The Magic Touch

by Jody Lynn Nye

  “Mr. Feinstein?” he asked the man.

  “Yes?”

  “My name’s Ray Crandall.” Ray’s voice was hoarse with tension. He cleared his throat. “I’m a friend of your mother’s. Um, she asked me to come over … today,” he said, telling half a lie, “but she wasn’t here when I came by earlier. May I speak to her? Is she home?”

  “No, she’s not.” A furrow formed between the man’s eyebrows. “That’s strange, too. She said she’d wait home for us. We were going to take her to dinner. We have reservations.”

  “Who knows with her?” Ray asked automatically, then wondered if the family would take offense at his familiarity. Maybe Rose got a hot need string and had to go out. Reservations could be remade, but a kid only got one shot at a miracle. “I like her, Mr. Feinstein. She’s a lively lady.”

  The man grinned shyly and shrugged, a copy of his mother’s gestures. “I know. I can tell you’re a good friend of hers. Well, Ray, I’ll tell her you came by.”

  “Yeah. Thank you.”

  Ray left, his mind whirling. The genies had gotten her, too. Where could he look for them? There must be a hangout somewhere. Ray strode down the street, dodging people as he thought deeply.

  Hakeem must have known something. That’s why he had come looking for Ray that afternoon. They must have had Rose then! That was why he had said “sorry about your lady friend.” But he wouldn’t go along with something like kidnapping. Ray hoped he still had some morals left. So he had seen it happening. But where?

  The GAS said he was the only fairy godparent still loose. That meant it was only a matter of time before the DDEG tracked him down. But it also meant that he had to be the one to rescue the others. The GAS were no good. They wanted him to hide while they did the rescuing. Forget it. The FGU was his society, his friends—and one of them was his grandmother. That made the stakes personal. The fairy godmothers believed in him. Ray couldn’t let them down.

  But he couldn’t do it alone. He needed an army.

  Chapter 24

  “May I say something?” Rose said, getting up on a chair with Christopher Popp’s assistance. The young guards standing in their corners glanced at her, but since she didn’t seem to be trying to escape, they paid little attention to what she was doing. “I think that since we’re all stuck here, we should have a meeting. It’s not often that we have the entire membership handy.”

  “I second it,” said Grandma Eustatia.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Green,” Rose said.

  “A pleasure, Mrs. Feinstein.”

  “But we don’t have …” Alexandra said, looking around. Rose knew she was looking for Raymond. She held her finger to her lips. “… Don’t have our podium here,” Alexandra finished.

  “Use a chair,” George said, pulling one from the side of the room. Rose smiled as Alexandra took her place, and cleared her throat. George and Mrs. Durja flanked the chairwoman, looking as official as possible under the circumstances. The others moved their chairs or cots into rows, trying to make some order out of their enforced captivity.

  “Well,” Alexandra said, clearing her throat again, “I declare this to be an official meeting of the Fairy Godmothers Union. Local Federation 3-26.” She moved her hand to tap on her improvised podium. “I feel almost as if I’m missing a hand, without my wand. We’ll have to forego the usual wave.” The others murmured agreement. “Do we have the minutes of the last meeting?”

  “Sorry,” George said. “It was in my briefcase, too.”

  “Never mind,” Alexandra said. Rose could tell she felt better, having something constructive to do. “Is there any old business?”

  “Hey, you can’t do this,” one of the guards said.

  “Certainly we can, young man,” Alexandra said. “And you are out of order.”

  The guard blinked out of existence, and in a moment, he returned with the largest of the DDE guild officials.

  “This is out of the question,” Gurgin said, pushing through the barrier into the midst of the assembly. “Stop this at once.”

  “You dare not interfere with a legitimate meeting!” a shrill voice from above cried out. Rose looked up at the cage containing the ethnic fairy godmothers. “Let us out of here! We will take this up with the Grand Djinn at the next board of directors meeting! They will disband your branch office!”

  George breasted up to Gurgin, even though he only stood as high as the djinn’s middle shirt button.

  “We are following correct rules of conduct according to our bylaws. It’s all in the manuals, dating back hundreds of years. You have similar strictures. Don’t you read your own regulations?”

