One Good Wand

by Grace McGuiness

  I narrowed my own icy gaze at the godmother. “How did you know I would be here?”

  She glanced away, lifting one shoulder as she patted nonexistent stray hairs back into place in her perfect bouffant. “I saw the girl at the gaming arena yesterday. She exudes so much Cinderella neediness, even you couldn’t be blind to it. With proper magic at one’s disposal, there is no limit to one’s planning capacity.”

  “Is that supposed to entice me, or insult me? ‘Cause I’m leaning toward the latter.”

  Her eyes widened, but I saw that tactic for what it was. Wider eyes let in more light. They conveyed an air of innocence and youth women often used in selfies, usually without realizing it. “I meant no offense, Miss Tessa. I only want what’s best for everyone involved.”

  Somehow, I got the feeling ‘everyone involved’ meant Sabine and Sabine alone. Her pandering only pissed me off more. Still, if there was one thing I knew I was good at, it was pretending everything was a-okay when I really needed to. I smiled, letting it touch my eyes. “My mistake. I’m sorry I overreacted. Like I said before, I don’t have the wand. But if I happen to find it…how long does this offer stand?” It would be a complete lie to say I wasn’t interested. She offered me the one thing I wanted more than anything—a way out that didn’t involve me potentially screwing up someone else’s life. Or my own. Even better, she was giving me a way back to my old life, before wands and dragons and magic I couldn’t control. The only problem was that I knew she was offering it for exactly that reason. It was the offer she didn’t think I could refuse.

  “Why, until the squad finds it, I imagine. And believe me, we don’t want that.” This time that ‘we’ definitely meant me.

  I shrugged, going for non-committal in spite of my anger at being manipulated. “If I find it, I’ll let you know.” I toed open the ill-fitting door so I didn’t have to touch the bio lab of the handle, then tossed her a smile over my shoulder. “Same as always.”

  Was it my imagination, or did the bar get several degrees colder?

  A cheer went up from the college guys at the billiard table. They shook their cues like cavemen shaking clubs and slapped a blond kid on the back. He grinned like…well, like Kyle did on the cover of all those insufferable magazines. It set off alarm bells inside my head. Not just the metaphorical kind created by the animal part of the brain that reacted to danger. I expected Ghostbusters to burst in at any moment thanks to an audible alarm, and even looked at the front door for a glimpse of the iconic car. Only when I realized no one else reacted did I recognize it for the disembodied magical klaxon it was. Without conscious intention, I elbowed my way through the group to the far side of the pool table where all their attention was focused.

  I found Amy on her hands and knees, scooping up shards of glass and spilled peanuts with one hand while mopping up cheap beer with a rag in the other. Her cheeks were bright red, her body tense, her jaw so tight I expected to hear a tooth break. The dude-bros were staring at her butt, elbowing each other and leering.

  Still not thinking ahead, I crouched beside her. “Leave it,” I murmured.

  She stared at me for a long moment, her eyes wide with surprise. She looked about fourteen at that moment—like I said, more light in the eye. “I can’t.” Her voice cracked. “I’ll lose my job.”

  I glanced across the scuffed floor, warped in places from spilled liquid and changing temperatures. “Somehow, I doubt he has a big line of potential employees lining up for a shot to work here. Come on.” I helped her up, keeping her close to me, as if I could shield her from the guffaws of the jackals circling us.

  “We can’t shoot pool with that crap all over the floor,” the lead dude sneered.

  I met his predatory gaze with a hard stare. “Shoulda thought of that before you put it there.” I shoved past a couple of the guys but they closed ranks before we made it to freedom. They were tall, broad of shoulder, and possessed of that kind of looming threat that only showed up with too much booze. No doubt they were nice enough guys on their own, but between the booze and the dumbass testosterone sizzling amongst them, they might as well have been man-wolf hybrids ready to devour us to keep us both from winning the Hunger Games.

  Amy shivered against me, no doubt feeling the same threat.

  “She needs to pick it up,” the lead jackal barked. “You can help if you want.” He grabbed my arm, as if I could escape.

