Summoning Spooktober

“Did you get what I requested?” The Fae sat on her borrowed throne of office supplies, eyes back to Colm's pallid face. “No,” Colm's hand fell to grab at the grass, pulled it up in clumps like a school child. It turned into carpet in his hands. “You called me. You asked for wishes. Went to a stringent deal of trouble getting to me in the first place, opposed to my lesser Fae who... what was it, Colm?" Selyka cleared her throat with the sound of branches brushing together. "'Ain't a Queen, now, is it'? It's time to pay the piper, Mr. O'Riordan!” “Have mercy, I-” “Mercy!” Selyka shouted. “I dare say no one has accused me of that recently.” A decadent chill drifted across Colm's spine as he slid his eyes up her legs to that frigid and eternal face.
— Whiskey and Sinners Blood