by Sarah Noffke
“I understand.” Sophia took a bite of the sundae. The vanilla ice cream was perfectly balanced with just enough vanilla bean, and the fudge was just cold enough it cracked from her spoon but instantly melted in her mouth. There was just a smidge of whipped cream and no banana or cherries or other fruit to ruin the sundae. Fruit always messed up seemingly perfect desserts.
“So you intended for me to face off with a man-eating plant for a demonstration for your class?” she asked Mae Ling.
The fairy godmother nodded. “Yes.”
“You seemed to know I wouldn’t fight the plant,” Sophia guessed.
“It’s your nature,” Mae Ling explained. “You never fight when there are other options. It isn’t your instinct. A man would have pulled his sword at the sight of Audrey. And he would be dead. Which is why men make awful fairy godmothers. Well, and also for the fact they’re men.”
Sophia found herself giggling uncontrollably, probably from the rush of sugar. “I got your message.” She tried to regain her composure. “I hadn’t told you about Wilder being hit by Cupid’s arrow. How did you know it was a problem to be solved?”
Mae Ling gave her a look that seemed to say, “How do you think, child?” Instead, Mae Ling explained, “My message to you said I know how to help with Wilder, but you have a very different way of putting things. Why is it you think he is a problem to be solved? Maybe you’re the one with the problem?”
Sophia considered this. “Well, it’s just Hiker keeps saying he needs to be fixed.”
“That’s a very Hiker Wallace thing to say.” Mae Ling dug into her hot fudge sundae.
“What can I do for Wilder?” Sophia asked. “He really isn’t right since getting hit by Cupid’s arrow, and he is getting himself in trouble with Hiker. He isn’t thinking clearly. He is easily distracted and acting a fool at times.”
Mae Ling looked off with a dreamy thought. “Oh, love. It does the most wonderful things to people.”
“I don’t think you understand,” Sophia said, pushing her sundae away. “Wilder is a dragonrider, and this is a serious time for us. If he doesn’t get it together then—”
“Oh, I’m perfectly aware of what will happen to Wilder, and I know you’re always facing something or another,” Mae Ling told her. “What you have to understand is that love isn’t what you find when the day’s battles have been fought and won. Love is why you fight the battles. But you’re not quite ready for that lesson yet, so I’m going to help you with a different one.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about just so you know.” Sophia felt slightly grumpy from her lack of sleep and now the rush of sugar.
“Yes, and you need rest, which is why you’re irritable, but that gnome will not let you.” Mae Ling shrugged. “I can’t help you much there. I can tell you who to look for that can help with Wilder.”
“Thank you,” Sophia said. “That would be great.”
“He will not be easy to find, though,” Mae Ling cautioned.
“I sort of expect that now,” Sophia moaned.
Mae Ling held out her small hand and a pink envelope appeared in it. “The last time I met Saint Valentine, he was gushing about these shops in London. If there are any clues about how to find him, they will be found there. I’m afraid that’s all I can offer you.”
“Did you say, ‘Saint Valentine?’” Sophia questioned. “That’s who I need to find to help me with Wilder?”
Mae Ling held up a finger, pausing Sophia. “I don’t know that Saint Valentine can help you or you can even find him. But it’s worth a shot. He is an expert in love, after all.”
“Saint Valentine…” Sophia took the small pink envelope. “He is still around?”
Mae Ling toggled her head back and forth. “In a way.”
“And this won’t tell me where to go to look for clues of where to find him?” Sophia questioned.
Mae Ling nodded. “I’m sorry, he didn’t leave a forwarding address with me, but I have every hope with skills like yours, if Saint Valentine can be found then you’ll do it.”
Sophia pressed the note to her chest, feeling a strange bit of hope, although it sounded like she would have to go on a series of convoluted adventures to get where she needed to be.
“Thank you,” she said, standing from her chair and looked down at the sundae quickly turning into a puddle of sauces.
“Don’t thank me just yet,” Mae Ling said, her face turning serious. “I’m giving you what you want, a way to ‘fix’ Wilder. But at the end of all this, you have to ask yourself, do you really want to fix him?”
“I don’t know,” Sophia said honestly. “I don’t want Hiker to be upset or toss us out. And I want Wilder…well, if he is going to love me, I want it to be because he does and not because of a spell.”
Mae Ling smiled and nodded, approving of this answer. “Then go and find Saint Valentine. I think that’s the only way to find closure in all of this. As a bonus, I believe he might be able to offer you some insight into another case you want to be solved.”
“Another case?” Sophia asked, her mind coming up blank about what her fairy godmother was referring to.
“The one regarding Ainsley Carter, of course,” Mae Ling answered. “If anyone knows how to help the shapeshifting elf, it’s Saint Valentine.”
Chapter Eighty-Three
Kensington High Street was definitely one of the more refined places Sophia had an opportunity to visit. The buildings that lined the busy street blocked out some of the London wind she realized when she came to an intersection and got blasted in the face by a gust that sent her hair in a flurry around her face.
Not only was she momentarily confused by the traffic since the cars drove on the opposite side of the road from what she was used to, but the street signs were also all foreign to her. She followed the pedestrians around her, crossing the roads when they did and hurrying before the aggressive drivers nearly clipped her heels.
