I nearly had a heart attack.

I can't explain how. I can't explain where. I can't explain when.

But I had seen her before.

It was all there. Nothing was new.

The dirty, yet still pretty dress pooling around her ankles. The wilting, dry flower crown resting on top of her neat fawn curls. Her clear, tan skin. Her deep brown eyes. Her dainty hands and feet. Her full lips. Her..... eh-hem.

Wait. So there was one thing new. The tight silver shackles around her wrists.

I looked around for the first time. We were in a stone dungeon.

"Hello," I stuttered.

Despite the tone of her previous comment, she wore a pleasant and innocent smile.

"Hello. My name's Lark. Yours?"

Lark. That was a perfect name. It seemed to fit her perfectly.

"Johnnie Angel."

She smiled.

"Didn't you tell the fairies it was Thorn?"

"I did," I said, trying to sound shameless.

She smiled again, then after a moment, asked, "Who is Johnny and why does he hate jazz?"

I looked down at my shirt- Johnny Hates Jazz.

"It's a band," I said slowly.

"A band?" Lark asked.

"It's this group of musicians-"

"Well, look who's been aquatinted," came Ford's voice.

I turned quickly, to see the group of winged figures having re-entered the cell.

"Thorn et le paysan, assis dans un cachot! Embrasser! Embrasser!" Stacey taunted.

"The queen will see you now," said Vic.

I nodded, and suddenly I was thrust upward from underneath my arms.

"I can walk," I said indignantly.

"Relax, shortcake, I have a day job as a car," Ford whispered. I hadn't realized he was behind me.

And we all left the room, Ford carrying me still. I tried to turn my head to see Lark again, but I couldn't see past Ford's fast-beating wings.

We soon arrived in a grand marble throne room.

"Thank you infinitely, Fairies. Merci infiniment, Fées. The queen wishes to see her prisoner. La reine veut voir son prissonier," came a gruff voice.