Wild Magic would be healed. Ari would be a normal magic-wielding, seal-bearing princess and no longer at risk of losing her eyes to the witch mark. So she did have to go, and I would take care of things here.
Ari touched the mirror, and the surface rippled like a pond. I began to shiver, remembering traveling through the mirror. How it felt like glass taffy, sticking to my skin as I sank into it. She stepped forward into the mirror, and it closed around her, wrapping and bubbling until it settled to absolute calm.
Only the back room showed in the mirror. Ari was a million light-years away, maybe farther, in a realm where time had no meaning and distance did not exist. I forced my trembling hand to the glass, proving to myself that it was solid.
Beth pointed to a trash can. “You look like you’re gonna puke. That was awesome.”
“Only because you’ve never been through. Now tell me, what did Ari and you decide on for your instrument?”
“We didn’t exactly find anything. But I hate the tuba.” That only proved that Beth wasn’t insane. So I walked her back to the conference room, filled with dozens of different types of instruments I was renting by the day, and got her back to trying. I left her in the room, where she continued her audio torture session.
* * *
BETH CAME TO my office late that afternoon, so excited she could barely hold still. “Miss Locks, you have to see what I can do.” I bristled at the “miss” but let it go, hoping for something great.
I followed her into the conference room, where she picked up a saxophone and began to blow on it. What came out sounded like a camel being eaten by a pack of kindergartners, one bite at a time. As Beth played, the rats scampered to the far end of the room, where they huddled in a writhing mess.
“See? I think it’s because of my power.” Beth held up the saxophone with pride.
“Not so fast. I think it’s because they have ears. They’re disease-bearing pests, but they aren’t deaf.” I opened the door and a flood of rats rushed past my feet, eager to get out of earshot. “Follow me.” We went to the waiting room, where the usual throng of wishers waited. “Play.”
She began, blasting out squeaky notes that didn’t resemble a tune as much as an audio-torture session. The rats began to flee, along with the customers. Honestly, I didn’t mind seeing either leave; we had plenty of business. When the lobby stood empty, I put a hand over the saxophone mouth. “That will do.”
Beth held the saxophone in awe. “Is this my instrument?”
“No. I could do that too if I played that badly. Come on, we’ve got fifty more to try.” The crowds in the waiting room had left so quickly they’d dropped magazines, at least one purse, and a plastic bag I’m nearly certain contained a kidney. I figured I’d put the kidney in the fridge; if nothing else Mikey could use it to make kidney bean soup.
As I grabbed the bag, my hand brushed something plastic, a kid’s toy of some sort. A kazoo. A cheap, plastic, and wax paper kazoo. I picked it up and flicked it to Beth. “Consider this number fifty-one.”
The rats began to return, chewing under the door and scampering from behind Rosa’s counter. As I opened the door, Beth put the kazoo in her mouth and blew on it. I made a mental note to teach her not to put things in her mouth without washing them first.
“Hum,” I said. “It’s not a reed. You hum into it.”
She began to hum “Happy Birthday” and then stopped and giggled like a six-year-old. I wasn’t paying attention to her though. I was watching the army of rats who stood in orderly ranks, staring at her in rapt attention.
“Rosa, call the instrument rental place and have them pick up everything. Grimm’s not going to believe this.”
Rosa did the politest thing she’d done all day. She ignored me. So I took my piper (well, sort of) and we went back to my office to have a chat.
“Normally it’s something we can
Ari touched the mirror, and the surface rippled like a pond. I began to shiver, remembering traveling through the mirror. How it felt like glass taffy, sticking to my skin as I sank into it. She stepped forward into the mirror, and it closed around her, wrapping and bubbling until it settled to absolute calm.
Only the back room showed in the mirror. Ari was a million light-years away, maybe farther, in a realm where time had no meaning and distance did not exist. I forced my trembling hand to the glass, proving to myself that it was solid.
Beth pointed to a trash can. “You look like you’re gonna puke. That was awesome.”
“Only because you’ve never been through. Now tell me, what did Ari and you decide on for your instrument?”
“We didn’t exactly find anything. But I hate the tuba.” That only proved that Beth wasn’t insane. So I walked her back to the conference room, filled with dozens of different types of instruments I was renting by the day, and got her back to trying. I left her in the room, where she continued her audio torture session.
* * *
BETH CAME TO my office late that afternoon, so excited she could barely hold still. “Miss Locks, you have to see what I can do.” I bristled at the “miss” but let it go, hoping for something great.
I followed her into the conference room, where she picked up a saxophone and began to blow on it. What came out sounded like a camel being eaten by a pack of kindergartners, one bite at a time. As Beth played, the rats scampered to the far end of the room, where they huddled in a writhing mess.
“See? I think it’s because of my power.” Beth held up the saxophone with pride.
“Not so fast. I think it’s because they have ears. They’re disease-bearing pests, but they aren’t deaf.” I opened the door and a flood of rats rushed past my feet, eager to get out of earshot. “Follow me.” We went to the waiting room, where the usual throng of wishers waited. “Play.”
She began, blasting out squeaky notes that didn’t resemble a tune as much as an audio-torture session. The rats began to flee, along with the customers. Honestly, I didn’t mind seeing either leave; we had plenty of business. When the lobby stood empty, I put a hand over the saxophone mouth. “That will do.”
Beth held the saxophone in awe. “Is this my instrument?”
“No. I could do that too if I played that badly. Come on, we’ve got fifty more to try.” The crowds in the waiting room had left so quickly they’d dropped magazines, at least one purse, and a plastic bag I’m nearly certain contained a kidney. I figured I’d put the kidney in the fridge; if nothing else Mikey could use it to make kidney bean soup.
As I grabbed the bag, my hand brushed something plastic, a kid’s toy of some sort. A kazoo. A cheap, plastic, and wax paper kazoo. I picked it up and flicked it to Beth. “Consider this number fifty-one.”
The rats began to return, chewing under the door and scampering from behind Rosa’s counter. As I opened the door, Beth put the kazoo in her mouth and blew on it. I made a mental note to teach her not to put things in her mouth without washing them first.
“Hum,” I said. “It’s not a reed. You hum into it.”
She began to hum “Happy Birthday” and then stopped and giggled like a six-year-old. I wasn’t paying attention to her though. I was watching the army of rats who stood in orderly ranks, staring at her in rapt attention.
“Rosa, call the instrument rental place and have them pick up everything. Grimm’s not going to believe this.”
Rosa did the politest thing she’d done all day. She ignored me. So I took my piper (well, sort of) and we went back to my office to have a chat.
“Normally it’s something we can
Similar Books
