Chrysalis Ch8: Spectral Suites (pt2) (Patreon)

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The concierge smiles smugly, giving the white jacket a little wave as two goat horns spiral out of the shadowy forehead.

The color drains from Lloyd’s face.

"You were the last one to wear this, were you not?
Unless I am very much mistaken?"

The pooka chuckles mischievously. Lloyd takes a quick step back, shaking his head.
They knew after all.
Who he was,
where he’d been.

"I...I've never seen that before in my life.” Lloyd stammers, faltering for a way to deny it. “You're probably thinking of s-someone else."

The burning coals flare brightly, and the concierge’s voice takes on a slight crackle.
"Mmm. Perhaps. After all, the person I inspected the day before had a few differences."

The pooka emerges from behind the counter, billowing out and filling the space.   He was quite large, standing up, and he encircled the two boys as he spoke, continuing, unrelenting.  Ian shifts, always trying to stay a little between Lloyd and the fae.

“What did our lady do to you, little neighbor?
The room was quite a spectacle you know.   Shattered glass.  Torn hardwood and splintered cabinetry.   Quite a sight, albeit housekeeping was most unamused.”

Lloyd’s heart makes a break for his throat. The counter wavers as his vision wobbles slightly, fading out at the edges.

He has to hold on.   Despite everything his instincts are screaming he has to hold on.  Instincts be damned, this is where he’ll find safety.  He just needs to hold on.

He just needed to push forward.

"I'd like a different jacket"  he blurts out, his nails cutting into his palms.

The concierge looks him up and down, as if trying to decide whether to eat him alive.  He opens his mouth and-

The desk phone rings, a jangling copper bell breaking the tension.

"Excuse me a moment, if you would."   the concierge says, holding up a finger and setting the white jacket on the counter.  The cat pads over to it, kneading the fabric before settling down on folded legs.

"Mmm...Spectral Suites, this is your concierge speaking. Oh...yes... yes, of course.   Just having a little fun. Should I reserve a... right now? Yes, I understand. I'll escort them personally. One moment, we'll be there straight away."

He hangs up the phone with a cheery click, then presses his fingers together and leans forward again, grinning down at the two boys. Lloyd suppresses a shudder, his stomach twisting into knots.

"The King would like to speak with you, little neighbor.  Assuming you don’t have any previous engagements...?"

Lloyd’s eyes flick nervously between the pookah’s smile and the white jacket.

“The… king?”  Lloyd asks, his nerves freezing one by one.  “Wants to speak with me?“

“Unless you’d rather keep them waiting?”

“N-no that’s alright.”
Lloyd looks down in thought.  What had the note said? It hadn't told them to trust the king… but it had mentioned not to cross him.

A thought eventually crosses his mind, and he speaks it aloud.
“Would I be able to ask the king for a job?”

“I suppose you could.”  The concierge continues unhelpfully. “You could ask the king for a great many things.  If you’re willing to risk it, that is.”

Lloyd struggles to get control of his breathing. It doesn't sound like they have much choice. "Are you okay with this?" He murmurs to Ian.

"Are you?"  Ian mutters back, glancing to the doors behind them.  "It's not too late.  We can make a break for it."

The concierge hums cheerfully to himself, pretending not to notice the whispered conversation as he taps out a melody on the counter.

Lloyd shakes his head.
"I think...I think our last chance for that was five minutes ago.”

Ian nods.
"Then we do this. But if things break bad, don't be afraid to cut and run."

"You too." Lloyd says, smiling grimly.

Ian gives him a queasy smirk. “Told you not to come in, didn’t I?”
Lloyd’s face wrinkles in annoyance as Ian’s smirk grows stronger.

He clears his throat and looks up, antennae waving suspiciously.  "Can I have that different jacket please?"

"If you insist."  The concierge says, his cheerful smile whirling into a frown. He stretches out a shadowy arm and pulls open the little door without leaving the counter, coming back with a smaller version of Ian’s jacket. Lloyd grabs it hurriedly, shrugging into it as Ian does the same.

his antennae twitching, all but smothered in the jacket’s floral scent. He pulls the hood on tighter anyway.

