“I’m here! I made it! We can…” Rachel burst in the door of the abandoned classroom Zoë had described as their meeting place and halted.
No one was there.
“Where is…?” She looked around the room, which was empty except for the large, polished, central table and its twenty-odd straight-backed chairs. Then she glanced up again at the number above the door. “Hang on. Am I in the wrong…?”
“Oh, it’s you, Freaky-Genius-Dwarf-Girl.” Lucky stuck his head over the edge of the table, his yard-long red whiskers twitching curiously. “The boss told me to tell you that you took too long. They’ll get you for the next experiment.”
A scratching from the corner, and Beauregard, the princess’s Tasmanian tiger, scrambled to his feet. He trotted forward and nosed Rachel’s hand, before returning to his previous spot and curling up to sleep. Turning her head, Rachel noticed that that Valerie’s Norwegian Elkhound was also in the room. Payback sat alertly, watching Rachel’s every move, but, being an excellently trained dog, she did not rise from the position her mistress had commanded her to take.
“Oh…” Rachel blinked several times, until she no longer felt the treacherous, tell-tale sting of tears. For this, she had had abandoned Gaius? “What are they about?”
“Experiments. The boss went there. I stayed here. To see if we can talk to each other.”
“Oh, really?” Rachel perked up at the word experiment. “Did it work?”
“Can’t really tell.” The dragon cocked his head. “I…think so. But he’s talking so fast. I can’t quite make out what he’s saying. I should have gone and he could have stayed here. There isn’t even a single chicken in this room—dream or otherwise. Of course…” The dragon turned and gave a speculative glance out the window in the direction of Drake Hall and the collection of sacrificial animals kept in cages behind the dorm.
Rachel put her hands on her hips. “Lucky!”
“What?” the dragon asked innocently. “They’re just going to feed ’em to supernatural beings, right? I’m a supernatural being? Why shouldn’t I get my fair share?”
“If you’re hungry, you should visit the menagerie. That’s where they feed the big animals and the ones that eat live food.” Rachel pointed across the campus toward the menagerie, which could not be seen through the fog.
Lucky gaped in astonishment. His jaw unhinged like a snake’s. His mouth was now so big that he could have swallowed a chicken or even a young lamb. “You mean this school comes with free, live take-out? This place is the best!”
Rachel giggled fondly at the dragon.
“Wait. Boss is trying again. I’ll try to tell him you’re here.” The dragon closed his great eyes. Then they popped open again, like huge jade lamps.
“Did it work?” Rachel peered at him curiously.
“Think so.”
A puff of mist appeared in the middle of the room. Zoë, Nastasia, Joy, Valerie, and Sigfried stepped out of it, apparently in the midst of an argument. Beauregard immediately rose to his feet and trotted to Nastasia’s side. The elkhound remained seat-ed until Valerie gestured to him. Then the dog ran forward, nails clipping against the wood, and happily bumped against her mistress.
“But I like that one,” Joy objected.
“Nobody cares, O’Keefe,” drawled Zoë, whose bright-eyed, tiger-spotted quoll sat on her shoulder, observing the room curiously.
“Too childish,” quipped Valerie, letting go of Siggy’s hand and advancing her camera. “People would mistake us for a club for preschoolers, and dorky preschoolers at that.”
The princess said, “Society for the Promotion of a Beneficial Future has a nice ring to it.”
“Too old fashioned,” replied Valerie, kneeling to pet her dog. The dog licked her cheek. Valerie made a face. “Everyone would think we were frilly Victorians…or communists. And both of those options are frightening in my book.”
“Annoy Zoë Club,” suggested Zoë, “or maybe the Nearly-Decapitated Regularly Club?”
“Too personal and doesn’t scan well,” replied Valerie.
“Hallo,” Rachel interrupted. “What are we all discussing?”
“Ah, Griffin did make it.” Sigfried nodded at Lucky with sagely satisfaction. “Good.”
