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

by Helen Harper

  The Director’s expression remained calm. ‘That is one of the steps we are considering. However, we already have a backlog of clients to get through and I’m sure you’re all with me when I say that we don’t want our work to suffer. I’ve consulted with the Devil’s Advocate at great length on the matter. Every godparent will be issued with a panic button by the end of the week. It will link directly back to here. We don’t anticipate any further vanishings.’

  She was making it sound as if we were discussing stain removal instead of brutal abductions. I nodded to myself. Yep. I could see why she was the Director.

  Several hands shot up into the air but she ignored every single one of them. ‘Now,’ she smiled, ‘moving on, we have some successes to report. Yesterday, Mark did an excellent job, fulfilling the needs of eight clients. That’s almost a record. I must remind you that the godmother or godfather who grants the most wishes in this quarter will receive a fabulous and very well deserved bonus. There’s still time to catch up to Mark’s numbers so I want to see you all beavering away as much as you possibly can.’

  By my side, Delilah nudged me. ‘He’s won that bonus every quarter for the last two years. Either he’s granting crappy wishes that don’t mean anything or he’s shagging her. Or Adeline.’ Her lips pursed. ‘Maybe both of them.’

  The Director was still talking. ‘We do have some more complex clients on the horizon as well. A considerable number of older humans have been selected. It is an honour to grant wishes for those people who are in their twilight years and I expect that each and every one of those clients is given the same due diligence as everyone else.’

  I glanced at Delilah. ‘Why wouldn’t they be treated the same?’

  ‘Try granting wishes for someone with dementia,’ Delilah whispered. ‘Or someone who wants their life extended beyond what’s possible. It’s a nightmare.’ Ah. I could see how that could be difficult.

  ‘Finally,’ the Director intoned, ‘no matter who your clients are, please make sure you truly drill down into what their heart desires. You might have think outside of the box to give them what they want but never forget that only the sky is limit. We are faery godparents.’ She raised her fist.

  I blinked. Everyone around me copied her suit before chanting the same words back at her. ‘We are faery godmothers!’

  ‘Again!’ roared the Director.

  ‘We are faery godmothers! We are faery godmothers!’

  I squinted. Was that supposed to mean something? Beyond the obvious, anyway?

  ‘See?’ Delilah said under her breath. ‘It’s like the Nuremberg rallies.’

  The Director clapped her hands. ‘To work, people!’

  Almost immediately, the crowd dissipated. Everyone melted away to their own desks until I was the only person still standing. That had been … weird. I shrugged to myself, spotting Adeline striding for the Adventus room. I pulled my shoulders back and jogged after her.

  ‘Excuse me,’ I called.

  She didn’t hear me. I tried again.

  ‘Adeline! Excuse me?’

  She kept walking. I frowned slightly. Actually, I thought she had heard me and was just choosing to ignore me. Not gonna happen. I picked up speed until I was neck and neck with her. With a swift move and some particularly fancy footwork, I positioned myself directly in front of her. Now she wouldn’t make it out of the office until I got out of the way.

  ‘I want to apologise,’ I said, ‘for what happened earlier. I didn’t mean to take your mug. I didn’t mean to take Alicia’s mug either. I’ll bring my own one in tomorrow.’

  ‘Good.’ She gazed at me with icy eyes. ‘Was there something else?’

  ‘Is Alicia alright?’

  ‘She’s fine.’ She tapped her foot. ‘It might be wise to stay out of her way for the time being, however. Another incident like that and I might be forced to give you a verbal warning.’

  I swallowed. Alicia had been the one to hopelessly over-react. She was the one with her feet under the table, however. I’d defer to her for now. ‘Noted.’

  Adeline’s expression softened. ‘I appreciate that you haven’t had the smoothest of starts. We are all under a great deal of pressure at the moment. Things here are usually far calmer and happier and I am confident they will return to that before too long.’

  ‘I’ll look forward to it,’ I murmured.

  She pressed her lips together. ‘Mmm.’ She began to side step. ‘Now I have to make a move…’

  ‘Wait, before you go, I need some help. I saw my first client yesterday and it didn’t go quite as I’d planned. I need to go and visit him again.’

