I opened a box filled with stationary, my letterhead stamped on every page. I began taking a brandy-colored piece of amber out of the box but thought better of it. No need for me to stoop that low. Instead, I selected a piece of pale pink rose quartz and tapped it lightly to the stone. The quartz sparkled faintly, the rose-colored light permeating the stormy depths. When I pulled it away, the storm stone was entirely pink, with a six-pointed star indicating apology and friendship floating on the surface.
I headed over to the windowsill, intending to leave the stone there so I’d remember to send it off with Vince, when something landed on my head. Something about the size of a large pigeon, only light as a feather.
“Hey!” I scratched his throat. “You stuff yourself like that and you’ll get a tummy ache, little one.”
“Jakku.”
His supple tail tapped my shoulder affectionately. The creature stretched out his neck, peering into my face. He had a sesame seed ball clutched in his mouth, and as I watched he tossed it into the air, caught it, and swallowed it whole. Dark eyes ablaze with the light of universes stared back at me.
Ultimately, I never got my special bonus. Evan Dean—that villain—must have decided there was no point in handing such treasure over to the otaku faerie he planned on killing anyway. He’d sold the pamphlet for chump change at a comic shop downtown.
Lindel and the alchemists offered to buy it back for me, but after a lot of soul searching, I refused. I’d managed to solve the case, but every time I’d look at the pamphlet and the characters’ adorable, smiling faces, I’d remember Dean. I didn’t need that, and taking a bonus for a job I hadn’t exactly wrapped up would hardly make me the most honest faerie around.
However, I couldn’t call the job a total failure either. Richard Diefenbaker—or rather, Richard Byrne—had properly apologized to Laura Winfrey, paid her a substantial amount for her distress, and released her. He’d done the same for her boyfriend, Jeffrey Chandler.
He’d offered both of them jobs at the new theater he planned to open, the Byrne’s Family Theater. They’d declined, electing to return home to Kansas.
“My great-uncle Henry needs more hands on his farm,” Jeffrey said, as I saw them off at the bus terminal. He’d gotten himself a respectable haircut, replaced the punk band T-shirt with an open-collared white one, and definitely cleaned up nicely. Laura had ditched the poisonous lipstick and pancake foundation for some pink lip gloss and a few light touch-ups. She was wearing a blue sundress and flats with straps, seemingly so happy she looked like a different person altogether.
“He’s ninety-two, and his back can’t even handle riding around in a tractor anymore. Great-Aunt Susannah’s arthritis is getting pretty bad, so they’re only too happy to have some young folks come help out.”
“We both decided New York just wasn’t for us. Thanks to you,” Laura said, bashfully.
“This wasn’t exactly the emerald city for us, but at least there was a wizard here. A real one. I know we’ll think of you any time we see that movie.”
“You could have taken a plane, you know,” I said. I was a faerie, not a wizard, but I didn’t bother correcting them. There was little point in explaining the distinction to two kids in love. “I’m sure Diefenbaker gave you enough to cover the tickets.”
“Yes, but we wanted to take the bus. Take our time. Honestly, if we could, we’d love to walk home, savoring every step.”
They looked at each other and giggled, as if sharing a secret.
“But it’s a bit too far to walk. At least buses stay on the ground, so we’ll take the journey to free ourselves of everything we’ve picked up here and think about how to move forward.”
“Together?”
“Exactly.”
Their fingers twined, and their hands clasped together. I felt sure they’d make it work. That required no magic. Love was all the magic they needed.
“Shame the road isn’t paved in yellow bricks,” I said.
“But we aren’t going anywhere but home. Back where we came from. To Kansas!”
Laura looked up at the clear blue, May skies, smiling. She spread both arms out as if trying to hug the world.
For an instant, I was incredibly jealous. I felt like I understood why that old man had wanted to grab her and lock her away. They had something I didn’t—a home. People to call family. A place where they really belonged.
As a changeling, I barely had any of those things.
“I don’t think New York’s an awful place,” Laura said. “This is my Oz, I suppose, the magic land at the end of the rainbow. So many strange, enchanting, surprising things here, but, in the end, the fields and pastures of Kansas are where I belong.”
“Right.” If only I could say anything with such confidence. Ignoring the thorn prick in my heart, I wished them well. They’d return home, where they belonged. Meanwhile, I was caught between the faerie and human realms, with nowhere to go.
“If you want to go home—”
“Then close your eyes and tap your heels together three times.”
“And think to yourself, there’s no place like home.”
All three of us tapped our heels together, and the bored crowd on the benches around us looked surprised and then laughed. The bus arrived. Laura cried a little, there were hugs all around, and the two of them were off on their long road to Kansas, trailing exhaust fumes in lieu of a wedding veil.
The Baron was in a deep sulk. Dean had placed jammer devices all around our meeting place to keep the electric loa out, so, as a result, the Baron had missed the entire climax. He’d compared it to having a main course taken away and being forced to make do with a single sardine.