“Four please. Something in the back,” Debbie said.
“It’ll be a thirty-minute wait,” said the host without looking up.
The Godmother Supreme stepped forward. “Four please. Something in the back.”
“I told you—” The man looked up. His eyebrows nearly touched his hairline in shock and chagrin. “Fairy Godmother Supreme! Of course. Right away. Carrie!” He snapped his fingers and a waitress appeared by his side. He passed her four menus and she motioned for us to follow. Once we were seated at a table with tall chairs near the rear of the restaurant, hidden by red velvet curtains with golden tassels, the waitress attempted to distribute the menus, but the Godmother Supreme held up a hand.
“Those won’t be necessary. For drinks, we’ll all have water. For entrees, Debbie will have the number four, Daisy and I will have the number seven, and the princess will have the number nine.” She alluded to each of us as she spoke.
The waitress was gone before I could open my mouth. I pursed my lips. I was an agreeable person, but I had never cared for being steamrolled. It was a condition I was regrettably prone to over the years. Such was the price for being an introverted child in the past and having so many vocal, strong-willed friends in the present. I did not want to add Lena Lenore to the list of people who made me feel that way.
“How can you be certain about what each of us wants to eat?” I asked the woman, meeting her eyes from across the table.
The Godmother Supreme looked at me with amusement. “The ladies and I have eaten here on a few occasions, so I know what they like. As for you, I can make an educated guess.”
I raised my eyebrows slightly. “Can you now?”
“Yes. Like most people I deal with, dear, you are easy to read.”
“I am afraid I cannot say the same about you from our brief association. For example, the specific reason for your invitation to this dinner still eludes me.”
“It was to talk about your future, princess,” she responded. “But we’ll get into that further in a minute.” She stood up and Daisy mirrored her movements abruptly like a soldier standing at attention for her captain. The Godmother Supreme sighed with annoyance.
“Calm yourself, Daisy. I am just going to the restroom.”
“I’ll go with you,” she said.
“Daisy, we’re not adolescents at a school dance. I need no accompaniment.”
“But I actually have to go this time,” Daisy protested.
The Godmother Supreme waved her hand dismissively. “Fine.”
The two women left the table. I turned to Debbie only to discover her focus was on the window of the adjacent wall—staring out at the moon appearing in the sky. To see its pale form against the dimming summer night was beautiful. Once darkness fell, it would be thick and glowing, so close to being full.
“I can’t believe it has been over three weeks,” Debbie said wistfully. “Crisa and the others have been scurrying across another dimension doing who knows what while we’re here pushing papers and bickering with one another like children on the schoolyard.”
I had often thought the same thing, so I told her what I told myself. “Debbie, you must not get discouraged. I am sure with a bit more time and structure to our talks, we will achieve an agreement with the rebels.”
The Godmother looked at me thoughtfully. “If anyone can broker that, it’s you.”
“How do you mean?”
“SJ, you may not speak as loudly or as often as others at the peace talks, but your voice has been crucial nonetheless. Don’t think people haven’t noticed. You are the one who managed to get all sides to agree to the truce that secured the release of the Gallant captives. You made sure the official ceasefire treaty regarding rebellion attacks got signed. And your calm rationale has kept the ambassadors and rebels from killing each other when things get heated. Every one of our steps forward can be traced back to your level head, sound speech, and logical yet thoughtful perspective on each party’s views. You’re a natural leader. When your parents pass on the crown one day, Dobb will be in good hands.”
I felt flattered. I had been trying so hard to keep the peace in our peace talks, flexing the muscles for patience, kindness, and understanding that I had developed over the years from having younger, rambunctious siblings and sassy, hot-headed friends. Yet I could not believe that Debbie was giving me such credit. I was one child in a room full of adults.
“I suspect that’s why the Godmother Supreme asked you here,” Debbie continued. “Regardless of the exact outcome, when these peace talks are over, things are going to be different. Our strategizing Godmother Supreme likely plans to collect as many allies in the new order as possible. As the future ruler of a large kingdom with the respect of the rebel commons and a close friendship with our resident all-powerful princess, you are a perfect choice.”
