The Wrong Side of Magic

by Janette Rallison

  Hudson followed them, giving the doorknob on the inside—also snail-shaped—a long stare. It didn’t move. That either meant it was a job-conscious snail or an inanimate object. The fact that Hudson didn’t know which made him want to get home all the more quickly.

  A counter stood at one end of the shop, and shelves lined every available space on the wall. They were covered with bottles, boxes, tongs, knives, and jars full of things that sparkled and glowed. The whole room smelled like it had rained inside and things had never really dried out.

  Over in one corner, a stout man with arms as thick as tree trunks was stacking copper plates on a shelf. He wore black boots, red pants, and a long medieval shirt as the other men in the village wore. But instead of a regular belt, a snake was wrapped around his middle. It turned its head toward Hudson and licked the air with a forked tongue.

  “Father,” Glamora said, traipsing over to him, “we’ve brought someone to trade with you.”

  The man’s gaze slid over Hudson, sizing him up. “Have you?” He had the same glossy brown hair and green eyes as his children, but the resemblance stopped there. No one would think he was a forest elf. He looked more like a lion tamer with a snake-belt sidekick.

  “This is Hudson,” Glamora said. “He’s a wizard from the other realm.”

  Hudson felt oddly like he should bow after such an introduction. He nodded awkwardly instead.

  “You can call me Rex.” The man reached out and shook Hudson’s hand, a motion that brought the snake closer to Hudson than he liked. “My children’s friends are always welcome here.”

  Glamora sashayed over to the counter and leaned against it. “Hudson came to our village to buy catflower. Then he’s going to climb the thorn tree to return back to his world.”

  “Ahh,” Rex said, and a smile split his face apart. “I never tire of watching wizards from your world. Such an entertaining bunch, the lot of you are.”

  How many people from Hudson’s world had come here? And why hadn’t any of them told anyone that this place existed? Then again, maybe some people had, and everyone thought they were crazy. After all, what would the guys at Hudson’s school think if he told them talking unicorns had snubbed him?

  Rex wiped his hands against the sides of his pants, his eagerness evident. “What did you bring to trade?”

  Hudson looked down at his clothes as though hoping to find something of value. Would his jacket be worth anything? What did catflower cost?

  Before he could ask, Glamora said, “He has a magic compass.”

  Well, yeah, but it was Charlotte’s, and besides, Hudson didn’t know whether it did any magic beyond bringing people here. As far as its compass capabilities, it didn’t seem to point the way anywhere except where you already were. Plus, it obviously had a strong phobia of trolls. He glanced down at it and noticed an exclamation mark had joined the BEWARE OF TROLLS warning.

  Rex took a step closer to examine the compass in Hudson’s hand. “A fine piece of work, and it has a troll warning, too. That’s handy for common folk. It’s worth much more than a bunch of catflower.”

  “I can’t sell the compass,” Hudson said, fingering it. “I’m just borrowing it from a friend.”

  Rex frowned. “Then what did you bring to trade?”

  Hudson shifted his weight uncomfortably. “I could give you my shoes, my shirt, or my jacket.” He wasn’t taking off his pants and climbing a tree in his underwear, though, not even for Bonnie’s kitten.

  Rex shook his head, still frowning. “We don’t wear clothes from the Land of Banishment.” He peered at the compass again. “You can always tell your friend you lost the compass. It won’t even be a lie. You’ll lose it and gain something from my shop.” He stepped behind the counter and gestured to the cupboards behind him. “I keep the truly fine merchandise back here. Things worthy of a magic compass.”

  Rex opened a cupboard and pulled out a leather belt, complete with scabbard and sword. With fluid grace, he unsheathed the sword and pointed it in Hudson’s direction. Hudson took an unsteady step backward. For one gasping moment, he thought Rex was about to strike him.

  “If you want power,” Rex said, “you need this magic sword. As long as you hold it, your enemies will run.”

  And if Hudson ever brought it to school, they’d run right to the principal’s office and have him expelled. “I came to get catflower for my sister. If you tell me where it grows, maybe I can find some.”