She had to admit she was distracted by the homes, all of them nestled right next to each other. Each had five steps that led to the front doors where she expected a dignified lady of the home would answer with a polite smile. Her name would maybe be Hyacinth or Elizabeth or Dorothy, and she would have a little dog named Gregory who sat dutifully beside her, not barking at the visitor calling at the odd hour.
Sophia wasn’t going to knock on any of the doors and interrupt tea time for the lovely people who lived on the High Street. The little pink envelope Mae Ling had given her had a specific address of a pub which was down the road a bit.
At the next intersection, Sophia checked her phone for directions, careful to stay out of the way of the heavy traffic that streaked by her on the crowded sidewalk. Sirens blared in the air as ambulances sped by.
After spending the majority of her time in the quiet of the Gullington, it was sensory overload to be in the center of busy London where the noises, smells, and sights all competed for Sophia’s attention.
Following the directions to the pub, she turned down a cobbled road that looked out of place next to modern architecture. Hanging plants hung from the side of the buildings, flowers draping down and offering a welcoming sight.
Soon the crowds died away, and when Sophia turned the next corner, she could not hear the traffic of the busy High Street anymore. It was replaced by birds tweeting and branches making gentle music from the breeze that wafted through the area.
Sophia glanced over her shoulder, wondering if she had accidentally stepped through a portal to another place. In the distance, she could just spy details of the bustling part of Kensington she had come from. On the small cobbled street adjacent to a community garden, she felt a million miles away from busy London.
She found herself meandering down the road where there were no other people, her hands in her cloak and her chin lifted to the blue sky like she didn’t have a worry in the world. It was the opposite of her present reality, but in this idyllic oasis she had stumbled upon, it felt like she had been
given some respite from her cares.
Sophia would have walked right by her destination, lost in her blissful thoughts, but the pub could not be ignored. It belonged on the enchanted street with a low wrought-iron fence enclosing the patio and umbrellas covered in green moss from the winter rains. Dozens of hanging plants decorated the front, and topiaries stood around on the second-story balcony.
Even if this wasn’t the place Mae Ling had sent Sophia to, she expected the charming exterior would have drawn her into the Scarsdale Tavern. Sophia smiled at a few patrons who sat at mismatched tables and chairs when she entered the pub and restaurant. Most were older men, soaking up the sunlight that streamed through the stained-glass windows while enjoying an ale.
The barman glanced up from behind the counter where he was polishing a glass. His expression shifted from a welcoming smile to a tentative look at the sight of Sophia.
“Oh, you can’t see him like that,” the man said, his British accent strong.
Sophia peered down at her attire, confused. She was wearing her usual getup, a blue and silver armored top, leather pants, a traveling cloak, and Inexorabilis on her hip.
“Wait, you know why I’m here?” she asked, wondering why he didn’t think she could be a patron about to order fish and chips and sit by the fire.
“Of course I do,” the man said. “I’ve been expecting you.” He eyed his watch and smirked a little. “Actually, I expected you more like next month. It looks like the timeline got pushed up a bit.”
Sophia shook her head, uncertainty making her doubt everything around her. Maybe the pub wasn’t real and she had stepped through a portal. She could still be asleep and this was all a dream.
“You knew I would come to you and ask to see—”
“Don’t say his name,” the man interrupted, cutting his eyes to the side to ensure the customers eating nearby didn’t overhear them.
Sophia leaned forward. “Then how do I know we’re talking about the same person?”
The guy nodded, seeming to understand. “You have got an issue that involves the heart. Is that right?”
Sophia twisted her mouth to the side, agreeing with a curt nod.
“And you’re seeking an expert, is that correct?” the man asked.
Another nod.
“Then I know who you’re looking for and I can help,” the man said with a toothy grin.
“How did you know to expect me?” Sophia asked, grateful the guy was going to help, but also skeptical.
He held up a pad of paper. “I keep his appointments. They were made centuries ago, and most get canceled for one reason or another, but it looks like you made yours and are a bit early, which is much better than late. I can’t tell you how many show up for their appointments late, having put off matters of the heart. They let taxes and work and fears of rejection and commitment get in the way. Then they show up and learn it’s too late.”
Sophia scratched her head, thoroughly bewildered. She figured at this stage of her career she should be used to unexplained situations such as this, but she never got used to it.
“Who made the appointment?” Sophia asked. “Was it Mae Ling?”
The man eyed the pad of paper, squinting at his messy writing. “No, no. I haven’t heard of a Mae Ling. Appointments are always made directly by the person.”
Sophia’s confusion deepened. She pointed at her chest. “You’re saying I made this appointment with…You-Know-Who?” She hoped You-Know-Who was the same person she wanted to see—Saint Valentine.
“Of course you did,” the guy stated. “Who else would?”
“When did I do this?” Sophia asked, wondering if she was sleepwalking at night, or in this case, sleep scheduling.
The barman flipped through the pad of paper, furrowing his brow. “I’m not certain. Doesn’t say. But time is relative with these things. Appointments are made well in advance and ironically after their occurrence.”