“We’ve decided we want a clubhouse,” Joy chattered. “So we need an official name.”
“What O’Keefe is trying to say,” Zoë explained lazily, as she fed her quoll a treat, “is that to be issued a room on the north leg of Roanoke Hall—where clubs meet—we need to register with the Assistant Dean’s office. For that, for some dumb reason, we need an official name.”
“What names have you come up with so far?” asked Rachel, eager to join the discussion.
“You’ve just heard most of them.” Valerie snapped a picture of Lucky sitting on the classroom table. “The ones you haven’t heard were even worse.”
Rachel giggled again. She looked around. “I thought Salome was coming?”
Valerie shrugged. “She had a thing.”
“How about: Sigfried Smith and His World-Saving, Monster-Mugging, All-Girl Jazz Band?” announced Siggy grandly. “Or, for something less jazz band-like: The Ancient and Honorable Military Order of the Knights of King Arthur, Junior Auxiliary Branch? Or: The After-School Vigilante and Vengeance Squad? The Underpaid Lunatics? Or, maybe, the Cosmic Danger Ignoring While We Squabble Brigade? That one has a surprising percentage of truth for something coming out of my mouth.”
“I do not find these to be appropriate,” the princess’s brow creased in patient thoughtfulness, “though Underpaid Brigade would have a bit of a poetic ring. Still, hardly the right appellation for a gathering of school children.”
Valerie snorted derisively. “I am a fearless reporter girl who fought a demon’s servants, and my boyfriend here has fought Veltdammerung. The word children really doesn’t cover it.”
“Maybe for Griffin,” Zoë gestured at Rachel. “She’s only thirteen.”
“Nevertheless,” the princess spoke primly, “children we are, and we would do well to remember it. A time will come when it is our turn, but that time is not yet. If we wish to live long enough to reach it, we should heed our elders and not put on airs regarding our age and abilities.”
Nastasia’s words made Rachel’s skin crawl. She wanted to shout: Where were these adults when I was facing Azrael? Where were they when Dr. Mordeau nearly killed Mr. Chanson? Where were they when Serena O’Malley kidnapped you and Sigfried? But she did not wish to quarrel with her best friend, especially not in front of the others. Zoë, Valerie, and Joy were sure to pile on against one side or the other.
Instead, she said, “As far as a name, Sigfried has already called us the Fire-Breathing-Tutor-Hunting and Vigilante-Retaliation Club and the Dreadfully Violent Adventuring Club.”
“Only you would remember that!” declared Joy, her hazel eyes dancing with playful amusement. “I know: The Die Horribly Club! Sigfried and the Princess and Rachel are all super important, I’m sure. They probably have a great destiny awaiting them. But Zoë and I are going to die horribly. I can feel it!”
“Thanks a lot for the vote of confidence,” grumbled Zoë.
“What am I?” murmured Valerie. “Already dead?”
Zoë said, “How about the: Going To Die Horribly Defending The Princess And Joy Club?”
“Hey!” cried Joy.
“That is not the official name of the club,” objected Siggy sternly. “The club is officially called the Giving Up All Chance For A Comfortable And Normal Life Club In Order To Die Horribly And In Lingering Pain Defending The Princess And Joy. You left out the ‘and in lingering pain’ part. That is what makes our club different from the Vampire Hunting Club and Von Dread’s clique. Their enemies will wipe them out instantly, without paralysis, killing family members, dismemberment, and torture.”
Valerie rolled her eyes.
“I’ve been thinking,” Siggy continued, “that the Giving Up All Chance For A Comfortable And Normal Life Club In Order To Die Horribly And In Lingering Pain Defending The Princess And Joy takes too long to say. We need something short and snappy: What about the Skunk Tossers? Or the Egg Beaters? What about Zoë and the Pussycats?”
“Zoë and the Pussycats it is,” quipped Valerie. “Everyone will have to wear cat suits and furry ears berets.”
