Even as he asked himself the question, Holly slipped out of his arms. She looked around the castle hall with real sadness on her face, and he felt as if someone had punched him right under his ribs, stealing his breath.
"Hey, don't stop the fun now." He reached to take hold of her hands.
Holly stepped away, out of his reach. "It's almost morning. Will you be back tomorrow night?"
"It's your dream, remember. You make the rules."
"Not all the time." She smiled, but it was the saddest smile he had ever seen.
"Princess Holly." He went down on one knee and caught hold of her hand. "Ruler of this wondrous kingdom, will you grant this lost soul permission to return to your kingdom?"
"Most gladly, Sir. I'm sorry, what did you say your name was?"
"I'm--" His voice caught.
Holly vanished and the world around him faded to shades of gray.
And then even that vanished. "...Maurice."
In the main room of Divine's Emporium, Maurice staggered back from the Wishing Ball and sat down on his makeshift couch, watching Holly turn over in her bed and slap blindly at her alarm clock. Then she opened her eyes, looked around, and smiled, glowing just like she had during their adventure. He raised a hand to trace the curve of Holly's cheek, and before his fingertips touched the cool surface of the Wishing Ball, she vanished.
"See you tonight, kid," he whispered. "Read something really cool today, and dream about it, okay?"
Over breakfast, he reported to Angela what he had seen and done. He'd decided it was the honorable thing to do. Holly was Angela's friend, after all. Not that he didn't doubt the Wishing Ball recorded everything for her, so she could check on him.
He was sitting in a tiny chair at the doll table across from Angela. "So, are you gonna let me go back?" he said, while he sipped at his hot chocolate. He must have done something right, because she usually didn't make hot chocolate for breakfast. She had to know what chocolate in any form, especially dark, did for the Fae.
"You like Holly, don't you?" she said, instead of answering.
"She's okay. There's a whole lot more to her than anybody'd guess, just looking at the outside package. I like how she thinks."
"Yes, I thought you might."
Her little smirk, just before she took a bite of bagel, made a shiver go up his back and made his wings vibrate. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"The two of you have a lot in common."
"You mean besides being trapped in bodies we don't want?" He reached back and yanked on one of his wings, which made him lose his balance and fall out of his chair.
"You both have a keen sense of justice, for one thing. I'm pleased that you see Holly as she really is, inside. Not many people are brave enough to do that."
"Gee, Angie-baby, somebody'd think you're starting to like me." Maurice couldn't explain the warm glow that spread through him at her words.
"Stranger things have happened." She serenely sipped at her hot chocolate and gazed out the window that looked over the park, far at the bottom of the hill.
* * *
Divine Thief
Maurice decided he had to get to know the rest of Angela's friends better. Valentine's Day was coming up. He might get some points with Angela and the Fae Disciplinary Council if he could match up another couple--not that Angela would give him any credit for Jo and Ken getting together.
She admitted he had helped by running interference, but still insisted that he had been too heavy-handed with Allistair and Brittney. So he felt a little desperate as time inched through snowy days of gloom and chill.
His only fun time seemed to be the nights when he visited Holly's dreams. He frustrated himself for more than a week, trying to influence them by whispering to her whenever she visited Divine's. He was positive she sensed something when he called her name and when he rode on her shoulder as she went up and down the stairs and repaired books for Angela. But that was the extent of their interaction outside of dreams.
Diane was a little better. She paused often and looked around when he spoke to her, but no matter how many times he hovered in front of her nose, she never seemed to see him or feel the breeze from his frantically fanning wings.
"So what's her story?" he asked Angela one evening, desperate for a new topic of conversation.
It was February tenth. Angela had given him the silent treatment for almost a whole day when Maurice declared the people of Neighborlee needed to know the truth about Cupid.
The real Cupid wasn't a chubby, cute little kid in a strategically placed diaper, dispensing true love with his arrows. He was a mischief maker worse than anything Maurice had done at his most devious and vengeful. He was more prone to messing with the darker emotions in Humans than in generating love and kindness and sticky-gooey romantic tendencies.
Angela had accused him of prejudice, and said he didn't know the difference between ideals and fantasy.
When he responded that some ideals did more harm than good, she shot back that he was a fine one to insist on truth and not leading people around with illusions. There had been a touch of something hot and dark in her eyes, flickers of ghostlight around her fingertips, and a hard sharpness in her voice.
Maurice retreated for the rest of the day. He was almost relieved to get the silent treatment when he ventured out of hiding that evening for dinner.
Now, though, he needed to be sure Angela was his friend. Showing interest in her friends would help bridge the gap between them. At least, he hoped so.
"Diane?" She looked up, slipped the piece of embroidered silk she used as a bookmark between the pages, and closed the book. "Diane is a rebel."
"You could have fooled me. She's a good, quiet kid. Sensible clothes. Works hard. Likes her classes at WB. She volunteers over at the community center, right? I've heard her talking to some of the kids about the basketball team and other stuff. Makes me think about hitching a ride in her backpack and seeing what all the fun is over there." He settled down on the arm of the sofa where Angela lay and crossed his arms, getting comfortable for a long talk.