“There are plenty of protagonists and royals that the Godmother Supreme could align herself with who do not have such a colorful history with this realm, and who have not fallen as low as I have in the past,” I said plainly. “The only truly unique trait of those you listed is my relationship with Crisa, and I have no control over her. No one does. So while I appreciate the compliment, any statistician would prudently advise that if Lena Lenore wants to collect prominent allies like commemorative snow globes, she would better her odds by picking someone else.”
“But you see, it’s not just about your prominence,” Debbie said earnestly. “She likes you.” She bit her lip and mulled over an idea. “Maybe that’s the wrong word for it. Are you familiar with the term bromance?”
I shook my head.
“It’s when two guys are all about one another’s whole situation,” Debbie explained, making elaborate hand gestures that did not help illustrate her point, but certainly showed her enthusiasm. “I suppose we could call the girl version of that an ob-she-ssion. Like obsession.” She rapped a finger against her chin, lost in thought.
“Debbie . . .”
“Right. Sorry. The point is you show respect for the Godmother Supreme’s presence and reverence for the tradition she stands for, but you are not meek and will voice your opinions and challenge people if need arises. The Godmother Supreme likes that about you, SJ. You’re dynamic, but not dangerous. Full of fire, but you know when to keep it cool. That’s why she wants to cement a stronger relationship with you.”
“But I—”
The Godmother Supreme and Daisy approached our table, followed immediately by several waitresses with our dishes. A small iron cauldron—like the kind I cooked smaller potions in—was set in front of me. It was filled with sizzling vegetables and bite-size chunks of meat. The whole concoction smelled of green onion, ginger, and chili.
Plates delivered, the servers hovered uncertainly until the Godmother Supreme gave a dismissive wave of her hand. They half-bowed nervously and scurried off. The Godmothers began to eat, so I did too. I puckered my face with a bit of disappointment; the food was delicious. The Godmother Supreme had correctly guessed my tastes. She knew it too. She glanced at me briefly with a smirk in her eyes.
“Debbie is a bit of a talker,” the Godmother Supreme said after a moment. “While we were away, I assume she told you more about why I asked you to dinner.”
I took a delicate sip of water, put the glass down, and nodded. “You would like us to be allies,” I said bluntly.
“I would. You are wise, capable, and powerful in a way that does not draw attention or court enemies.”
“I think you give me too much credit.” I took another bite of beef and diverted my gaze.
The Godmother Supreme paused, then set her utensils down. “SJ, would you like to know the best advice my mentor gave me when I was young?”
I looked up at her.
“She said to always be the smartest person in the room, but never let anyone know it. Laying all your cards, your strategies and thoughts, out on the table is a good way to get yourself killed or condemned. Knowing when to hold back is just as
important as knowing when to go full force. That ability to stay under the radar fosters success because while others may show their hands, you can calculate around their moves to best them.”
“With respect, Godmother Supreme,” I said, “I do not believe anyone would describe you as someone who stays under the radar.”
“Not overtly, no,” she agreed. “I designed my public persona to instill fear and authority. But when I have direct dealings with others, my plans—the inner workings of my thoughts—are kept close to the vest whenever possible. Operating that way is how I have stayed in power so long. It is a skill, among others, I’d like to help you develop. What would you say to a mentorship?”
Now I put down my utensils. I dabbed the corners of my mouth with my napkin. Then I looked Lena Lenore straight in the eye.
“No.”
Debbie and Daisy froze mid-bite.
The Godmother Supreme frowned. “No?”
“I have respect for you, Godmother Supreme. And speaking with complete honesty, there are traits of yours I have admired for some time. But although we are working together to formulate the best outcome with the commons, I do not want a personal relationship with you.”
“Um, why?” Daisy asked, equal parts shocked and annoyed.
“Because the Godmother Supreme is responsible for the persecution, imprisonment, and destruction of my best friend,” I said, unable to keep the passion from my voice this time.