“I still vote for Die Horribly Club,” pouted Joy.
“We do spend a great deal of our time arguing,” the princess said thoughtfully. “Perhaps the Dream Debate Society?”
“Oh, I know!” Joy bounced with excitement, nearly knocking over a chair. “The Die Horribly Debate Club!”
“That’s great!” Sigfried declared, “The Die Horribly Debate Club!”
“No!” Rachel exclaimed, “Please let’s call it…”
But it was too late.
The name had stuck.
The others began repeating Die Horribly Debate Club and laughing—everyone except the princess, who looked pained. Rachel completely sympathized.
“Enough about this,” Valerie interrupted finally. She turned to the dragon. “Let’s get down to the proverbial tacks of brass. Lucky, did the experiment work?”
“Yep, only the boss was talking super-duper fast. Faster than a singing chipmunk.”
Siggy said, “You were really slow. Every word you said, Lucky, took an entire ice age.”
“You really can talk to your dragon in your head?” Zoë blinked. “Creepy!”
“You talk to your dragon in your head, too,” Siggy countered. “The only difference is my dragon is real, and yours is imagi-nary.”
“How did you know I have an imaginary dragon?” quipped Zoë.
“You have an imaginary dragon?” asked Joy, wide-eyed.
Zoë rolled her eyes. “O’Keefe, you are so naïve.”
Valerie snickered, while Joy pouted.
“We have successfully performed experiment one: the communication of Mr. Smith and his familiar,” said the princess. “Before we move onto our next step, I would like to speak privately with Miss Griffin.”
“Certainly.” Rachel stepped aside with Nastasia. They stood in a corner next to a painting of some ancient tutor in green and black robes.
“Rachel,” Nastasia lowered her voice and whispered seriously, “I have a matter that I wish to discuss with you. It is on the subject of the boon Mr. Von Dread offered to us in return for our having saved him and his friends from death at Dr. Mordeau’s hands. I have thought of something I desire, but…I do not want to impose on you, to tread on your toes, so to speak.”
“My toes.” Rachel wiggled hers. “Um…how would it affect me?”
“I was thinking I might ask him for membership in the Knights of Walpurgis, but I did not wish to do this if you felt the Knights were your special project.”
“I would love to have you in the Knights with me!” cried Rachel, absolutely delighted. Then she would no longer have to worry about getting in trouble with the intimidating Dread because she repeated something she learned there to her friend.
“I am relieved to hear you say that.” Nastasia looked shyly pleased. “I am certain we shall enjoy attending together.”
“Yes, we shall!” Rachel declared. The two girls smiled at each other in delight as they walked back to join the others.
“Shall what?” Joy asked eagerly.
“I shall be cashing in my boon with Mr. Von Dread to join the Knights of Walpurgis.”
“Oh! Me, too! Me, too!” Sigfried raised his hand. “I adore Dread. He’s totally boss. I want to be a Knight! I even have a wand.” He lifted the length of cherry wood and gold with a ruby tip and waved it back and forth over his head. “He owes me a boon, too!”
“Certainly, Mr. Smith,” the princess smiled happily. “We would love to have you join us, wouldn’t we, Miss Griffin?”
“Indeed,” Rachel nodded, eyes sparkling.
“Then, it’s decided,” decreed Nastasia. “Back to current matters: what’s our next step?”
“Let’s experiment with The Spell of Bedazzlement,” replied Rachel.
“Let’s dazzle O’Keefe,” quipped Zoë. “She said she was ex-pendable.”
“Told you this was the Die Horribly Debate Club!” groaned Joy.
“Yeah,” murmured Valerie, “and now we get to debate who is going to die horribly. Aptly named club.”
“I’ll do it.” Joy heaved a sigh. Spreading her arms, she squeezed her eyes shut. “Zap me.”
