly to annoy. Grabbing her purse, she slung it so the strap crossed her chest before checking that the silver knife was inside. Examining her outfit in the mirror, Scarlett felt satisfied that she was armed and dangerous but didn’t look it.
Within twenty minutes, Scarlett was ready to leave. She glanced around her kitchen as she opened the door and, deciding to ignore the mess again, walked outside to her tiny porch. Closing the door tightly, she grabbed a branch for balance as she stepped across to a tree limb so she had a clear view of the ground. Scanning the area carefully, she grabbed a lower branch and swung down to land on the ground in a crouch.
Straightening up, Scarlett double checked to make sure no one had seen her and then, because she could never resist, she glanced up to confirm the fairy glamour hid her home. With a smile of satisfaction, she wove her way through the trees and stepped through an opening in a hedge out onto a hot sidewalk in a bustling city. The noise assaulted her ears but Scarlett’s smile grew as she turned left and strolled to her favourite café. She had enough time to pick up coffee and a light snack for breakfast.
Heat and noise swirled around her, energising her, lifting her spirits and chasing away the last remnants of the dream. What Scarlett really wanted was to live in the city, not in a park in the city. Strolling slowly as heat rose of the sidewalk in waves that warmed her legs, she imaged what it would be like to live here, where she could feel the heartbeat of the city. Each apartment building she passed, she would try to picture the interiors, but she found it difficult. She didn’t find it difficult to imagine the interior space but it was difficult to picture herself living there.
A passing car furled her skirt around her calves and whipped her hair into her face as a newspaper headline stopped her dead. Scarlett set off again at a faster pace, wondering if that headline had anything to do with the meeting today.
Chapter 2
Entering the room, Scarlett found the place set up with rows of chairs facing the wall opposite from the door she just walked through. A table set up just to the right of the door had two women seated behind it. The older of the two had a laptop open in front of her while the younger woman gave Scarlett the once over, trying to decide if she belonged. The older woman nudged the younger and whispered something. Scarlett didn’t hear what was said but she thought she could guess when the younger woman’s eyes widened in surprise. For just a moment, the woman looked impressed but that transformed to challenge.
Scarlett sighed as she stepped over to the table to check in. The younger woman briefly searched the table and then held out a label with Scarlett’s name on it. Scarlett had to set down her coffee cup while she peeled and suck on the label. Because of the challenge coming off the younger woman, Scarlett didn’t waste time with small talk. Snatching up her coffee cup, Scarlett hurried away from the uncomfortable situation.
Scarlett spotted the impeccably dressed Ms. Chèvre looking as severe as an old-fashioned librarian. Quickly changing direction, Scarlett almost bumped into another table she hadn’t noticed when she entered but she successfully negotiated her way around it. Looking at the piles of folders covering the surface, Scarlett felt a surge of relief that she hadn’t knocked that to the floor. Slowing to take a sip of her coffee, she leaned against a wall to watch people arrive. She hadn’t expected so many to show up today. The Huntsman’s message invited her made it sound important but not critical so the large number of members was a surprise. Scarlett was positive there weren’t that many members living in the area so most of them must have travelled to be here.
Just then, she noticed three black haired women walk through the door. Her feet were moving her away before she even thought about it. Scarlett didn’t mind Faith but putting up with Charity’s bubbly personality today was just too much for her to deal with. Walking close to the wall, Scarlett made her way toward the front of the conference.
At the fifth row, a waving hand drew her attention to a tiny blonde woman sitting a couple of chairs in from the end. The blonde stopped waving as soon as she had Scarlett’s attention and, with a nod, indicated Scarlett should take the sit beside her. Scarlett nodded in return, thinking that Gretel was much better company than Ms. Chèvre or the Praščić sisters. With long quick strides, Scarlett reached the blonde just as the tiny woman folded up a newspaper and slid it under her seat.
“You see the headline?” Scarlett asked the blonde as she sat down.
“Yes, Hansel was very upset.” Gretel’s blue eyes looked particularly large under the cold florescent lighting. The harsh sterile conference made Gretel look even more delicate than normal. Stretching to peer around she murmured, “There certainly are a lot of us here.”