  Gurgin retreated, blasting out of the invisible cube in a puff of stinking cloud, and Alexandra tapped her hand on the back of the chair to regain order.

  “I would like to thank our hosts for giving us nearly perfect attendance. Mrs. Feinstein is right. I haven’t seen so many of the members in one place in years, if ever. No old business? Well, on to new business.”

  Rose bounced to her feet. “I propose that an official vote be taken right now on the question of whether to merge the FGU permanently with the DDEG to form the Wish Granters Association.”

  “What?” Froister burst into the room, with Gurgin behind him.

  “So we all know where we stand,” Rose concluded.

  “Seconded,” Eustatia Green said.

  Waving his arms, Froister dashed in between the chairwoman and the rest of the membership. “Stop this at once!” he cried.

  “Very well,” Alexandra said, paying absolutely no attention. She peered around him. “On the proposal to merge and form the WGA, all those in favor, say ‘aye.’”

  The room fell completely silent.

  “Those opposed, say ‘nay.’”

  “NAY!” As one, the entire membership rose to its feet. Even Mrs. Durja added her vote with vigor.

  “That’s it,” Alexandra said. “The motion is defeated. We will not merge. Meeting is adjourned.” She banged per hand down on the chair back.

  “In that case,” Froister said, into the following silence, “you will stay here until the end of time.”

  “Then we will,” Alexandra said, facing him with folded arms. “You can’t attack our principles. That’s what we stand for. We took a vote, and that’s our response. If the international federation insists that we join, we can’t stop that, but we will give them a complete report of our experiences.”

  “If they make you merge with us, we will have access to your free magic anyhow.”

  “But we are in no position to receive an official mandate,” Alexandra said sweetly. “I’d have to believe that any directive that came through you is spurious. And if you allow us contact, we will tell them our side of the story, which will put an end to the official efforts altogether.”

  “This is outrageous! Give up the points, and you can go free now! All will be forgotten.”

  The chairwoman shook her head, and Rose was proud of her. Froister looked ready to have apoplexy.

  “Sorry. Those are personal and union property. You can’t have them without a court order.”

  Albert Froister slammed out of the room, wishing he’d never heard of unions or fairy godmothers.

  O O O

  “Well,” Morry Garner said sourly. “We’re standing on our principles right here in our nice little cellblock.”

  “Don’t worry,” Rose said with more optimism than she felt. “We’re not beaten yet. Ray’s still out there somewhere.”

  “And when he gets picked up by these goniffs?” Morry asked. “What then?”

  “Trust to luck,” Rose said. “Remember, we get just that little bit more than other people.”

  O O O

  Ray hopped on one foot as he pulled on his most comfortable sneakers. He had cleaned up and changed clothes from the skin out. He didn’t know how long he’d have to be on the streets, so he wanted at least to start out presentable and good-smelling. He didn’t want to scare any of his co
nscripts. His first two were sitting side by side on his bed, looking absolutely skeptical.

  “I don’t understand all this stuff about fairy godmothers,” Bobby said. “You’re not gonna tell me you go around waving a wand on people.”

  “But he does!” Chanel said, her face lighting up. “That pencil in your jacket!” Ray took it out to show her. “That’s really a magic wand?”

  “Yes, it is,” Ray said proudly. Chanel regarded it with awe. And avarice. Ray would have to deal with that later, in case she thought such things were transferable.

  “Looks wimpy to me,” Bobby said scornfully.

  “Look, shrimp,” Ray said, grabbing a handful of his brother’s T-shirt and pulling him off the bed. “Grandma needs us. You going to help me, or not?”

  “Yes—all right! Don’t wrinkle the merchandise!” Bobby pulled away and brushed himself down.

  “We’re going to help Grandma?” Chanel asked.

  “What’s wrong with her?” Bobby asked.

  “She’s in trouble,” Ray said. “I’ll explain as we go. We have to get some more people together.”

  O O O

  “You bet I’ll help you,” Clarice said, sitting down to lace on her skates when Ray asked for her help. “I move faster on wheels. Do you want me to get my boyfriends?”

