Wishful Thinking (How To Be The Best Damn Faery Godmother In The World (Or Die Trying) Book 1)

by Helen Harper

  ‘Oh hey.’ I smiled, acting surprised. I even managed another little blush.

  ‘How’s your first day going?’ he asked.

  I did my best to put on a troubled expression. It wasn’t hard. ‘Not great,’ I admitted. I bit my lip. ‘I had my first client meeting. It didn’t go well.’

  Rupert’s sympathetic murmur was so fake I struggled to maintain my own act. ‘That’s terrible,’ he murmured. ‘Can I help at all?’

  I put my mug down. ‘I’m just not sure why he was assigned to me. In fact, I’m not sure why he’s a client of ours at all. The only thing he asked for was a coffee.’

  ‘Well,’ Rupert drawled, ‘did you get him a coffee?’

  I nodded.

  He smiled at me. ‘Then you’ve achieved your goal and his. Move onto your next client and forget about that one.’

  As if. I withheld my snort and gazed at him with wide eyes. ‘A coffee can’t be his only wish.’

  Rupert moved in closer. I resisted the urge to take a step back. ‘Perhaps not,’ he said, ‘but for the purposes of your list, he’s had a wish fulfilled. His name will have already been ticked off. You can move onto someone else.’

  I shook my head in disbelief. ‘How would his name have ended up on the list in the first place?’ I asked.

  ‘Did no-one show you the Adventus?’

  ‘What’s the Adventus?’ I breathed, as if I were a complete ignoramus. Everyone knew the Adventus, no matter what kind of faery they were.

  Rupert hooked my arm round his and took hold of my hand, stroking the back of my palm in a most bizarre fashion. ‘I’ll show you,’ he husked.

  Maybe he wasn’t cut out to be a faery godmother. Maybe he’d missed his calling as a throaty phone sex operator. ‘Aren’t you busy?’

  ‘I’ll find the time for you, Saffron.’ He stroked my hand some more. ‘You’re more than worth it.’

  Unbelievable. Did this guff work on anyone? ‘You’re so kind, Rupert.’

  He dipped his head further down. ‘I know.’

  I managed a girlish giggle. From across the other side of the room, Billy caught my eye. I winked at him before hastily re-focusing on Rupert before another case of the giggles overtook me. One occasion of hysteria a day was more than enough. Somehow I didn’t think Rupert’s reaction to it would be as mild as the Devil’s Advocate had been.

  ‘Access to the Adventus is strictly controlled,’ he said, as he led me out of the main office area and to a set of stairs. ‘Even most faery godmothers aren’t allowed inside.’ He flashed me a white toothed grin. ‘But you’ll be fine with me. Because I’m responsible for assignments, I can enter whenever I want to.’

  ‘You’re so lucky!’ I tittered. I was actually starting to annoy myself.

  ‘I know.’ He nodded towards a brick red door at the top of the stairs. ‘There it is.’

  We walked up together. I stayed back, giving the magic a chance to acknowledge Rupert and permit him entrance to the room itself. Then he held the door for me. I stepped in after him, my mouth dropping open when I saw what was inside. This time I was being genuine. It was one thing to know of the Adventus. It was quite another to experience it first hand.

  For some reason, I’d thought the room would be small, akin to another Metafora room. Instead, however, this place was vast. Perhaps it was trick of architecture but it seemed far larger than the entire building’s blueprint could possibly be. Then again, the Adventus was as magic as magic could get so I shouldn’t have been surprised.

  ‘Along that wall,’ Rupert told me, with a flick of his wrist, ‘are all the wishes that have already been attended to. Those which where granted and those which were refused.’

  ‘Ever? Across the whole of time?’

  He seemed amused. ‘Oh yes.’ He tugged me over. For as far as my eyes could see, in all directions, were hundreds and thousands of little wooden drawers. Little symbols were inscribed on the front of each one. I recognised them as magicarna, a similar written system to the hieroglyphics which the Egyptians had once adopted. I’d never been able to read more than a few dozen of the symbols, however, even when I’d been particularly studious and trying to learn them. ‘Choose one,’ Rupert told me. ‘Any one.’

