Glimmers of Scales

by Emma Savant

  Thinking sucked. I gave up on my hair, shoved my wand back into it, and raced down the stairs and away from my thoughts.

  Imogen and Lucas were in lively conversation. She was complaining about being a bridesmaid, and he was being an awesome listener. I flashed him a quick thumbs-up. Imogen caught the gesture and rolled her eyes at me.

  “Come on, weirdo,” she said, standing up and winking at me. “Ice cream. Now.”

  I had to find a way to tell her.

  Chapter Two

  Our immediate neighborhood was all Victorian mansions and overgrown gardens clambering up and down a forested hillside. As we walked down the hill, the houses got closer together and apartment buildings started showing up. Just beyond that came the best Glimmering ice cream in Portland.

  “There were a couple of questions I didn’t expect,” Imogen said. She pulled the hot pink shop door open for me, and the bell overhead jingled. “Like, there was one about what you should do if you’re glamoured as a bird with a broken wing and a princess decides to put you out of your misery instead of bandage you up.”

  “Does that happen a lot?”

  “Didn’t used to,” Imogen said. “But princesses are feistier than they used to be. I guessed that you should probably hop the hell out of there before she smashes you with a rock. And that was the right answer. I guess a bunch of people said you should drop the glamour and reveal yourself early, but that doesn’t even make sense. Revealing yourself as a faerie if you’re not either at a crossroads or at the end of the princess’ Story is an idiot decision. Talk about wasting your best move.”

  She examined the brightly colored tubs of ice cream behind the glass counter as she spoke. The shop was tucked between a Chinese restaurant and a stationary store. Any Humdrum could see the door, but it would never cross their mind to walk through it. Imogen tapped on the glass with one long pink nail.

  “Kunlun peach, please,” she said. “One scoop, waffle cone.”

  The rosy-cheeked elf behind the counter hopped onto a stool and practically dove into the cooler. She mounded the peach ice cream onto a cone.

  “You would be my favorite forever if you put a sprinkle of fairy dust on there,” Imogen said.

  The woman dipped a spoon into a jar of sparkling purple powder and flicked the glitter onto the ice cream, sending stray bits everywhere.

  “Chocolate chunk, please,” I said. “Waffle cone. No fairy dust.”

  And that order just about summed up boring old me.

  “I’m glad you have common sense around feisty princesses,” I said, while I watched the woman scoop up the chocolate-speckled vanilla.

  I’d have picked the same answer, but it would have only been a lucky guess. Unlike Imogen, I wasn’t a Glimmering genius who’d just earned top marks on my Proctor Proficiency Exam.

  I took the cone from the elf and thanked her. Imogen handed her a couple of small coins and waved goodbye.

  “How does it feel to be a licensed Proctor?” I said as I followed Imogen to the door.

  “Licensed Junior Proctor,” she said. “I need my degree to advance.”

  “Licensed Junior Proctor, then,” I said, and she couldn’t stop a goofy smile from spreading across her perfect face.

  Being official meant she was free to glamour herself as much as she wanted in front of anyone she liked in order to determine their true character. While normally this idea would have made me nervous, Imogen was good at her job. Better than good. And that mattered, because it was important work. Not many Stories concluded without the moment of truth and nuggets of wisdom Proctors provided as they tested Heroes’ and Heroines’ moral character.

  But being a Proctor was hard, the kind of job that made my work at Wishes Fulfilled look like a vacation. Being a faerie godmother just required that I grant wishes, not make value judgments as to whether my clients deserved them.

  Theoretically, anyway. I’d made a million value judgments on Elle’s case. But then, I aspired to be a biologist, not a career godmother.

  Imogen nudged the door open with her hip and we stepped out into the warm sunlight. I kept pace with her as she strode down the sidewalk.

  “Only a Junior for another few years,” she said. “Liv, you should come to Institut Glänzen with me. Seriously. We could be roommates. It would be amazing.”

  A familiar guilt made my stomach twinge, but only for an instant. We’d had this conversation before, but I couldn’t change my mind about this any more than I could suddenly up and accept Queen Amani’s job offer.