“None of us know The Spell of Bedazzlement,” the princess reminded her. “Miss Black performed it. She is an upperclassman.”
“Maybe I can do it,” Rachel said slowly. “I seem to be good at defensive enchantment, as hexes are officially called, I believe. Actually, it’s the only thing I’m good at.”
“Other than flying,” smirked Joy.
The corners of Rachel’s lip quirked upward. She nodded shyly. “I meant sorcery-wise.”
Rachel recalled the moment when Xandra performed the hex on her oboe. She listened to the notes. Then, she whistled them. Magical energies rushed through her lips, tickling terribly. Her cheeks and mouth ached painfully, sore from her recent efforts on Gaius’s behalf.
Nothing happened. She tried again.
After three tries, the princess said, “Apparently not. Why don’t we adjourn until after…”
“What do you mean, apparently not?” Rachel interrupted, taken aback. “I’ve hardly begun! Give me a moment.”
It took her thirteen tries before her sore lips could maintain the five notes long enough to produce blue sparkles. Remembering what Gaius had told her about the paralysis hex, she concentrated. Blue sparks flew from her mouth and danced around Joy.
Joy’s eyes glazed over. She began to weave around the classroom, bumping into chairs and giggling uncontrollably. The elkhound barked excitedly.
“Ooo. Siggy. You’re so cute. I love your golden curls. Kiss me again.”
Zoë and Valerie burst into laughter. Siggy frowned and ran a hand through his hair as if he had not previously noticed that he had thick golden curls. Then he saw Valerie watching and put his hands behind his back, trying to look nonchalant.
Valerie stomped on his foot.
“What? It’s not my fault,” he scowled. “I’m not Zoë. I didn’t pick my hair color.”
Joy’s performance was terribly embarrassing. Rachel felt weak at the thought that she might someday make such a spectacle of herself. She whistled again, the paralysis hex. Her sore lips and cheeks hurt, but more blue glints of light played over Joy’s body. Joy froze.
“In the future,” Rachel stated, her cheeks afire, “let’s paralyze the person first.”
“The victim, you mean,” Valerie stated cheerfully. “Paralyze the victim! Rule noted.”
They lay Joy on the table and left Lucky to watch her. Valerie sat her elkhound down and told her to “guard.” Beauregard retreated back into the corner. The rest of them followed Zoë into the mist. When they emerged, they found themselves in a dream version of Joy’s bedroom.
Joy was bouncing on her bed while chatting animatedly into a round talking glass. The walls were covered with posters. Among the K-pop bands, which Rachel recognized because her sister Laurel’s room had similar pictures, was a poster of the rock star Red Ryder, grinning in his skin-tight red and blue glittering garments with gold safety pins piercing his ears. The poster was only visible for an instant, and then was replaced with something else. The other posters, too, seemed to flow from one to another as Joy dreamed. The room got fuzzier as it moved father from where Joy sat. The far side was just a brownish blur.
Joy’s bed was covered with a collection of bobble-headed, pastel Witch Babies and a big, white, cat plushy that was the spitting image of Joy’s familiar—a big, long-furred, white cat she had creatively named Fluffy. Her sister Charity’s bed was neater, but scattered with issues of Original Tongue Today and Wise Wear magazines, along with an issue of the comic, James Darling, Agent. The posters on her side of the room featured popular broom jockeys.
At first, Joy’s gaze did not track them, as if she did not see them. Zoë leaned over and shook her shoulder. Joy gave a little cry. The talking glass in her hand vanished, but the rest of the room became slightly sharper. It was a small room, cramped. With two desks and chairs taking nearly all the available space. It could have fit in Rachel’s bedroom at least three times.
“Is this your room?” Siggy gawked, staring around him.
“Yeah, it’s not much.” Joy blushed and looked like she wished she could hide the room.
“It’s huge!” Siggy’s eyes bugged out. “And you share it with less than four people? Wow. At the orphanage, fourteen of us lived in the same dorm room. And the new guy always had to sleep on the floor. This is wicked cool!”
