Faetality, p.1
Faetality, page 1
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
FAETALITY
First edition. February 14, 2026.
Copyright © 2026 Ysadora Sonderling.
ISBN: 978-1763687462
Written by Ysadora Sonderling.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Epilogue
To Stribi, for doing so much to promote my career.
Chapter One
I am not the hero of this story. Hel, I could never be anyone's hero. If lives depended on me, well, those poor bastards.
Bayton was a funny kind of city, it had grown in size but not mentality, still playing at a small country town. It was full of sleaze and judgement, which was given out in spades to all and sundry. I revelled in the first and bore the second, but then, what else was a faery to do?
Crushing my cigarette into the nearest bin, I quit my navel gazing to cross the street, trying to jump over the puddles of brown sludge left by a smattering of rain. My boots had recently sprung a leak. Scraps of bleached blonde hair flew in the bitter wind that now threatened to tear my coat from me. The remains of my last high were beginning to fade out, making the reality of a cold Bayton night loom ominously. I idly tried to restrain my hair under a scarf, but even the thickest faerylocks were being thrown about wildly in this weather.
Ahead lay the den of my one and only dealer, Stevie, who was grandmaster of the area and would gladly take the few scraps of money I had made today in exchange for a better high than the average given. Think of it as a frequent buyer deal, and it always helped that Stevie had a bit of a crush on me. I knocked on the quaint little red door and waited in sight of the discreet cameras for someone to answer. Eventually the inner bolt was retracted slowly, and the door quickly creaked open to reveal a giant of a man.
‘Hiya Jojo, how goes it?’
‘Mmrrmmm m'kay Jessie. Busy. Lossa work,’ replied the door and standover man only known as Jojo. I nodded, not really wanting to know what that work had entailed, especially as he was famous for throwing junkies with debts through walls.
Not at them. THROUGH them.
‘Stevie in?’ I asked, hoping to talk to the man himself and avoid having to use the 'public' areas.
‘Mmrrmm no... he back ten.’ Jojo whispered in his odd groaning voice. Rumour had it that an opponent in the drug and gang trade had sent a man to kill Jojo, and he had even managed to slit Jojo's throat before he met with a particularly painful death. They said that Jojo had bent his spine backwards with his bare hands. He certainly had the scars, right over the voice box.
Another rumour however, blamed an equally dead ex-girlfriend. I just nodded in answer, idle chatter was wasted on Jojo. Instead, I headed straight for the oddly decorated waiting room Stevie kept, it's style reminiscent of a country cottage. I had no idea that drug dealers liked gingham and pine in combination.
It really wasn't worth going into the general public rooms. Despite the fact that his runners kept you in good supply, they couldn't give me anything near as good as what Stevie himself could for me. I plonked myself down and waited, feeling the remains of the last hit I took finally seep away into the floral abomination of a couch. My mind was now laid bare, idle thoughts and lack of a buffering high letting the painful memories filter back in.
My mother had been beautiful and was a rather famous faerie and model locally. My father had apparently been infatuated with her for a whole year before doing anything about it. She was kidnapped her one night, he had grabbed her after a night out on the town chased by the paparazzi. He was holding her captive in a dug-out basement he had custom made for the task.
He kept her imprisoned for months before she finally fought back and killed him. They found her stumbling through the streets, naked and bloody, heavy with child. She was desperately clutching a crude knife she had made by chipping stone from the slate floor. The months of torture and 'love' had driven her mad, after she had fought so hard for her freedom, they merely locked her up.
She gave birth strapped to a bed in a mental hospital. I was promptly sent into the state system, but my elderly paternal grandmother, feeling guilty about the evils of her son, had set up some kind of fund. I had at least gotten an excellent education, which was pretty rare in Bayton.
While said education meant I stood out from the average person here, it didn't protect me from the scum that clung to the area, infesting all aspects of life. I had learnt at the age of 13 that sex was an excellent currency and an even better weapon at times.