  ‘That’s fine. You may visit as often as you like before granting his wish.’ She paused. ‘As long as you don’t take too long over it, however. You heard the Director. There’s quite a backlog of clients to get through. The audit is starting next month and the last thing we want is for the Devil’s Advocate to think we’re all slackers. You need to get through that list of yours by the end of the week remember. We’re already granting you considerable leeway as you’re new.’

  That didn’t bode well. I nodded obediently all the same. ‘Yes. I’ll be as fast as I can. The thing is that I might have already granted him a wish. He asked for a coffee so I conjured up a coffee. That’s won’t be a problem, will it?’

  ‘If he wished for something, Saffron, and you gave it to him, then that case is closed. Move on to the next one.’

  ‘He didn’t get what he wanted though.’ I corrected myself. ‘I didn’t give him what he wanted. I need to try again.’

  She crossed her arms. ‘It’s incredibly difficult to re-open a closed case. There are forms to be filled out. In triplicate.’

  I pleaded to her better nature. ‘He’s my first client. I want to do a good job with him. I was only with him in that study carrel for a few minutes. There wasn’t really any chance to do much at all.’ There wasn’t even any chance for any would-be kidnapper to make a move on me. Hopefully, that would register with Adeline and she’d be more inclined to help me return to Luke. ‘The sky is the limit,’ I added, repeating the Director’s own words. ‘Right?’

  ‘It’s not going to be viable. Re-opening a case is…’ She stopped and gave me a closer look. ‘Study carrel? What’s your client’s name?’

  ‘Luke Wells,’ I said instantly. ‘At Oxford University.’ And, I added silently to myself, he was the very last client the now ear-less Lydia had before she went missing. I’d been given him as a client for a very deliberate reason. One that wouldn’t end in my own abduction and dismemberment. Not if I had anything to say about it.

  A strange expression crossed her face. For a fleeting moment, it actually looked like guilt. Maybe she was capable of some honest emotion after all. ‘Very well,’ she said eventually. ‘I will see what I can do. This is a one-off, however. I won’t do this sort of thing every time. You must up your game. After your interview, I expected you to be able to hit the ground running, Saffron.’

  Yeah, I thought. Running from a mysterious kidnapper who wanted to chop off my body parts. I smiled sweetly. ‘Thank you so very much.’

  She sniffed and walked away. My smile turned more genuine. Baby steps. I was getting somewhere though.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Adeline came through for me quicker than I’d thought she would. Less than forty-five minutes later, I was standing back in front of the Metafora room with her assurances that I’d be able to return to Luke Wells and attend to his real wish, whatever that might happen to be. No doubt she’d gone to the Director in order to hasten the process, regardless of her mumbles about the bureaucratic complications. They really were desperate for me to get myself kidnapped as quickly as possible. I shook off my renewed surge of fury. I wasn’t going to let myself lose focus – and I was going to solve this. There was no other choice. I even took the horrific pink cloak with me. I wouldn’t put it on yet but I’d bring it just in case. All or nothing, baby.

  This time, I wasn’t tr
ansported to the quiet, literary heaven of Oxford University’s main Bodleian library. Instead, I arrived somewhere outside, my feet landing onto the grimy pavement of a squalid, rubbish strewn street. Interesting. I pulled into the nearest doorway, giving myself the best opportunity to scan my surroundings and work out what was going on. Then I glanced round, scanning every nearby nook and cranny for other mysterious shadows. I wanted to know exactly how long it would take my watchers to catch up to me. Whichever faeries were trailing me, they wouldn’t want to leave me on my own for too long. After all, the bastard kidnapper could show up at any point. I wasn’t sure how fast they’d be able to move once my signature triggered the Metafora room. Within minutes certainly. Frankly, I was hoping for a little faster than that. My life was quite possibly at stake.

