Mother of a manticore. Was she really thinking of letting them connect? It would break every rule in the FGC handbook. For sure, she would have to meet with Administration, and who knew what other punishments would follow?
But the pair clearly had the spark of true love. The whole room was staring at them. Abby, in all her petulance, would never generate anything close. True, he wasn’t her client…but this happy ending would at least give the case some meaning it was sorely lacking. It might even put some purpose back in her own life. Besides, what could they do to her? She was a level-one-plus.
When Prince of Sales took Sushi Princess by the hand and led her onto the dance floor, Claire didn’t strike him lame. When he leaned in and whispered in her ear, she didn’t raise the volume of the band. Instead, she held Carothann tightly against her thigh. Already, a bright and shiny future was opening up around them. The edges of a new life were plainly visible to Claire, as if all the colors of the aurora borealis had drifted over them.
A perfect storybook ending. Except in this tale, Abby didn’t make even one appearance, and Claire would, for the first time in her career, have an open case past her deadline.
The knots in her stomach tightened into one big heap. What the hell was she thinking? Yep, she would have a lot of explaining to do, and what was worse, she had brought it on herself.
Claire hesitated, her hand on the front door of the Fairy Godmother Council’s Los Angeles branch. In the olden days, the offices had been called keeps and had been more about fun than work. Rooms in castles or great halls had been covered in rich tapestries, flowed with wine and food, and hosted all-day parties. But now, with the FGC on the verge of becoming obsolete, the Los Angeles office had been reduced to a small storefront in an abandoned mini-mall. A simple magic wash had made the outside so bare and uninviting that no unsuspecting human would dare drop in. Claire, hand still on the door, wished that she, too, could just walk past like the humans did. That knot in her stomach yanked even tighter. Asking for the first extension of her career was going to kill her.
When she finally opened the door, she did a double take. The desk in the reception room was empty, the chair overturned, and a buzz of animated conversation came at her from the staff room behind. She limped quickly down the attached hallway and peered through the door. Godmothers and godfathers, crowded in a tight circle in the middle of the room, were talking in hushed tones.
“What’s going on?” The Claire who stood in the entrance was her true self. Long, golden hair tumbled down her back, and a shiny platinum band designating her level-one rank crowned her head. Her gown, deep forest green and a little old school in its cut, matched the color of her eyes exactly. Other godmothers dressed in more modern clothes, but Claire was proud of her job and wasn’t afraid to show it.
“Holy Succubus, Claire.” A level-two-minus waved her over. “Did you hear what Pierre did?”
“No, what happened?” A chill ran down her neck. Office gossip was severely frowned upon in the FGC—a punishable offense, even. What could Pierre have done that would have everyone breaking the rule?
“He marched into Juliette’s office this morning and handed in his wand. He quit.”
“What?” Claire’s mouth dropped open. Holy Succubus was right. In all her centuries on the job, she had never heard of such a thing.
“No joke.” The level-two-minus shook her head. “He said he was never any good as a godfather, and he might as well take his chances in the human world.”
“Seriously? How will he access the magic?” Claire asked.
“He can’t!” A young male apprentice shuddered.
“Apparently,” the level-two-minus said in a mock whisper, “Pierre told Juliette it wouldn’t really be any different; he never could get much magic out of his wand. Except now the FGC couldn’t track him. He came out here and announced to all of us that the FGC has us in a chokehold and he was going to be his own man.”
“Wow.” Claire’s mouth went dry. No one had ever left the FGC of his or her own accord. That was unbelievably stupid…and maybe the bravest thing she had ever heard.
“I don’t know why we’re all so surprised.” A wizened old godmother put in her two cents. “I’m not sure why it hasn’t happened sooner.” She waved a hand at the digital clock on one bare wall. Large red numbers ticked upward to document all deadlines to the millisecond. “Look at the conditions we’re working under.”
