“Nothing is as it seems" was the most essential advice when dealing with the fae.  Always keep in one's mind that your senses have already been bewitched.  Do not trust them and never assume.

            "No, you trickster,” I whispered, my tone amicable but firm.  “Do not pretend I am a fool.  If you desire this treasure, I require your concurrence."  A tassel of woven gold danced with each twitch of my hand, keeping it from a fairy.

            Her form resembled that of a woman with all its soft curves.  The first time I beheld one I couldn't help but blush!  She flitted before me on iridescent, butterscotch wings, her wide, black eyes locked on my trinket.  Her skin and hair were shades of gold that would make a vibrant sunrise appear pale.  Even in the shadows on the edge of town, she gleamed.

            "We do not take kindly to teasing," the fairy warned in a voice like a tinkling wind chime.

            "I mean no offense.  I simply wished to ensure our deal was binding.  Have we an accord?"

            "I agree to your loathsome terms!  Now, give me the pretty!" she squeaked, as the spell took hold.  It was nearly imperceivable, a hint of glitter on the breeze or a faint ripple in the distance on a hot day coupled with a weight settling on my spirit.  Only then did I offer up the golden delight.

            The fairy snatched it with the force of a spoiled child.  Her eyes scrunched down to happy, little slits and she darted away.

            I waited, my hands clutching my skirts.  The deal had been sealed.  No fae could break that.

“This is the last of seven.  It will be done soon,” I muttered.  A faint ringing heralded her return.  Swiftly, I drew a little medicinal bottle from my pocket, the glass infused with magic, swirling with infinite colors.

            “A bargain we have made.  A bargain I will keep,” the fairy declared.  She swung above me, a cascade of magic wafting towards the bottle.  It settled on the surface, adding a golden hue to the rainbow of colors.  “And… I call you a fool!  I look forward to witnessing your doom!”  With that, the rude creature was gone.

            This was happening!  On the precipice of justice and satisfaction, a sharp fear that had become a regular companion cut into my chest, squeezing it like a corset crafted by the devil himself.  I gasped for breath, fanning my face.

            I must do this!  My thoughts dwelled on my sister, Henrietta, not even sixteen!  The memory of her pallid complexion, sunken cheeks, and look of hopelessness sent shivers through me.  Or the many other unfortunate ladies in town.  I longed to heal those wounds, to make them whole.

            If I could not, revenge would have to do.

            Nearby giggles reached my ears.  Beyond the trees where I hid was a road and beyond that road was a shop.  Upon the steps stood the subject of my abhorrence: Mr. Augustine Wakefield.  He was a man of fine countenance and manners, but that façade hid a fiend.  He laughed with two ladies as if nothing were amiss.  It sharpened my resolve.

            “Mr. Wakefield!”  I approached, holding my head high.

            “Miss Maria Keene, to what do I owe this pleasure,” he replied with false pleasantry. 

            “You are the vilest of libertines!  Breaker of hearts!  Rake!”  I declared, unashamed of the commotion I created.  There was no turning back.  “The time has come to pay your debts!”  I held up the kaleidoscopic bottle and uncorked it.  Enchanted power swirled and blocked out the ladies, the shop, and the street itself!

            “What the devil!” Mr. Wakefield cried.  A parchment too large for the bottle slipped from within and unrolled.  His eyes widened and filled with fear.

THE FAE LORDS DEMAND WHAT IS OWED

            With a deafening snap, the magic deposited us into a chamber of unthinkable size.  Black metal chandeliers hung from nothing, and small tongues of flame quivered, attached to no candles.  Dim, orange-tinted light shone upon a high table before us, curved and severe.  Seated at it, seven equally severe faces peered down.

            The seven Fae Lords.

            All moisture abandoned my mouth.  My knees nearly betrayed me.  Mr. Wakefield made a noise that closely resembled a mouse and stepped back.  Something unseen prevented his escape.

            “Augustine William Wakefield.  We of the Fae Court do not look kindly on lowly humans disrespecting our favors,” the center fae began.  His voice was the intensity of a monsoon and the low calm of the ocean.  Hair the color of the endless depths streamed behind him, absorbing all light.

            “Another human, another soul offered.  I fail to understand the necessity of this assembly,” another fae interjected with manner and appearance like hard bedrock.

            “I agree.  Let him tighten the noose himself.  I look forward to yanking it tight!” a third hissed, all pus, sores and everything repulsive.

            “A conundrum has been presented.  An identical bargain with each of us has been struck,” said the fourth.  He or she, I could not tell, was the most beautiful being I had ever beheld.  Draped in burgundy silks, their hair was woven with golden threads.  "What say you, little man?  Have you seven souls to make good on your promises?"

            "I..." Wakefield faltered.  "I beg your forgiveness.  Your impressive selves are beyond my humble comprehension, and I cemented those vows in fits of desire.  From stories I've been told, I imagine you fine fae understand the sway of desire."

            A chuckle cut through the air, abrasive like sand in your shoes.  “Ahh.  The man has chosen well to not spout lies.  Very astute even in his hour of doom.  If seven souls be the price, allow him to gather us such souls!  The powers of the universe bend to us!  Bend them,” the stone-faced fae spat.

            “I offer you the first of seven promises fulfilled, this innocent lady,” Mr. Wakefield said, bowing and gesturing toward me.

            It was as if I slipped into frigid water, my entire being a flash of icy dread.  That deep fear of failure threatened to blossom into full panic, but I fought to smother it.