“Wait, are you saying I could have made this appointment in the future?” Sophia queried, wondering how in the world things could have gotten any stranger.
“Sure. I get this is confusing. Events are rarely linear. As a great man once said, ‘It’s a big ball of wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey stuff,’” the guy affirmed, picking back up his rag and continuing to polish glasses. “The important thing is you have an appointment because without one, you could not see…well, you know.”
“Okay, but you said I can’t see…you know…like I am,” Sophia related. “What is wrong with my dress?”
The guy chuckled. “He will hate it for one. When you meet…you know who, you have to look like someone he would fall in love with. That’s the only way he ever helps anyone. Appearances are important.”
Sophia sighed and lifted her hand, ready to transform her appearance. “Fine, what does he want? A dress? My hair up? Makeup? I can do that.”
The guy shook his head. “I’m afraid it will not be that easy.”
“Figures,” Sophia said darkly.
“You would have gotten these instructions for dress code when you booked the appointment,” the guy continued, glancing at the pad. He shrugged. “You probably made this appointment in the future, then.”
“Well, what is the dress code?” Sophia asked. “I’m pretty good with wardrobe changes and really need to get going.”
The man shook his head. “You can’t rush things.” He leaned forward with a serious expression. “Don’t you know that by now? Love can’t be rushed. Matters of the heart take time.”
Sophia nodded. “So, what do I need to do to get ready for this appointment? You say I have a month?”
The guy peeled back, relaxing a bit. “Yeah, but hopefully it will not take you too long. It looks like you just gave yourself some wiggle room in case the seamstress took a while or was delayed working on other orders.”
“Seamstress?” Sophia asked.
“Yeah, I can imagine your puzzlement since your future self got these instructions and your present self is hearing them for the first time,” the guy continued. “You-Know-Who only will take appointments with those elegantly and expertly dressed. He has a favorite seamstress he prefers. It’s in your best interest to go and see this person. Once they make you a dress, then come back to me, and I’ll give you the key to the meeting chamber for your appointment.”
Sophia nodded slowly, doubt heavy in her mind. Something told her this wasn’t going to be as easy as just getting a dress and a key. She gulped, preparing herself for a many-headed monster and deranged murderer she would probably have to face to actually meet this Saint Valentine.
The man didn’t seem to notice her doubt. Instead, he held out his hand and a small pink envelope appeared in it, identical to the one Mae Ling had given her with the address for the Scarsdale Tavern.
“That’s the address of the seamstress,” the man said, handing her the envelope. “Good luck. When you get your dress, come back and see me.”
Sophia took the note and backed away, wondering if she forgot to ask the barman something. “Should I make the appointment now?”
He shook his head. “No, it doesn’t work that way. I assure you, when it’s time, you’ll know. Then give me a call. My name is Gregory.”
Chapter Eighty-Four
In contrast to where Sophia had been, she was sent to the other side of the world and to a place that could not be any more different than the area of Kensington in London.
Whitefish, Montana was the exact opposite of the bustling feel of the High Street. The shops that lined the mountain town of Whitefish were quaint and squatty compared to the buildings in Kensington.
She eyed the note from the pink envelope and wondered if she was missing something. Glancing up, she matched the address on the card to the one in front of her. It was an antique store, not a seamstress shop.
Sophia strode across the main road, which had no traffic, and decided she would check it out. She had not expected Saint Valentine’s receptionist would be a British guy in a pu
b, so she needed to keep an open mind.
Laughing to herself, Sophia could hardly believe with everything going on, she was going to have a dress made. It seemed like the wrong thing to be spending her time on with everything else on her plate.
She reasoned there wasn’t anything she could do to find the dragon eggs until Alicia fixed up the LiDAR equipment, and meeting with Saint Valentine would help Wilder and Ainsley. That seemed sufficiently worthy of Sophia’s time. She did like the idea of having a fancy dress made that would make her worthy of a meeting with Saint Valentine.
The antique shop smelled of lavender and chocolate when Sophia entered. The store was cluttered with tons of shelves overflowing with trinkets, lamps, and old books. In the center of the small shop was a round pink sofa. In the center was a round back, and Sophia highly doubted the thing would be comfortable to sit on.
She eyed a few objects, pretending to be a shopper, and searching for a store clerk. There didn’t appear to be anyone attending to the shop.
To add to the irony of meeting a barman who scheduled Saint Valentine’s appointments and was named Gregory, a small dog trotted into the area around the round sofa and jumped up onto it. He focused on Sophia with a pointed glare.
Sophia returned the expression and said, “Where is Hyacinth?”
The dog yelped.
“Did someone call me?” a woman’s deep voice said from behind a set of shelves.
Sophia peered in that direction but didn’t see the source. “Hello?” she called.
From around the short set of shelves toddled a female gnome who had a thick cap pulled down over her gray hair and was wearing a dress similar to the brown burlap ones Ainsley always adorned.
“Hi, I’m looking for a—”
“A seamstress shop,” the woman interrupted, snapping her fingers at the dog. “Get down from there. We have a customer, Dorothy.”
Sophia narrowed her eyes at the dog. “The dog’s name is Dorothy?”
