One Good Wand

by Grace McGuiness

  “That’s it?” Indignation filled up some of the emptiness left behind. “You talk about the fate of the world, and all you’re going to do is tell me to have a nap? Like I’m five? I’m not a child, dammit!”

  His eyes softened, just for a moment. “No, you’re not.” He picked up his bucket of roses and leaned on his cane. “But neither are you ready for the real world. Patience wins out. Patience, and a keen eye.” He winked. “And that, at least, I know you already have.”

  I narrowed said keen eyes at him. “Magic destroyed my life. You destroyed my life. I want more than frittery words, old man. I want an explanation.”

  “Is that what you think? Really and truly? That I am responsible for your situation?”

  “It’s not my opinion. It’s what happened. You cursed me and life gave me all these little moments of goodness. Tiny little things, but they made me…” The word caught in my throat, trying to choke me. Tears welled in my eyes, but I was too suffused with anger to let them fall. With a tight whisper, I hissed, “They made me hope, damn you, and then took everything away again.”

  Stillness overtook him. For half a second, I thought I saw something sad in his eyes. Something that looked remarkably like regret. Or maybe it was just a cataract sheen. “Everything is connected, Tereza,” he murmured, and this time when he said my name, I felt it resonate deep inside myself, in that void of feeling slowly filling back up. “Magic flows through everything, living or otherwise. When its course is set, it flows like water down a mountain. Yet it can still surprise, like you surprised me by arriving here today.” He smiled. “No matter how many rules, how many bindings we give it, magic will flow where it’s driven to go. And do you know what drives it?”

  I felt like I was back in middle school, having been called on to answer a question from the night’s homework. Homework I hadn’t done. The only answers I had been given were on that pamphlet Sabine left behind. Oh! “First rule,” I recited, squinting as I tried to remember the exact words. “FolkLore guides everything.”

  Slight disappointment tightened his mouth, but he went on as if it hadn’t been there. “Yes. Magic always follows where Lore leads. A cinderella will always be a cinderella, this is true.”

  Desperation and the sudden need to sob on the shoulder of this odd old man washed over me. How messed up was my life that I was willing to seek solace from the person who had ruined it? That thought nagged at me, but I shoved it aside. Answers first, self-flagellation later. “But I followed all the rules, and my cinderella didn’t find her fairytale ending. She’s worse off now than when I started.” Yep. I sounded as desperate as I felt. Awesome.

  His smile returned, this time with a roguish slant. “That’s because you failed to take into account the source from which Lore springs. Discover that, and no matter the size of the spell, you will have the only answer you ever need.”

  I shivered, though there was no breeze. “But how do I—”

  “Oh, flubwollox,” he said, glancing at his watch. “I’m late. Remember, Tereza. Timing is everything.”

  “I thought the Lore spring, or whatever, was everything?”

  He chuckled, humor lighting his eyes. “True. But timing is a friendly second. Goodbye, Tereza Gabriella. I will see you soon. Though probably not as soon as you’d like.” He winked, then snapped his fingers. Two tickets magicked into existence. “Don’t give up until you have all the facts. And have fun tomorrow. After all, why have magic if you don’t have at least a nip of fun with it from time to time?”

  He handed me the tickets, and then, in a shower of multicolored fireworks that zipped around me like a cat chasing a laser pointer, he vanished.

  I looked down at my hand and then sank onto the picnic table. I might be two tickets to Mile High Comic Con and a couple unsolved riddles richer, but where did that really leave me? How was I supposed to have fun when all the pieces of my life were scattered in the mud? And, probably most importantly, what the hell had he meant about the fate of the world?

  Chapter 29

  First thing I did when I got home? Tried to burn the rose that started everything. My mom had been right, after all. I should have gotten rid of it when she asked me to and saved myself all this trouble. Maybe if I hadn’t become a godmother, she would still be awake. I wouldn’t have met Mueller and maybe I wouldn’t have run into Nicky, but so what? It’s not like they were around now. So much responsibility weighed me down, responsibility I had no idea how to handle, that I would have given up men for the rest of my life if that life had just been normal.

