"What do you think?" Holly stepped back from the arrangement she had been fussing over during the entire dreaming time.
Maurice bit his tongue and just nodded and smiled. That seemed to be all Holly wanted. She flung her arms around him, kissed him on both cheeks, and turned back to the long table loaded with flowers, ferns, ribbons, and those sharp little sticks that went into flower arrangements to hold kitschy little decorations like silver wedding bells and champagne bottles and sparklers. He had never thought there was so much junk related to wedding decorations in the entire planet.
Tomorrow was Jeri and Jon-Tom's wedding, and Holly had been asked to decorate for that one as well. She had been so encouraged by the compliments and how well her decorations for Diane and Troy's wedding had turned out, she was talking about taking on wedding planning as a sideline business.
The problem was that Holly went into blue funks when no one was around except Maurice. He suspected it was because she was surrounded by wedding talk and wedding preparations and wedding details and time-consuming considerations like the flowers, but none of the details were for her wedding.
He didn't know if he was doing her any good by giving her hope during her dreams. When they were together in the dreaming realms, he tried to explain the details of his exile, and she seemed to understand. She sometimes came into the dreams a little depressed, a holdover from her waking time as a librarian whom everyone considered a pal, a confidant, but not a girl a guy wanted to date.
It didn't help that she seemed to be getting a lot of sympathy from the older women of Neighborlee, who constantly told her variations of, "Don't you worry, sweetie. Those other girls might be the kind that men date and fool around with, but you're the kind of girl a man finally brings home to his mother."
Maurice agreed with Holly's infuriated wail: How could a guy know he wanted to take her home to his mother if he never dated her?
He didn't know if it was a good thing that Holly was able to shake off her blue funk from such advice soon after they met up in her dreams. Maybe she was developing a split personality, to a dangerous degree. The magic that let them meet in her dreams and kept her from remembering or seeing him in her waking hours was effectively splitting her realities, further and further apart the longer they were together. Maybe it was splitting her mind and her soul. What kind of damage was the magic doing, keeping her dreams from being available to her waking mind?
"It's perfect," Holly whispered, as she cleared away all the supplies and possible decorations, and walked around the flower arrangement she had designed for Jeri and Jon-Tom's wedding. "I managed to remember most of the details when I was working out Diane and Troy's decorations, so I'll remember most of this when I wake up." She bit her lip and turned to Maurice, the first glimmer of doubt darkening her sparkling eyes. "You think?"
"I promise." He hoped Angela wouldn't give him any assignments all day. He would use up most of his allotment of magic, manipulating Holly's hand, so she wrote and sketched while she was still asleep. He wouldn't even be able to flutter around Holly, riding on her shoulder and looking ahead, keeping disaster away during the following day. Just like with Diane and Troy's wedding, he would have to spend most of the day sacked out, magic-less and drowsy, on the shelf behind the counter at Divine's Emporium, until Angela went over to the church to help with decorations that evening. Then he would ride on her shoulder, saving what little energy he had regained, so he could watch over Holly while she climbed ladders and directed work crews.
Fortunately, Diane and Troy were back from their honeymoon, so they could help when he called. And Lanie would be there, so she could use her telekinesis in a pinch.
"I'm turning into a dang administrator, telling everybody else what to do."
Holly woke up and started her day, and Maurice returned to his body, sitting in front of the Wishing Ball. All his effort and discomfort was for Holly, and that made every sacrifice worthwhile.
* * * *
"So your final analysis is that there's hope, just because I can see and sense magic." Bethany settled back in the sofa in her father's living room. "But you haven't found a way to get past the block that my Fae blood and my guardian blood seem to be creating for each other."
"Just because I haven't found a way yet doesn't mean there isn't a way. Right." Harry closed the Ether Lexicon with a snap and raised his hands, to give it that little toss that would send it back into the ether.
"Could I?" she asked, catching his wrist and stopping him. She muffled a weary giggle when Harry gave her a confused look. Bethany loved his confused look. It was so innocent, so Poindexter-ish. When it lasted more than a heartbeat, he blushed delightfully, shifting through an entire rainbow until he got his temperature under control.
"Sure." Harry held out the book to her. "Might work this time. You've spent enough time touching the pages."
"And getting my fingers bitten." She wrinkled up her nose in distaste, making him laugh.
"But not so bad, the last dozen times. It's finally used to you. And I think that's a good sign, too. Most people can't even see the Lexicon, much less touch it. It's getting used to you."
"Let's test. And then let's go for a long walk and get some fresh air." And maybe I'll take you to the gazebo and trick you into kissing me under the mistletoe, she added, as she held her breath and waited for Harry to slide the Ether Lexicon onto her flattened palms.
All that mistletoe woven into the roof of the gazebo, a literal ceiling of the leaves and berries, golden balls, tinsel, and weather-proof ribbons had to have some effect. Harry had explained the magical properties of mistletoe, how it opened the senses to other realms and sometimes persuaded stubborn dimensional slits to loosen up and be pliable for manipulation and travel. Bethany was just hoping that Harry would be more pliable to the romantic influence of mistletoe, and give her more than a quick kiss, like a shy little boy who didn't want to be teased by his bruiser pals on the tag football team. The last few times he had kissed her, she had felt increased tingles, like carbonation bubbles. But Harry never kissed her long enough for more than a hint.
"Here we go," he muttered, and set the Lexicon onto her flattened palms, sliding his hands out from under it. "And we have suc--sorry," he sighed, as the book of Fae knowledge sizzled for a heartbeat, then vanished in a burst of psychedelic rainbow sparkles. "At least you had all the weight on your hands this time."
