Sore and aching, Katrina limped her way down the hallway, still following the stout little woman who had been sent to collect her. Tiny rivulets of blood were slowly seeping through her clothes and her feet were swelling before her eyes. Katrina looked back once and was not surprised to see that her feet had started to bleed very slightly. Katrina was exhausted from the pain and irate. How dare they, she thought. Purposefully ignoring that she still did not know who "they" were, much less where she was. Katrina's guide finally stopped just outside a grand entryway. The gold gilded door frame rose in a Gothic manner to come to a stylish point above the doors. While the floor was marble, the doors themselves appeared to be oak, heavy and secure, with carved figures and designs. Katrina did not have the luxury of studying the doors as they almost immediately opened and she was pushed inside.
Katrina stumbled, arms windmilling slightly to help her keep her balance. "So," she heard. "What are ye going to do to fix my wee problem?" Katrina regained her balance and looked up, glaring, at the man she had encountered on the street on her way to work. He was sitting in a beautifully carved wooden chair, which was placed on a dais. From where Katrina stood, he closely resembled a king.
"Firstly," Katrina stated, "Who are you?"
The man smiled thinly, the general lack of emotion accompanying the smile more chilling than a threat. "I am the owner of Everlasting Emporium."
"And?" Katrina asked.
"And? And!" The man said, "Ye just put thousands of my people out of business. We rely on good standing with the community to peddle our products."
Katrina waved her hand, dismissing the man's statements before they had fully registered with her. "The company had no viable income. I did as I was instructed. We have strict rules about what we are allowed to accept and what we are not allowed to accept. I can appeal to my manager to review the application but really, I don't see how your company will be processed."
The man's face flushed and angry red. He clutched the arms of the chair and glowered at her. "I have product," he said. "What I donna have is a positive image with the community."
Katrina sighed. "Not my problem," she said. "You should have thought of that before creating your business. And who are you anyway? You simply abducted me from the street, tortured me, and are what? threatening me to ensure that I will return to my job and do as you ask?"
The man leaned back. "Of course," he said. "My kind deal as little as possible with your kind and I thought that from being treated to some of the pleasures that await my employees when the company has been dissolved, you would be more inclined to reverse your decision."
"It doesn't work that way," Katrina said. "And you still haven't answered any of my questions."
"My name is Cabhan."
"Just Cabhan?" Katrina asked.
"I've never needed a surname before," Cabhan stated. "You lot have never taken the time to get to know me or my kind in any capacity."
"What is it with 'my kind' and 'your kind'," asked Katrina in an exhasperated manner. "Irish? Because..."
"Not Irish," Cabhan interrupted, angry again, his face turning red. "Leprecan."
"What?"
"Of course you dinna ken that you were working for the fey folk," Cabhan stated. "But surely you suspected something. My people aren't known for their subtly."
"But I didn't know," Katrina said. And with that a rush of memories swept over her. The folk tales she loved reading, the other fantasy books about the fey, faries, and faeries. The light and dark. The depravity of both. And the knowledge that now that she had been made aware of their existence, there was very little chance that they would allow her to return to her old life.
"Ach," said Cabhan either not recognizing or not caring the turmoil that Katrina was experiencing. "Ye ken now. And ye will fix this issue for me."
Said as a statement and not a question, Katrina could only imagine what would happen if she did not, or could not, comply.
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