  Unfortunately - and therefore, not surprisingly - the rose wouldn’t burn. No matter how big the flames got in Bob’s heavy-duty grill, it just lay there all beautiful and perfect and aromatic. In fact, it hadn’t changed at all since the day I first received it. Except that now, post-signing-my-life-away, I could see the vibrant red-and-green glow pulsing around it.

  Magic. How was I supposed to have fun with magic when it kept ruining everything? Admittedly, I’d had fun testing it out on Mueller, and his response to the tail had been more than entertaining. But thinking about it now left a sour taste in my mouth.

  Opting instead to think about nothing, I threw myself onto my bed fully clothed and lay there, wishing for sleep. Which was, of course, the fastest way to ensure I didn’t sleep at all. I tossed and turned for an hour, my mind slogging through the last couple of days like an unarmed alligator hunter in the bayou. My mom and my brother. Mueller. Nicky. I focused on each one in turn until I’d wrung all the guilt and anger and self-loathing I could from them. And then I rolled over and listened to my stomach growl, too emotionally exhausted to get up and fix the problem.

  Over my bed, the brownie had re-hung the familiar shoot for the stars banner that had been there all through my high school years. It comforted me, just a little, as did the flare of irritation it ignited. Mom always said things like that, always made sure we were surrounded by motivation and inspiration to do well in life. As a teenager, I found it annoying. Especially since what I really wanted was for her to tell me what to do with my life. For that, ‘shoot for the stars’ was not helpful advice. Now, having the banner back made me feel like Mom was still here, still waiting to hold my hand and tell me everything would work out. Not stuck in a hospital bed where she probably couldn’t feel me holding her hand. That thought disturbed me so much - mostly because I wasn’t there actually holding her hand, but lying here feeling sorry for myself - that I got up and flipped my computer on, the better to distract myself from my overwhelming problems.

  Want to work for us? the welcome screen on Gates of Gossamerre asked. Going to Mile High ComicCon? Join producer Daniel MacPherson for a special one-time-only presentation on what we’re looking for and how to wow us with your resume! 12pm Saturday, ONLY!

  My brother came to town to help me with our mom’s sudden illness and he still managed to find the time and energy to promote himself, his company, and do his job. Grand.

  I clicked the message away with a hard glare and logged in. Princess Fireflower was logged in, too, but I didn’t think Amy would appreciate a message out of the blue. Not right now. No matter how curious I might be about the specifics of the party, she had to want to tell me. Mostly, I just didn’t want to think about anything real. The best way to do that? Kill stuff. Hard stuff that made me focus on what I was doing.

  I was knee-deep in firebugs on the bottom level of Mt. Kelvinstone, my health dwindling to nothing as I tried to take out their queen solo, when a five-person party arrived and blasted through the annoying little things.

  Looked like you could use some help, Master Blaster the paladin said.

  Thanks, I said, though I didn’t mean it. The last thing I wanted was for my hard work to unthink to be undone.

  Princess Fireflower sent us, Daisychain Lightblossom the healer added. She’s always looking out for people. She’s so nice.

  She saved my butt at the Maw of Reckoning, Master Blaster said.

  And min
e at the Salvatian Pools, Guilderguy the mage agreed. She’s great.

  I just wish she had the answer to the Sphynx’s riddle! Tightpants McGee said, his swordmaster doubling over with laughter.

  They chatted more while we rested our characters and divvied up the loot. Then, out of the blue, Daisychain’s little fairy pranced through the air. I almost forgot! She asked me to ask you to meet her in the Great Hall at Daraius when you’re done. She said it’s important.

  In the game, the Great Hall at Daraius was used for NPC quests that involved diplomacy and long dialogue trees. I hoped that meant she wanted to talk.

  After thanking the group - for real this time - I headed to Daraius. The Great Hall was unusually empty. Princess Fireflower the wood elf archer waved to me from the corner.

  Hey, she said.

  Hey there, I said back.

  We stood around being awkward for a bit before she asked, Your ex is really dating Serabella Angelique?

