Elliot paused, the decanter hovering over a pair of tumblers with his mind completely occupied with a thought that keeps popping up. "Margo... What if she doesn't take the deal? What if she just finds a way to circle back and screw us over? We aren't exactly dealing with a rational negotiator; we're dealing with a bug that thinks she's our owner."
Margo snatched her glass before he could even finish pouring, taking a sharp, restorative gulp. "Well, she better take the fucking deal, because I am officially retired from her 'Behind-the-Scenes' directorial production. This isn't an indie film, and I am not her lead actress. Although, no one else is more fitting to be the lead, but If she wants to play house in my kingdom, she's doing it in 4K resolution where everyone can see her glittering white asshole."
"I know she can't find them," Elliot said, finally filling his own glass. "Our cloaking spell is a masterpiece honestly, some of my best work. But what's to stop her from just saying 'fuck it' to a few eggs? I mean, she's got hundreds more. It's not like she's a helicopter parent; she's a swarm commander."
Margo slammed her glass down on the side table with a definitive clack. "Look here, Elliot. I really don't give a rat's ass or a fucking sparkling butterfly cunt. I just want that bitch to be exposed. We have given way too much to this damn place, blood, sweat, an eye and a truly tragic amount of high-end fashion for her to just waltz in and do whatever the fuck she wants, El. This is our castle, not her humidified terrarium."
Elliot leaned against the mantle, a slow smirk spreading across his face. "You're getting that 'Revolutionary Margo' glint in your eye. It's terrifying. I love it. But you know she's petty. She might come after you personally just to prove a point."
"She can come after me for all I care," Margo snapped, pacing the rug like a caged panther. "But if she does, I swear to God, I'm gonna shove my crown so far up her pixie-dusty ass she'll taste the jagged tips of my majesty. I'll make her royalty from the inside out."
Elliot winced, shifting uncomfortably. "Ouch. I felt that in my own royal anatomy. Remind me never to get on your bad side when you're wearing headwear."
He raised his glass in a solitary toast, "To High Queen Margo the one no one should fuck with and wait to find out: may her enemies be many, and their proctologists be very, very busy."
Margo stopped pacing, a look of profound, localized pride crossing her face. She smoothed her gown and took a slow, regal sip of her drink.
"I try, El," she purred. "I really do."
——-
The halls of Brakebills felt a lot more like a corporate takeover and a lot less like a magical university. Irene McAllister had officially bought the school right out from under Fogg's nose, which honestly wasn't that surprising. Fogg was expensive to maintain, and Irene had the kind of checkbook that could buy the moon if she thought there was a tax break in it.
Besides, Kai had already dropped a "Heads up, the shark is in the water" warning about Irene weeks ago. Julia wasn't shocked; she was just annoyed she had to deal with a billionaire while the world was literally falling apart.
But she had bigger fish to fry or rather, some sparkly people to save. Julia had done a little "freelance investigative snooping" (which is the polite way of saying she broke into Irene's digital and magical life) and confirmed a few things. One: Irene didn't have any magical batteries. Two: She was keeping fairies as literal slaves.
Julia walked into the Physical Kids' cottage, seeing Fen and Freya sitting on a velvet couch that definitely hadn't been cleaned since the Class of '98.
"Fen! Get over here," Julia called out, gesturing frantically.
Fen jumped, looking like a deer caught in a magical headlight. "Julia! Is everything okay? Did the school run out of the tiny sandwiches?."
Julia pulled her aside, her voice dropping to a low, intense whisper. "Forget the sandwiches. Irene is keeping fairies. Like, slaved fairies. And before you start with the 'but they're our enemies' speech, Fen, I saw the one Irene travels with. She looked terrified. Shaking. It's bad."
Fen's eyes went wide. "Oh my god.."
"Exactly," Julia said. "We need to do something. If we can get to this fairy and find out what Irene is really up to, we can use it as a bargaining chip. We tell the Fairy Queen we saved her people here, and in exchange, they back the hell off of Fillory. It's a win-win. We save a life."