  I sucked on my bottom lip and then briefly touched one of the drawers with my fingertips. The wood was warm. Not just that – it seemed that it were actually pulsating with a heartbeat all of its own. That was … unexpected.

  Rupert reached across, his own hand brushing against mine as he did so. It was a hopelessly deliberate movement but, rather than draw away, I allowed it to happen. Frankly, that made me about as shameless as he was. I had more honorable underlying intentions though.

  He slid the drawer open. It was filled with little cards, much the same as you would have found in an old-fashioned library. He ran his finger along the top of them before randomly plucking one out. He held it up, pinching it by his forefinger and thumb so that I could read the beautifully calligraphy inscribed upon it.

  ‘Thomas Haldon. June 1st, 1973,’ I read aloud. ‘Assigned faery – J. Walsh. Request – Parental agreement for marriage. Wish granted.’ I gazed at in awe. Very little information was given away but those words inscribed there had changed Thomas Haldon’s life. And quite possibly that of his wife to be and his parents. It was incredible.

  ‘Cool, huh? Every drawer relates to a different faery godmother. You’ll have one of your own up at the front.’ He chuckled. ‘Of course it will be empty at the moment but I’m sure you’ll fill it up soon enough.’

  I could only nod in response.

  Rupert carefully returned the card to its original spot and turned around. I followed his gaze. Suspended high above our heads was what looked like a vast silver cauldron. ‘Humans might not realise it,’ he said, ‘but as long as they keep their wishes secret from others, magic will transport each and every one of their names into the receptacle above whenever they wish for something. Sometimes their names end up there because the wisher has blown out the candles on their birthday cake. Sometimes they’ve thrown a penny into a well. Sometimes their wish is placed on a shooting star. There are all sorts of methods. Their names are then assigned to different faery godmothers who will do their best to grant their wishes.’

  ‘There must be millions of wishes to get through,’ I said.

  ‘Billions,’ Rupert told me. ‘The worst thing is that even when you visit them, the clients are rarely clear or specific about what they want. We have their names but we have no idea what their actual wishes are. To have a wish granted, each human has got to be visited by a godmother who will investigate and find out what they’re really after.’ He gave me a knowing look. ‘You didn’t know what that coffee guy this morning wanted before you met him, did you?’

  I shook my head. ‘Not a clue.’ I still didn’t know. Maybe Luke Wells’ heart’s desire really was for a cappuccino. I didn’t want to think about him right now. Slowly turning, I took in the vastness of the cauldron. ‘There’s no way every single wish can be granted.’

  He chuckled. ‘Certainly not. There aren’t enough faery godmothers for one thing. Even if every single faery in the world became a godmother, we’d only get through a tiny fraction of the wishes. As it is, we only manage to grant a miniscule amount. The wishes which receive attention are selected at random. It’s not a perfect system but it’s the best we can do. Besides, wishes are supposed to be special. If every single one was granted then they would stop being whispers of awe and wonder and become simply mundane. Only the lucky ones get attended to. Of course, that’s also without mentioning,’ he added darkly, ‘blood wishes.’

  I glanced at him. ‘Blood wishes? What are those?’

  Rupert looked morbidly delighted that I’d asked. ‘Not everyone has wholesome, positive wishes. A considerable amount are downright evil.’

  Yeah, yeah. I’d been a dope faery. I knew better than most what depravities the human race was capable of. All the same, I pasted on a shocked ex
pression. I’d do whatever I could to keep Rupert sweet. For now. ‘Evil wishes?’ I gasped. ‘Like what?’

  I was sure that I’d overdone my melodrama but Rupert was too wrapped up in his own magnificence to notice. ‘People might wish for their husband to end up brutally murdered. Or for their next door neighbour to meet a grisly end. Sometimes, those blood wishes are granted. After all, there are occasions when the world would be a better place if certain people were put out of action.’

  I wasn’t convinced that it was our place to make those sorts of decisions. Regardless of my own misgivings, however, I nodded encouragingly at him. ‘But?’

  ‘But sometimes the wisher is being petty or mean or they’re just simply nasty.’ He pointed over at the other side of the room, where several large red boxes sat silently. The ominous colour and something about the way they were all lined up and waiting gave me the shivers. ‘Once it’s been identified by the initial faery godmother, every blood wish is automatically filtered into there,’ Rupert continued. ‘There’s a separate team of faeries dedicated to weeding any worthy wishes out and visiting the clients in question again if they need to.’

