Stranger Magics

by Ash Fitzsimmons

  “I want to go home,” she whispered.

  My grip tightened as the first tendrils of desperation crept into my mind. “Anything you want, anything at all,” I tried again, “just name it, Meggy, and it’s yours. Anything.”

  She blinked slowly, but those pale blue eyes I loved showed only fear as she murmured, “I want my life back. I don’t want this . . . I don’t . . . don’t want . . .”

  When she broke down in hysterical sobs, I finally released her and let Toula push me into the hallway. “I’ll talk to her,” she promised, but the door closed in my face, and I listened to Meggy weep as I stood there, more alone than I had ever been.

  True to her word, Toula tried, but Meggy would have none of it. Once the Arcanum medics cleared her and departed, she moved next door into Olive’s room and took up a vigil by the sleeping girl’s bed. She would speak to Toula, but no one else.

  “Meg’s just scared,” Toula insisted in private, “and traumatized, and everything at once . . .” She leaned against the high back of one of the leather couches I’d copied and closed her eyes. “She’ll get over it. Just give her time, a little space, room to come to terms with . . . this.”

  But I only lasted two days before I again ventured into that wing of the palace.

  Meggy, who was holding Olive’s hand as she slept, watched warily as I latched the door. “Hi,” I mumbled.

  “Hi.”

  “Just, uh . . .” I rubbed the back of my neck, wishing there were softness in her stare. “Just checking in. Do you need anything?”

  She stood and stroked Olive’s limp hair. “When is she going to wake up?”

  “When Toula lifts the spell on her. She’ll be fine.”

  “And then we can go?”

  I racked my brain for an answer unlikely to upset Meggy, but none came to mind. “I’m sorry,” I said slowly, “but I can’t let you take her.”

  Her eyes flashed, and her voice, already cold, turned to ice. “My child is coming home with me.”

  “She’s dangerous.”

  “She’s sixteen!”

  “That doesn’t matter! Meggy . . .” I took a deep breath, fighting my temper before it could flare. “The last thing she saw before Toula knocked her out was Titania die. She’d asked for my head a few minutes before that. When she wakes, the kid’s going to have scores to settle.”

  “Not with me.”

  “With all of us. You’re guilty by association, at the very least.” I sighed and searched her face, but there was no chink in Meggy’s armor. “If I sent her back with you now, you’d probably be dead in a day or two.”

  “Toula says I have talent—”

  “Which you have no idea how to use. Sure, you’ll intuit some of it as you go,” I allowed, “but you need training before you snap and accidentally burn your house down. It’s happened,” I added as she began to protest. “Olive’s had that training already. Meggy, you can’t defend yourself against her. Not yet.”

  Risking a punch in the face, I crossed the room and took her hands. “Look,” I murmured, “if nothing else, you’ll have to learn how to use a glamour before you go back, unless you want to tell your friends and family that you’ve had a revolutionary face-lift. Stay here for now, learn what you need to get by, and let me deal with Olive.”

  Meggy’s eyes bored into mine. “Deal with her? How? Lock her up?”

  “Probably,” I replied, speeding up before she could interject, “but just for a time, until she comes around—”

  “No.” She pulled free of my grip and folded her arms. “Absolutely not. If you lock my baby away, it’ll be over my dead body.”

  “Meggy—”

  “No.”

  I didn’t have to bargain with her, as the realm hastened to remind me. Meggy didn’t have a prayer of besting me, and as Olive had encouraged Mother to kill me, I could by right do whatever I chose with the girl. Still, I heard myself ask Meggy, “What would you have me do?”

  “Well,” she shrugged, “for starters, you could bind her.”

  “Bind—how can you say that?” I sputtered. “Look at Toula, look in the mirror—”

  “I think I’ve done all right,” she stiffly replied.

  “It would have killed you if it hadn’t been broken,” I retorted. “You want to put Olive through that?”