“Yeah,” Scarlett agreed. “I didn’t think anything could pry Ms. Chèvre out of retirement.”
“Neither did I,” Hansel replied as he arrived with two coffees in his hands. Handing his sister one cup, he quickly settled into the chair on the other side of Gretel.
“You changed your look,” Scarlett commented as she noticed his new short spiky hair cut.
Hansel wrapped his free hand around his sister’s waist and placing his chin on her shoulder, offered Scarlett a smile. “Yes, the long hair was getting in my way all the time. I’m trying to convince Gretel to do the same.” He gave his sister a squeeze and a kiss on the cheek.
"It's so much more attractive this way," Gretel stated as she reached up to run her fingers through her brother’s hair. Smiling she looked at Scarlett, "We haven’t seen you in quite a while.”
“Yeah, been busy with the usual,” she commented, feeling slightly embarrassed. It was hard to pinpoint why but something in the way the brother and sister interacted always made Scarlett a little uncomfortable. With her hand still in her brother’s hair, Gretel gave the room another scan.
Suddenly, Gretel giggled, “Ms. Chèvre disapproves.”
“Of what?” Hansel asked, tilting his head to look in Ms. Chèvre's direction.
“Everything,” Scarlett whispered as the last people slid into their seats and the room grew quiet as the Huntsman held up his hands.
Watching him as he lowered his hands and thanked everyone for showing up, Scarlett reflected that she always thought of him as the Huntsman, never thinking of him by his name, Raynor Baldomar. Dressed in perfect pristine white, the Huntsman was a striking figure. A memory of his face flashed in her mind. Those deep-set dark brown eyes peering at her from under that heavy forehead as she blinked in the light. It took her a while before she was able to see anything other than those piercing eyes. His shoulder length black hair was stuck to his sweaty face, outlining his firm jawline. The memory was so clear that fear momentarily gripped her. With a shiver, Scarlett shoved that memory away and looked around as the Huntsman rambled on about the importance of their work.
Her wandering gaze noticed another man standing off to the side. He stood so straight that, for a moment, Scarlett thought he had military training but she decided the stiffness was just tension. Men were so rare that Scarlett’s interest was piqued. Sitting up as tall as she could so she could peer over everyone, Scarlett tried to get a better look at him. His pale blonde hair hung into his eyes and scruffy unshaved chin gave him a roguish appearance. Dressed head to toe in black, the dark colours made his pale skin stand out in an almost spooky way. She was near enough to see his light blue-grey eyes and, when they glanced her way, she felt a little burned by the intensity of his look. She wondered if that burning intensity was the result of his rebirth or if he had actually been born with those eyes.
“And this is Peter Oxothиk,” the Huntsman announced with a grand gesture. “Our newest member.”
Peter, the man Scarlett had her eye on, walked over to stand next to the Huntsman. They made a striking pair, like a study in opposites. Scarlett wondered if they planned their wardrobe for the affect but dismissed the idea as silly. Men didn’t co-ordinate their clothes. The Huntsman loomed over Peter in an almost menacing way, his dark colouring making him seem sinister.
Scarlett sighed as she stepped over to the table to check in. The younger woman briefly searched the table and then held out a label with Scarlett’s name on it. Scarlett had to set down her coffee cup while she peeled and suck on the label. Because of the challenge coming off the younger woman, Scarlett didn’t waste time with small talk. Snatching up her coffee cup, Scarlett hurried away from the uncomfortable situation.
Scarlett spotted the impeccably dressed Ms. Chèvre looking as severe as an old-fashioned librarian. Quickly changing direction, Scarlett almost bumped into another table she hadn’t noticed when she entered but she successfully negotiated her way around it. Looking at the piles of folders covering the surface, Scarlett felt a surge of relief that she hadn’t knocked that to the floor. Slowing to take a sip of her coffee, she leaned against a wall to watch people arrive. She hadn’t expected so many to show up today. The Huntsman’s message invited her made it sound important but not critical so the large number of members was a surprise. Scarlett was positive there weren’t that many members living in the area so most of them must have travelled to be here.
