“No, actually. The opposite. It was like winter came early…and then he showed me the door.” I picked up the slice of pizza but threw it back onto the plate in a huff. “Look, I need help here. My mom is in a coma and all I want to do is save her. If you’re not going to help me, then leave me the hell alone, okay?”
Her eyes widened again, but not with pity this time. “No need for language, my dear.” She laced her fingers and speared me with a look that would have made my sixth grade teacher envious. “Godmothers are made, not taught. Well, usually they’re also taught, but you understand. Everything you need, you had within yourself the moment you signed the contract. Minus a wand, of course, but that just makes a mother’s job easier.”
I bristled. “I didn’t want this. Any of it. And I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t know any of this stuff. It isn’t me. I’m not the save-the-day kind of person.”
Sabine rolled her eyes and got to her sensible pumps. “Honestly, Miss Hargitay. I am here to do an unpleasant job with a great deal of pressure riding behind me, but I believe I’m managing it without losing my sense of decorum. Stop being a whining infant and just be what you are. It isn’t that difficult.”
I shot to my feet, rocking the table and nearly losing the napkin holder in the process. “What I am? You know what I am? I’m pissed, that’s what. Fed up with judgy women who think they know me and know where I come from and what I’ve been through just by looking at me. My mom is in a coma. I don’t know how to help her, but you do. So help her.”
“I can see that you’re upset, but—”
“Thank you, Queen of the Obvious. Of course I’m upset. I was press-ganged into being something that shouldn’t exist. I got a temp gig at a factory that almost immediately fell under a spell I can’t break. I only have one person I can call a friend, and he can’t even hear me when I talk about the spell he’s under, too. And there are these magical people all around me who could help if they chose, but not a single one of them can be bothered because they’re afraid of a lawsuit.” I took a breath before I hulked out on the pizza. “All I need to know are the basics. Just give me something.”
Sabine held her ground, her eyes snapping with anger. She let out a long, hot breath, took a deep one, and painted on her usual smile again. “Clearly, Maysie saw something in you. She always had a thing for underdogs. I’ve never understood it.” She waved the concern away. “You want the basics? Here they are. You are a godmother. It’s now your job to help hapless young women find their happily-ever-afters. It’s a noble profession, but you can walk away from it whenever you want. You are no hostage, no slave to some evil overlord.”
“So how do I do that? How do I give it back?” Desperation rang in my words.
She tucked a nonexistent stray hair behind her ear and glanced away. “By performing a retirement ritual…and then returning your wand.”
I leaned my palms on the table. “Which I don’t have.”
Her nod was half head-shake. “Not Miss Maysie’s wand. Your own, which you will be given soon.”
“When?”
Sabine pressed her lips together before answering. “When the agency completes all the necessary paperwork.”
“Which will be…?”
“Three, maybe four…”
My heart fell. “Weeks?”
“Months.”
I dropped into my chair and supported my forehead with my hands. “So I can get a wand and give it up in three or four months. At which point I assume this spell becomes someone else’s problem?”
She nodded. “According to Section 52, Statute F, in the event of a retirement or other incapacitation—”
“So three or four months before someone else can handle it. What if I move away?”
“A free agent’s territory is predefined. There’s a process to change it, but it takes…”
“Months. Got it.” I rubbed my eyes. My eyelids felt like sandpaper trying to smooth out the surface of my eyeballs. “And in the meantime, my mom will stay in a coma, along with countless others.”
Sabine tapped a finger on the table for about thirty seconds. “It really is in everyone’s best interest for you to break the spell.”
“But I don’t know how,” I growled, feeling a case of strangulation coming on.
Silence. I glanced up to find her staring at the Tron lights glowing high above us. Finally, she perched herself on the chair again and leaned in conspiratorially. “I’m not telling you this. I could lose every license I possess were anyone to find out.” I made a motion locking my lips closed. “Don’t joke,” she replied. “Without knowing how to properly utilize your power, you could actually render yourself mute.”