I turned to Debbie. “Surely you must understand. The Godmother Supreme spent months trying to provoke and foil Crisa, in the end enslaving and bidding her to use her magic to wreak death and chaos on the commons rebellion.”
I had tried to keep from looking at it all evening, but I finally gestured at the charm hanging from the long necklace that dangled over the Godmother Supreme’s crisp black business dress. It was a tiny genie bottle.
When Emma transferred a spark of magic to Crisa so she could operate her wand, it had inadvertently mutated into Pure Magic. This added another layer of constant struggle to my best friend’s life.
Aside from the Author, the Godmother Supreme’s sister, all people with Pure Magic Disease in Book had been corrupted by their power and turned evil. It was an almost-consistent consequence of having the disease. Thus, anyone with Pure Magic was exiled to live in Alderon with all other villains and monsters. This was a preemptive measure to keep them from terrorizing the rest of the realm.
However, Crisa had used her magic to do a lot of good for Book, and she was a princess. She could not simply be shipped off to imprisonment, so instead she had been put on trial. The outcome—the higher-ups saddled Crisa with perpetual genie servitude as a means to control her. The Godmother Supreme could summon Crisa and suck her into that tiny bottle from anywhere in our dimension if she required my friend’s magic, or if my friend ever got “out of hand.” It was servitude and a failsafe wrapped in one neat package.
“SJ,” Debbie said delicately, “I know it’s not ideal, but this arrangement was the best way to get the more conservative jurors in Crisa’s trial to let go of the Alderon angle. It is unfortunate, but it allows her more freedom than other solutions would.”
“I understand that,” I said, nodding. “And I have accepted it like she and all our friends have. What I cannot accept is what genie servitude to you has turned her into.” I looked directly at the Godmother Supreme. “Your commands have caused Crisa to do dark things with her magic. She is already highly at risk for being corrupted by her condition. Using her as a weapon against the commons rebellion in recent months has pushed her more in that direction than necessary.”
Every Pure Magic carrier had one specific ability, aside from the power to see the future in dreams that they all shared. Crisa had the power of life. She could restore it to those who had recently been killed, resurrect herself, and give life to inanimate things that would do her bidding as a result. Regrettably, with her gift came the power to take life as well. When she used her abilities that way, it was like feeding the darker side of her Pure Magic—the hungry, malevolent part she was always fighting to stay away from. Knowing the Godmother Supreme had sent Crisa on missions that led to her taking the lives of others caused me great torment.
“I have never specifically told Crisa to take life,” the Godmother Supreme said unapologetically. “I give her a task. How she fulfills it is up to her. I do not appreciate the accusation that I am to blame for her actions, or what she has become. Your friend is far from pure of heart. There is anger in her—hatred, darkness, a fondness for power and using that power against the people who have hurt her. Do not pretend otherwise.”
I took a deep breath. “Crisa does have a lot of those traits,” I said eventually. “But you should not pretend like you did not encourage her to develop them. Which is why I decline your mentorship offer. I could never fully trust you as long as you retain control over Crisa with that genie bottle.”
My once sizzling beef had grown lukewarm. Lena Lenore observed me soberly. Debbie and Daisy watched with expressions of anxiety and discomfort.
“Then become someone I fully trust instead,” the Godmother Supreme proposed. “Crisanta is too powerful to roam free. I stand by that. We need a way of controlling her, and I am the only person with the wisdom and tact that our realm’s ambassadors approve of to do so. There is no one like me. But . . . perhaps there can be. Allow me to mentor you, SJ. Prove yourself a worthy protégé with the peace talks by brokering a resolution between the rebels and higher-ups. Show them, and me, that you can be trusted to be just and wise and tactful—putting the good of the realm before yourself and even the ones you care for. Do that, gain my favor and theirs, and,” she held up the genie bottle charm on her necklace, “I will pass control of Crisanta’s genie servitude to you and you can decide to use it as you see fit.”