Fen bit her lip, looking skeptical. "I uhh... I don't know, Julia. The fairies, especially the Queen, aren't exactly the 'Let's grab brunch and negotiate' type. They're more 'Let's take your toes and call it a day.' I don't think they'd give up on Fillory just because we were nice to one of them."
"Well then," Julia said, a determined glint in her eye, "we'll have to do something else first before we go ahead with the Big Fillory Plan."
"What?" Fen asked, leaning in.
"First things first: we get in touch with the fairy moving with Irene. We find out exactly how she's being controlled."
"And how exactly are we supposed to get to her?" Fen hissed. "She's glued to Irene's side. It's like a very sparkly, very depressed shadow. We can't just walk up and hand her a 'Get Out of Jail Free' card while Irene is watching."
Julia smiled, that slow, dangerous smile that usually meant someone was about to have a very bad day. "I have an idea.
——
The office was thick with the scent of Fogg's expensive scotch and Irene McAllister's even more expensive perfume. Irene leaned across the desk, her eyes fixed on Julia as if she were a rare specimen under a microscope. Julia had just performed a simple light-casting spell, a feat that, in the current magical drought, was like turning water into wine.
"The fact that you just demonstrated functional magic to me is unbelievable," Irene whispered, her voice sharp with greed. "How the hell did you say you got this again?"
Julia paused for a beat, her brain scrambling to find a lie that didn't sound like a plea for a psych ward. "I... oh, I got it by making a deal. With a... magical creature. A very old, very generous one."
Fogg, who was leaning against the bookshelf, let out a sharp, barking chuckle at the sheer volume of bullshit Julia was pulling from her ass. He took a slow sip of his drink, looking at the ceiling as if asking the gods for patience.
Irene leaned in closer, ignoring Fogg. "What sort of... essence did it require? What was the transaction?"
Julia hesitated, her face heating up. "The personal kind. I uh... you know. It's private."
Irene's eyebrows shot up. "What? You slept with it?"
"Eww, no!" Julia recoiled, her nose wrinkling in genuine disgust. "God, no!"
"Hey, no judgment here if you did," Irene said, waving a manicured hand dismissively. "Believe me, a lot of magicians would do some truly diabolical things to get a whiff of magic back right now. If you had to sleep with it or blow it, I don't care, as long as it works." She paused, her gaze sharpening into a cold and skeptical stare. "Which begs the question: if your 'deal' works so well, why do you need my battery?"
Fogg finally stepped forward, his shoes clicking on the hardwood. "Perhaps because a single spark doesn't power a lighthouse, Irene. And speaking of power, I believe we were discussing the fact that you just bought my school behind my back."
Irene turned to him with a saccharine, hollow smile. "Wow, Henry. That sounded like it came from a very deep, very repressed place. I bought this school because it was a failing asset."
"If I hadn't bought it, someone far less savory would have snapped it up and turned the library into a museum for tourists to gawk at. I'm preserving history. I'm keeping the lights on. If that makes me the villain in your little academic tragedy, then so be it."
While Irene was busy playing corporate mind games with Fogg and Julia, Fen had successfully slipped into the side parlor. She found herself standing face-to-face with the fairy, a delicate, trembling creature who looked like she was made of moonlight and high-functioning anxiety.
"You shouldn't be here," the fairy whispered, her eyes glancing back nervously. "I could get in a lot of trouble for talking to you. Miss Irene doesn't like... me interacting with anyone."
"No, no, no," Fen said, holding her hands up in a soothing gesture. "I'm not an interruption. I want to help. I'm Fen. I'm from Fillory, and I just umm, why are you even here? Why aren't you back home with the rest of your kin?"
The fairy's eyes filled with a sudden, profound sadness. "There are no others. We are all that's left. The rest were... lost. Long ago."
Fen froze, her brain doing a quick double-take. 'She doesn't know?' Fen thought, a wave of irony hitting her. 'She thinks her species is extinct while her Queen is currently occupying our castle and making Margo's life a living hell.' "Right," Fen said slowly, deciding now wasn't the time for a history lesson. "Listen, what's your name?"