“Moo moo ma ma,” I practiced, just to make sure.
She sighed and went on. “Every spell can be broken, no matter how powerful. All that is required is the completion of a spell of equal or greater but opposite strength.”
“What do you mean, ‘opposite?’” I asked, leaning in to close the gap between us further.
“There are good spells, like what we do, and there are misfortune spells. Curses, the mundanes call them.”
“Like the sleeping spell?”
She nodded. “A good spell will counteract a misfortune spell of equal strength, and vice versa. So to break the sleeping spell, all you must do is perform a spell of equal goodness.” She hesitated. “Of course, it’s a powerful spell. Technically, a new godmother without a wand has very little chance of properly performing any spell of such strength…”
My head made a heavy thunk when it hit the table. “So what are my options?”
“Well, it’s a sleeping spell…” She trailed off like I should be reaching a conclusion on my own. When I glanced at her, one hand rubbing my forehead and the other twitching with the desire to destroy her perfect hairdo, she widened her eyes meaningfully. When I just stared at her blankly, she let out a breath that sounded an awful lot like a teenager’s huff. “For goodness sake, do you know nothing of our heritage? A sleeping spell is usually broken by…?”
“…True love’s kiss?” Not being a silly, romantic girly-girl was clearly going to bite me in the butt.
Sabine shook her head. “I mean, yes, that’s how the stories go, but it’s not the truth.”
“So what is?” My patience couldn’t wear any thinner.
“A fairytale ending. That thing which creates the happily-ever-after. True love’s kiss is usually a part of that, an easily defined milestone. So…” She made a locomotion movement with her hands, clearly trying to get me to reach my own conclusions. The less she actually said aloud, the better for her legally, most likely.
My brain was tired. It shouldn’t have to work so hard to figure this out. “So…in order to break the sleeping spell, I have to get some girl a fairytale ending?”
Her smile rivaled the light that suddenly streamed in the front door as someone entered the lounge. “Exactly. Easy-peasy, fresh and breezy!”
“So how do I do that?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Oh, come on! Do we have to go over all this again?”
“I can’t tell you because it’s very individual. Each goddaughter is different. Each girl has her own needs, her own story. Your job is to find out what that is and help her reach the appropriate culmination.”
“So how do I find a girl?” I asked. Finally, I was getting answers! I was almost giddy with it…or maybe that was low blood sugar. I wasn’t going to wallow in confusion for the rest of time while my mom wasted away in a hospital bed.
“Million dollar question, right there,” Mueller said, setting a pair of drinks on the table before dropping into the seat on my left. He jerked his chin at Sabine. “Who’s the cougar?”
Sabine’s back went ramrod straight. “I beg your pardon.”
He motioned between the two of us. “You looked like you were about to kiss. Don’t let me stop you.” He sipped from his beer. “Please don’t let me stop you. More action than I’v
e seen in months.”
The woman - who was at least ten years older than me - opened and closed her mouth as if Mueller’s suggestion caused the most insult she had ever received. I didn’t think that was fair. I mean, I was a mess, but I wasn’t that awful. Was I?
“Not helping,” I hissed at him. To Sabine, I prompted, “So what about the girl?”
It took another few seconds for her apoplectic fit to subside. Then her inability to look directly at Mueller told me she was having a problem with more than just his comment. Across from the godmother in her shining, perfect attire, Mueller was like…well, like a peasant. Dirty, grungy, and wearing his Breast Cancer Prevention Specialist shirt.
In a very controlled tone, she finally said, “I’m sorry, Miss Hargitay. That’s all the assistance I can offer.” She turned to leave, but then completed a full 360 to be able to say, “Oh, by the by, that implement we spoke of before? So long as we are sharing, it is in both of our best interests if you suddenly remembered finding it…”
“Nope,” I lied. She may have told me a little, but it was clearly bare minimum. I could be stubborn, too. Stubborn, but also polite. “Please forgive him, Miss Shinewell. Mueller…he’s an idiot. What were you saying about finding a girl?”