  Matthew jumped up as soon as Ray appeared at the door, and hardly waited until Ray finished making his request before he went for his jacket.

  Peter didn’t say a word. He just went upstairs for his Little League bat, and fell in with the growing crowd of children.

  Mariana went big-eyed and put her precious dog on a leash to follow them.

  “I will tear apart enemies of Rose with my bare hands!” Honoria said bravely. “In the name of my little nephew who will be born, I swear it.”

  Victor, grinning at his astonished parents, dashed out the door of his home as soon as he saw Ray and the other children appear.

  Ray had had no trouble remembering each child’s name, location, and story. Victor was the only challenge, because Ray had met him in the hospital, not at home, but the brownie points knew how to locate him. Ray was glad Rose had made him take his time with every child, to make them all memorable, to make each individual wish right for them. When he explained what was going on, each and every one of them was willing to help. They were raring to go and take on the genies on behalf of the kindly woman who helped make their dreams come true.

  “But where are we going?” Matthew asked practically, as they landed back in the neighborhood. Ray’s brownie point piggy bank was empty—below empty, and he had no more ideas.

  Ray sat down on the curb with his back against a parked car to think. Where did they start? There were no footprints to follow. Genies who could turn into plumes of smoke didn’t leave trails. What about the fairy godmothers? Could he trail them in some way? There were the need strings. Did people stop having need strings when they got older? Ray took out his wand, to the awe of the crowd of children and the disdain of his brother, and started feeling the air with it.

  The need strings were no more imperative than usual. If five dozen fairy godparents were in trouble, you’d think there would be some kind of psychic resonance, but he felt nothing. He tried concentrating particularly on adults. He could sense his mother, in the same way he had found Chanel by remote control the day he put the good spell on her. Mother would be frantic about Grandma, who was her mother. Could he sense her anxiety? No, not really. A clue! he begged the universe. Could he find Grandma the same way he found Chanel? He reached out through the goodness of the wand, but felt no trace. It was as if she had vanished from the face of the Earth.

  Jorgito watched him with big, sympathetic eyes. He had been weeping for Rose ever since Ray had told him what happened. Now he let out a tremendous sniff, and rubbed his nose on his sleeve. With a sigh, Ray reached into his pocket for a tissue. Jorge honked his nose miserably.

  “That’s it!” Ray said, patting the astonished boy on the back. He jumped to his feet. Mr. Guthrie, the nose-wiper! Ray remembered how he stank of evil. That was his best, and truthfully, his only clue.

  “We’re looking for people who smell really bad,” Ray said to the others. They looked puzzled, and he tried to explain. “A kind of a stink comes from them. They can’t help it.”

  “My dad sometimes stinks when he comes home from work,” Jorge said helpfully. “He does construction.”

  “Not like normal smell,” Ray said, then became frustrated trying to explain. “It’s like … it’s like that man!” He stood up, realizing the answer had been literally under his nose all the time.

  “What man?” Bobby asked, looking around with disdain. “You’re the only man here.”

  Ray made an impatient gesture. “You know the lamp shop down on the main street?” he asked. “Enlightenment? I think he’s the one who’s behind this whole thing. Maybe.”

  Logic said that a) evil magic smelled bad, b) that man smelled bad, and so, it followed that c) he must be doing evil magic. Ray had no specific reason to think the man was involved with the DDEG, but it was pretty far to go for a coincidence. And Enlightenment was a big building. Who’d notice a few extra people hanging around?

  He explained his conclusion to the kids. Bobby was scornful of Ray’s premises involving magic, but he couldn’t fault the syllogism. “It’s worth a try,” he said.

  “If you’re wrong,” Clarice said encouragingly, “all we have to do is keep looking somewhere else.”

  O O O

  Ray knew that he was right before they even stepped into the door of Enlightenment. The smell was so strong the kids started making faces when they were half a block away. Bobby stopped issuing disparaging comments and started looking at Ray with a trifle more respect. The stink was nauseating. Ray gulped.

  “We won’t have much time. They’re going to try and stop us right away,” he said, just before they went inside. “Start looking for a place they could keep a lot of people.”