"That's why she's a rebel. Against her upbringing, that is." That sparkle of laughter returned to her eyes when Maurice just shook his head. He would gladly play the idiot to get more laughter from Angela and know she wasn't peeved at him any longer.
"Diane's parents are very rich, very powerful, and very ruthless when it comes to their business dealings. Social climbing is only a tool for them, in comparison to other old, wealthy families who believe that social status is the be-all of existence."
"Uh huh. So Diane got tossed on her kiester when she didn't want to go to the debutante's ball?" He knew Diane was a straight-shooter and had a level head on her shoulders, but he thought her taste for second-hand clothes and used books was because she was the proverbial penniless, perpetual college student, not because she had been disowned by her rich family.
"She could go back to her family any time she wants, on her terms. The last I knew, she still has access to her trust fund and her shares in the family's empire."
"So why's she here instead of using the family's bucks to make the world a nicer place?"
"She made her choice a long time ago and has stuck with it. Diane likes small towns and quiet living. If she prefers denim over silk--or cashmere--it's none of your business why. Got it?"
"Got it." He sighed. "So it's just her style, huh? The spoiled rich girl didn't have to get whacked upside the head to make her see what's important in life. No hard lessons. No having to choose between Mumsy and Daddy or doing the right thing."
"Maurice, you are a snob." Angela tipped her head back onto the arm of the sofa and laughed softly.
Outraged, he stared at her.
"You are, you definitely are a snob. You think you're better than she is because you had to learn--and you're still learning--some hard lessons," she said between chuckles. "You think you're better because you are being forced to reform, while Diane just chose her simple life beca
use she likes it."
"Me? A snob?" Maurice felt a little dizzy. He teetered between fury and laughter as her face got rosy and laughter tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. The pressure built up in his head, until he knew he had to choose which way to react, or burst.
He chose laughter, because a flicker of fear remained that he would get squashed or get sent to a really nasty probation officer if he ticked off Angela.
* * * *
Valentine's Day passed, with all its attendant fuss and hoopla over romance. Afterward Maurice was glad to settle down to a quieter life. A few slightly warmer days peeked through the usual February gloom and sleet.
He got permission from Angela and rode on Diane's backpack to Willis-Brooks College to investigate her classes, and then went to Eden II to see what Diane did when she volunteered with the children of Neighborlee. He stayed safely deep in Diane's backpack when she went into the smaller gym to coach the peewee basketball team with Lanie Zephyr.
"There's something about that place that freaks me out, big-time," he reported to Angela, when Diane came to work the next morning and he was able to climb out of the backpack again. "All I can think of is Oroboros, but even that doesn't fit."
"Very apt." Angela rested her elbows on the counter and stared at a spot somewhere down the first aisle, and yet a million miles away from the shop. "Last winter, we faced an...incursion, I suppose you would call it, by a dimensional intruder.
"It was trapped deep underground, in an unpleasant shape that rendered it weak. It tried to open wormholes to either penetrate into our dimension or another, snatching at people for energy--" She shuddered and closed her eyes for a few heartbeats.
Maurice lost his breath, seeing her as suddenly old and frail and defenseless.
"Thank goodness there were enough of us here to gather our strength and defeat it when it rose up in strength."
"So it's gone?" His wings shuddered and he didn't care how it made him look. There was nothing wimpy about being afraid of something that was big and nasty and could devour Fae without even opening its mouth.
"Hmm, more or less." That smirk came back to the corners of Angela's mouth, but not as strong as usual. "We believe we have driven it away, but that does not mean we can relax. Or that it won't return, again and again. Because it or something like it has struck many times in the past. Neighborlee is here as a watching post. There are many guardians, at many levels and with many talents, and we will stay here until we are no longer needed."
"Uh huh. Jane is one of your guardians, right?"
"One of many." She took a deep breath and stood up straight, taking her elbows off the counter. "I'm pleased that you were able to sense the places where the fabric of space and time was rubbed thin."
"And left pretty slimy and stinky, if you ask me." He felt better when Angela laughed softly.
"You've learned to touch the harmony of Neighborlee, if you could sense that bit of discord. Can I ask you to try to grow more sensitive? Reach into the layers of protection woven around this house. You don't have to do anything except listen."
"For now, anyway," he said softly, and was rewarded by a slow nod and a warming of Angela's smile.
* * * *
Maurice took it on himself to take up sentinel duty whenever Angela left the shop on errands--which wasn't often. He made up a place for himself in the shelving directly behind the cash register where he could see the front door and the stairs, and he could keep watch on Diane or whoever else was on duty.
Angela employed several high school girls from the orphanage in the afternoons and on weekends. Maurice caught on early that it was mostly to give the girls a chance to earn money, and keep them away from the less friendly elements among their peers. Still, he decided early on that Angela wouldn't have let the girls stay unless there was something special about them, more than met the eye. Just as there was more to Diane and Holly than he had thought at first glance.
