The men on the boat let out a cheer. “We’ve got her!”
“Haul her in!”
I pushed away the fright that encompassed me every bit as firmly as the net. My wish. I needed to decide. First, I had to get out of being a mermaid. What could I wish for that would also require two legs? Turning to Chrissy, I called, “I want to dance so well with Jason that I’m famous for it—in my normal time period.” I added the last part to ensure she took me back to the present.
Chrissy smiled, self-satisfied, and swished her wand in my direction. “Wish granted.”
Chapter 7
The air around me shimmered with pulses of light. The gazebo, the water, and the sky melted away into a blur of blues and grays. The smell of the net and the weight of it against my skin disappeared. I felt weightless. Everything spun and twisted.
When the air cleared, I found myself standing in a lobby of a fancy resort—no, it was the grand entrance of a mansion. Sweeping stone arches were interspersed with stained glass windows as big as doors. A balcony with an intricate wooden banister wrapped around one part of the room.
Several hallways led into the entrance, and off to my side, stood a pair of elaborately carved wooden double doors. A dozen multilayered candelabras were spread around the room, complete with glowing candles.
I wore a pale yellow gown with green sleeves and a flared skirt that split in the front to show a matching green underskirt. Yellow and green brocade trimmed the sleeves, hem, and collar.
Apparently I was either on my way to the Grammys or a masquerade ball. Even though I knew I was standing, I hiked up my skirt to see my legs. They were right where they were supposed to be, decked out in white stockings and yellow slippers with satin bows on top.
Whoever had designed this outfit had gone all out. I ran my hand along my sleeve, taking in the smooth, delicate material. I had kept one thing from my mermaid story: the pearl bracelet I’d put on earlier still circled my wrist.
Looking around again, I noticed Chrissy at my side. She wore a blue gown with a tight fitting bodice, a long flowing skirt, and puffy sleeves that tapered in at the elbows. The sort of dress fairies wore in elaborately drawn versions of Cinderella. Her hair, now platinum blonde, was piled up on the top of her head in ribboned braids, and her wings had vanished. I hadn’t realized wings were accessories fairies could hide when they wanted.
“Where are we?” I asked.
“Your new home. You’re not only famous, you’re rich. I threw that in at no extra charge.” She nodded with a knowing air. “You’re welcome.”
“My home?” This was better than I’d hoped for. I put my hands to my lips, suppressing a squeal of delight. Maybe I shouldn’t have been surprised. Celebrities lived in mansions, and that’s what I’d wished for. I cast another look at the stone arches and indoor balcony, nearly laughing at the grandeur. When Chrissy decided to do rich, she didn’t skimp. “Where’s my family?”
Chrissy pointed her wand at the double doors. “In there, sitting down for supper.”
I hadn’t been away from my parents for long, but I had an overwhelming desire to rush in and throw my arms around each of them. “Thank you!” I gasped out. “Thank you so much!” I was ready to take back everything I’d said about Chrissy being a lousy fairy godmother.
I hurried to the doors, pushed them open, and stepped into a huge dining room. Floor to ceiling carved oak panels spread across the room. Large oil paintings hung next to arched windows, and three long tables were draped in white flowing table cloths. A middle-aged man and woman ate dinner at the middle table. The woman’s light blonde hair was done up in a bun and covered in a lace cap. She wore a formal, long-sleeved crimson dress and looked effortlessly elegant and graceful.
The man sitting beside her was heavy. Not fat exactly, just broad . . . like he needed to eat five times a day because he bench pressed ponies in his spare time. He had receding blond hair, a bushy beard, and he wore a blue vest with a high collar over a shirt with oddly-puffy sleeves.
Two longer tables sat on either side of the middle table, each filled with young women. Eight of them looked enough like the man and woman at the middle table that they must have been related. They had the same wavy blonde hair, pale elegant skin, and high cheek bones.