  “Glänzen is the most prestigious faerie academy in the world, remember?” I said. “Which means I probably can’t get in. Also, I can’t go to Oregon State’s biology program if I’m in the Swiss Alps.”

  “You wouldn’t be going to some Humdrum biology program, dork,” Imogen said. “You’d be, I don’t know, doing something awesome.”

  “Biology is awesome,” I said. “Glänzen is good if you want to make faerie-craft your life’s work.”

  That wasn’t my plan. We’d both known that for a long time.

  All my energy was geared toward the future, waiting breathlessly for the moment I’d step onto a college campus and start a new life, studying biology or forestry or whatever plant-related thing ended up making my heart pound the hardest. For the first time, I wouldn’t be Olivia Feye: godmother; or Olivia Feye: Reginald Feye’s daughter; or Olivia Feye: secret eyes of the Faerie Queen. I would just be me.

  And if I was honest, other than knowing that digging my hands into freshly-tilled soil made me want to do a happy dance, I didn’t even know what “me” meant. There were so many things I hadn’t tried, and so many versions of myself I hadn’t become. Life as the daughter of a Glimmering politician was simple: Be good, show up to events, and don’t cause trouble. I’d done everything right, except for the time I’d almost ruined Elle’s case. But my last year of high school was just beginning, and after I survived that, the whole world would open up.

  “You should think about it,” she said. “You remember the year I was in France? This is like that, but it’s four years instead of one.”

  “I love you times a million, but I can’t give up my life’s ambition to be your roommate.”

  Something flickered across her face, but she rolled her eyes before I could catch the expression.

  “Besides, you won’t be gone the whole time,” I said. “There’s summer vacation and Christmas. And it’s not like you won’t have a magic mirror at Glänzen. We can literally mirror each other every day.”

  “Mirrors and phones aren’t the same,” she said. We stepped off the sidewalk to let a woman walking three pugs pass. “Also, don’t even try to tell me you couldn’t get in. You’re the youngest Wishes Fulfilled godparent in, I don’t know, maybe ever. I’m still never going to forgive you for that.”

  “Lorinda said there was one girl back when Wishes Fulfilled started,” I said. “But she was the owner’s daughter, so I don’t know if that counts.”

  Lorinda, my boss, knew everything there was to know about faerie godparenting. It was usually more than I wanted to hear. She was convinced I was a rising star set to take over the agency. I didn’t have the heart to tell her I was only there for the gold.

  “Anyway, what would I do there?” I said. “Practice love spells?”

  “What are you going to do at your Humdrum college?” Imogen said. “Math homework and essays on plant structure? That’s so boring I almost fell asleep in the middle of the sentence.”

  “Boring for you, maybe,” I said.

  To me, it sounded like exactly what I’d been looking for all my life. OSU wasn’t quite far enough from home, but the in-state tuition meant my biggest dream—the chance to be a normal nobody for once in my life—was almost in my grasp. I wouldn’t trade that for the best faerie godparenting education the world had to offer.

  Imogen poked my shoulder. “You just want to stay here with Lucas,” she said. She winked at me and turned to cross the street.
The orange STOP hand was glaring at us, but she twirled her finger and it switched instantly to the white WALK figure. A car screeched to a halt to avoid running the red light that had suddenly appeared in front of it.

  I jogged to catch up as she strode across the street. “If I’m not willing to take off to the Alps with you, I’m definitely not going to stay in Oregon for Lucas.”

  Especially since Lucas had a girlfriend, which Imogen didn’t seem to think was as big a deal as I did.

  “You could get away from your parents,” she said in a sing-song voice.

  She was basically holding out candy to tempt me. It was the closest she’d come so far to winning me over, and even though I knew she was teasing, I didn’t want to laugh.

  Two college-aged guys with giant beards passed us. One of them looked longer at Imogen than was strictly necessary. She didn’t even notice.

  “No dice,” I said. “If I go to Institut Glänzen, I get to be away from my parents for most of the year. If I go to OSU, they’ll disown me.”