  I glanced around, half expecting to see some sign of this team. Rupert caught me looking. ‘They’re part timers,’ he said. ‘Only work Fridays.’

  Huh. That was a cushy gig if ever I heard one. Then it occurred to me that if I had to work through the worst that humanity could possibly wish for, I might need six days off a week as well.

  Mistaking my expression for curiosity, or perhaps some sort of disgusting eagerness, he lolloped over to the nearest red box before reaching and plucking out a card. He waved it in my direction. ‘This is a good one,’ he told me.

  ‘You don’t have to read it out,’ I began. It was too late, however. He’d already started.

  ‘Andrea Covea, 9th May 2019. Assigned faery – not yet known. Request – turn the eyeballs of the British Prime Minister inside out then chop off her toes and feed them to her Cabinet.’ He looked up at me and grinned. ‘What do you think? Will this one make it through the censors?’

  I laughed weakly. Rupert tossed the card back into the box and reached in for another one. Okay. Enough already. ‘So,’ I said, making my tone as casual as possible, ‘what about those faery godmothers who have disappeared? Were they working on blood wishes? Is that why they were abducted?’

  Rupert paused, his brow furrowing. ‘Not as far as I know.’ I could tell from the faint twitch above his eyebrow that he was intrigued at the suggestion.

  ‘It would be interesting to find out, wouldn’t it? It would even make a sort of sense. Someone could be kidnapping for revenge for terrible things their wishes have done.’ I shrugged. ‘It’s a shame we can’t check.’

  He yanked his arm out of the red box and straightened his shoulders. ‘I told you,’ he said importantly, ‘I have power here. I can check.’

  I blinked rapidly. ‘Oh, but you’ll get into trouble. I’m sure someone has already been through all that anyway.’

  ‘This is my domain.’ His bottom lip jutted out ever so slightly. ‘I won’t get into trouble.’ He flicked his eyes around, even though we were completely alone. ‘And maybe no-one has checked their past assignments yet.’ His expression took on a distant sheen. No doubt he was imagining himself heroically solving the disappearances with snap of his fingers. Idiot. Checking the recent work of all the vanished faeries would have been the first port of call for the most obtuse of investigators.

  Rupert shook himself and then began striding down to his right. I followed, staying on his heels all the way. He scanned up and down the different drawers before exhaling when he found the one he wanted. ‘Here we go,’ he said. He tapped the drawer with his fingertip. ‘The last wishes which Boris granted are all in here.’ With more drama than was necessary, he pulled the drawer open and peered inside. Every card was white. ‘Oh.’ Rupert’s chest deflated. ‘No blood wishes here.’

  ‘What about the others?’ I asked. ‘There’s no harm in checking. Just to be sure.’

  He nodded half to himself and spun round, heading for another drawer. As soon as his back was turned, I reached into Boris’s one and took out the final five cards, shoving them into my back pocket before Rupert thought to turn around. Then I skipped off after him.

  ‘Lydia’s,’ Rupert muttered to himself. He slid the drawer open. This time there actually was a red blood wish inside but it was some distance from the front. He carefully picked it out. ‘This one is from almost six years ago.’ He peered at it, reading the wish out. ‘Request – for father with dementia and stage four bone cancer to die quickly.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘Pffft. This can’t be anything important.’ He grimaced. ‘Neither Boris nor Lydia disappeared because of any blood wishes they might have granted.’

  I reckoned I could have pressed him to continue, and check at least one of the other missing faeries’ drawers. I didn’t want to push my luck unnecessarily, however. Two out of five would serve my purposes. ‘You’re right,’ I told him. Then I snapped my head to the side. ‘Did you hear that?’ I whispered suddenly.

  More than determined to continue his act of brave investigator, Rupert marched forward to the site of the imaginary noise. I reached into Lydia’s drawer, taking the last five cards just as I had with Boris. I closed the drawer behind me and followed Rupert yet again.

  ‘Nothing’s here,’ he said, swinging his head this way and that.