Rachel thought Sigfried was kidding, but his eyes were so wide, his expression of admiration so sincere that he must have been serious. Her heart went out to him. She wished she could give him one of the hundreds of rooms in her family’s huge, drafty, nearly empty mansion—any of which were bigger than this one, including the closets.
“I share it with Charity, the youngest of my six older sisters,” explained Joy.
“You have a sister,” Siggy sighed dreamily. “I’d like to have a sister.”
Valerie snapped a picture, illuminating Joy’s dream room with her flash. The whole room grew lighter, a pleasant view of the sky replacing one wall. “Okay. That worked. What now?”
“We now know we can find our way into dreamland at any time, so long as one of us is willing to be bedazzled,” replied Nastasia.
Rachel said thoughtfully. “Right now, if we were in Transylvania, at least one of us would still be stuck. Let’s try Valerie’s idea: bedazzle one of us inside your house, in your purse, Nastasia. Then, you can try to carry the bag into the dreamlands. If this works, we can leave anywhere, at any time.”
“That’s a brilliant idea!” Siggy grinned. “Then, we’d never be stuck. Good thinking, Griffin!”
“It was Valerie’s idea.”
Siggy gave his girlfriend a huge grin. “Good thinking, Goldilocks! I knew you were the smartest girl in the girl-pack! Or do you call it a herd? Gaggle? Huddle? What’s the term for a gathering of girls?”
Zoë shook her head and took them back to the waking world. Lucky nudged Joy’s sleeping body. She sat up on the table.
“Ow.” Joy rubbed her elbow and her side. “Why do I hurt?”
“Sorry,” Rachel murmured. “After we bedazzled you, you walked into a chair.”
“What else did I do?” Joy’s face went from pink to bright red. She looked so embarrassed, Rachel suddenly found that she liked the other girl more than she had before. Recalling Joy’s earlier comment, Only you would remember that, Rachel made a decision.
“Use me,” she said aloud. “I want to show you all something.”
Nastasia said, “But you’re the one casting the enchantment. You can’t bespell yourself.”
Sigfried grinned and pulled out his battered trumpet. It was a school loaner and had streaks in the brass where it had once been bent and hammered back into shape. He played the notes Rachel had whistled. Blue sparkles swirled around the mouth of his instrument on his very first try. Rachel smiled and sighed and froze that way.
“You know you’re an amazing child prodigy, right?” mused Valerie. “It takes the average student a month to three months to learn a simple enchantment. There are records of students graduating with less magic under their belt than you have al-ready.”
Sigfried spun the trumpet on his finger. “Did I explain that I can do magic tricks? I have an empty mind, which gives lots of spare room to stow this stuff.”
“Then, why can’t you learn True History?” she asked.
“That name sounds familiar. Is that one of the classes we have here? I think I use that class for naptime. Because, how does knowing the date when something boring happened help you smash bad guys and set them on fire?”
Valerie sighed.
It took him three tries to get the Spell of Bedazzlement. Rachel waited patiently, unable to scratch her nose. She was reminded of standing for inspection before her Victorian grand-mother.
Then…
Dreams danced through her head, or maybe she danced through dreams. The field around her sparkled with flowers under a dark starry sky. Or maybe those were stars in the meadow. A unicorn munched nearby, whinnying slightly as it swallowed a star-flower. When Zoë touched her shoulder and Rachel woke to herself, she found she was stroking the unicorn’s silky coat.
Zoë’s hand held that of Sigfried, who was stepping from the mist. Siggy’s arm trailed off to where the others were beginning to appear behind him.
“Nice unicorn,” began Zoë, smirking.
Then her eyes went wide and she uttered a strangled, ack. She and those behind her were jerked backwards, as if pulled by a collapsing rubber band. Then, they were gone. Rachel stood alone under the starry sky. The unicorn nuzzled her ear.