The small victory is a comfort, at least. Lloyd pokes his head out of the garment as the concierge sidles out from behind the counter, shifting and billowing in his suit. Within a few steps, the humanlike figure has become a horse with bright yellow eyes, velvety mane flowing down his back. He pokes his nose at a long hallway on the far end of the reception desk, leading past a door - the door - and disappearing out of sight.

"Follow me, then. Unless you would like to ride, perhaps...?"

Lloyd gives his head a hurried shake, a dozen different fairy stories about the mischievous pooka flashing through Lloyd’s mind.  "I-I think we'll walk, thanks."

"Another time, then."   The concierge says cheerfully, guiding them down the hall and ducking under an overhanging palm.  Lloyd follows closely along, but Ian hangs back one moment. His attention is caught by something at the counter.

The cat’s gone from the desk, leaving only the neatly folded jacket. Something about the cat’s absence bothers him, but he can’t figure out what.  He shrugs, then quickens his pace, moving to catch up with Lloyd and their guide.

A moment later a little grey cat emerges from behind the counter. A pair of tabbies ease out from under a chair, walking side-by-side to join it. Two more cats. Then three. Then four. As silence settles over the deserted lobby, a dozen different pairs of eyes stare after the receding party, settling into a watchful semicircle by the desk.

The concierge leads them down the hallway, past a low pool of water glittering with sunken coins and a row of artfully carved wooden doors. He turns, stopping in front of an otherwise unobtrusive room. Instead of a door, this one sports a thick black curtain, soft and velvety black, with little glimmering flecks of starlight. The concierge shifts back into a more humanoid form and executes a formal bow, gesturing towards the aperture.

"The King of the Market awaits.   Good luck, little neighbor."
The concierge gives one last wink.
“I hope it goes well.”

Lloyd manages a shaky smile.
"...thank you."

Ian hesitantly pulls aside the curtain, and the two boys tuck inside.

The office is austere, richly decorated and dominated by a heavy mahogany desk.  The desk is accompanied by a chair, large and plush, upholstered in black cured leather. To either side are curtained doors, and centered directly behind the desk is a wide-silled window.  It emits a splash of fluorescent blues and greens from far below - lights dancing and shimmering on the ceiling.

The Market.

Another cat, this one tan and sleek with a pair of icey blue eyes, sits on the corner of the sill busily cleaning its front paw.

The remaining wall space is lined with shelves, crammed full of books - old books, the smell of dusty leather and well-thumbed paper wrapping around Lloyd like a blanket.

Less reassuring, a row of skulls have been carefully arranged along the window sill, empty sockets staring out at any would-be guest to the king.  They consist of a wild assortment of shapes and sizes - large and hefty, small and delicate, multiple rows of jagged fangs.   One has too many eyes.  Another has no eyes at all.  At least one is human.

The only thing consistent across all of them is a razor thin coat of decorative silvering.

The office is empty, the desk abandoned except for one thing: prominently displayed in the middle of the desk is a glass jar, tiny holes pin pricking the metal lid. And curled at the bottom is…

"What the fuck!"

Lloyd leaps back, nearly toppling over Ian, as a thin orange-and-black worm rears up against the glass. It turns in a rapid circle around the bottom of the jar, coiling against the bottom before thumping against the side hard enough to make the container rock.

All the while, its single orange eye stares ravenously at Lloyd.
"It's one of those bloody things." He breathes out, watching it squirm frantically.

Satisfied it’s actually trapped, he takes a few cautious steps closer.
"The… Alp Luachra.   Or at least part of it.  I guess they caught this one."

Ian kneels down beside him, looking at the little worm eye level. It glares back at him, drooling on the glass.

Ian makes a face.
"...tell me this ain’t the king.”

"No. No way." Lloyd shakes his head, edging away from the creature. "I don't think they would have let Astraea stay upstairs if she’d incinerated most of the king."

He wanders around the desk, carefully checking for any more bottled surprises, looking uneasily at the row of skulls. The silvering is beautifully done, but it's still a macabre display.

Lloyd shakes his head.
"I don’t know, mate. It's just us, that little monster, and this cat. Maybe we’re supposed to wait. Like it’s a...a royal thing or something."