I shivered and rubbed my arms vigorously, trying to soothe away the memories of their prying eyes and bodies. Luckily for me, Stevie chose that moment to enter the room in grand form, throwing himself forward in that highly aggressive manner that all bad men bore. His short hair was buzz cut to his bony skull, the years of his life counted in both wrinkles and scars.
A fan of leathers, Stevie dressed all in black, but rather than being gothic it was just menacing. It made sense really, the worn leathers were testament to a life of actual suffering, rather than a fashion choice. Stab wounds healed to scars showed through the holes in the leather caused by the same knife. Painted on toughness was no match for the real thing, no matter how much eyeliner you wore.
‘Jessie me lovely dame, 'ow is life for de prettiest of dem all?’ he drawled, settling himself on the couch across from me, having to rearrange his myriad weapons to do so comfortably. I nodded at him, trying to not let my growing desperation show.
‘I'm ok Stevie. Been an ok day for me so I thought I would drop in for a few hours and spend my pennies.’ I was trying to keep it light-hearted for the sake of this ruse. I couldn't really tell if it was working or not, the fogginess of withdrawal having well settled in my brain, filling every crevice.
‘Naw Jessie, ye stay here till mornin' eh? Gon' keep ye safe, eh?’ Stevie looked so concerned that it actually registered through the fog. I tensed up. Perhaps he really did care. That was a scary thought to hit, even though I did kind of already know. Not just anyone could nap in his safe house or get far better stuff than they paid for.
Regardless I nodded rather happily, this little favour meant a night off the street, a good sleep and a good help to nod off. My heart would have leapt if it wasn't dead as a door nail. But far be it for me to whine about a broken heart when a good snooze was so tantalisingly close.
‘Aww really Stevie? You're the greatest. Really means a lot.’ I stopped myself before I blathered on too long. Fresh bullshit always stunk the worst.
‘Naw, 's not nothing Jessie, but ye look like ye beat. Here ye take somma this 'n we get ye all rested up.’ He threw me a little bag of pills, sweet, beautiful opiates to slow the incessant whirring of my mind. Knowing how good his personal stock would be, I opted for only one of the pale pink discs, settling it under my tongue and trying to ignore the bitter taste it left behind.
I thanked Stevie and motioned to throw the baggie back, but he waved them off.
‘Naw Jessie, ye keep 'em. Reckon I got me sommat to talk about with ye when we ready. Got sommat I be needing sommen' smart on.’ I nodded to Stevie, barely listening as every nerve in my body began to ooze liquid sedation.
I flopped back on the couch, utterly satisfied with my beautiful high, gazing up to the ceiling and letting myself float. I probably should point out at this point that no, faeries do not have wings. It would be wholly impractical. Butterfly wings are so delicate, and they would just be constantly ripped apart. Stupid idea! The high was working.
No, we are just children of nature, with most still living as close to her blissful embrace as possible. Those of us who live in the cities and are cut off, well, we find our bliss elsewhere. I had read somewhere once that pretty much all the city living faeries were addicts of some kind. Beauty and the beast alright.
While my mind wandered along these somewhat happier paths, Stevie had left me to immerse myself in the thick, oily doze of the opiate. I merged with the couch, feeling like I was being sucked into the centre of it, and yet at the same time I felt light as a feather. This is what I had craved, and I dozed off into sweet, blissful silence.
Chapter Two
Stevie gently woke me in the morning, well, afternoon with a steaming coffee and some kind of pastry. My stomach growled viciously but first I took my pills, not wanting to dilute them with food too much. As they started to settle in my blood, I wolfed down the free food with sips of scalding coffee. When he was content that I was settled and listening, Stevie began to elaborate on what he had alluded to the previous night.