  “If only you could be so lucky.”

  A vague voice in the back of my head said I should feel guilty for talking about my family that way. We never talked like that about Imogen’s family.

  But then, Imogen’s family hadn’t earned our dismissal. Her sisters drove her up the wall, but at least they secretly liked each other, and her parents were freaking adorable. My parents hadn’t spoken to each other in three weeks, and neither of them were even bothering to act like that was weird anymore.

  Maybe that was how I’d managed to keep from telling Imogen about Queen Amani. I came from a whole family of people who never talked to each other about anything. Was it any surprise I had followed so perfectly in their footsteps?

  I opened my mouth. She had to know.

  “Honestly?” Imogen said before I got a word out. “I hate that you’re not coming to Glänzen with me. But I’m glad you’re getting to finally do your boring Humdrum thing.”

  “Me too,” I said. “About that.”

  “If this stupid wedding has taught me anything, it’s that I love what a weird Humdrum-lover you are,” she interrupted. “I’ve been surrounded by Maia and her friends the past couple weeks and, like—her friends are exhausting. They’re all in school or working these fancy Glim jobs, and every conversation is like they’re just trying to out-Glim each other.”

  I ducked behind her to avoid being run over by an enormous baby stroller.

  “How do you out-Glim someone?” I said.

  “Like, I’m a Junior Proctor, right?”

  “Right.”

  “So Maia mentions that, and then one of her friends goes, ‘Oh, isn’t that sweet. I thought about doing that before I decided to work for the Oracle’s political advisory council.’” Her voice took on a simpering quality. “And then this other friend starts going off on her schooling to become a Glim doctor, and then another one started blabbing about how special she felt as a magical researcher at the university.”

  “Maia’s friends sound obnoxious,” I said.

  “No freaking kidding,” she said. “But it made me appreciate you more. You’re never going to try to compete with me for fanciest Glim job. You’ve never cared about that, and I think that’s why we hit it off so well when we were kids. Like, I’m the Glim; you’re the Hum. We never have to compete, you know?”

  My heart sank.

  “That’s true,” I said.

  The bus hissed and clanged to a stop just as we reached the little bus shelter. I crammed the last tiny funnel-shaped bite of my ice cream cone into my mouth and stepped on board.

  For maybe the first time, stepping onto the bus to go to work felt like something I wanted to do. Work meant I could push this conversation to the back of my mind. When I was poring through a case file, I didn’t have to think about this stupid, heavy secret. I didn’t have to think about my parents, either, or my total inability to fall for someone available.

  All I had to do was solve one problem, and then another, until I got my client to a happily-ever-after.

  And today was better than most, because today I had a new case, and I was going to look over it while enjoying the best shortcake cappuccino in town.

  Chapter Three

  Every time I stopped by Elle’s café, Pumpkin Spice, the wooden vines carved in relief on the backs of the chairs had changed a little. Today, delicately carved blossoms had sprouted on some of the vines. The blossoms seemed to sway gently, though it could have been a trick of the light. Elle said I could expect to see full-grown miniature pumpkins soon, which she hoped to pry off, enchant, and sell at the Portland Saturday Market as charms.

  The butterscotch walls seemed warmer, too, lit by new filigree-shaded lamps jutting out of the walls between tables. The brown couches along the right side of the room had been replaced with burnt orange floor cushions surrounding low tables. The room still smelled like a spice cupboard, but there was an extra something here, too—the faint almost-scent of a well-cast enchantment.

  I glanced over the tops of my glasses. They shielded me from seeing magic everywhere, which was a rare and somewhat inconvenient faerie gift.

  Above the lenses, the room shifted to life, with warm gold sparkles floating down from the filigree lamps and soft orange curls rising from mugs with the steam. The living wooden leaves on the backs of the chairs rustled in a nonexistent breeze.