            “But he has slighted you all!”  My voice barely sounded like my own.  In the presence of such unbridled strength, I was an insect, a speck of dust.  But I would not let Mr. Wakefield prevail.  “He has invoked each of your names with no intention of abiding by your ways, dealing out promises of faithfulness and breaking all!”

            “Indeed,” the gorgeous fae acknowledged and waved their hand.  The faint sound of bells.  “Observe these promises unkept.”  The parchment from my bottle materialized from nowhere.  Golden words appeared upon the yellowed page; the final word of each sentence emblazoned in red.

FANNIE, I SHALL LOVE YOU EVERMORE OR FAEDRA MAY TAKE MY SOUL!

I SHALL ADORE YOU FOREVER MORE, DEAREST, OR RHUCRIS MAY BREAK MY SOUL!

DENY ME NOT!  MY LOVE IS YOURS, SOFIA, OR LORD ABYLEIN CAN HAVE MY SOUL!

MY HEART IS YOURS, ELIZABETH, OR MAY SVER DEVOUR MY SOUL!

SWEET JANE, MY LOVE IS YOURS, OR MELIK MAY DROWN MY SOUL!

GEORGIANA, I SHALL LOVE YOU FOREVER OR THRIX CAN HAVE MY SOUL!

HENRIETTA, TRUST ME.  IF YOUR DEAREST LOVE I FORFEIT, MAY IDANNIA CLAIM MY SOUL.

            My heart hammered as I read them.  Each a minor bargain I forged to uncover.  Each a heart broken.  But that final vow.  It was a knife to my heart, but one I would turn on the vile man.  His own words would be his undoing! 

            The foul fae of repugnance snarled, “I care not for human morals.  The more broken hearts and broken humans, the better.  If he offers her soul up as my tribute, I eagerly accept.”  He licked thin lips pulled taut over jagged teeth.  My body trembled, an instinctive fear threatening to take over.  I needed to be strong… and smart.

            “By all means, my lord.  I have no power to fight your greatness.  However, I would ask this council, why could you not simply divide his soul in equal parts?”

            “Foolish child.  A bargain once struck must be obeyed to the word!  Should either party fail to uphold their end, then retribution shall be swift!” the fae of the depths retorted.

            “But has Mr. Wakefield not broken those contracts?”  A prolonged silence.  Beside me, the villain chuckled.

            “Indeed.  Since I have not yet violated—”

            “H-how?  How has he not broken them?” I demanded.  A new worry tickled my mind, doubt sweeping me down like a wave.

            “Miss Keene, you know so little of the world.  Love is not a finite resource.  I did and still do love each lady.  I hold them in my heart,” Mr. Wakefield declared, hand over his breast.  My stomach twisted so violently, I should have feared it might tear itself apart, but despair and horror were all I could feel.  He grinned; smug and arrogant.  That icy fear took hold of me once again.

            “Finest fae lords!  This spinster has wasted your precious time and mine, but I am not an ungenerous man,” he proclaimed.  “Feast on Miss Keene’s soul!  It may not be much, but I do hope it shall satiate your appetites!”

            Eight cruel faces turned on me in unison.

            “No, he has broken his vows to you!” I insisted, my voice growing weaker.

            “We accept, Mr. Wakefield.  Please, continue with your dalliances.  I do hope to break you soon enough,” the sickening fae hissed and advanced on me with ravenous eyes.  My head lost all thought.  A rush of dark magic enveloped Mr. Wakefield.

            “NO!”  I cried, reaching for him, but he slipped away.  Fear.  Despair.  Horror.  My body tingled with the strength of them.  I needed to get away.  One step and my shoulder collided with something unseen.  I tumbled, the weight of my failure dragging me down.  Dark shapes descended.

***

            Mr. Wakefield jolted, staggering onto the street.  His heart raced and he checked all around for some monster in pursuit but saw nothing.  A smile pulled at his face.  He thought, Stupid woman.  Serves her right for trying to entrap me.

            “Are you well?” a young lady asked, touching his arm.  He hesitated.  In ordinary circumstances, he would continue with his flirtations.  That small touch was a sign he was making progress with the lady.

            No, I’ll have an abundance of time later, he thought, his entire being weary from his escape.

            “I do apologize.  I am well, but have forgotten a prior engagement,” he lied.  Mr. Wakefield kissed their gloved hands and was off, making haste through town.  Turning a sharp corner, the man nearly strode into a young woman.

            “Beg your pardon, miss, I—”

            “Augustine!”

            He recognized the voice and halted, deep agitation stirring.  Without a glance, he stepped around her.  “Wait!”

            “Henrietta, I advised you not to—”

            “Please, you don’t understand!  I… I’m with child.”

            Mr. Wakefield froze and spun, grasping her arm and dragging her into a shadowed alleyway.

            “Do not speak of such things,” he hissed.

            “It is true.  Please, if you ever loved me—”

            A bitter laugh escaped his lips.  “Love?  You?  Foolish girl.  I never loved you and you can prove nothing.”  He anticipated sobs, wails and pleas for his change of mind.  Instead, the girl grinned and laughed.  Her countenance shifted just enough to form another face.  Her sister.

            Pain stabbed through his chest.  His vision blurred.

            “Idannia comes for you.  I am so pleased to be allowed to watch,” Miss Keene’s voice sounded distant.  A sudden chill made his hair stand up.

            “But… you’re—”

            “You are not the only one who can strike up bargains.  You should have listened better to the tales.  Villains never triumph… and nothing is as it seems.”