  The girl, looking a little queasy, stood up from behind her cash register as Ray pushed open the door and led his little army into the arena.

  “Can I help you?” she asked. She watched the file of children enter, and her face went blank with shock. It only took her a moment to recover, but she shouted, “Mr. Froister!”

  Froister! Ray thought. That was the name of the DDE guildmaster, according to the Blue Fairy. His guess, as if he needed any more clue than the stink, had paid off.

  The man in the dapper suit came rushing out of the back room. He didn’t look quite as dandy as he had the other day. His air of crispness had wilted. He looked at the children, too, and started making shooing motions.

  “Please,” he said, gesturing toward the door. “This store really isn’t for children.”

  “But we’re customers,” Ray said, sidestepping and getting in his way. He signaled to the kids to scatter throughout the displays. “You’ve got this great lamp I want to talk to you about. In fact, you know a whole lot about lamps, don’t you?”

  “It’s my profession,” Froister said uneasily. The man seemed to recognize him, and started to come closer for a better look. Ray held his breath, but he couldn’t help it. He sucked in a deep lungful of air, and gagged.

  “And your avocation?” Ray asked pointedly. “Aren’t you a genie?”

  By the shocked look on Froister’s face he’d hit the target dead center.

  “Please,” the man said, with deep disdain, “the term is ‘djinn,’ not ‘genie.’” But Ray must have been exuding a recognizable odor, too, because Froister’s expression changed from shock to amazement.

  “You? You’re a fairy godmother?” he exclaimed.

  Ray pretended to look pained. “Please. We prefer the gender neutral term ‘fairy godparent.’ And my guess is you’ve got a whole crowd of them stashed here.”

  Froister pursed his lips in a crooked smile. “That’s right. It’s very nice of you to come here and complete my collection without
having to chase you down.”

  “Forget it. You’ve got my grandmother here,” Ray said, folding his arms. “I’ve come to get her and my other friends, and then we’re all leaving.”

  “I think not. You’ll all stay,” Froister said, and shouted to the air. “Grab him!”

  Genie-Jackals started to appear out of the air, and Ray recognized most of his street adversaries. They were all tough fighters, but at least they weren’t carrying weapons. Ray drew his wand. It wouldn’t be much protection, but what about good versus evil? Could he start some magical interference and blow their fuses? I’m granting wishes for kids later, he thought at the wand. Don’t let me down now! The little blue star burst into brilliant light like a supernova, pumping out all of the goodness it could.

  “Get them all!” Froister yelled.

  “Lamps!” Ray shouted at the kids. “Start rubbing lamps!”

  The kids dived away from the attacking djinni and toward the lighting fixtures. Being so much smaller, they had no trouble ducking under the displays and around tables. Bobby made a grab for a tall floor lamp, but before he could touch it, a Hispanic man in a black leather jacket appeared out of nowhere and threw his arms around him. Bobby stamped on the man’s foot, and flung himself away under a table. Out of the corner of his eye, Ray saw half of the man turn to insubstantial smoke to follow him. Bobby scrambled out of sight.

  Mariana’s tiny dog stood between her and a couple of big white kids. She leaped for a lamp. The gangbangers jumped right over the dog, but it hung on to one of them with its teeth in his leg, distracting them long enough for her to duck behind a cluster of statues. She stuck out a tiny hand and rubbed a lamp vigorously. One of the gangbangers suddenly changed sides, pushing his brothers away from her. They turned into smoke to try and counter him, but he spread out across their path like jelly on a piece of bread.

  A handful of older men burst out of the back room, and fanned out through the showroom, following the children. These looked like they knew what they were doing. Better start getting some more of the djinni on his side. Ray reached for a lamp, and passed his palm over its surface. A gangbanger wearing a Jackal badge appeared next to him with glassy eyes and folded arms. Before Ray could open his mouth to make a wish, a clump of smoke turned into a wiry, dark-haired man, who rubbed the lamp right after him, undoing his control. The djinn turned to the man, instead. Peter sneaked under the man’s legs and rubbed the lamp again, preventing the man from making a bad wish. A redheaded man came in behind him, until the gangbanger looked dizzy, not knowing to whom he should answer.