  I sighed, and had my character nod.

  That’s…crazy.

  Another nod. More awkward standing around staring at each other’s character.

  Finally, she got to the point. I’m really sorry about what I said earlier. I know it’s not your fault, what happened. It’s mine. All mine. I was dumb enough to go to the party. Dumb enough to think I was good enough for a guy that can get a Poison Ivy look-alike to make out with him.

  My heart sank as I read her direct-whisper. He made out with someone else?

  The elf archer on the screen nodded. And then, when they came up for air, he saw me across the room and…that’s when it happened. He took one look at me and doubled over like this. The elf bent at the waist, shaking with /laughfit.

  My brain blanked with rage. Who the hell did that big-haired tool think he was? My fairy character gave a /tantrum worthy of Tinkerbell, a little cloud of red smoke puffing from her head. I didn’t even think about the words flowing from my fingers. What an orc’s ass! That is so not your fault. You deserve better, not the other way around. Nice guys, decent people, they don’t laugh at others. Especially not among geeks. We support, we don’t tear down.

  Princess Fireflower shrugged and sat down beside a statue of Malbeus the Bold. Maybe. But I’m still better off here, in the game. The real world and I, we don’t really go together. Sometimes, I wish that movie with the blue aliens was real. I wish I could just go to sleep in a pod somewhere and live the rest of my life as Princess Fireflower. It would be so much easier. It hurts too much out there.

  Iridescent bubbles floated out of my monitor. Not on my monitor—that would have been normal. The various shades of purple, from the palest lavender to the deepest indigo, erupted from the computer to collect on my bedroom ceiling. I blinked, rubbed my eyes, worried that I might be having a stroke. It didn’t help. Magic, then. One of the bubbles popped, sending a shivering shockwave coursing up and down my spine.

  Amy was still saying things, waxing on about how cool an avatar life would be, that kind of virtual-reality-based reality. I scrolled back up to what she had said. I wish I could just go to sleep… The magic intensified, lighting up the wand that was suddenly back in my hand, even though I was pretty sure I’d left it under my bed when I went to sleep. That was the second time it appeared magically in my grasp, and it left me more weirded out than the first time.

  And then I understood. “Of course the costume didn’t work,” I told the monitor while smacking myself in the forehead. “This isn’t about the boy and the ball at all. She’s not a cinderella, she’s…” I hesitated to voice my idea aloud. After all, Sabine had flat out told me that Amy was, in fact, a cinderella. And if I had learned one thing from that saccharine pamphlet she left behind, it was that the Lore never lied. A scullery maid with nasty step-sisters and a controlling parent meant cinderella. Amy had all those things, plus the desire to attend the grand gala of Comic Con, which would require a special gown. The Lore was all there, right? But the spell still failed. She hadn’t won a dance with the prince. She hadn’t been pursued upon the stroke of midnight so that she could live happily knowing he wanted to know her better. Amy had no doubt fled the party in tears, her sense of self crushed and her heart broken. Where was Cinderella’s burgeoning, breathless confidence? Wasn’t that as much a part of Cinderella’s Lore as the dress?

  If I was right - and I had no reason to think I was, except for that nagging, deep-seated sense of rightness that crowded like a rock behind my sternum - then Amy didn’t need a fancy dress or a ball. She needed…what, exactly?

  The answer smacked me upside the head like I had been the world’s biggest dunce, which wasn’t exactly untrue. The more I thought about it, the more the pieces fell into place. How stupid was I that I hadn’t seen it all immediately?

  “No,” I corrected myself, aware of the words I had typed to Amy only minutes before. “Not stupid. Untrained. I just hope I can fix it.” I swallowed to wet my too-dry throat. “So how do I fix it?”

  My speakers let out a loud, obnoxious ping, drawing my attention back to the screen that had returned to normal, non-bubbling hues.

  You still there? Amy asked.

  Sorry, I answered back. Just thinking.

  About?