“Hey, cutie, want a ride?”
Gaius leaned down from the unicorn’s back, his hand extended. Or at least, the dream figment looked a lot like Gaius, though Rachel instantly knew it was not really him. For one thing, Dream Gaius was taller than real Gaius. Dream Gaius gave her a huge grin, bigger and more showy than his waking counterpart.
“Why, yes, thank you!” Rachel reached out and took his hand.
Dream Gaius lifted her up and placed her on the unicorn in front of him.
The beast raced across the meadow, sending tiny multi-colored stars flying in its wake. Rachel laughed with joy. Dream Gaius’s arms tightened around her waist.
They ran across fields and through a forest that was thick and deep and filled with mystery. Dark limbs of evergreens hung low over their heads like deep green feathers. In the strange way of dreams, they were accompanied by the noise of drums and the smell of lavender. Through the trunks, Rachel caught a glimpse of the giant Lenni Lenape woman, whom she had seen the first time she had come to the dreamlands. The old lady patiently cut lopsided, five-pointed stars from yesterday’s moon and stuck them to the black velvet sky. A waterfall ran beside her. A pale face with a nimbus of dark hair peeked out from behind the rushing water. Then that scene was gone, and the forest was everywhere. From the high branches, funny little faces peered down at her, leathery, wrinkled faces that were neither animal nor human. Rachel waved.
Then they galloped again across the star-studded meadow. Her dream steed raced on. It was glorious, and at the same time, peculiar. It was not like riding any real horse. The motion of its stride was all wrong. Horses did not move like rocking chairs. Also, no wind pressed against her face or tugged at her hair.
“Whoa!” Zoë stepped from a puff of mist. “Enough horseplay, Griffin. Get down here.”
The unicorn halted. With a tiny giggle, Rachel slipped down from its back and waved goodbye to Dream Gaius.
“You should be careful about interacting with dream fig-ments,” Zoë warned her as the others appeared behind her. “Aperahama Whetu said it’s best not to pay attention to them.”
“Oh…” Rachel frowned and glanced to her right.
The unicorn was munching grass again. Standing beside it, his hand resting on its mane, Dream Gaius stared apprehensively up at the night sky where a fleet of many-masted clipper ships sailed among the stars. In the way of dreams, Rachel understood that, as he watched the star ships, he was worried about the vision the princess had seen regarding his past.
Was real Gaius worried about his past, too?
“Which reminds me,” Zoë continued, flipping her braid in a circle. “Remember how your father told you about a dream expert coming to Roanoke? Turns out, that was Whetu. He says he won’t be able to come for months, maybe not until next year. I’m not sure if he’s really busy, or if he made up a reason to put them off for my sake. Either way, for the best.”
“Who is not coming?” asked Nastasia, appearing out of the mist behind Zoë.
After her came Joy and then Sigfried with Valerie taking up the rear. Joy looked smug. Rachel recalled that Siggy had been between Zoë and Valerie the last time they had appeared. Apparently, Joy had maneuvered things to her advantage, as now she, rather than Zoë, held the hand of the handsome boy.
“Aperahama Whetu.” Zoë pointed at the silver sandals on her feet. “The Maori shaman who made my dream-walking shoes. He’s supposed to come examine the wards around Roa-noke, to protect us from stuff like what happened to you, Princess, when that hot guy with the smoky wings…what was his name…snuck into your dream.”
“Lightflinger,” stated Sigfried.
“Lightflinger, whatever.” Zoë shrugged. “Rachel was afraid that any precautions Whetu put in against dream attacks might stop us from coming up here.”
“None of which will matter if the dean confiscates your sandals.” Valerie gave an exaggerated sigh. “It’s bad business, turning ourselves in, but I had to tell them something so that they’d restore my father. Couldn’t keep him as a goose forever. It didn’t suit him. Sorry.”
