Jack-O-Lanterns: King Jack’s Ball
By Alecia Monaco
ISBN:1-59596-544-0
Changeling Press
Release Date: October 2006
Copyright ©2006 Alecia Monaco

All Hallows Eve… a night of goblins, fairies, and dark fey celebrating under the watchful eye of King Jack himself. It’s a night of rigid divisions and lonely sighs. It’s a night of oppressed ladies and secret admirers. A night destined to be yet another humdrum event among the Court of the Dark Sidhe, until a whisper of magic touches the party goers. A whisper of magic that thrills the senses and incites lusty inclinations.

Will a bit of magic be enough to crash down barriers between dark fey classes? Can a spell cast by the legendary pumpkin king evoke sizzling passion between a blood fey and a Sidhe princess?

Come howl beneath the full Halloween moon at King Jack’s Ball.

“Quite a good turnout of revelers this year, wouldn’t you say, King Jack?”

The pumpkin king turned his yellow-orange head toward his personal guard, his strange triangular eyes glowing golden fire. “Yes, yes, Goblin, the turnout is good enough.” The king’s raspy voice emerged from a perpetually wide smile, pointed teeth included.

“You seem displeased.” Goblin huddled inside his robe, pulling the hood lower on his head.

King Jack shrugged his shoulders, making his entire body rattle. Not a difficult trick, Goblin mused, when one’s body was made entirely of sticks.

“The party is well enough.” The king heaved a sigh. “But these cursed Sidhe are as clannish as a convent of nuns.”

Goblin’s gaze wandered the open field the Court of Dark Sidhe used for their annual All Hallows Eve ball. Fairy folk danced beneath the full moon, their wings a melee of glitter in the darkness. Certain groups seemed to congregate together naturally. The royalty kept to themselves, as expected. The blood fey, with their pale skin and gleaming black eyes, hovered on the fringes of the gathering.

A few other fairy folk of high rank had been invited, even though they were not of the Court of Dark Sidhe. A banshee or two wandered through the crowd, their white gowns a contrast to the dark jewels and gothic elegance of the other revelers. Goblin spotted his old friend Aisling, the former banshee at arms, and lowered his head in a deep bow to her and her mortal spouse.

The rest of the Dark Sidhe, the regular courtiers who were neither royal nor blood, were clustered together in various groups. Goblin turned to the king, who sat slumped in his throne within the royal pavilion. “They are a rather cliquish bunch,” he admitted.

“And such a hellish bore.” The king grunted his disapproval. “I’d rather have spent the evening with Old Nick himself than to have wasted it here among this bunch of precious little snobs.”

Goblin continued to watch the crowd, tracking the movements of the blood fey gathered beneath a cluster of ancient oaks near the perimeter of the field. Rather than dancing to the sounds of Skeeter’s Skeleton Sextet with the rest of the party goers, they stood stock still, as if frozen in place.

Except for one.

Goblin tracked the lone blood fey who had ventured away from the group. The tall, dark-haired lad had staked out a place near where the Dark Sidhe royalty were holding court.

The blood fey, Goblin noted, seemed to have eyes only for the Sidhe princess.

Princess Fianna sat slightly apart from the rest of the royal court, plucking absently at her amethyst velvet dress with a pair of tiny ivory-white hands. She looked every bit as bored as King Jack.

Meanwhile, Goblin observed the male blood fey watch the princess with an almost palpable longing in his obsidian eyes. A longing, Goblin realized, that could never be fulfilled in a society as cliquish as the Court of Dark Sidhe.

“I shall cease to preside over this annual affair,” King Jack said, waving his twig fingers in a dismissive gesture, “if this evening fails to improve.”

“But, your lordship must realize, the Court of Dark Sidhe are powerful allies. They count on this annual fete as a token of your loyalty and esteem.” Goblin threw up his black mitt-covered hands. “If you cease to preside over their annual All Hallows Eve ball, they may see it as a sign of animosity, and no longer consider themselves allies of the Pumpkin Crown.”

King Jack yawned, leaning his bulbous head against the back of his throne. “It’s almost worth the risk. I cannot even bring my own subjects here, for fear they’d be snubbed by this bunch.” He directed his flaming gaze in Goblin’s direction. “Even Skeeter’s Skeleton Sextet has grown weary of the games of this court.”

Goblin glanced over at the band’s pavilion. Six fully animated skeletons were producing spine tingling melodies on various instruments, with vocals of a truly unearthly nature. Goblin shuddered and looked away, his gaze falling upon the blood fey still watching Princess Fianna with a devouring hunger.

What a shame, to witness such an impossible love and be unable to help. Goblin sighed. But wait…

Maybe it wasn’t so impossible.

He cleared his throat and turned to face his king. “Your lordship, do you not possess a large measure of spellcraft, even outside of your own lands?”

The king nodded his head. “I do indeed. There are limits when I travel to other realms, but nothing I cannot overcome with a bit of… creativity.” For the first time that evening, the king’s voice matched his eternal smile.

Goblin had a smile of his own. “You’re no stranger to love magic, are you, sir?”

The king maintained a significant pause. “I can assure you, Goblin, all forms of love magic are within my abilities.”

Goblin leaned closer to his ruler. “You do realize, sir, that the Lianhan Shee and her sister are both here.” He indicated the two fairies, Deidre and Siobhan, seated with their mortal consorts a few yards away. “They will sense any love spell being worked, will they not?”

King Jack shook his massive head. “I work the magic of the earth, of the Green Man and the wild creatures. The Love Fairy and her sister will only sense fairy magic at work. Mine will go undetected.”

Goblin considered the king’s words for a moment. “Would a powerful spell of love and attraction not liven up this rather stuffy gathering?”

A low chuckle sounded from somewhere deep inside the king’s scrawny form. “I should say it would. If nothing else, it would be the death knell for such cliquish behavior.”

Goblin echoed the king’s laughter. “Your magical scepter awaits, sire.” He bowed deeply to the throne. “Your loyal subject stands ready to serve.”

The king let out a rusty cackle. “Then let the games begin.”

CHANGELING PRESS