“Perhaps,” she said, her words clipped and precise, “you can ask the Chisel again. I’m sure he’d love that. Fair day, Miss Hargitay.” I expected her to poof out of existence, but she actually walked out the front door, all stiff and angry and perfect.
Mueller scooped up a piece of pizza and clipped off an enormous bite. Around it, he said, “Idiot, huh? Next time I’ll order the Red Plummer, and you can suffer through six kinds of meat on your pizza. Since apparently I was all wrong about the way you swing.”
I smacked him up the back of his head. “I said idiot, and I meant it. You just ruined my chance to get answers.”
His pizza went down hard, requiring a swig of his beer to chase it. “Want me to go apologize?”
“Wouldn’t help. She doesn’t strike me as the kind of person who forgives easily.”
“Yeah, but if it would get you some action…” He leered as he pushed a black slushy-thing at me. Must be my bobby-omb.
“Enough with the getting laid bit,” I snapped. “I have more important crap to worry about.” Then I thought better of my tone. Mueller was my only help and I needed a sounding board a lot more than I needed a verbal punching bag. I didn’t want to take out my frustrations on him, anyway. He brought me to geek Mecca, after all.
I took a breath to steady myself and gave him an apologetic smile. “So, here’s what I know.” I filled him in on what Sabine had begrudgingly told me, feeling simultaneously lucky and irritated to have finally gotten it. Basic job duties should not be so difficult to uncover. “Oh, and she called the Chisel’s organization ‘the Family.’”
“I knew it! You have the hots for a damn gangster.” He sat back for a second and observed me before nodding at the chair Sabine had vacated. “You have a wide margin of taste.”
“Shut up,” I said. One of these days, I was going to have to come up with better comebacks.
We polished off the last of the pizza. While I was noisily slurping the dregs of my black, bomb-like slushy - before I thought better of it with Mueller around - he pulled out his smartphone and poked at it.
“My predicament is that boring? Saving a whole town not doing it for you?”
He flipped the phone around and showed me an internet search for sleeping spell fairytales. “Pretty much just page after page about Sleeping Beauty. Movie, comics, you name it, it’s here.”
“But there are other sleeping spells. Like Snow White.”
“Was that a sleeping spell or did she sort of die?”
I looked from the phone to him. “Thanks for volunteering, research minion.” I grinned.
“Son of a…” He grumbled. “Fine. Just get me another beer.”
“I don’t know that minions are allowed to make demands.” But I got up to do as requested, squeezing his shoulder on my way by. “Thanks for all your help, Mueller. Really.”
“Whatever’s on tap. None of that lite crap, though.”
The line at the bar was pretty deep considering it was only about two in the afternoon. I amused myself with watching the Mortal Kombatants until Scorpion lost his spine. Then the screen went dead to an uproar of outrage. A few seconds later, a new image appeared, this one full of shining colors and fantasy backgrounds. It was more than a little familiar.
“Master Dungeon mates,” a voice announced over the loud speaker. “We have a special treat today! We’ve just received a free copy of Gates of Gossamerre, the new MMO from Iceworm Interactive, courtesy of my old roommate, Daniel MacPherson. One of our own has offered to show us around. You know her as Amydamey, the Fruit Slayer, Applebane. She’s gonna show us some of the best attributes around.” When a few of the guys whistled, the loudspeaker said, “Of the game, you pervs.” More whistles and laughter. “Sit back and enjoy our tour through Gossamerre!”
Hearing my brother’s name on a loudspeaker at a gaming emporium I had only just discovered was shock enough. But the bigger shock was in the game itself. As the character took off from a city perched on the edge of a cliff, it felt like a cascade of electrified sand fell through me. Head to toe, it made my whole body tingle.