The fairy flinched. "I told you, I could get in trouble—"
Fen rolled her eyes, her patience for fairy-grade melodrama wearing thin. "You're not going to get in trouble, you idiot. My friend and I want to help you escape."
The fairy blinked, her tiny jaw dropping. "My name is Skye. But... escape? Why? We are perfectly okay as we are."
Fen paused, her brow furrowing in deep confusion. "No, you're really not. You're a—" she stopped, looking Skye up and down. "Wait, what exactly are you to her? What is your... arrangement with Irene?"
Skye tilted her head, looking genuinely puzzled. "The others and I, we help the family. We cook, we clean, we keep the estates in order. In return, the McAllisters allow us to stay there with them. They provide us with... protection."
Fen stood there, completely dumbfounded. She stared at Skye for a long, silent moment. "Are you kidding me? Skye, that's not an 'arrangement.' That is literal slavery. You're being used as free magical labor!"
"No, it's not," Skye insisted, her voice small but firm. "Miss Irene saved us. Without her, we would have nowhere to go. We are grateful."
Fen let out a long, heavy sigh and rubbed her temples. This wasn't just a rescue mission anymore; it was a deprogramming job. She looked at Skye's innocent, brainwashed face and muttered to herself, "Oh dear. This might be a lot harder than I thought.
———
The New York skyline was beginning to blur into a smudge of gray and neon, and Marina's patience had officially exited the building three blocks ago.
"Where the hell are we going now, Kai?" Marina asked, her voice tight with irritation. They had been weaving through side streets and crossing avenues for over an hour. If it had been anyone else, she would have assumed they were lost, but with this two-faced, two-timing son of a...
"Hey, I can tell you're talking down to me inside your head, Marina," Kai interrupted, not even looking back. He spun around her in a fluid, gravity-defying motion that was purely for show. "Honestly? With those eyes? You should be focusing on the scenery, not your internal monologue. It's beneath you. Besides, I'm just trying to make you relax with a lovely stroll so try to keep up with the vibe."
Marina stopped walking, crossing her arms. "Why are we going around in circles like this? I'm not here for a guided tour of the East Side's worst alleyways."
"Well, that's because we are looking for someone of great importance to me," Kai said, his grin widening. "And I want it to be a surprise when we find her. Surprises are the spice of life, Marina. Otherwise, we're just reading the same boring script every day."
Marina rolled her eyes so hard it almost hurt. "So you're not going to tell me who it is?"
Kai shook his head, a finger to his lips. "Nope. Spoilers are for people who can't handle the suspense. Although, I will say that she definitely will be helping me with a few things. Essential things."
"With what?" she pushed, narrowing her eyes.
"A book of some sort," Kai said vaguely.
Marina froze. "Wait. A book? Don't tell me you want to screw with the Librarians, Kai. Because if you're planning on picking a fight with the literal custodians of the universe, I'm getting a taxi. Right now."
"What? No! Of course not," Kai said, sounding offended. "I'm a lover, not a fighter of bureaucratic book-nerds. But... I do love the concept of free information. And at the same time, information that is too dangerous shouldn't be kept in a vault, it should be destroyed entirely. Burned until even the memory of it smells like ash."
"You're contradicting yourself," Marina stated flatly. "Do you want it free or gone?"
Kai acted shocked, clutching his chest. "Am I? How scandalous of me. Maybe I contain multitudes." He suddenly stopped in front of a nondescript building and shifted into a singsong tone. "We are here, my lovely two-faced, two-timing, blue-eyed sweetheart!"
Marina ignored the flattery and looked at his suspicious, gleaming smile before turning her gaze to the sign above the door.
FUZZBEAT.
She stared at the quirky, neon-lit sign for a long beat. "A clickbait factory? You dragged me across three boroughs for a website that ranks the 'Top 10 Types of Magic Bread'?"
"Oh, Marina," Kai chuckled, reaching for the door handle. "It's so much more than that. It's where the secrets live behind the listicles."