Tilly's Mama, part 1.

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When she woke up, Tilly found herself staring at an unfamiliar ceiling in an equally unfamiliar room. Pushing herself up on her elbows proved to be a terrible idea, as her bones felt like they had been replaced with dull knives and the thing draped over her—a man's canvas coat in a worrying shade of police uniform brown—seemed to weigh no less than a thousand pounds. She sank back down. The cot beneath her squeaked in protest.

There were metal bars on the far side of the room, separating her from that same tin man as before, who was doing his best impression of an officer definitely not asleep on the job, cheek propped on a knuckle over a set of papers. A single snore bolted him upright. He blinked blearily, casting around, his attention finally settling on her.

"So you're awake," he said, standing from his desk. A set of keys jingled from his belt.

Jail.

Tilly was in jail.

The thought of it was enough to give her the strength to sit up. The coat drifted over her knees, pooling on the floor.

The officer cleared his throat in warning. "You, uh, might wanna pick that back up, missy."

She stared at him in confusion but did as she was told. Smoothing the coat back over her torso, she noticed the cause of his concern: A split seam in her dress revealed much of her petticoat, lace edge caked with dirt from her tussle with the Ferris wheel. "Oh, that's just my crinoline, sir."

His eyes were locked pointedly on a window. "That may be true, but you're still compromised. Be glad we didn't slap you with an indecent exposure charge on top of everything else."

"'Everything else?'" The air in Tilly's lungs flash froze. "Where's Sprout? What'd you do to my dog?"

He nodded to a door across from him. "They're both in the next room over."

"What're we in for?" She balled her fists into the coat. "You can't just detain us for nothing. That's gotta be illegal."

"Calm down. Yain't being detained. Think of it more as..." He grasped at the air as though he could pluck the right word from it. "Protective custody. You were unconscious when we arrived and we need you to answer a few questions, is all."

"Well all right then, but what are you protecting me from?" she asked.

"Lot of talk going around town." The cell door squealed open. He beckoned her out. "Reckon everybody knew the Lafayettes did some magic here and there, but what they did in their own home was their own business. But wrassling with that Ferris wheel like that—"

Tilly's voice had an edge to it. "That wheel would've crushed half the town before it stopped."

"We realize that, miss, and we're much obliged." He held up a hand again, annoyance simmering in his tone. "But knowing there's some fey-blood walking round these parts with enough power to stop three hundred some odd tons of freewheeling metal dead in its tracks has got people, well, a touch unsettled. It's really for your own good we put you in here 'til you recovered."

"That's mighty thoughtful of you. Thank you kindly." She examined her fuzzy reflection in the tin man's metal badge. "So what do you need to know?"

"Right." The officer was all too happy to return to his desk. Papers rustled. He clicked a pen open, closed, then open again, prepared to take notes as he read off the information. "When did you arrive at the fair this morning?"

"Don't rightfully know." She folded the coat and laid it on the edge of the desk. "Maybe four or five AM? It was just getting daylight."

He nodded. The sound of pen scratching against paper was like an animal clawing at a wall in the otherwise deafening quiet. "Unusual time to arrive, seeing as the fair didn't open until eight."

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