I was watching the elf archeress I had been playing with the day before. The one worried about falling asleep lest she never wake up. Princess Fireflower.
If there was one lesson I was learning rapidly since signing away my soul to the godmother conglomerate, it was that coincidence might not ever be coincidental. Sabine’s instructions suddenly made more sense.
Everything you need is already within you.
I knew, even before I caught a glimpse of her dirty blonde hair and the oversized UC Denver sweatshirt that must have been toasty even in the cooled lounge, that this was my girl. I knew it, way down deep in my soul. Like a magical well lived at the core of me, and it suddenly went from a limpid pool to a rolling boil. The faint purple glow that enveloped her as she caught my eye and grinned across the arcade didn’t hurt, either.
She couldn’t have recognized me—I had no profile picture or anything that identified who I was so she might have cyberstalked me. And yet I had the distinct impression she felt the same connection I did. To the room at large, she shouted, “Here we go, girls!”
So, princess located. Now all I had to do was figure out how to help her meet her destiny with a happily-ever-after.
Somehow, I doubted that was going to be nearly as easy…
Chapter 20
Broken bits of concrete, crushed into gravel by the elements, crunched beneath my sneakers as I got out of Mueller’s SUV. A gust of wind slammed the door closed, barely leaving me enough time to get out of the way. It smelled of sun-baked dirt and ripe prairie grasses and sage. But mostly the dirt.
“You sure about this?” Mueller asked as I headed off for the far end of the abandoned lot. The space had once belonged to an artist who sold his wares across the pavement day after day, month after month, come snow or shine. His misfortune - that it was located two miles outside of town - was now my bit of luck.
“I can’t think of anything else. Can you?” I turned and faced him, holding up a hand to keep him maybe twenty feet away.
He crossed his arms over his t-shirt. “Not using me as a target, for starters.”
I flashed him my most winning smile. “Who else would stand a chance of believing me? Besides, you’re kind of my sidekick, right? Isn’t this what sidekicks are for?”
His dark glower showed me what he thought of that idea. “That’s for superheroes. And nice as you are, you’re not Wonder Woman.”
“You don’t know that.” I brandished Maysie’s wand in front of myself. The spiral of wood was slick with sweat from my palms no matter how many times I dried them on my mom’s suit skirt. I should probably have stopped to change, but too late for that now. �
�She had a magic lasso. A magic wand should be better than that.”
“There’s this one thing you’re missing that she had tons of, though. It’s called ‘training.’”
I waved the wand at the ground, startling myself as tiny stars shot from the end of it. I flinched and gave a sort of worried giggle. Mueller didn’t look impressed. “That’s what this is for. So I don’t turn my princess into a mouse or something and totally screw us all.”
“So it’s just me you’re going to screw,” he growled.
“You wish.”
He mumbled something I couldn’t hear. The wind gusted it away from me, flattening my blouse against my back and whipping stray hairs against my face. I probably didn’t want to hear what he said, anyway.
“Don’t worry,” I replied, but my voice sounded about as reassuring as a screen door on a submarine. “I’ll start small.” I cleared my throat and stood there, wand lifted like a symphony conductor. Except I couldn’t think of a single spell to try. Where was my imagination? Probably buried in the bottom of my hope chest with the rest of my dreams and ambitions over at the Stow ‘N Store. “What should I start with?”
“How about making your clothes disappear? I could really use a spell like that on my next date.”
I narrowed my eyes at him and shrugged. “Okay. If you feel like running around naked, I guess I can give it a whirl. ‘Prairie snake’ will have a whole new meaning.”
“Not my clothes,” he objected, his hands vacating their parking spot under his armpits.
Too late. I had already lifted the wand, focused on his clothes, and incanted, “Clothes, be gone!”
Nothing happened.
Mueller patted himself down. Relief washed off him. “How about we stay away from anything that might make parts of me disappear, huh?”
“I thought you didn’t believe this is real?” I waved the wand.
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