  “You don’t have to copy the one that was on me. Just keep her from using her power for now. How is that any worse than locking her away?” I didn’t have a ready answer, and Meggy seized the opportunity. “Toula told me it’s possible to make false memories. Bind Olive, take all traces of this place away, and let me give her a chance at the life she should have had with a mother who loves her.” Her eyes began to well, and she swiped at her tears before they could fall. “You’re the reason I lost her to begin with, Colin. If you love me, then give me back my little girl.”

  I tried one last time, knowing even as I did that I’d lost. “Stay for a while. Let me show you what you can do.”

  “You’ve shown me quite enough,” she replied as her face shifted to match her age. “Toula showed me how to do that with a spell, and we figured out the other way together. She said that she’ll give me pointers when I go home.”

  The realm wasn’t keen on the plan, but I pushed the odd voice to the back of my mind and conceded the victory. “All right,” I murmured. “If that’s what you want. But you’ll have to start fresh,” I cautioned. “False memories aren’t perfect, and if your neighbors start asking questions about where Olive came from, her real memories might break through. I could put you in my place in Rigby. There’s a decent apartment above my bookstore, and you could have my car . . .”

  She considered the offer. “And what will Olive think?”

  “As far as she’ll know, you two will have never been apart.”

  “Good.” She paused, then stuck out her hand. “Thank you.”

  Our handshake was awkward, but under the circumstances, it was the best I could hope for. “I’ll send you back tonight, then. Let me make the preparations.”

  I had lost track of the days, and so when I stepped through to Rigby, it was quarter of eleven that night. My apartment was dark, but when I flipped on the switches, I found the place spotless and smelling of lemon Pledge, and I suspected that Mrs. Cooper was to thank. The décor simply wouldn’t do, however, and so I set about changing the furniture to something more befitting Meggy and Olive, trying to replicate Meggy’s house on a smaller scale. My personal books and papers I sent back to my office in Faerie, but I set up a modest office nook for Meggy where my desk had been, reupholstered the couch and chairs, replaced the blinds, and converted my catch-all storage room into a proper bedroom for Olive, heavy on the pink.

  As I considered window treatments, I happened to glance across the street and spotted lights on in Mrs. Cooper’s apartment. Even with the hour, her silhouette moved behind the sheers—she was nothing if not vigilant—and so I slipped out and up her cluttered fire escape.

  My neighbor beamed at me when the kitchen door opened. “Hello, dear, welcome back! How are you? Is everything okay now?”

  “Just fine, Mrs. Cooper, thank you,” I lied, and followed her to the living-room sofa. “But I can’t stay long.”

  Her brows knit. “Oh?”

  “Unfortunately, I’m going to have to get out of the book business. I, uh . . . I’m needed elsewhere.”

  “Oh, dear,” she murmured, patting my gloves. She gave me a critical look, then added, “You haven’t been sleeping, have you?”

  “Not much,” I admitted. “And I need to ask a favor of you.”

  “What sort of favor?”

  “Long story short, I’m moving my daughter and her mother into my building. Meggy’s going to take over the bookstore.”

  Her wrinkled face brightened. “Splendid! Let me know when, and I’ll bring over tea and some sandwiches—”

  “But,” I interrupted before she could start planning a menu, “there’s a catch. My daughter
isn’t going to remember me. Nothing about me. It’s for a good reason,” I explained, seeing her eyes cloud, then muttered, “And I’m fairly certain that Meggy isn’t going to want to think about me ever again. Could you . . . you know, look after them? They’re going to be new to the neighborhood, and—”

  “Of course, dear,” she replied, giving my hands a squeeze. “I won’t say a word. And . . . about the bookstore, uh . . .”

  “Gift from an eccentric distant cousin,” I supplied, wishing Joey were there to come up with something better. “If anyone asks, I’ve gone to Europe for a while.”

  Mrs. Cooper smiled tightly. “I’m going to miss you, Mr. Leffee. Good neighbors are hard to come by these days.”