  Initially, there was no sign of either a knife wielding maniac or any flickering faery shadows. I was starting to think I was out here on my own. Then I spotted a woman pushing a pram on the other side of the road. Her head was turned away from me, her face concealed from my view. I didn’t need to see her features, however. She didn’t walk with the weariness of a tired mother. She glided. I sniffed to myself and I turned my gaze to the left. Further up the street, exiting a grubby looking newsagent’s shop, there were two men. Both wore hooded tops, their faces equally indistinct. There was also a strange prickling at the back of my neck. Using my periphery vision, I caught a brief glimpse of another figure not too far behind me. That meant there were potentially four faeries trailing me in total. They weren’t taking any chances. I supposed I should have been grateful for the attention. I knew they weren’t interested in keeping me safe, however. They just wanted the ear-cutter to show up so they could deal with him and rescue the others. Clearly, I was to be considered collateral damage.

  Taking a deep breath, I pretended that I hadn’t spotted any of them and focused instead on my supposed target. Luke Wells had to be around here somewhere. I nibbled on my bottom lip, breathing out only when I saw him step from another doorway further up. Ah ha. I would be smarter this time and hang back, until I had a better idea about what he was up to as well as what he was like as a person. My own watchers could do whatever they wanted. I would still do right by Luke, no matter how much of a shit he really was.

  He put his hands into his pockets and turned right, walking away from me. I immediately followed him, wondering what he was doing in this part of town. Given what I’d learned about my new client on my earlier visit, no doubt it was some sort of grubby transaction. It might be drugs, I mused. It would be amusing if I were to bump heads with one of my former dope faery colleagues while in pursuit of the same human. It was unlikely, however. Magic didn’t usually allow for such occurrences. Besides, I couldn’t recall any drug dealers who lived near here. I pursed my lips. I might have been distracted by my own followers but I was genuinely curious as to where Luke might be heading. He didn’t live anywhere near here. I knew both from my earlier conversation with him and the file I had on him that he didn’t have a girlfriend he might be visiting. He certainly didn’t strike me as the type who simply went out for a walk from time to time to enjoy the fresh air.

  In any case, while the other faeries followed me, I continued to follow Luke. Hopefully, I’d glean more about his lifestyle and his desires. I pretended that I was completely alone. As furious as I was about the entire set-up, I had to admit that being trailed by other faeries was the perfect opportunity for me to show what I was really capable of. I might as well kill several birds with one stone and prove to my watchers that my existence was as worthy as anyone else’s. I could be an excellent faery godmother as well as evil bastard bait.

  Although Luke’s shoulders were hunched against the cold and he walked with the sort of sloping gait that seemed universal amongst undergraduates, I had the sense that he knew where he was going and he had a very specific destination in mind. At the next crossroads he didn’t pause. He strode out into the road, narrowly avoiding being run over by a small car. He ignored the driver’s irritated honk and kept going. I picked up my own pace and hurried after him. I didn’t think it was my imagination that he was walking faster than before.

  I splashed through a dirty puddle and ignored the grey drizzle which had started up again. My hair was already about as frizzy as the laws of biology would allow for. It couldn’t get much worse. Unfortunately, my faster pace and my fixed gaze on Luke’s back meant that I didn’t notice the shuffling man who stepped out from the small pub to my left to have a cigarette. I collided with him, my body jolting against his.

  ‘Sorry!’ I rubbed my forehead where it had banged into his bony shoulder. Damn, that hurt.

  ‘Watch where you’re bleeding going,’ the man returned, before noisily hawking up a ball of phlegm and spitting it in the direction of my feet.

  My hackles immediately bristled. ‘Piss off,’ I snapped.

  If I’d banged into just about anyone else in the street, that would have been the end of matter. We’d both have stamped off in our separate directions. This guy, however, was having a bad day. Or perhaps he was nothing more than an antagonistic prick. Either way, he took extreme umbrage that I’d dared to mutter an expletive at him. He grabbed my arm with rough, painful intent.

  ‘Nobody talks to me like that,’ he hissed in my face, his breath a cloud of stale beer and smoke. In fact it was remarkably reminiscent of the reek in the study carrel where I’d first found Luke.