“What will he do?” Claire still couldn’t get her head around someone willingly giving up his wand. Carothann was a part of her. It would be like cutting off a hand.
“Maybe he’s just rediscovering his roots,” the level-two-minus said. “You know we’re supposed to be part human.”
“It’s the other part he should be discovering,” the old godmother said. “We don’t even know what it is.”
“You don’t think he’s going to work for the GA, do you?” the apprentice asked.
“Oh, don’t be stupid.” The old godmother turned to face the young man. “What would the Guardian Angels want with a godfather? They hate us.”
“Think of all the intel he could give them. All they’d have to do is look in his eyes and he would be their slave,” the apprentice said with certainty.
“No. It doesn’t work that way.” The level-two-minus pulled them back on track. “Administration was on Pierre’s ass constantly. It couldn’t have been much fun for him. He hadn’t closed a case in a long time.”
A shiver ran through Claire at the thought of Abby turning up at the party only to go home alone and possibly naked. Letting the salesman dance the night away with a woman who wasn’t her client didn’t sound like such a good idea in the harsh light of the FGC office and this conversation. “It’s getting really hard to close a case these days.”
“Oh, honey, you don’t have to worry,” the old godmother said. “You’re fairy godmother royalty. Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, that Middleton girl. You—”
Her last word echoed around her. Everyone had gone completely silent. Claire twisted her head and gasped.
Her boss—tall, imposing, and sexy as hell—stood at the back of the room. She wore a shimmering gown whose panels fell straight and snug, calling all sorts of attention to her tight breasts and long waist. Her auburn hair was swept into a simple bun so as not to compete with her stellar body. She would have been really something, if not for the imperious glare she threw out into the room.
“Dragon balls,” the apprentice said quietly.
The level-two-minus took in a quick breath. Fear flashed in her eyes.
“Don’t worry,” Claire said grimly. “I’m pretty sure she’s here for me.” She swung toward the woman at the door. Their gazes met.
Juliette inclined her head to the windowed office in the back, and Claire carefully threaded her way through the frozen operatives to join her.
Juliette shook her head disapprovingly as they entered the office. A list of open cases, like a whiteboard in a hospital nurses’ station, magically hovered against the back wall. Most of the cases glittered with golden letters. Only two names flashed in red. Pierre’s and hers.
Juliette pointed to the board. “So you want to tell me about that?”
Claire stalled with a deep breath. She would have to play this one very carefully. “I made a game-time decision. He wasn’t right for Abby.”
“What were you thinking, Claire?” Juliette’s eyes flashed. “You know protocol better than anyone. You always need to clear any deviations with us first. We just can’t have godmothers going off on their own.”
“Yes. I know, Juliette, but he was too easily diverted.” That much was true, but a shiver of fear ran through her. What had she been thinking? “And Abby wasn’t into—”
“Claire,” Juliette raised her hands. “Please tell me you aren’t in here to ask for an extension.”
Claire swallowe
d and nodded as if she were a schoolgirl being called into the principal’s office. “Sorry.” And when Juliette didn’t answer, she added, “It happens to everyone.”
“Not to you. Usually, you can close this kind of case in your sleep.” Juliette made a show of pressing one hand to her temple.
It was true, so Claire said nothing.
“Look. This isn’t the time for a slump,” Juliette said. “The FGC is under a lot of scrutiny right now. First, the Guardian Angels start stealing our clients, and now Pierre…” She sighed deeply. “We need to show results, not problems. You do know they just shut down the Santa Barbara office, right?”
Claire nodded.
“And now you’re coming in here with problems you’ve created and making a bad day even worse.”
A bad day. That was an understatement. Upper Administration had to be crawling all over Juliette. It was plain poor luck that Pierre had been under her jurisdiction. He was a terrible godfather, always had been. But Juliette was also the worst kind of middle management. Unengaged and inefficient until something went wrong, and then it was all about covering her own ass.