The other three girls looked like guests. One had red hair and freckles, one was Asian, and one was black. Several people in old-fashioned servants’ attire walked around the room with trays filled with fruit, bread, and cheese. Others carried pitchers or plates of meat. A mandolin player sat in a corner of the room, plucking his instrument and singing a tune.
There were two problems with what I saw. None of the people seated at the tables were my family, and they were all dressed in clothing that made them seem like they belonged in a Renaissance movie. I glanced at my dress again. I didn’t have a mirror, but it probably could be classified as Renaissance too.
A cold trickle of dread crept down my back. I wasn’t just in the wrong house. I was in the wrong century. Again.
The greeting that had been on my lips faltered and sputtered away. I couldn’t do anything but gape at everyone uncomfortably. Servants and eaters stopped talking and stared back at me. Even the mandolin guy quit playing.
The man at the middle table furrowed his brows and set his knife down on the table. “Who let you in here? What is the meaning of this?”
I hadn’t realized Chrissy stood next to me until she spoke. “This is your youngest daughter, Mercedes—Sadie, for short.” Chrissy swished her wand in a circular direction, and a burst of sparkles spread outward, like magical mist. As it reached the people at the table, their expressions changed, relaxed. The diners turned back to the business of eating and talking. The servants made their way around the room again, placing food on the table. The clinking of silverware and the noise of conversation filled the room.
My throat felt tight and it was hard to swallow. “Chrissy, this isn’t my family.”
“It is now,” she said brightly. “The important thing about family is not who they are, it’s that you have a good one. I gave you the best possible—royalty.”
She had done this as a favor? Did she understand anything about humans? Families weren’t interchangeable. I took a horrified step backward. “I don’t want royalty. I want my family.”
Chrissy gave me the sort of look a teacher gives an unreasonable student. “You were willing to leave your family to go on the road to find fame and fortune. I’ve made it so you can have both. It’s those special little extras I provide that make me an excellent fairy godmother—and please remember to use that wording should the FGA contact you with a customer service survey.”
Chrissy waved her wand at the nearest table and it grew several feet longer. A silver plate appeared, flanked by gleaming silverware and a cloth napkin. She motioned toward the table with a magnanimous sweep. “Your seat awaits.”
The king turned away from his conversation with the queen and sent me a disapproving look. “Mercedes, you’re late for supper again.”
The queen smiled and gestured toward the empty plate. “Sadie dear, it isn’t proper for a princess to keep her family waiting.”
The king picked up a turkey leg from his plate. “Which is why we didn’t wait. Sit down before I decide lollygaggers should miss supper altogether.”
I couldn’t speak. I could only shake my head. The Queen’s gaze turned to Chrissy. “Is your friend joining us?” She waved at a passing servant. “Set an extra plate next to Sadie’s, will you?”
Chrissy made a small curtsy. “Many thanks, Your Majesty, but Princess Sadie is about to see me out. She’ll come back and eat with you in a minute.”
The queen nodded, dismissing us. The king no longer paid attention to me. He called to one of the serving girls for more to drink.
Chrissy turned and glided toward the large double doors, her gown swishing around her in waves of blue satin. How could someone who looked so innocent have completely messed up my life—twi
ce? I caught up with her, bristling with frustration. As soon as we were out of the room, I started in on her. “I wished to dance in my normal time period. This is clearly not my time period unless Renaissance fashion has suddenly made a big comeback.”
“Technically, that’s not what you wished for.”
“Technically?” I repeated.
“You said you wanted to dance so well with Jason that you’re famous for it in your time period. You will be. You’re one of the twelve dancing princesses and Jason is the prince you dance with. You’ll be famous for generations.”
“The Twelve Dancing Princesses?” I choked out. “You put me in another fairy tale?” The room’s grandeur seemed cold and foreboding now. “You knew that wasn’t what I meant.” I was breathing so hard something in my dress—a corset probably—dug into my ribs.
Chrissy blinked innocently. “I’m a fairy godmother, not a psychic. Perhaps you should have said, “In my normal time period, I want to dance so well with Jason that I’m famous for it.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Grammar. Who knew it would be so important in life, right?”
