Free The Fern Tender by A.M. Price

reality, only a select few clients would ever feel and see the extent of Temple. Most of the clients, all women - Ellen had no use for weirdo men - got the standard treatment. A mock dungeon scene, a few spanks, maybe some taunting and a crisp whack of a whip or two, and then were shown to the parlor where the clerk more than happily swiped their credit card. The bill conveniently read Target with an apostrophe s (Target’s) which kept nosy husbands at bay.
     
         Outside of the pedestrian customers, there were a handful of women that Ellen adored and those chosen few could spend an entire day or afternoon indulging in all the rooms, for free. Black magic required power to run. Almost like a battery, it had to take from some where in order to give to another. The women Ellen chose for full treatments were aware of this trade off. They didn’t care. Like anything truly evil, Ellen’s rooms were irresistible, too good not to have or at least use fleetingly on a rainy afternoon far away from daily life in the Capitol or in Lillian’s case, far away from the ferns and the wheel.
         Lillian turned the ancient handles and looked upward as the creaking giant doors opened. The building stood three stories high above the ground, but had, at least as far as Lillian could tell, two more stories underground. The stone was cut from a quarry 500 years ago that didn’t exist anymore. The vein of light pink granite had been tapped and spent long ago, making the temple a unique building in The Capitol.
         Lillian said a quick hello to the parlor clerk, then was lead by one of the guards through the labyrinth of hallways and staircases to the third floor where the kitchen presided over the north-west corner of the back garden.
         Here in the kitchen, she found Ellen and two of her proteges relaxing and drinking hot tea. One of the most obvious things the public didn't know about Ellen’s was that she kept almost a dozen boarders, young women who paid her rent and lived with her for up to 3 years in order to learn the art of dark magic that Ellen enjoyed so much. They also did chores, odd jobs, and some of them worked the rooms as well.
         Ellen looked up over her reading glasses and exclaimed, “Lillian! I knew I would see you today, but I thought it might be later. I saw your sign this morning in the garden, a murder of crows! A perfect 5 pointed figure of flying darkness. My favorite symbol for one of my most favorite people!”
         Lillian almost rolled her eyes, but stopped herself, the drama that was Ellen could be overwhelming sometimes. Still it was cute, and Lillian did enjoy the contrast coming from the dry confines of the President’s office. “Nice to see your Ms. Ellen, crows are the smartest birds in the forest so thank you for your compliment.”
         “How is your life Lillian?” Asked Ellen.
         “Depends on what part of it we’re talking about.” Lillian answered.
         Ellen ignored Lillian’s whine and continued, “Well, you’re here child so I will assume there is some stress. Come here and sit, and let’s talk about fun stuff.”
         Not wasting any time Lillian quipped, “Thanks Ellen, I’d like that, been a long few months. I need the full circuit today, everything.”
         Noting her comment but still ignoring her request for the moment, Ellen called out to the house mother and chef, “Miranda, will you please pour Lillian a bowl of lime soup, and bring her a hot tea.”
         Miranda had been one of Ellen’s early proteges that ended up staying on with the Temple. She was a great cook but never that good with clients or magic. Her niche was the kitchen, and unlocking the magic of smell and taste. Her window sill and much of the cabinet tops, really all available space was over over run with fresh herbs, vials of various oils, and brightly colored vegetables. All of them strategically placed into rows of shields in between the