  “Your sister is a cat?” Rex frowned. “How unfortunate.”

  “No, my sister has a sick cat.”

  Rex sheathed the sword and put it back into the cupboard. “Well, you can easily buy her a new cat, once”—he pulled a velvet bag from underneath the counter—“you own this magic purse.” Rex took a silver coin from his pocket, placed it into the bag, and pulled the drawstring tight. He shook the purse dramatically, then opened it and turned it upside down. Two silver coins fell out. “Instant and continuous wealth.” Rex held the purse out to Hudson, offering it to him.

  Hudson wasn’t sure the purse was even a good trick, let alone magic. A silver coin could have already been inside the purse to begin with.

  He didn’t reach for the purse. “I could get something from my home to trade and bring it back here.” The problem with this suggestion was that Hudson had no idea what sort of things the people here wanted. “I could give you some food,” he said. “Or maybe a doorknob that won’t wander off.…”

  Rex flicked his hand, waving away Hudson’s words. As far as salesman went, he was determined. “Wealth and swords don’t interest you. I should have known as much. Fine wizards have enough of those. But I bet I can guess what you do want. Admiration.” He pulled a round mirror, no bigger than Hudson’s palm, from a drawer. He put it on the counter, rubbing away some dust that coated the tiny golden leaves twining around the mirror’s rim. “Perhaps there is a fair lady, someone whose attention you want to catch. Once you own this magic mirror, you’ll always be the most handsome person around.”

  From behind Hudson, Proval whispered, “Take my advice and choose that one. You need it.” Then he snickered at his own joke.

  Hudson opened his mouth to refuse the offer, then paused. The mirror’s magic seemed to rise from it the same way scents rose from fresh-baked cookies—warm and delicious. He leaned over the counter to get a better look. From the mirror, his eyes gazed back at him hopefully. What would it be like to be the best-looking guy at school—to be tall, muscular, and always have girls hanging around? To have Isabella hanging around?

  Before Hudson could change his mind, he put the compass in his pocket. “I’m just here for catflower.”

  Glamora gave him a forced smile. “What a good brother you are.”

  Rex nodded, undeterred. “True enough, and good brothers should be rewarded.” He picked up the mirror from the counter. “I’m so sure you’ll appreciate the fine nature of my wares, I’ll give you this one for free. That way, when you come back again, you’ll want to do business with me.” He held out the mirror to Hudson. It gleamed, shining with promises.

  “Won’t people notice if I suddenly look different?”

  “That’s the beauty of this magic,” Rex said. “They won’t think your appearance has changed.” He leaned closer to Hudson. “So, do you accept my gift?”

  Hudson nearly didn’t. He wasn’t going to come back here, so it didn’t seem right. Besides, something was vaguely unsettling about Rex’s smile. It was the smile of a person who was keeping secrets.

  But a magic mirror—when would Hudson ever get that sort of gift again? He reached out and took it. “Sure, thanks.” After all, if Rex wanted to give the mirror away, why shouldn’t Hudson be the most handsome guy in his school? He slipped the mirror into his pocket.

  Rex smiled again and motioned to his children. “Why don’t you find some catflower for our guest and show him the way home.”

  Glamora and Proval turned and walked from the room without comment. Hudson followed af
ter them, remembering to throw in a “Thanks again for the mirror” as he left.

  Once outside, Glamora walked over to a clump of orange flowers growing next to the dirt road—the ones that looked like flames on a stem. She picked a flower and handed it to Hudson. “This should be enough for one cat.”

  The orange flower? The one he’d seen dotting the path all the way here? “Why didn’t you tell me before that this was catflower?” he asked.

  Glamora shrugged. “I never thought about it.”

  Right. He knew she was lying but didn’t argue with her. It was best just to go back home as quickly as he could. “Thanks.” He added the flower to the other things in his pockets. “Which way to the thorn tree?”

  “This way.” Glamora turned, and she and Proval led him through the streets of vine-bound cottages.