  I frowned. ‘Maybe I was hearing things.’

  ‘Yes. You must have.’ He scowled, clearly annoyed. The expression made quite a twisted impact on his handsome face. Perhaps he was suddenly remembering that I was to be viewed as little more than a disgusting interloper rather than a potential one night stand. ‘We should go,’ he announced. ‘We’ve lingered here long enough.’

  I touched his arm. ‘Thank you so much for showing me the Adventus, Rupert. You’ve explained the entire wish process so clearly. I think I understand it all a great deal better now.’ I smiled up at him. ‘You help set the wish assignments and I see what you’ve done now. You’ve made sure that I get some easy ones to start off with. That’s why my first client only wished for coffee. It was really very nice of you to do that.’

  Rupert’s answering cough and the awkward twist of his fingers confirmed that he’d had nothing at all to do with my assignments. ‘No problem,’ he said. ‘I always try to look out for the newbies. I know you didn’t have the best of starts this morning but I hope you’re feeling better about it all now.’

  ‘Only thanks to you,’ I told him. ‘You’re wonderful.’

  His features relaxed and he grinned once more, completely believing his own hype. ‘Any time, doll face.’ He began walking to the exit. Behind him, I rolled my eyes. I also patted my back pocket where the precious wish cards I’d borrowed lay hidden. Soon I’d have some more answers.

  Chapter Ten

  Unfortunately for me, there was no chance to look through my purloined cards. By the time I returned to my desk, Delilah was back. Unable to flick through the wishes without being noticed, I instead attempted to busy myself by removing all but one of the dusty files to the back of the office where the recycling bins were located, finally confident that only the remaining box contained papers which might be important. I stowed that box under my desk and then spent the rest of my time researching the rest of my clients. I wasn’t going to be caught out again by the sort of attitude I’d had from Luke Wells. I might make mistakes but I didn’t make them twice. Concentrating hard, I made copious notes on all of the names remaining on my list. I’d try to forget the misery of this morning and hit the ground running first thing tomorrow. First impressions counted for nothing, I told myself. Second impressions were far more important. Maybe if I said that often to myself I’d even start believing it. Then again, if Billy’s suspicions were correct, I could find myself abducted with my body parts hacked off before the week was out. In that eventuality, none of this would matter at all.

 
Harry’s enthusiasm when I met him in the Stagger Inn on the way home was considerably greater than mine. ‘How did it go?’ he beamed. ‘You have to tell me every single little detail. I want to know who you met, what they were like, whether you have any new clients yet, what the office looks like, what the Director said to you, what wishes you’ve granted so far, how many…’ His voice faltered in mid-sentence when he saw I wasn’t jumping up and down for joy like he was. ‘Saffron,’ he said slowly. ‘What’s wrong? What happened?’

  I took a deep breath. ‘My co-workers are mostly bullies, apart from one sleazy guy who seems to think he can smile at me and I’ll drop my knickers over the photocopier and one rather nice guy who pretends to be the worst kind of nerdy jobsworth so that he doesn’t get sacked. I haven’t been employed because I was a wonderful dope faery but instead because various faery godmother abductions mean that the office is virtually on its knees. Current thinking is that one of my fellow faery godmothers is responsible for those abductions. I threw a severed ear from one of those abducted godmothers at the Director herself. It was all crusty with dried blood,’ I added, as Harry’s face grew whiter and whiter. I reached into my back pocket and pulled out the wish cards which I’d stolen. ‘I’m also about to discover if I’m about to be used as bait to catch the abductor in question. So it looks like my days are numbered and so are my own ears.’ I paused. ‘Let me think. What else?’ I tapped my mouth thoughtfully. ‘I met the Devil’s Advocate and giggled hysterically in his face. I also met my first client and screwed everything up, failing to give him any sort of decent wish whatsoever. In fact, all I gave him was a cup of coffee. He was lucky enough to have his name pulled from all the billions who have made wishes and all he got to show for it was a fucking coffee. I’ve had no training or guidance about what I’m supposed to do or how I’m supposed to do it and I have a list of clients who I’ve got to attend to and sign off before the end of week. So, yeah,’ I nodded, ‘all in all, it was a really shitty first day.’