“Let me be clear.” Juliette’s voice cut into her thoughts. “You’re in here not because of one silly girl who dreams of being more than a receptionist at a dog food company—”
“Paper,” Claire said, not quite under her breath.
“Paper. Dog food. No matter. This is about our way of life. No one wants a fairy godmother anymore. Girls these days want to find their own path. And some of them don’t even want men. And I’m not talking about the way you don’t want males. Love is love. The FGC has always been up to handling that. No, I’m talking about financial independence and feminist causes. Where true soul mates don’t even make an appearance.”
Claire rubbed her chin. Women these days might have a point. After all, she had risen to the top of her game without a soul mate. It had worked for her.
“We need to find a way to reinvent ourselves to fit into these new values.” Juliette’s voice had risen a whole octave as she spoke. She caught herself and smoothed back a curl that had escaped the bun. “If we’re going to survive, we need to be the force of the future, not the force of the past.”
For half a second, Claire had thought about pulling a pom-pom out of the air and waving it with her every word. Juliette ate up any kind of butt-kissing, and she was right. The FGC did need to reinvent itself. The name alone needed to be more gender-fluid for starters. But for now, Claire just had to get through this meeting and figure out a better solution for Abby. Let Upper Administration figure out the big issues. Maybe, though, it was the same issue.
“Of course, Juliette,” she said.
“Good. I have to know that you’re all-in. That I can trust you. To do what I say, when I say it.”
Now Claire flinched. What the hell was going on? This conversation was all over the place. Abby, the Guardian Angels, and now… Was Juliette really rescinding the one thing that made this job palatable? Her autonomy in the field.
Juliette stared down her nose, waiting for an answer.
Claire resisted the impulse to tell her boss where to shove it and said instead, “You can, Juliette. I’m here for the FGC.” When Juliette still didn’t answer, she added, “And for you too, of course.”
“Excellent. I’ll extend the deadline on case number 69317.” Juliette flicked her own wand, Baltine, a lovely red Manzanita branch. Claire’s name and case on the board flickered back into gold. “But no more pussyfooting around. I’m going out on a limb for you. Close it as soon as possible.”
“Right.” Claire started toward the door, carefully favoring her hurt shin. Thankfully, this whole horrible conversation seemed to be drawing to a close.
“Oh, and one more thing. I need to ask for your help with another case.” Juliette’s voice turned sultry.
Claire groaned inwardly. Everyone knew that Juliette only trotted out this voice when the stakes were high.
She turned back. “What case?”
“This one.” The thickest folder that Claire had ever seen appeared out of nowhere and hovered magically in the dead space between them. Juliette gracefully plucked the file out of the air with her long fingers and handed it to Claire.
“Read the whole thing. We can do a meet and greet with the girl first thing in the morning, and then we’ll sit down and strategize how we’ll run the case.”
“We?” Surely Juliette had misspoken.
“Yes, we. This is one of those cases that will make the FGC relevant again. I believe it came straight from the director’s office in Paris. And I thought…we could work it together.”
Claire’s mind spun. Administration never worked the field. “I normally work solo.”
“I know, and maybe partnering up is one of the policies we need to look into as we reinvent the Fairy Godmother Council for the twenty-first century.”
Claire said nothing. Wrapping her mind around having Juliette as a partner, or even just having a partner in general, made her head spin. “Juliette. Look, I—”
“Do you want to end up like that?” Juliette pointed to the board behind her. Pierre’s name flashed red once and then went black. He was no longer an FGC operative.
Claire flinched. Juliette, inept as she was, was the queen of low blows. Who would Claire be without her job?
“Okay. We can work it together.”
“Perfect. Contact me first thing in the morning.”
Claire limped out of the office. Her night wasn’t over. Medical always took forever. A long session would give her time to think, though. How on earth was she going to work two cases at once? Especially when one of those cases involved a new partner?
No good deed ever went unpunished.