  The thorn tree stood towering over the buildings in the middle of the town square—or, in this case, the town circle. The tree hadn’t been misnamed. Every few inches along the branches, clawlike thorns protruded between the tree’s bright red leaves.

  Glamora pointed at a large wooden box up in some high branches. “That’s the exit. As you go through the door, say the location you want, and you’ll end up there as long as it’s in your home city.”

  Hudson touched one of the thorns on a low branch. Needle-sharp, it pricked his finger. He didn’t like the idea of navigating up a tree full of these things. “Are there any other doorways back to my world?”

  “Yes,” Proval said, “but you’d have to wander all over the countryside to find one. This one is right here.”

  He had a point. Hudson gingerly reached toward a branch, spreading his fingers apart so he wasn’t impaled in the process. “Have either of you ever gone through the door?”

  “Of course not,” Proval said with a scoff. “It’s an exit. To get to your world, we’d need a magical entrance, and those are nearly impossible to find.”

  “Oh,” Hudson said, not quite sure how that made sense.

  Glamora must have seen his confusion. “An exit always takes a person to his homeland. Our home is here.”

  “Oh,” Hudson said again. Magical doorways must not follow regular laws of physics. He reached for a second branch, testing it to make sure it would hold his weight.

  Proval put his hands in his pockets and leaned back on the heels of his boots. “If you don’t want to risk the thorns, you can always fly up. Even mediocre wizards should be able to conjure that sort of spell.”

  And that was one more disadvantage of not being even a mediocre wizard. Hudson started up the tree, carefully placing each hand and foot. He wondered if Proval had ever seen anyone from his world fly up this tree, or whether he was just goading Hudson because he knew people from his world didn’t have any magical abilities.

  Hudson avoided the thorns for the first few branches. The farther he went up the tree, the harder it became. He kept brushing his knees and elbows into branches, and every time he did, thorns caught on his clothes, holding him tight. He had to yank himself free, and more than once he ripped the sleeves of his jacket. Better his jacket than his skin, he told himself.

  As he climbed, the wind blew some of the smaller branches toward him, piercing the skin on his wrists and hands. Each time it happened, Hudson let out a yelp. Which—although he couldn’t be sure—seemed to make Proval laugh. Once or twice Proval called out, “Careful not to fall!”

  Hudson hoped this wasn’t some horrible practical joke. If the box didn’t lead anywhere and he had to climb back down this tree, he would not be happy.

  Finally, after pricking and pulling himself over a dozen more branches, Hudson reached a platform and the dresser-size box that sat there. It was made of twisted tree branches, and leaves and thorns still covered many of them. The door was smooth—modern-looking, as though it belonged to Hudson’s world instead of this one. Well, with one notable difference. A bird’s nest protruded where the doorknob should have been. Its owner, a red-and-white-striped bird, squawked angrily at Hudson and flew away.

  Three candy-cane-striped eggs sat in the nest. Hudson took them out so they wouldn’t break, then twisted the bird’s nest to open the door. He kept the door open with his foot, replaced the eggs, and waved good-bye to Glamora and Proval.

  They waved back.

  Hudson crouched his way inside the box, and as he said his address, the door closed shut behind him.

  It was completely dark. He wondered again if this box would really take him home, or whether Proval and Glamora were playing a prank. Only one way to find out. Slowly, he got on his hands and knees and eased his way farther into the box. He still couldn’t see anything. The floor under his hands felt smooth and cool. He took a few more crawling steps forward.

  Hudson had never thought about the different kinds of darkness before, but he knew them: The annoying black that happened when somebody accidentally turned off the light on you. The peaceful obscurity that came from shutting your eyes to go to sleep. And there was the pressing dimness—fear curling its edges—that happened when you had to walk somewhere alone in the night.

  Hudson had never felt magical darkness before. It was a spinning sort of blackness that made him feel as if he were falling down and rushing upward, and he had no idea where he would land.

  4

  AFTER A FEW moments, the magical darkness faded into a general freaked-out blackness, which would have been worse except Hudson saw a crack of light ahead of him—the outline of a small door. He crawled forward, and his hand clanged into something. He scooted to the right and bumped into more things, all of them scattering and clanking in a scolding chorus. He had no idea what any of them were, and he lunged forward out of the door.