  But the people stood out more than the charms: Everyone here was a Glimmer. Glittering nebulas surrounded the faeries. At a table set into the front bay windows, a cluster of wizards chatted as constellations slowly spun around their heads. A witch’s dragon familiar, translucent and emerald green, curled up around her neck and nuzzled her ear beneath her shocking blue hair. The witch was talking to a water sprite who sat in a mist that gave off a faint rainbow if I tilted my head just right. Around the door, a pulsing gold light kept the Humdrums out and drew the Glimmers in.

  Pumpkin Spice catered to the magical crowd these days, one hundred percent.

  It was a brilliant business move.

  Elle waved at me from her spot behind the counter. Her skin glowed, even when I looked through my glasses. The success of her café had her flushed with radiance.

  “Caramel macchiato,” she said as soon as I reached the counter. Instantly, I realized that sounded ten times better than the shortbread cappuccino I’d been planning on ordering.

  Elle had developed an uncanny ability to figure out exactly what people were craving—sometimes better than they could. It was just one of her many blossoming gifts. Her dad was a Humdrum, but her mom had been an earth witch. Elle had inherited a whole slew of abilities, including a certain savvy about anything—including coffee beans—that had started in the ground.

  She handed me an orange ceramic mug. The Pumpkin Spice logo was emblazoned on the front, and the pumpkin vines entwined around the name shifted in the light.

  “No charge,” she said brightly.

  She’d forgiven me completely for meddling in her life all spring; I had a feeling Kyle, her best-friend-turned-boyfriend, had something to do with that. He was behind the counter, too, shaking his hips to the pulsing beat of a faerie alt band coming from the radio while he replaced flavored syrups on a wooden rack. I dropped a couple of coins into the tip jar and took my coffee to a table.

  I set the small blue folder down. My magic wand was wedged in my hair, holding the curls back in a twist. I touched the wand’s handle and the folder sprang back to its full size with a papery rustle.

  Client: Lily Pacifica, Princess of the North Pacific Ocean, Twelfth Daughter of King Neptune Pacifica

  Age: 19

  Occupation: Princess

  Hiring Client: Lily Pacifica

  Case Summary: Lily Pacifica has fallen in love with a human male, a Humdrum named Evan Costner (see enclosed personal details). She wishes to become human to enable their relationship to deepen. She is the twelfth daughter of the King Neptune Pacifica, king of the North Pacific O
cean, and his consort wife, Queen Muriel.

  I wished mer-kings would stop calling themselves Neptune. The king of the North Pacific was named King Neptune. So were the kings of the South Atlantic and the Mediterranean, and so were most of their oldest sons. The king of the North Atlantic was named Bob. I wanted to send him a thank-you note.

  Lily’s father has contacted Wishes Fulfilled to oversee the case. King Neptune is opposed to inter-species transformations and has hopes of Lily marrying an influential merman within the kingdom and/or pursuing a career relevant to her primary interest area of art/sculpture. King Neptune and Queen Muriel are aware of Lily’s decision to contract a Wishes Fulfilled godparent, but have expressed strong hopes that the assigned Godmother (i.e., Junior Godmother Olivia Feye) will be able to redirect Lily’s wish to a more productive venue.

  Objective: Grant Lily Pacifica’s wish, or a wish of equal or greater subjective value.

  Recommendations: Redirect Princess Pacifica’s aspirations toward a wish more in harmony with her probable future happiness. All parties are aware a Little Mermaid Archetype is likely present; the king and queen prefer to avoid the risks inherent in such an Archetype. Godmother is expressly prohibited from pursuing a Suicide Resolution, as per Oracle’s Agreement, Section 3, Clause 3.8.

  Relevant Archetype (subject to change at Godparent’s discretion): Little Mermaid

  I could see why Lorinda had assigned this case to me. My track record for coloring inside the lines wasn’t exactly stellar. If anyone could ruin a love affair so badly that it would change Lily Pacifica’s mind about this human, it was me.

  The photo of Lily had been taken at night. Her skin glowed gunmetal blue in the moonlight. I could make out the banks of the Willamette River behind her. Lorinda had told me that Lily, like many other mermaids living along the coast, often travelled up the river to take in the sights.