  I grinned and stood. “Then let’s hope you finally get some—oh, almost forgot.” A blue ceramic teakettle appeared on top of her coffee table’s stack of magazines. “Haven’t been out to Target, but will that do?”

  “That’s lovely, dear.”

  “Different color?”

  Mrs. Cooper stroked her chin in contemplation. “Well, I don’t want to put you to any trouble . . .”

  I saw her idea at the top of her thoughts, and the kettle morphed from blue to a tiny floral chintz. “Oh, that’s perfect!” she exclaimed. “But you didn’t have to—”

  “Anytime,” I said, and took my leave.

  That night, I put Olive in a deep trance and wove into her memory the best life I could give her.

  Olive’s father—her mother’s childhood sweetheart—had died of a heart attack just after her third birthday. Her only memories of him were fuzzy but full of love. She and her mother, who had been both orphaned and widowed young, had traveled together around the country, hopping between rare book events and estate sales in a lucrative scouting and reselling business. Now, thanks to a cousin with a wild hair who had abandoned his bookstore to go backpacking in Europe, Olive’s mother had a storefront of her own and a place to raise her. She had been homeschooling the girl, but with the stability of the store, perhaps she might consider sending Olive out among her peers. Mother and daughter doted on each other—they were all the family they had left—but even still, both knew that it would be good for Olive to make friends her own age.

  I bound her to the best of my inexperienced ability, trying to hide the faintest traces of magic, and crafted the enchantment to age her appropriately when the time came. After all, there was no telling how long the bind would need to remain in place—or, I reminded myself, how Olive would react once it was broken. The best I could hope was that after spending a few years with her real mother, Olive would see the truth of what Titania had done and embrace Meggy without magical prodding.

  With that accomplished, I delivered them to my renovated apartment and watched from the doorway as Meggy tucked our daughter into her new bed. “She’ll wake in the morning, right?” she whispered.

  I nodded and stepped aside so that Meggy could close the door to Olive’s room. “Toula said it would come off around seven. She won’t remember a thing.” I headed for the den and the gate I’d left open, but turned back to hand Meggy another small telephone. “If anything happens, if this doesn’t work out, if you think the bind’s weakening—”

  “We’ll be fine,” she said, putting the phone on an end table.

  The message was clear. Satisfied that the building was secure, I nodded and gave her a tight smile. “Good-bye, Meggy,” I murmured, and closed the gate without looking back.

  Chapter 24

  “Hiya, Gramps, miss me?”

  The lightning flash in the middle of my office had caught my eye an instant before the gate began to open. Pushing my breakfast plate aside, I smirked as Toula flopped onto one of the couches. “It’s called a door. You can knock on them and everything.”

  “Don’t be tedious,” she replied, and straightened up. “And this is official business, anyway, so don’t give me a hard time.”

  My eyebrow rose. “How official?”

  “Arcanum official.”

  “They took you?”

  “Not exactly,” she explained. “But Harrison thought that since wizard-fae relations are still kind of rocky, I have no idea why”—she rolled her eyes in mock exasperation—“that a sort of ambassador might be a good thing to have on hand. Apparently, I was the only candidate.”

  “Mm. He didn’t run this by me.”

  “No, but he said he thought you wouldn’t mind. So here I am,” she concluded, spreading her arms.

  I took in her ratty Broncos T-shirt and black leggings. “You dress to impress, as always.”

  “Absolutely. Anyway, your priest buddy got hold of Harrison somehow, and he says he needs to talk to you. Something about Joey . . .”

  I was already out of my chair. “On my way,” I said, and pointed to my desk as a new gate opened and the realm began to complain at my imminent departure. “Don’t touch my bagel.”

  A fresh one appeared in her hand. “Got any Nutella stashed around here, or do I have to make that, too?”

  I managed to catch up with Joey as he was cramming the last of his clothes into his trike’s trunk in the dormitory parking lot. “What’s going on, kid?” I asked, and he turned and grinned.

  “Hey! Come to see me off?” he said, and gave his recalcitrant trunk lid another shove.