  With deliberate slowness, I raised my eyes to stare at him. It wasn’t a menacing thing; I was four inches shorter than this kid and at least seventy pounds lighter. All that alcohol sloshing around his veins didn’t convince him to let me go, either. Clearly, I had made an error in thinking this was just their normal personality. Just how off my game was I?

  I formed my words carefully, detailing each letter with firmness and perfect enunciation. “Let. Go.”

  To my extreme surprise, he did. And he did it with a yelp, staring at his hand as if burned.

  I barreled into another guy, using the group’s surprise to my advantage. The last guy on our route was big, like a linebacker. No chance I was going to just bash my way through him. I lifted my gaze up his wide belly to the barrel chest and the shoulders that probably never met a doorway they could go through straight-on. He, however, was not looking at me. Or at Amy. His glower was fixed on Mueller, who stood three feet away. Same stance, same glower. Except what Mueller lacked in size he made up for in intensity. Even though the college guy had the clear physical advantage, after a long, tense moment of staring each other down, the big dude dropped his arms, turned away, and went back to his beer.

  Amy and I both rushed to Mueller’s side. Feminist Me believed that women should stand on their own whenever possible, just like men, but the me that had become extra attuned to danger since Maysie’s disappearance insisted there was safety in numbers. The same tactic was probably not true against a dragon that could blot out the night sky, but a bunch of drunk college morons responded to the most basic of pack mentalities. Once we were free and presenting a more threatening target than a ninety-pound nineteen-year-old on her own, they did what a certain class of bully believed to be the most damaging—they pretended we didn’t exist.

  “Thank you,” Amy said, throwing her arms around my neck. She repeated her gratitude over and over again, extending it to Mueller when I introduced them. She threw her arms around him, too, requiring me to give Mueller a warning look. The expression he returned was something like hurt annoyance…or constipation.

  “I’m taking a break,” she shouted at the bartender, who hadn’t budged an inch to help.

  To Mueller, I said, “Would you take her to the car? I need to have a word with…” Except when I turned to find Sabine, there was no sign of her. The white-haired wandcrafter, either.

  Mueller muttered, “They left in the middle. This was on the table.” He slid a pink and white pamphlet into my hand. When I started to look at it, he lowered my hand. “Not here…” Exasperation. That’s what that look was. Exasperation, not constipation. Like I was being dumb. Not stupid, not lacking in wits. Just…going about things in a dumb way.

  The three of us headed outside, where the summer sun was still high in the early evening sky and heat rolled off the parking lot and up our adrenaline-pumped bodies. Amy and I shivered. Mueller coughed. “I need a smoke,” he said, and moved off to the corner of the building.

  I opened my mouth to ask him to be nice to his lungs, but I closed it again without a sound. After all he had done for me, the guy deserved a chance to calm his nerves the way he preferred.

  “Thank you again,” Amy said, her voice shaking. “I really don’t know what I would have done. Anyone with eyes could tell they were trouble, but it’s my job, you know?”

  I led the way to my mom’s car where I had left her costume. “Sounds like you need a new job.”

  “I so do.” She nodded vigorously, then slumped against the side of the car. “But I’m not qualified for much else. And between classes and the ga
me, there aren’t many jobs that let me work when I need to.”

  “The game’s not worth putting up with this kind of crap, Amy. I mean, this isn’t exactly the kind of place nice people go to drink away a hard day’s slog at the office. I enjoy playing as much as the next person, but it’s just a game.”

  I could almost see her walls go up as she folded her arms over her midsection, her shoulders lifting toward her ears. “Not to me. All my friends are there.”

  “What about the boy you want to date? He’s not just in the game.”

  How she managed to shrug with her shoulders already so high, I didn’t know. “Sort of. But we hang out mostly while we’re farming and grinding.”

  “That can change. Believe me, no boy will choose a virtual connection over spending time with you in person.” Well, at least not in the beginning. But I tasted my own bitterness so I kept the thought to myself.

  “Maybe…”

  “Back me up here, Mueller,” I called, waving him to hurry his shuffle across the parking lot. “Doesn’t a guy want to spend physically close time with the girl he’s interested in?”