The next couple of days were going to be living proof.
Chapter 3
Two Days Earlier
The next morning, Claire carried a latte and the huge folder into the tiny private garden behind her Santa Monica bungalow. The patio held just a small wrought-iron table and chairs but was surrounded by a riot of color. Pink-purple flowers hung like delicate lanterns from several fuchsia bushes, and in one corner a red bougainvillea spread over a fanned trellis. She loved this house. It was only a couple of blocks from the bluffs, and a gentle ocean breeze almost always blew through its windows.
Like everyone else, she had balked when the FGC had withdrawn the magic-housing allotment early in the twentieth century. Before then, anything—the side of a mountain, an oak tree, a carpet of bluebell flowers—could be a luxurious home. All it took was a boatload of magic. Now they had to find housing on their own. The FGC gave them a monthly stipend of human currency—far easier to come by than magic, they were told.
Nearly a century later, the grumbling about the policy had not stopped. But once Claire had gotten over the horror of “hiding in plain sight,” as Upper Administration had called it, she actually preferred the new way. No one was going to chop down this house for firewood or flooring while she was out, and since the LA lifestyle was all about moving up, no one stayed in this neighborhood long enough to discover that she wasn’t aging like a human.
Juliette’s file sat like a brick on her patio table. Dread curled through her. She should have stayed up late to read the tome, but the two unsatisfactory meetings with Abby and Juliette, not to mention Medical, had worn her out. The day hadn’t been particularly hard, just incredibly annoying.
Do I even like my job anymore?
Pierre and a dozen questions popped into her brain. When he quit, had he thrown his wand on Juliette’s desk, or had he passed it to her hand? Had he gone out with a whimper or a bang? Had his wand reached out for him as he walked out of the office?
With a deep sigh, she flipped open the folder.
Fairy Godmother Council: Official Document
FRANCESCA (Frankie) HARRIS
>
Case No. 69356
CASE HISTORY:
Father: Ben Harris—Hollywood producer of family sitcoms: Bundle of Joy, The Bounce House, Bring Me Home
Mother: Lori Harris (deceased)—Professor of religious philosophy, UCLA
Mother died tragically at Frankie’s birth. Father threw himself into work. Produced one hit sitcom after another. Ben remarried Dione Vershon, Hollywood helicopter parent and manager, seven years later. They met when Ben was casting for the pilot of The Bounce House. Dione auditioned her twin girls, Porsche and Perry, for the role of adorable two-year-old girl. The twins got the part, and Dione got Ben. Ben died of cancer when Frankie was twelve. Dione inherited control of the estate until Frankie comes of age at twenty-one.
CURRENT HISTORY:
Frankie, eighteen, has recently returned to the Harris estate, now controlled by her stepmother and stepsisters. She previously ran away and for three years was nowhere to be found. Dione claims this absence illustrates that she has no real interest in the estate. Dione has hired the best probate lawyers in the country to contest the will. If they are successful, Frankie will never have a dime to her name.
OCCUPATION:
Artist.
SUGGESTED ACTION:
Locate client and find a perfect male match for her.
Happily ever after.
Attributes for ideal partner: male, kind, older, impervious to the lure of money. Rich in his own right. Client must be returned to a genteel lifestyle where she is taken care of and can indulge in her art.
That was it? She had no idea who this girl was—what made her tick or what exactly would give her the happily ever after. Why did it always have to be a relationship, anyway? Juliette had been angry when she went off about the FGC being obsolete, but Claire had actually been thinking about it for a while. The FGC needed to embrace results other than relationships as victories. That would launch them into the twenty-first century kicking and screaming. The problem was, the FCG wasn’t into real change. They were comfortable with finding soul mates and birth blessings because those results were traditional and easy. Real innovation required a rabble-rouser who could walk the hard path and wasn’t afraid to step on a few toes. Definitely not Juliette. There would never be any real change at the LA branch under her leadership.
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