Zoë shrugged again. “Losing my sandals would suck.”
“I don’t think they’ll take them,” Joy said cheerily, swinging both Nastasia’s and Siggy’s hands as she spoke. “My sisters told me some crazy stories about things that happen here. School policy seems to be pretty hands off when it comes to private talismans and such. And with experimentation. Hope’s freshman year, two boys in her class blew up the forest behind Roanoke Hall. Sorcery still doesn’t work properly there—to this day, it’s all scrubby, and they can’t use even the most basic cantrips to get the trees to grow. Forget expelling them. The school didn’t even forbid those boys from performing more experiments.”
“They probably wanted to know how to repeat the effect that stops sorcery,” said Sigfried. “I would want to know that.”
Rachel said slowly, “I wonder if it’s because of the Terrible Years.”
“When those villains took over the school?” asked Valerie.
“And nearly the world,” quipped Zoë.
Valerie continued, “How exactly would that apply?”
Rachel blinked. Calling the Terrible Five those villains struck her as strange. It was like hearing someone refer to Hitler as some dictator.
She replied, “What saved the day and allowed the YSL to overthrow the Terrible Five was things like personal talismans and unusual sorcery they learned by experimenting—James Darling and the others. I bet the school decided it was better to let the students take risks than to lose an entire generation to evil.”
“That’s…so weird.” Valerie shivered. “No mundane school would ever allow stuff like this. In my hometown, you can’t even bring chapstick to school. In elementary school, I got suspended twice for pretending I had a gun.”
“They outlawed pretend weapons?” Siggy gawked at her as if she had sprouted hot-pink beans from her ears. “We were not allowed television, and we had to eat bread and water nearly every other day. But even the orphanage wasn’t that cruel!”
“That’s modern America for you,” muttered Valerie.
“Maybe they were afraid you’d conjure guns.” Joy’s expression was sweet and sincere. “Weapons like that don’t work here, but if they did, I bet our tutors would worry about that, too.”
Valerie stared at Joy.
“What?”
“Mundanes don’t have conjuring. That’s why we’re mun-danes.”
“Oh.” Joy’s face grew pink. “Right.”
“What happened just now?” Rachel asked eagerly. “When you all disappeared?”
“Experiment Three was a failure,” drawled Zoë. “When the bag with your sleeping body in it came into dreamland, we all fell out. O’Keefe’s fat butt landed on my hand. Still hurts.”
“Hey!” Joy objected. “Look who’s talking!” The two girls glared at each other good-naturedly. Joy stuck out her tongue.
“Oh, that’s too bad!” exclaimed Rachel, “I had so hoped that plan would work.”
“Yeah,” Valerie sighed. “It would have been really convenient. Then all we would have needed was a bedazzle spell and a kenomanced bag, and we could have gone anywhere.”
“We left Lucky guarding my purse, with your body asleep inside,” explained Nastasia.
Valerie paused and looked around. “You know, everything looks…”
“Woodsy? Chartreuse?” Zoë offered, urging her to continue. “Zebra-polka dotted?”
“Crisp,” Valerie said. “Like it’s in focus. Joy’s room was blurry and constantly in motion. Nothing has changed since we got here.”
Nastasia looked left and right. “You are right.”
Zoë was also looking around and frowning. “This is your dream, Rachel, the meadow. The unicorn. The flying boats.”
“Those are star ships,” Rachel corrected her.
“What?” Zoë looked up, puzzled.
“They’re ships that fly among the stars.” Rachel’s voice faltered. “Isn’t that what a star ship looks like?”
The others started chuckling, except for Nastasia.
“Good grief, Griffin,” drawled Zoë. “Only you would mistake a galleon for a rocket.”
Valerie glanced at the sailing ships in the sky and then at the crisp, clear surrounding landscape. “But what is making everything look so different this time?”
Rachel’s lips quirked into a mischievous smile. “That’s what I wanted to show you all.”