  I wasn’t in the mood to be pushed around. There was simply too much other shit going on in my life to allow this to pass. I puffed my chest out and glared at him. ‘Oh yeah?’ I said. ‘Because I think I just did. What are you going to do about it?’ My glare grew harder. ‘Are you going to hit me?’

  If I’d been a man, my bravado wouldn’t have worked. In fact, if there hadn’t been other passersby, it wouldn’t have worked either. The bully boy in front of me realised, however, that he wouldn’t win himself any favours by smacking a woman half his size. He abruptly released me. ‘I see you again,’ he told me in a low voice, ‘and you won’t get off this easy.’ He threw his cigarette butt down onto the pavement, barely half smoked, and turned back into the pub. Ha. I grinned to myself, immensely satisfied. That was until I spotted the fake mother with the pram watching me from across the street. She looked away as soon as I glanced at her. It didn’t matter though. Rather than portraying myself as a cool, collected faery who de-escalated tension instead of creating it, I looked like some sort of maniac.

  ‘Stress,’ I muttered. ‘I’m under a lot of stress.’ Then I looked down the street. Fuck a puck. Luke Wells had completely disappeared.

  Bitterly angry at myself, I took off. He couldn’t have gone far. I ran down towards where I’d last seen him, checking every side street and glancing in the window of every shop. This was ridiculous. I’d never physically lost a client before. I slowed to a walk. I supposed I could return to the office and then use the Metafora room to transport myself to his exact location again. Somehow that felt like I’d be admitting defeat, however. I had too much pride to advertise myself as quite this stupid to the entire office. I didn’t dare look in the direction of my followers either. No doubt they’d all be sniggering to themselves at my desperate incompetence. I’d gotten myself into this stupid situation. I’d get myself out of it.

  I half closed my eyes. What did I know about my client? He liked to drink. Except he’d passed a pub and hadn’t so much as glanced towards it so he wasn’t looking for a beer. He slept around. But he liked to pretend he had standards so he wouldn’t simply be trawling the streets in order to pick some random girl up. He was intelligent enough to get into Oxford University and to get good grades whilst he was there, despite all of the afore-mentioned character flaws. Perhaps he attended a secret study group somewhere around here. If I searched for some sort of flat that looked like it contained students then I might find him. There were several flat buildings up ahead. Maybe I could try those.

  With no other solution, I
began to march forward once again. A moment later I halted. There, on the opposite side of the street, was a tattoo parlour. It had barred windows and had the sort of despairing façade that would make any sane person run a mile before they’d wander inside to get their skin permanently inked. But there had been that doodle he’d fallen asleep over in the study carrel back in the library. That could easily have been some sort of tattoo. I felt a brief spark of hope and immediately crossed the street.

  The door was stiff on its hinges and heavy to open. I ended up shoving it with my shoulder just so that I could create enough of a gap to squeeze through. It slammed shut behind me with a thud of finality. Even the vague lingering scent of patchouli in the air wasn’t enough to lighten the tattoo shop’s atmosphere. A single florescent strip hanging overhead lit the tiny space, which I supposed was necessary given that no natural light was able to enter. Every single scrap of space on the walls was taken up with examples of tattoo designs. None of them looked appealing. Not to mention that I could see three photo examples with badly misspelled words. No Regerts was emblazoned on the nearest one. Some poor sod actually that had tattooed across their arm. I shuddered. It had been a decent hunch to come in here but there was no chance that Luke Wells would get a tattoo from this place. He had far too much narcissistic pride.

  I turned on my heel to leave as abruptly as I’d entered, just as there was the shuffling sound of footsteps.

  ‘Help you?’

  I turned. A large man, wearing a tank top which was at least two sizes too small and had probably been white once, was staring at me. My eyes involuntarily dropped to his hands. His fingers were pudgy and squat with the nails bitten down to the quick. They did not look like the hands of an artist.

  ‘No,’ I began. ‘I was having a look but…’

  From further inside the shop but hidden from view by an interior door marked ominously This Is Where The Magic Happens, an insistent – and familiar - voice proclaimed, ‘I’ll pay you whatever you want.’ Luke Wells was here after all.