  I joined him as he struggled against physics. “Paul said you’d quit. What’s going on?”

  Joey smiled sadly. “I don’t feel it anymore. This isn’t where I’m supposed to be. I’m not sure where that is, exactly, but it’s not here.”

  I watched in silence as he began body-slamming the lid in an effort to make it latch. “Joey, I . . . I’m sorry . . .”

  “I’m not,” he interrupted, puffing slightly with the exertion. “Just need . . . to figure out . . . what I’m doing,” he added, punctuating his words with repeated blows against the trike.

  Pushing him out of the way, I opened the lid, surveyed the mess inside, then snapped my fingers. The contents rolled and folded themselves into neat bundles, and I lowered the lid. “Packing is an art, you know.”

  “Thanks,” he mumbled, somewhat chastened, and picked up his helmet. “So yeah, I’m off for a while. Might go out west for a bit if my cash holds up, see what there is to see.”

  “Any idea of what comes after?”

  Joey shrugged. “Still working on my résumé. So far, I’ve got down skills in exegesis and swordplay. Suggestions?”

  I studied his young face for a moment, then nodded. “Maybe,” I said as a fat stack of bills appeared in my hand. “Ten grand. Go figure yourself out. Get in touch with Toula if you need more.”

  His dark eyes widened. “I can’t—”

  “It’s nothing, and I owe you a hell of a lot more than that. Please.”

  He unlatched his trunk again and carefully hid the money in his shoes. “Thanks, Colin. Hey, question.”

  “Shoot,” I replied, leaning against a lamppost.

  “You remember Ilunna?”

  “Sure, why?”

  His face began to color. “You, uh . . . you don’t think that she . . .”

  I sensed where he was going and headed him off. “They’re not monogamous, kid. I don’t see that ending well . . . but I could be wrong,” I hastened to add as his expression changed. “You know the way down there, and you’d be able to understand her this time.” I tapped the side of his head and grinned. “Can’t hurt to try, eh?”

  “Maybe not.” He shoved his helmet on and straddled his trike. “How’re Olive and Meggy?”

  “Just fine,” I said, hoping that he wouldn’t press the issue.

  To my relief, he merely nodded and lifted his visor. “So what was that idea you had, anyway?”

  “Go travel first,” I told him. “And when you’re finished, if you don’t have a better plan . . . come see me. I could use a guy like you, kid.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  He pondered for a moment: “401k and insurance?” />
  “Not exactly.”

  “I’ll think about it,” he said with a smile as his trike roared to life.

  For the first months, I stayed so busy with court affairs that I seldom had a moment to myself. The mess was as wearying as Oberon had promised, an endless parade of grievances and petty squabbles blown up beyond all sense, plus the added joys of determining which of Mother’s former aides and guards were willing to work for me. I vetted, mediated, arbitrated, and punished accordingly, and every so often, I got to sleep. Unfortunately, I never had time to cross the border. Toula popped by occasionally with updates from the Arcanum, but she offered me nothing about Meggy’s doings, and I knew better than to inquire. Meggy’s life was her own, and she’d made it obvious that I was to have no further part in it. And why would I? She was Oberon’s, after all, and to that court, I was nothing but a spoilsport specializing in metallurgic torture.

  But one Saturday evening in July, as I sat on my office’s window ledge, enjoying the breeze and the scent of the eternally blooming roses in the garden below, my homemade phone began to ring. Surprised by the unanticipated call—when Toula wanted something, she simply came over, to my guards’ dismay—I opened the phone expecting to hear Joey’s voice. “Having a good trip?” I asked.

  The other end was silent for a few seconds, and then I heard Meggy say, “Staycation, actually. Olive’s off at cheer camp, so I’m here in case she needs something.”

  “Meggy?” I cried, and cleared my throat, forcing myself to calm down. “Uh . . . hi. How are you?”

  “Honestly?” She paused again. “I could do with some company. You busy?”