He stops when he reaches the cat, gently reaching down and scratches at its ears. Looking out the window he surveys the Market far below.

"How forward of you."
The cat says in a small, clear voice.

Lloyd gives out a startled yelp and, his foot catching on the rug, topples backwards. The cat stretches, yawns, and leaps effortlessly to the desktop.

The cat stops at the edge, tilting its head to observe.
"You have a nice skull."  The cat says, as if making polite conversation.

Ian hurries over to help Lloyd back up, who scrambles into his arms. Helping his friend  get settled, Ian gives the cat a nervous smile and whispers through his teeth.
“Good job. Think you found him.”

"’Found her’, if you please."   The cat says, licking her paw and scrubbing her ear.

Lloyd interjects in a flurry of apologies.
"S-s-sorry, miss. Ma'am. Your...Majesty?  I didn't realize you were… that is, I shouldn’t have scratched you like... I wasn't…”

His voice trails off, and just as suddenly he bows forward with desperate deference.
“Sorry. Sorry about that."

"We’ll overlook it."   The cat says, smiling.   "It's not often we receive people as... unaware as you in our office. It’s charming, in its way. Mr. Morgan, we presume.    And your friend...?"

"Ian Evans, sir.  Ma'am. M'lady". Ian replies with a shaky salute.

"Mr. Evans, then."  She says, circling the jar.   The worm hisses at her as she settles down in front of it, idly tapping it with her paw.  "We asked to speak with you, Mr. Morgan, because we have a bit of a situation on our hands."

She tips the jar forward.  Immediately, the worm crouches back, trying to weigh the bottom of the container down again.  Lloyd watches it move in morbid fascination.

"O...oh."
Lloyd clears his throat.
"I'm terribly sorry if I've caused any trouble...?"

"Not you,"  the king says; her tail waving dismissively, "The Lady Astraea.  She brought harm to one of our vendors in pursuit of this little... worm."

The king circles the jar again, scraping a claw against the glass.
"Now, under normal circumstances, we would extract reparations by incinerating the perpetrator..."

Lloyd flinches at the word. The king leans her shoulder against the jar, rocking it. It slides closer and closer to the edge of the desk.

"But unfortunately, Lady Astraea is one of those types. You are familiar, we are sure. Connected. Above us."

The jar tilts, overbalancing as the worm rears back in alarm.  Before it can tumble to the tile floor, though, she hooks a paw around the far end and pulls it back into place.

Lloyd looks away, nodding hesitantly.
"I'm not really… sure I can help with that."

Lloyd takes a deep breath, as if he's about to jump into icy water. If he’s already been forward...maybe he should just make the most of it.

"To be honest, I was told the Market would be able to protect me from her.   From lady Astraea I mean.  Assuming I were able to find a place here... if you had need of me, Your majesty.”

The king blinks quizzically.

“You came to us, seeking our protection?  How deliciously ironic.”
She curls around the jar, the tip of her tail tapping against the glass.

“Unfortunately, we are a bit in a bind at the moment.  As you seem to know, we promise protection to all of our vendors.  And yet... here one of them has suffered the most egregious insult: her life unwillingly taken.”

“We cannot fix what has been done, and we cannot reciprocate the transgression. It is quite a puzzle, wouldn’t you agree?”

"However."  The king starts, lifting her head. Her pupils expand into wide black orbs, eclipsing the rest of her eyes. “Despite your thoughts otherwise, there is one way you can be of use to us.  Lady Astraea took a life in pursuit of you, after all.  And here you are, with us, having a rather nice skull.”

Lloyd’s mouth goes dry. The king gets to her paws, tiny clawtips tapping at the polished mahogany as they extend. Shadows dance in the corners of the room, growing darker as she advances to the edge of the desk.

“We must wonder if adding it to our collection would alleviate some of the… imbalance, of the situation.  Wouldn’t are your thoughts on that,

Mr. Morgan."


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Thanks for reading along!   Be sure to check in Friday December 4th at 1:15pm EST to read Ch9!   In which Lloyd learns a life or death lesson in fae hospitality.  The King is introduced to lgbt erotica.  Ian continues being cute („• ֊ •„)