Abruptly, Alison hopped out of the carriage. To most, it appeared as a barren, empty corner in an otherwise developed, lovely, and expensive neighborhood. It was close to Central Park, where, as it was the height of spring, you could see gorgeous and bursting flowers clear skies.
The park appeared far more lovely to her.
The little folk and fey flitted around, enjoying the sun.
The fey courts where everywhere, and yet, nowhere at all. Alison had met the High Queen of the Fey herself... she was not sure exactly where the encounter itself had occurred.
That was besides the point. The towering establishment were Alison had been raised, the "sanctuary" as it was called, which was a contradiction in itself, because no suggenne needed a sanctuary. Only their enemies did.
The gargantuan building in front of her was carved out of white marble. Fine, detailed black terraces and looming bay windows were strategically placed on the outside of the building. Statues based on the Bible and other religious works decked the outside. Suggennes, more specifically her grandmother, Mother Madrigal, found them hilarious. This was obvious, due to the religious artifices they all wore on the daily.
She walked, with purpose, past the gazebo in the front lawn, where the ambassadors from the Bombay sanctuary, Tahani and Riddhima were taking their late afternoon tea. They operated all suggenne affairs in Asia, but they reported always to Madrigal and the du Bissays. Every suggenne did. Though, there were not too many. At least, not anymore.
The sanctuary was so very beautiful, its wealth bountiful. She often felt bad for the commoners who would never get to see it for themselves. Their very existence blocked it from being so. They could never know of this worlds existence. Pity for them, she supposed.
Riddhima loudly demanded of her: "Did you fetch it? She is in one of her moods." Tahani slapped her in the arm and silenced her.
"Of course, Madam Sengupta." Alison called over her shoulder as she stepped over the threshold and into the front hall, with its gaudy decor and grand staircase.
Alison glided down the hall, which felt perfect under her feet. The house was lovely, but the monsters that lurked in its halls were terrifying.
The scariest of monsters hid their teeth; until the final moment.
The paintings on the wall were wonderfully rendered with the stories of the birth of the suggennes. The birth of Maríe-Claire du Bissay, Alison's own great-grandmother otherwise known as the Grand Mamán . Maríe-Claire was born in the slums of Paris five hundred years ago, and clawed her way out with her nails and teeth. Through blood. The first blood magician, like Alison herself. In her bloody conquests, Maríe-Claire called upon the Sky Mother, to give her unlimited, vengeful powers. To help her create an army against those who wronged her. Sky Mother granted this, but at a cost.
New suggennes could not be born. They must be created through the Blood Rite, which only Maríe-Claire's direct descendants could create.
Only a few now, Madrigal, and Alison herself could create new suggennes, through a terrible and draining ritual. Now that Madrigal's power was draining, though she would claw the eyes out of anyone who said it, very few suggennes were created each year. Two were needed to perform the blood rite. Alison was kept on a tight leash because of this. Madrigals sisters, the surviving ones, power was also ebbing... and they had never been as powerful as Madrigal.
Madrigal only birthed weak daughters, ones that died in the womb, ones that died in infancy. The only one that survived into adulthood, if you could even call seventeen years that, was Alison's mother Valorie.
Madrigal had killed Valorie for her blood when she would not give it willingly. Alison looked down at the scars on her arms. Alison always gave her blood without argument.
She saw her grandfather, Rémy, reading a Moscow newspaper at the grand dining table. He was part of two very powerful suggenne legacy families, the Retvenkos and the Arayviers. Rémy was powerful, the strongest male suggenne. Women in their society were always more powerful. Rémy did not even look up when she walked past.
Alison knocked once, twice, three times on her grandmothers thick, wooden door with the golden knocker. Engraved in lovely script read, ne intraveritis quoquo: do not enter at any cost.
"Come in, Alison." Madrigal said in her serpentine voice. As Alison locked the door behind her, Madrigal asked, though not with any curiosity, flatly, "Did you get it."
Alison tossed the black-leather bound tome on her grandmothers ochre desk. It was finely carved, by, her grandmother boasted, a renowned Persian wood carver. "You are dismissed." Madrigal said, not looking up from her work.
"Just a question," Alison asked, gripping her rosary, praying Madrigal would not hunt her dead, "Why do you think this book will be any different to the others."
Madrigal's venomous smile reappeared. "It is Marigold Kalele's work." Alison was not very sure of the importance of that. "Other spellbooks were simply a record of power. This very book is a conduit of it. It holds an unliminated amount of power. A charm." She paused, "You think me a zealot, chasing a untouchable dream, like a fool." Madrigal let out a crazed laugh, her grip on a fountain pen wavering, "Perhaps I am. But a strong one. And I get what I want. Leave me now. I will not ask again."
"Thank you for your time, dear Mother Madrigal." Alison bowed curtly and ducked out quickly. Alison looked at the grandfather clock. Half past six. She had only an hour and a half to get to Lee Emery's. Alison briefly though about not going, but Matthew would probably get infuriated with her. Matthew and her had gotten into few fights, but when they did, they were dragged out and exhausting. They were never worth it.
Alison wandered up the staircases, past busts of famous people and victims of Maríe-Claire and Madrigal. The whole mansion was very white in its color palette. Her room was in the residential suite, of permanent members who lived in the sanctuary.
Racine and Zélie Adagonye, Rémy's informant wards were studying in the nook in their wing of the rooms. They both had gorgeous dark skin and stormy gray eyes. Twins.
"How was your day?" asked Zélie, looking her dirtied and ruffled dress over.
"Not great. I am going out with Matthew. Could you cover for me?"
"Sure." said Zélie, the same time Racine said "No."
Racine clarified, "If Madrigal or Rémy catches you, they ought to kill us and you."
"Tell Madrigal I went to the apothecary to fetch her conception pills and Rémy that I went to the winery." Alison said, and then entered her room. Alison was hit the nose with the aromas of her room. She had a lovely bay window with a beautiful overview of the park, with a small sofa under it. Bookshelves lined her walls, and she had a piano crammed into a corner, and her cello pushed under it. Herbs and poisons lined her walls.
A small bathingroom that smelled like lavender was on the left, and her wardrobe was on the right. Alison leafed through her articles of clothing. In the end, she chose a flowing, embroidered white dress. She threw off her corset. If she was to get drunk tonight, she was not going to do it in a corset.
She strapped her revolver on to her thigh and fastened a long sword to her back. Lastly, Alison placed knives in her belt, with she hid by shifting her dress around it. She cleaned up her finest slippers and slid them on. She fastened on her pearl earrings.
She looked at herself in her small mirror and, to complete her look, painted her lips with rouge and eyes with kohl, and patted her face with powder. Alison quickly ran a comb through her ebony hair and fashioned it into a messy updo with clips.
She placed a few vials of poison, dollars, coins, and identification into her clutchpurse. Against her better judgement, she placed talismans cast with good-luck spells. She looked elegant, Alison supposed.
Alison snapped open the locks on her window, and hopped straight out of it. Her feet hit the patio, and sprinted straight pass Madam Riddhima Sengupta and Miss Tahani Al-Jalil like a wraith.
Time to party.
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