‘So, we got dis problem. Someone been messin' with de drugs we sellin'. 'Ts weird stuff Jessie, we thought they just high, but dey go real nuts,’ Stevie said, rubbing a hand over hi s shaved head wearily. Wondering what he was on about, I just nodded, to get him to keep going so I could eat some more without having to speak. ‘Dey messin' with de drugs, makin' dem users like a zombie, ain't respond to nothin'. Den dey just take off, ain't no one knowin' where. I gotta get ye help Jessie, ye smart, can go ask round and see what ye find? Mebbe askin' other dealers if it happenin' to dem? I ain't got de goods to go into dem's territ'ry yeh? But ye smart an' pretty, ye be ok to be askin' dem. And ye be faerie, can do all dat magick bit. ‘He was looking at me so earnestly, with so much expectation. It scared the life outta me. This sounded serious, like lives could depend on this... not exactly my forte.
‘I dunno Stevie, sounds like some weird magickal shit going on here. Maybe we should get the Agency in.’ I replied pretty lamely, almost muttering it. For good reason it turned out, as Stevie looked as if I had just slapped him across the face.
‘Hel Jess, get sommat Agency people in, say em drugs gone magick. Yeah dat be good for business, done 'ave cops snoopin' an' me be locked on up. Can't trust em, ye I trust. Ye gotta help me, if ye do, I give ye food an' get ye room here yeh? Ye can have ye own room real safe. No streets for ye.’ I am pretty sure my mouth dropped open in shock as he spoke. I hadn't had my own room... well ever really. It had always been dormitories or share rooms or the streets. The idea of it now boggled my mind.
Guess just asking around about these drugs couldn't be too bad. I found a way to rationalise it fast.
‘Yeah, ok Stevie, deal. Will go ask around. Where did you want me to start?’ Thanks to now having to be alert, I popped an upper to finish waking me up.
‘Well, dere be Nathaniel over in North Bayton, he sellin' to all dem rich folks dere. Den deres Damien who in Bayton Central. But he run dat market at night yeh? Ain't gonna be out till den.’ Stevie spoke of his fellow gang leaders thoughtfully, this time running his hand down his long goatee. I rummaged in my bag for my notebook, taking down the details of who and when just as the upper began to fizz through my bloodstream.
‘Ok Stevie, I'm gonna get onto that then, go see... uhh... Nathaniel or whoever I can talk to. I'm guessing I shouldn't say you sent me?’ I felt like being a bit cheeky. In the slums, just knowing the wrong person could get you killed. Stevie actually managed a smile.
‘Dere I was thinking ye all smart and stuff. 'Fore ye go, Imma show ye the room I got for ye.’ He stood up and waited for me to do the same before leading me out of the waiting room. We turned a series of corners, Stevie leading me into an area of his place I had never been to before.
He stopped at a fairly interesting door; spray painted with intricate silver spirals and patterns. He produced a key from his pocket and unlocked it with a great deal of awkward flair. The room inside was so simple but pretty, with purple and silver colours. It had a large bed and no windows, being in a safe house. It did however have another door, and I looked to Stevie questioningly. He just kind of smirked and jerked his head toward it, making me even more intrigued. I bounced over to it, expecting it to be locked for some reason. It creaked open to reveal something I hadn't seen in a long time. A bathroom, and it was private.
‘You're gonna let me stay here?’ I was afraid it was too good to be true. Stevie grinned from ear to ear.
‘Yeh girly, thinkin' ye be enjoyin' this. If ye doin' my work I gotta keep ye safe. Clean 'd be nice too. Don' want ye stinkin' up me home an' all.’ He laughed hard at that, but I was too buzzed to care. I was dying to jump in that shower, feel hot running water for the first time in years. Normally it was a cold bucket bath or hose down, depending on where I could find the water. He held out the door key to me and I practically floated across the room to get it. I undid the clasp on my most valuable possession, my silver necklace and jewelled locket and placed the key on the chain.
I thanked him profusely until he left, after which I really had to fight the urge to jump on the bed like mad. I locked the door for some privacy, another novelty, before jumping in the shower clothes and all. They sure needed a wash too, and Stevie had even provided some nice smelly soap which I made full use of. I left my jeans and t-shirt drying in the bathroom while I padded out to my room, wrapped in a fluffy towel and a state of bliss. The bed was screaming out for me, and I flopped down onto it, sinking into the thick covers.