  “Damn straight.” Those two words were almost more grunt than human speech.

  She shrugged again. We had a long, awkward moment before she said, “Hey, I’m just glad you guys showed up. What were you doing here, anyway? I can’t go shopping now…”

  “Better.” I made my smile as safe and reassuring as I could, then unlocked the car. Mueller cleared his throat behind me. I ignored him, thinking it had to do with that hastily smoked cigarette. “I found you something perfect.” I pulled a bag out of the backseat and handed it to her. “It’s probably way too big, but I can fix it.”

  “What?” She beamed at me. “You didn’t need to do this…” The bag crunched and rustled as she dug around in it.

  “Ow!” My outburst rang across the parking lot as I turned a questioning look at Mueller and his rib-accosting elbow. “What was that for?” He jerked his head toward the backseat. I couldn’t think of anything that might mean, at least not with Amy here and no teasing glimmer in his eye.

  Out of the corner of his mouth, he mumbled, “Read it.”

  Amy let out a squeal of excitement and bounced up and down on her sneakers. “Ohmigosh ohmigosh ohmigosh!” She pulled the costume out and held it up to herself. It was indeed way too big, but she either didn’t notice or didn’t care. “This is my outfit! The one from the game! But where did you find it? I crafted it myself in the game, and they discontinued the top two weeks ago because of a quick hack that turned it invisible. This is amazing, Tessa! Best present ever!”

  I had only just retrieved the pamphlet from the seat when she launched herself at me, squeezing me in the tightest hug I’d ever had. At least as an adult, and at least when my brother wasn’t trying to make my eyes pop out of my skull on purpose.

  “Don’t get too excited,” Mueller said, since I didn’t have room to get air, let alone say anything. “It’s not done yet.”

  I frowned at him as a I choked on Amy’s gratitude. “It’s mostly done,” I managed to croak, making Amy squeak and release me with a sheepish grin.

  “Sorry. Didn’t mean to strangle you. Totally something I would do, though. You give me the perfect costume and I accidentally strangle you to death for it. Go Amy.” She giggled. “You’re sure it’s for me?”

  “It sure as hell isn’t for me.” Mueller’s lip curled as he glared meaningfully at me.

  I flashed him a toothy grin. No way he was going to make me feel guilty for making him my model, not when he had agreed of his own volition. No non-consensual cross-dressing going on here. He looked pointedly at the pamphlet in my hand, so I finally took a second to glance at it.

  10 Simple Rules For Providing Godmotherly Services to the Needy, the Deserving, and the Dejected.

  Oh sure, now I was given the basics. Sabine couldn’t have slipped this under the table to me at the arcade?

  I wasn’t sure what Mueller thought was so important until I hit number 6:

  Rule of Time: No spell shall last beyond the stroke of twelve hours. This includes all shapeshifting, world-traveling, beautification, and clothing-specific spells. Remember, a lazy or distracted goddaughter is not a happy goddaughter!

  I grabbed the bag out of Amy’s hands. The last thing I wanted was for her to wake up to discover her perfect costume had turned into Mueller’s tattered jeans and vaguely offensive tee. I gave her a sheepish smile. “Um…like I said, I still need to tailor it. I just, uh, wanted to show you what I found. So you don’t worry. You’ll look amazing, I promise.”

  Amy looked more than a little sad to relinquish the outfit, but she didn’t protest. “That seems like a lot of work just for me…”

  “You asked for my help. Don’t spoil it now.” I winked at her. “Besides, I know what it’s like to look like a schlub compared to everyone else in the room.”

  “One thing’s for sure,” Mueller said as he leaned against the car. “Your boyfriend won’t be able to take his eyes off you. Just make sure you wear underwear.”

  Amy’s blush matched her off-red shirt. “I…yeah. Okay…”

  I swatted Mueller’s arm and gave him the same kind of meaningful glance he’d given me.

  He stared back at me, no hint of teasing. “What? That skirt is breezy.”

  Amy glanced at her watch. “My break’s almost over. You want me to send you my measurements? I mean…if it’s not too much to ask…?”