I gritted my teeth together. “Well, now I’m clarifying the wish for you. Shouldn’t a good fairy godmother fix her mistakes?”
“Mine, yes. Yours, sadly, no. I’ve used up the magic allotted for your wishes.”
“But . . .” The panic building in my chest kept growing, threatening to erupt in a hysterical scream. Jason was somewhere in this century too. Trapped like I was. What had I done? I had to fix this.
I quickly reviewed what I knew about the Grimm Fairy tale. A king had twelve daughters who snuck out of their bedroom every night, went through a forest of silver, gold, and diamond trees, then danced at a ball with twelve princes. The king noticed his daughters’ slippers were worn out every morning and was so upset by this fact, he offered his kingdom and one of his daughters’ hand in marriage to anyone who could solve the mystery.
Princes and nobles came to the castle and stood watch in the princesses’ chambers, but the princesses spiked their drinks with sleeping potion so the men wouldn’t discover the secret.
One day a soldier did a good deed for a fairy, and in return she gave him an invisibility cloak. He went to the castle and pretended to fall asleep each night, but really followed the princesses, thereby learning the truth.
The soldier married the oldest princess, the other princesses married their princes, and supposedly everyone lived happily ever after. Although I always assumed the prince who had danced with the oldest princess was less than thrilled by that arrangement. A spying soldier with a slick invisibility cloak got to marry his girlfriend. Harsh.
On the positive side, none of the princesses died during the story, so it was a definite improvement over my last fairy tale. On the other hand, I was still in the wrong century, in the wrong family, and I didn’t particularly want to get married soon. Jason would undoubtedly be just as unhappy about the whole arrangement.
How could I fix it?
Chrissy tapped her wand lazily against her palm. “However, if you want to go back to your old home—keeping the things you’ve gained from your wishes, of course—fairies do occasionally barter for magic.”
“Barter?” I grabbed onto the word. “What do you want?” What could she want? She had magic at her fingertips. Rumpelstiltskin was the only fairy tale I could think of where a magical being wanted something from a mortal, and he’d wanted the Queen’s firstborn child.
Not that, I thought. I put my hand to my throat. I couldn’t give away a child.
Chrissy leaned toward me, speaking in a hushed tone. “You and your sisters dance every night for Queen Orlaith, ruler of the Unseelie Court. She has a special goblet. I want it.”
A goblet, not a child.
Chrissy pulled a postcard-sized color drawing from a purse that hung on her belt. It showed a golden cup with a thick stem that curved into a wide base. “Here’s what it looks like.”
I stared at the drawing, trying to process all this. She wanted me to steal a fairy queen’s goblet? Was this sort of request normal? I didn’t recall any fairy tales where fairy godmothers encouraged their charges to take up a life of crime. Should I do it? Did I really have a choice?
Chrissy placed the drawing in my hand. “I made sure your dresses have especially large pockets, so concealing a goblet shouldn’t be a problem.”
I thrust my hand into my pocket. She was right.
“That’s one of my special touches,” Chrissy added. “Sewn in pockets weren’t really in vogue until the eighteenth century.” She reached into her purse again and pulled out two strips of white paper. “Once you give me Queen Orlaith’s goblet, you can use these.” She handed me the strips. They looked like plane tickets. Across the front were the words:
Magical boarding pass. Good to transport one mortal anywhere, any time. Simply contact your fairy godmother with your destination.
Void where travel creates time paradoxes. Cannot be used in conjunction with any other magical coupons. Sales tax applies in Michigan during most portions of the twenty-first century.
“Keep them,” Chrissy said. “Once you give me the goblet, I’ll activate your passes.”
I fingered the slips of paper. I couldn’t even lie without my nose growing, and Chrissy was asking me to steal something?
“Isn’t stealing from other fairies illegal in your world?”
Chrissy waved away my words with a flick of her manicured nails. “Don’t think of it as stealing. You’re simply relocating an object to the owners who should have it. Queen Orlaith stole half of the things she owns.