  He found himself sprawled on his kitchen floor surrounded by pots and pans he’d knocked out of the cupboard.

  He lay there, startled, and took deep breaths.

  Bonnie sat at the table, holding the mixing bowl in her lap. She cocked her head with confusion when she saw him. “Hudson, what were you doing in the cupboard?”

  How could he even begin to answer that question? He sat up and brushed himself off. A few little red leaves from the thorn tree fluttered to the floor. “So it turns out I was wrong about that compass,” he said. “It was magic after all.”

  Bonnie’s mouth dropped open. “Did it magic you into the cupboard?”

  “It magicked me into Charlotte’s world. I just came home through the cupboard.” He pulled the now crumpled stem of catflower from his pocket and held it out. “I got your catflower.”

  Her eyes widened, and she grabbed the flower from his hand. “This is it?”

  Hudson nodded. “I don’t know how we’re supposed to feed it to Sunshine. Maybe if we tear it up into pieces and…”

  He didn’t finish, because Bonnie had put the flower near the kitten’s face. Sunshine opened her eyes, licked the flower several times, then chewed on the end. After a few moments of this, she purred and chomped down the whole flower. Then, as if she’d only just noticed how bedraggled she was, she set about giving herself a thorough lick-down.

  “Look at that,” Hudson said. “She’s getting better already.”

  Bonnie petted Sunshine’s head happily. “I knew Charlotte was telling the truth.” Bonnie paused, apparently remembering the other things Charlotte had told her about Logos. “Were there unicorns?”

  “Yep. I met two.”

  Bonnie’s lips scrunched together, and she let out a huff of irritation. “I wanted to go and ride them, but you wouldn’t let me. You said it was pretend.”

  Hudson did feel bad about it, when she put it that way. “The unicorns weren’t as nice as you’d think. Actually, they were sort of snooty.”

  Bonnie’s lips remained unhappily scrunched together.

  “And I had to climb a thorny tree to get back here.” He held up his hands so she could see the scratches the thorns had left across his palms. That’s when he noticed the kitchen clock. He’d been gone for over an hour.
“I’d better give Charlotte her compass back.”

  Before Bonnie could go on and on about how he’d made her miss riding a unicorn, Hudson slipped out the door and headed down the sidewalk to Charlotte’s house. He hadn’t gone far when Isabella and her friend Macy turned onto the sidewalk a little ways ahead of him. It was only then that he remembered about the basketball game. All the oddities of the past couple of hours had chased mundane things like basketball from his mind.

  Normally, Hudson wouldn’t have said anything to a group of girls on the sidewalk—especially if Isabella was one of those girls. But he felt the weight of the magic mirror in his pocket. It was a cool, gleaming disk full of confidence.

  He wanted to take the mirror out of his pocket and check his appearance. Was he taller now? Stronger? His nose probably wasn’t so wide, and his teeth were probably straight, too, which meant he wouldn’t have to wear braces. His mom could stop saving money for them. Win-win, all the way.

  He left the mirror in his pocket. He didn’t want Isabella and Macy to glance over their shoulders and catch him staring at his reflection for no apparent reason.

  Instead, he caught up with the girls. “Hey,” he said, smiling. “Are you all going to the basketball game?”

  Isabella gazed at him casually. She didn’t seem to notice his new handsomeness. “Yeah. We promised Andy and Caidan we’d cheer for them.”

  Macy was holding her phone and texting someone. “I hope it doesn’t last long. I don’t know why boys get such a kick out of running around bouncing a ball.”

  “It’s fun,” Hudson said. He was a decent basketball player. Maybe now that he was taller, the other guys would ask him to play.

  The group reached Charlotte’s house. Hudson didn’t stop. He could return the compass to her after the game. It would be safe in his pocket for an hour or so.

  Isabella looked Hudson over questioningly, and he wondered if she’d finally noticed his recent switch to hotness. “What happened to your jacket?” she asked.