On March first the store was quiet. School hadn't let out for the day, so the usual influx of children stopping by for a treat hadn't begun. It was just him and Diane in the shop. Angela was down in the park, checking on all the spots where her favorite herbs were preparing to sprout. Maurice had offered to go with her and add what magic he could to the effort, but she had thanked him with a smile and said no. He settled into his favorite nest on a high shelf behind the main counter, and daydreamed about his latest dream visit with Holly.
Last night he'd stepped into Holly's dream as she stood on the edge of a dark, churning river. Its chill reached through the air and formed fog along the ground. He hadn't particularly cared for the Renaissance-style clothes Holly had chosen for them, but he'd supposed he didn't look any more ridiculous than anybody else who might drop into the dream...
A long boat like a glorified gondola slid up to the riverbank, emerging from the mists. Maurice helped Holly climb in without being asked. It was her dream, after all, and the boat wouldn't have showed up if she didn't want to follow the adventure. They worked together in silent harmony, pushing off from the shore with long poles. Everything was shrouded in mist. Vague man-shapes filled the water. Hands tried to grab hold of the boat's sides, dripping and pale and skeletal. Maurice nearly rapped at the hands to drive them away, but he didn't want to lean over and see the bodies attached to the hands and arms. Besides, Holly ignored the grasping hands and didn't seem afraid that the boat would be overturned, tossing them into the churning water.
"So, where are we?" he said, after the boat slid out into deeper water and the grasping hands grew less insistent and numerous.
"This is the River of Death." Holly tugged the hood of her cloak a little higher on her head. "Those are the lost souls trying to climb on board and escape their eternal fate."
"Have I mentioned yet what a really morbid imagination you have?"
"A few times." She nodded calmly. "But you'll protect me if anything goes wrong, won't you?" She fluttered her eyelashes at him.
"You better believe it." Maurice had been almost disappointed when no monsters beyond those grasping hands showed up to threaten them in last night's dream, so he could step up and be Holly's hero.
A vibration moved against the magic fabric of the shop, like talons scraping on a chalkboard, shredding his memories of last night's adventure. He leaped from his little nest and soared over Diane's head. She leaned on the counter, both elbows firmly planted on either side of her world history textbook, and continued reading for her mid-term exams next week.
He felt somehow betrayed when she didn't react. Something was threatening the fabric of the protective spells that formed an invisible, undetectable net around the shop. Why couldn't she feel it?
The sense of pressure increased. Soon he heard and felt the splitting of the protective net around the shop. He muffled a yelp when he felt as if big, icy, electrically charged hands grabbed his wings and pulled in opposite directions. The sensation vanished a second later. At the same time he realized he didn't have to be brave. With Angela gone, there was no one who could hear him shriek like a frightened toddler.
The bells over the door jangled.
Maurice fluttered his wings. He'd never felt so relieved to have them there, still attached to his back.
Diane looked up and smiled at the square-featured man who walked through the entryway lined with display cases and stepped into the main room. "Can I help you?"
Maurice felt like slapping her for being so pleasant.
Okay, so the guy looked like a poster child for Hollywood heroes. Hadn't Diane ever heard the warning not to judge a book by its cover? So what if he made the Marlboro man look like a decrepit, broken down rodeo clown, looking elegant and strong despite his worn jeans and leather jacket and those scuffed brown boots? He didn't bother with a hat or scarf or gloves in this freezing weather. Who was he trying to impress?
Maurice peered through the front window and saw a Lexus sitting out front. No wonder the guy didn't need to worry about being caught out unp
rotected in bad weather. Who was he?
"I know you, don't I?" the guy said.
Maurice hated him even more for his smooth baritone and that friendly, perfect, pearly white smile.
"I got it--at Eden II. You coach the girls' basketball team."
"With Lanie," Diane hurried to say. She blushed.
Maurice knew that was a bad sign. Who was this guy, and what did Diane know about him, so his knowledge of her made her so flustered?
"Hold tight, baby," he growled, and flew over to perch on her shoulder. When he came within five inches of the stranger, that sense of inimical magic grew strong, making all the hairs stand up on his wings--he hadn't known he had hairs on his wings until that moment. "Don't let hormones turn off your brain."
"Can I help you find something?" Diane said.
"I'm interested in some rare books. I heard Angela has a secret room where she keeps some first editions and hard-to-find volumes." His smile widened. Yet at the same time it grew tense, and something like fear glittered in his eyes. He rested one arm on the counter and leaned closer to Diane. "You wouldn't happen to have the key to that room, would you?"
"Actually, no. Angela is the only one who takes people to look at those books. She's been given some books on commission, and she's extremely careful with them. She wouldn't be able to show you the room anyway unless someone else is here to take care of the counter while she's upstairs." Diane shrugged. "If you want to wait, or come back in about an hour, she can help you."
"Ah, thanks. I have to get on the highway in about twenty minutes for a meeting downtown, but I thought I'd at least make a start..." He looked around the shop, and jangled the keys in his pocket. "I'll check back later, if that's okay."
"We're open until six, Monday through Wednesday, and until nine Thursday through Saturday, and we're closed most Sundays."
"Most Sundays?" His smile faded after a moment, going crooked and uncertain.
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