Chrissy pulled the drawstring on her purse tight. “The gold trees that are part of The Twelve Dancing Princesses fairy tale used to belong to the leprechauns. She swiped the silver trees from the tree nymphs. The goblet should belong to Queen Titania of the Seelie Court.”
“Oh.” I kept fingering the slips of paper nervously. “Then why don’t you get the goblet from her? I mean, I’m just a teenager. You’ve got magic to help you.” I didn’t know a lot about fairies, but judging from the story of Sleeping Beauty, it wasn’t wise to tick them off.
“I can’t get the goblet because I have magic. Queen Orlaith cast a spell on her island and the forest surrounding it. No magical creature except herself and her son can enter there. Anyone else who tries is attacked by the plants.”
Anxiety began to twine through my chest. “What do you mean the plants attack people? Plants don’t move.”
“Well, not when mortals ask them to. Plants haven’t spoken to your kind in thousands of years, but fairies and plants have a special bond. If Queen Orlaith tells her vines to grab someone, they will. They hold trespassers until she decides how to dispose of them.” Chrissy pursed her lips in disapproval. “It’s usually something over the top to make her point. Once three leprechauns snuck onto her land to try and take back one of the gold trees.” Chrissy let out a sad, resigned sigh. “They’ve been stuck on a cereal box ever since.”
Had I heard that right? “A cereal box?”
“So you can see why I can’t set foot in the place. I don’t want to end up snap-crackle-and-popping for eternity. Mortals and animals are the only ones who can go there safely, and it’s a bit hard to train animals to stealthily retrieve magical objects.”
Chrissy surveyed me, then brushed a piece of lint from my dress. “Which reminds me, what in the world did you do to my postal squid? He came back all twitchy. The poor thing is a nervous wreck.”
I ignored the question. A terrible, and likely, possibility had just occurred to me. “Wait a minute—did you mess up my wishes on purpose so I’d have to get the goblet for you?”
She let out an offended humph. “First of all, I didn’t mess up your wishes. I delivered them with style and pizzazz. And second, it’s not like you have anything better to do with your time. I mean, what are you missing out on? Calculus homework? Please. Like that’s ever going to come in handy during your life.”
I was right. She’d done this on purpose. I looked upward, eyes on the arched ceiling. “I don’t believe this. I’ve been suckered by a fairy godmother. They always seemed so nice in the stories. Sending girls to balls, helping them find true love . . .”
“Exactly. I’m sending you to balls and helping you find true love. You know, Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty were a lot more grateful about our services. Maybe that’s your problem—a bad attitude.”
A bad attitude. My mind was stuck on a vision of vines wrapping around me, of green leafy ropes twisting around my arms and neck. “What will the queen do if she catches me stealing something?” I put my hand to my throat and gulped. “I don’t know how to crackle, and I’ve never popped.”
“That is why as a concerned fairy godmother, I’m officially advising you not to get caught. Once you come back through the forest, you’ll no longer be in Queen Orlaith’s domain. Call me as soon as you pass the last tree, and I’ll come for the goblet.” She tipped her wand in the direction of the tickets. “Then you and Jason can go home. He’ll appreciate it—what with that pizza withdrawal he’s suffering.”
I gripped the tickets so hard they crumpled. There are a lot of stupid ways to die, and stealing something from a fairy queen seemed high on that list. But what choice did I have? It wasn’t just my life I’d messed up. Jason was stuck here too. I had to at least try to get us home.
“What does the goblet do?” I asked.
“It’s like a fancy glass,” Chrissy said. “Rich people use them for drinking.”
“I know what a goblet is. I want to know what’s so special about this one that I’m risking my life for it.”
“Oh, that.” Chrissy straightened one of the ribbons near my collar, looking me over like my drama teacher used to do before she sent me on stage. She was making sure I was ready to play my part. “The goblet is enchanted. If you pour a special elixir into it at the stroke of midnight, you can ask a question, and it will answer you.”
My Fairly Dangerous Godmother Page 8