  “Sounds good.” I hesitated, then reached out and gave Amy a more reserved hug than she’d given me. “And it’s not. A couple stitches here and there, and it’ll be exactly what will get you noticed.”

  Her pale eyebrows drew down in a small frown as I released her, but she replaced it instantly with a glowing smile. “I can’t wait! My place, tomorrow morning?”

  I thought about the rules so rigidly printed on the informational pamphlet and shook my head. “I’m not sure it’ll be ready.”

  “It’s just…there’s a pre-party at his house at noon…” She searched me with the kind of helpless expression I was used to seeing in the mirror.

  How could I say no to those pleading eyes? “Sure. But I’ll have to take it back before the big day.” Mueller tapped my leg with his foot. “Oh, and you can’t keep it after. I have to…” My mind whirred, desperate to find a likely excuse, because Rule Number Two shouted at me:

  Maintain normalcy as long as possible. Gone are the days of magical believers. Only the first rule is more important than maintaining the mundane’s belief that magic doesn’t exist.

  Mueller filled in for me, his answer quick and easy and irritatingly perfect. “It’s a prototype. The company we work for needs it back.”

  Amy didn’t quite meet his eyes, choosing instead to stare at the car window beside him. “Right. Makes total sense.” She shifted uncomfortably. “So, I’ll see you tomorrow morning?”

  “Tomorrow morning,” I agreed.

  As we leaned against my mom’s car, watching Amy head back into the dark, dank bar, Mueller said, “Nobody should have to work in a place like that, especially such a shy kid.”

  “I doubt she’d appreciate being called a kid, but I couldn’t agree more. I wish I could wave my wand and fix that part of her life, too.”

  “Don’t try it,” he said, that gleam back in his dark eyes. “You’d probably turn her into a cat or something.”

  “Careful,” I warned, climbing into the car. “I can give you the teeth to go with that tail.”

  I intended it as a threat to his kissing potential. Instead, he countered, “The better to eat a McRib. Or a stack of McRibs. Speaking of McRibs, I think you owe me food for making me model that buttflap.”

  “Sure thing,” I said ignoring the yawn from my bank account. “One nutritious salad, coming up!”

  As I returned his scowl with a grin, I felt a lightness in my spirit I hadn’t felt for a long time.

  Maybe I could handle this godmother thi
ng, after all!

  Chapter 26

  Since Amy wouldn’t have a chance to send me her measurements until she got off work, I had time to kill. Part of me wanted to head home to shower off the layer of grossness I’d accumulated while standing in her place of work. The rest of me listened to Mueller’s barbecue-scented suggestion to celebrate a job well done. For some reason, I thought that might mean seeing a movie. Maybe something outdoorsy, like mini golf. Instead, after dropping him at his car, he led the way out of Trapperstown with the promise of something good. When we passed Mayfair and headed toward the factory, I started to dial him on my cell to demand to know what he thought he was doing. The sight of the parking lot made me plant my hands firmly at ten and two and slow to five under the speed limit.

  Our enormous parking lot now held nearly a dozen vehicles, all black. Half of them were big SUVs. The other half were an assortment of sedans all looking newly washed and polished. The sun setting over the Rockies cast long shadows, heightening the sense of foreboding that drifted off the vehicles like greasy waves from an oil spill.

  So concerned over the scene was I that I didn’t notice Mueller had taken us to O’Toole’s until I climbed out of the car and the strains of a sultry tango rolled out the windows to glide over me.

  “See the factory?” Mueller asked before my wits fully returned. “What was up with that?”

  I shook my head, searching the empty landscape beyond the cow herd grazing nearby as if it held answers. “Maybe something to do with the takeover? Corporate visit?”

  “Looked like the Feds to me.”

  “You watch too many movies. Why would the government be swarming over the factory? It makes toys and novelty food.” Then again… “Hey, if you had magic, would you drive your car around, or do you think you’d have some special way of transporting yourself from one place to another?”

  Mueller shrugged. A hot twilight breeze brought me the clean smell of his deodorant mixed with the barbecue sauce that stained his shirt. “You’re the one with the wand.”