  I couldn’t tell her the truth, so what did I tell her? I cast my gaze around the room, desperate for a convincing alternate answer. The tickets Harry Roundtop had given me gleamed up at me from the corner of the desk. Comic Con. You still want to go?

  Since I’d have to leave the house, no.

  What if I find you a new costume? One that you’ll feel more comfortably yourself in?

  Not a chance.

  Disappointment made my shoulders slump. How did I convince Sleeping Beauty to wake up? I just thought you might be interested in my brother’s panel. It’s about working for Iceworm Interactive.

  That’s my dream job! Bubbles erupted from the monitor again. But I’m too embarrassed. I’m sure Tyler’s taking his venus man trap instead of me. What if I ran into them? I don’t ever want to feel like that again.

  I get that. I never want to see my ex-husband again, either. What if I promised your costume would be even better? I have this extra ticket and I’d hate for it to go to waste. And I feel really bad about sending you to that party on your own. I swear, if you come with me, I will stay with you the whole time. Safety in numbers, right?

  It took her a whole minute, but she finally said, Maybe. Especially if…

  My fingers hesitated on the keys. Somehow, I didn’t think I was going to like this.

  If you dress up, too. And if you bring Wolverine. With the two of you around, nobody will look twice at me.

  Bring Mueller? That would require making up with him. Not necessarily forgiving him, but at least being okay with him again. I wasn’t sure I was ready to do even that much. The pain of betrayal was still a sharp knife in my back.

  Princess Fireflower heaved a /dramasigh. But then we’d have to find costumes on super short notice. So never mind. It was a dumb idea.

  You have to stop calling yourself dumb, I typed, not sure upon hitting enter if I was talking entirely to Amy. My brother will never hire you if he thinks you’re stupid.

  A pause, and then, So you’ll do it…?

  I stared at the once again empty ceiling for a long moment, desperately trying to talk myself out of what I was about to say. Instead, I came up with more reasons that made me say, Sure. Three costumes, coming up.

  Princess Fireflower hopped to her feet and started to dance an elfin jig. Woohooooo! But wait. Where are we going to find matching costumes so fast?

  I took a deep breath. For my mom - and everyone else under the curse - I could do this. I could do this. I would do this. Even if I was hearing Kyle’s voice sneering snide remarks in my subconscious. Don’t worry. I know a guy. Meet me at the arcade at nine tomorrow morning.

  Somehow, even as I typed it, I knew it wasn’t going to be that easy. After all, this was my life. Nothing in it was ever easy.

&nbs
p; My first task - to get Danny to agree to meet with Amy - bombed instantly.

  “I’m not taking interviews tomorrow,” he drolled over the top of his tech magazine while simultaneously keeping an eye on an old episode of Dr. Who. “Just presenting. And then enjoying all the zany costumes and vendors. I’m missing an issue of Batman I need to trade someone for.”

  “Just one, as a favor to me? She’s already one of your betas.” I dropped down beside Destiny at his feet.

  “I think I’ve done you enough favors. Like flying all the way here even though you didn’t have the courtesy to call me yourself.” He didn’t look at me even once. But when a trailer for the new X-Men movie came out? He was all eyes, even though he had already seen the movie twice.

  “Don’t give me that crap. You came here for Mom, not for me. This girl, she’s really good at the game and everyone loves her. She would make a great community leader.” I made a sad, pouty face. “Please? Just talk to her for two minutes. What’s two minutes?”

  He didn’t answer until the trailer was over. Then he looked me straight in the eye and said, “Enough to call the company lawyers if she shows up in that archeress costume you made.”

  And that was the end of that.

  I didn’t leave the house with no ideas, though. First, I grabbed a couple of Danny’s favorite Denver microbrewskies from the liquor store and stuck them in the fridge while he was in the bathroom. Then I put in a call for pizza, just the way he liked it, and had it delivered to the house while I was out. A quick note about the special midnight showing of X-Men at the local movie theatre, and I was out the door without seeing him again. Or rather, without his seeing me, which was a lot more important. Maybe if I got him in a good enough mood, he would change his mind. Spontaneously, in the moment, maybe with a little help from a certain delicate wand…