I must have dozed off again despite the upper, because the next thing I remember was a splitting headache as the withdrawals brought me screaming back into the world. Groaning, I pulled my bag over to me, rifling through it until I could find my pillbox. Those lovely pinkies that I had been given last night would be too dozy to take now, so I grabbed some lower-level blues and an upper for good measure.
I did have to work for this lovely room after all.
My clothes were adequately dry that I could pull them on again, although the slightly damp and cold bra made me cringe. I dug through my bag for my make-up, ecstatic that I had a full mirror for once. Normally I had to use a broken chunk of mirror I had found in a bin. I applied my make-up quickly, with a much-practiced hand. I even combed out my bangs and gave my faerylocks a roll.
I smiled into the mirror, pretty impressed with the difference a shower and some effort made. It could also have had something to do with the fizz now running through my veins, making the whole world a bit sparkly and special. I pulled my worn boots on, followed by my jacket with the fluffy trim and I was ready to go. Looking down, I also lowered my shirt front and perked my boobs up a bit more, a little extra help was always appreciated right?
Chapter Three
The extra effort had helped me on the streets a little on my first fact finding adventure, but it didn't make an ounce of difference to Nathaniel. He had flounced into the tastefully decorated waiting room with a perfect smile and perfect clothes, right down to the perfect manicure. Stevie hadn't seen fit to inform me that Nathaniel was actually also a raging twink. He was followed by a huge man who was covered in tattoos and scars, a hulking mass of don't-fuck-with-me. He was apparently very well acquainted with Nathaniel, given that as soon as he sat down he was draped in a certain well-dressed twink.
‘Scho,’ Nathaniel began with the cutest lisp ever bestowed to a grown man. ‘I haven't seen you here before, what brings you to my neck of the woods?’ As he asked, he ran his fingers playfully through the man-mountain's hair. I tried not to smile at the lisp, especially given the angry stare of his thuggish boyfriend.
‘Well, uhhh Nathaniel... I am here to see if there is weird stuff going on with your drugs too. I have spoken to Stevie from...’ At that Nathaniel burst into laughter, stopping me dead in my tracks.
‘Hahahaa, ahh Schtevie the Schouthie. Is the old fool still pretending he runs the South part of this Hel hole?’ Nathaniel giggled loudly, even prompting a smile from the hulk. I ignored the jibe about the man who was now apparently my landlord.
‘Yeah I guess so. Apparently, people have been using something and just kind of stopping? Then they take off or something.’ I didn't want to give them too much information, just in case. Nathaniel cocked his head at her, finally losing his exaggerated cheer.
‘Aye, I know something about it. Why is it that you care?’ Despite the thick lisp, his direct nature stopped me in my tracks. He was clearly a canny man, and he wouldn't let much pass. I took a moment to weigh up my options and finally decided to just be straight despite my earlier resolutions. Lying messed with my high anyway.
‘Stevie asked me to look into it, he is worried. I have an education, and he offered me a place to stay.’
‘Ah I see. Well, as long as you keep your trap shut about anything you see in these walls, we won't have a problem. If Stevie suddenly starts sniffing around my get up here, I will come see you first remember.’ Nathaniel nodded and tapped on the shoulder of his muscle. I nodded in reply, not really willing to incur his wrath.
‘Asch it happens we are having a bit of trouble, so this could work. Some of my sellers in my rooms and on the street are telling me that we are having people going missing. They are taking this new shit, faerie fizzer and they just stop, standing up. First few times the drug was just a high, now it makes them freaks, they just walk away, and no one sees them again. Can't stop them either, they just keep walking,’ Nathaniel said, sitting forward and finally focusing for once. I shivered a little, suddenly feeling cold despite the high. Perhaps it was wearing off too soon.