I blinked, stunned. The tiny genie bottle glimmered in the restaurant’s lanterns and twinkling lights.
“Do we have a deal?” the Godmother Supreme asked.
I took a moment to swallow the magnitude of her offer. That genie bottle could be mine. Crisa would not have to report to the Godmother Supreme anymore. I would become the guardian of my best friend’s power and her conscience. She would be thrilled. This would change everything.
I locked eyes with my new mentor. “How do we begin?”
The Godmother Supreme smiled.
ynamic, but not dangerous.
I pondered Debbie’s description as I migrated through Darling Castle. After dinner, the Godmother Supreme had magically transported me here. The Godmothers did not have absolute teleportation powers, but Gallant was close enough to Clevaunt that the magic worked fine.
The gold-edged corridor sparkled as I walked to my desired destination. My stomach churned with unease. Not from the teleportation. Deciding to win the Godmother Supreme’s favor through mentorship was the best plan for getting my best friend out of the woman’s clutches, and the choice sat right with me. Debbie’s analysis of me, however, did not. I realized this was not a particularly logical response. Why should I want to seem dangerous? But the description brought up an irksome notion that popped into my mind every now and then like an immortal dandelion.
Out of all the characters in my close group of friends, I came across as one of the least intimidating. This image was partially a façade; I was powerful, but in my own subtler way. Most people not noticing this was a consequence of my skills being rooted in careful, strategic steps versus running blindly into the line of fire and the unknown. I did not like the unknown. I did not like taking on challenges that I was not properly prepared or trained for. Was it so wrong to only want to take the lead in areas I was comfortable with? Did that mean no one would ever see me as dangerous? Perhaps spending more time with the Godmother Supreme would change that. I had not considered a self-serving angle when I agreed to the arrangement with her, but maybe she could push me to be bolder in less familiar situations.
“How was your fancy schmancy dinner
?”
I turned to see Peter Pan flying up the gold-encrusted staircase I had just climbed. The Darlings were descended from King Midas and many of them possessed gold-related powers, hence the gilded décor everywhere in sight.
“How did you know?” I asked.
“Pietro called. So, you have fun?”
“It was fine,” I replied to the floating twelve-year-old. “We talked a lot of business. Nothing you would be terribly interested in, but if you want to know the details—”
“Pass,” Peter said. “During my shift watching Sleeping Beauty Jr.—”
“Mauvrey,” I corrected. “Sleeping Beauty Jr. is a bit insensitive to her condition.”
The golden-haired daughter of Sleeping Beauty was a former classmate, a former archenemy, and a current victim of a sleeping curse residing under our watch in one of Darling Castle’s towers. She was also the reason Crisa and company had gone to Dreamland.
The personality we knew as “Mauvrey Weatherall” did not actually belong to this girl. In recent months we learned that an antagonist named Tara had possessed Mauvrey for many years. Turn of events had led to Tara being expelled from Mauvrey this past spring, however the princess still remained unconscious. Part of the long-term possession had required Mauvrey to be placed under a sleeping curse that involved a Shadow creature invading her mind in Dreamland. That kind of curse required the Shadow to be removed in Dreamland. As a result, a group of our friends had journeyed to the alternate dimension to save the innocent girl, and to protect the precious information in her head.
Mauvrey had absorbed the memories of a now-dead Fairy Godmother named Paige Tomkins—the only person who knew the location of Book’s missing genies. The antagonists wanted that information, and we needed to ensure they did not get it. Hence my Book friends and I guarding Mauvrey’s comatose body and enlisting the help of several powerful allies from other realms to do the same when we were at the peace talks. This week that included Peter and Merlin.
Peter huffed. “During my shift watching Mauvrey, your magical mentor insisted on my dad’s behalf that I study some Camelot history books. My head is now super full of new information and I need a few hours of non-learning.” He put his hands to his temples. “I didn’t attend school at all when I lived in Neverland, but now I’m studying in the summer? What is my world coming to?”
Midnight Law Page 3