Just then, she noticed three black haired women walk through the door. Her feet were moving her away before she even thought about it. Scarlett didn’t mind Faith but putting up with Charity’s bubbly personality today was just too much for her to deal with. Walking close to the wall, Scarlett made her way toward the front of the conference.
At the fifth row, a waving hand drew her attention to a tiny blonde woman sitting a couple of chairs in from the end. The blonde stopped waving as soon as she had Scarlett’s attention and, with a nod, indicated Scarlett should take the sit beside her. Scarlett nodded in return, thinking that Gretel was much better company than Ms. Chèvre or the Praščić sisters. With long quick strides, Scarlett reached the blonde just as the tiny woman folded up a newspaper and slid it under her seat.
“You see the headline?” Scarlett asked the blonde as she sat down.
“Yes, Hansel was very upset.” Gretel’s blue eyes looked particularly large under the cold florescent lighting. The harsh sterile conference made Gretel look even more delicate than normal. Stretching to peer around she murmured, “There certainly are a lot of us here.”
“Yeah,” Scarlett agreed. “I didn’t think anything could pry Ms. Chèvre out of retirement.”
“Neither did I,” Hansel replied as he arrived with two coffees in his hands. Handing his sister one cup, he quickly settled into the chair on the other side of Gretel.
“You changed your look,” Scarlett commented as she noticed his new short spiky hair cut.
Hansel wrapped his free hand around his sister’s waist and placing his chin on her shoulder, offered Scarlett a smile. “Yes, the long hair was getting in my way all the time. I’m trying to convince Gretel to do the same.” He gave his sister a squeeze and a kiss on the cheek.
"It's so much more attractive this way," Gretel stated as she reached up to run her fingers through her brother’s hair. Smiling she looked at Scarlett, "We haven’t seen you in quite a while.”
“Yeah, been busy with the usual,” she commented, feeling slightly embarrassed. It was hard to pinpoint why but something in the way the brother and sister interacted always made Scarlett a little uncomfortable. With her hand still in her brother’s hair, Gretel gave the room another scan.
Suddenly, Gretel giggled, “Ms. Chèvre disapproves.”
“Of what?” Hansel asked, tilting his head to look in Ms. Chèvre's direction.
“Everything,” Scarlett whispered as the last people slid into their seats and the room grew quiet as the Huntsman held up his hands.
Watching him as he lowered his hands and thanked everyone for showing up, Scarlett reflected that she always thought of him as the Huntsman, never thinking of him by his name, Raynor Baldomar. Dressed in perfect pristine white, the Huntsman was a striking figure. A memory of his face flashed in her mind. Those deep-set dark brown eyes peering at her from under that heavy forehead as she blinked in the light. It took her a while before she was able to see anything other than those piercing eyes. His shoulder length black hair was stuck to his sweaty face, outlining his firm jawline. The memory was so clear that fear momentarily gripped her. With a shiver, Scarlett shoved that memory away and looked around as the Huntsman rambled on about the importance of their work.
Her wandering gaze noticed another man standing off to the side. He stood so straight that, for a moment, Scarlett thought he had military training but she decided the stiffness was just tension. Men were so rare that Scarlett’s interest was piqued. Sitting up as tall as she could so she could peer over everyone, Scarlett tried to get a better look at him. His pale blonde hair hung into his eyes and scruffy unshaved chin gave him a roguish appearance. Dressed head to toe in black, the dark colours made his pale skin stand out in an almost spooky way. She was near enough to see his light blue-grey eyes and, when they glanced her way, she felt a little burned by the intensity of his look. She wondered if that burning intensity was the result of his rebirth or if he had actually been born with those eyes.
“And this is Peter Oxothиk,” the Huntsman announced with a grand gesture. “Our newest member.”
Peter, the man Scarlett had her eye on, walked over to stand next to the Huntsman. They made a striking pair, like a study in opposites. Scarlett wondered if they planned their wardrobe for the affect but dismissed the idea as silly. Men didn’t co-ordinate their clothes. The Huntsman loomed over Peter in an almost menacing way, his dark colouring making him seem sinister.