"Yeah, there's that." Bethany managed a brave smile and popped off the sofa to go find her coat. She wasn't going to pout, and she wasn't going to let herself get depressed. That was progress, after all. The first time Harry had tried to let her hold the book, it had exploded into an angry, snarling red light-and-sound show when her hand was six inches away. At least it didn't snap closed anymore when she read over Harry's shoulder.
Half an hour later, they had strolled down side streets to reach the gazebo in the center of town. Bethany sighed, content with the world--for now. Harry definitely had to like her, with all the effort he put into finding an answer for her. More than just like. She let her hope grow stronger with every day they spent in research and discussing possibilities with Maurice and Will and Phill. Harry was aiming for the golden ring--to make her a Changeling. And that had to mean he really did want eternity with her. Or at least the Fae equivalent of happily-ever-after.
It depressed her a little that there were some things about the Fae life she probably wouldn't experience, like Need, which Phill had explained to her during a half hour when Harry and Will had gone to get pizza for them. There were a number of Fae facts of life that women hoping to join the ranks needed to know. Most of them seemed pretty positive, especially for someone in the entertainment industry. Not that Bethany really cared about her career. She would gladly chuck it all to spend the rest of her unnaturally lengthened life with Harry in the Fae realms.
But the question was whether she had enough magic in her to be awakened, so she could become a Changeling. Would they reach a point in this search when Harry would have to throw his hands up in the air and give up?
"What are you thinking?" Harry said, as they reached the gazebo. He looked up at the ceiling and his eyes widened, and Bethany muffled a giggle.
So all these years growing up, she wasn't imagining it when she stepped into the gazebo and felt the shiver of power and possibilities in the air. He felt it, too.
"I'm thinking... I wish it could be Christmas all the time, that we could freeze this moment, this season, with all the magic and possibilities and dreams and...there's just so much life and joy in the air at this time of the year. Even if it's dang freezing," she added, earning a chuckle from him.
"There's enough magic gathered here right now to get a good start on that kind of wish," he said, glancing upward again at the green and gold and red and white ceiling.
"Is it Fae rules, or Human rules, that you have to make the wish and seal it with a kiss?"
"Ah..." Harry looked down at her, and blinked several times. "Huh?" When she giggled, he blushed a little, shifting from red to purple to blue, before it faded away. "Kind of dizzying. It's..." He frowned, just as he went semi-transparent from the top of his head down below his shoulders.
Harry closed his eyes and held his breath, and a moment later became solid again.
"It's messing with your anti-invisibility spell, isn't it?" Bethany didn't know whether to pity him or laugh. "We should probably get out of here." She licked her lips from pure nervousness, and was encouraged when Harry's eyes looked dazed again and he stared at her mouth. "But after I get my wish and kiss?"
"Your wish is my command." Harry's voice ended on a rasp.
To her delight, he put his arms around her, instead of just clasping her shoulders like he had the last few times they kissed. Bethany swore she could feel his heart racing against hers, through the thickness of their coats. She slid her arms around his neck and went up on her tiptoes as Harry bent his head down to her level. Just as she closed her eyes, he went entirely invisible. She ignored it.
Buzzes and prickles and fizzing sensations washed over her, lifting her hair under her hat. Bethany ignored it for the wonderful dizzy, warm sensation of Harry kissing her, soft and sweet and deep. And counted the heartbeats as he kept his mouth pressed against hers.
Three. Four. Five. His arms tightened enough she found it hard to breathe. Not that she was trying to breathe.
Six. Seven. Eight. The fizzing, carbonated bubbles sensation faded, leaving a light feeling all over her skin as if a gentle breeze enclosed her, coming between her and her clothes. It was odd, pleasant, but just strong enough to make her aware of it. And it didn't fade.
She kept her eyes closed, even when Harry's lips left hers and he lifted his head.
"Bethany."
That groan in his voice didn't sound good. She opened one eye and saw him looking down at her with growing dismay.
"What?"
"You're...invisible."
"What?" She leaped out of his arms and turned around, looking down at herself.
Or tried to.
Her first thought was gratitude that it wasn't like some of those ridiculous Invisible Man movies, where the flesh was invisible but not the clothes--necessitating running around in the all-together to make effective use of said invisibility. Her clothes were invisible, too, and still on her body.
Bethany kept turning around, trying to see something, some glimmer, trying to will herself into at least semi-visibility. She kept hoping it was just temporary, that it was just an illusion, that she really was visible but some magic spell had gone wonky--as Phill had called it--and she just thought she was invisible.
Then she saw the snow her constantly turning footsteps packed flat. She didn't think optical illusions would let her see what was under her feet so...clearly.
"What happened?"
"Well..." Harry reached out, brushed against her arm, caught hold of it, and felt down her arm until he got hold of her hand. He led her over to the bench outside the gazebo. "I'll need to do some research, but my theory is that between the wonkiness of my invisibility spell, and all that magic coming from the mistletoe overhead, and the fact that you do indeed have magic...my wonky spell transferred over to you."
"Okay. Makes sense. I guess." Bethany supposed if it made sense, maybe she had picked up the basic rules of magic--which seemed to consist of what a beginner should not do, when starting to learn to use magic. "How do we get it off me, or un-wonk it, or whatever?"
"I don't know yet. But look on the bright side." He brought her hand to his face and pressed it against his cheek. "I think your inborn magic just took the upper hand in the battle with the guardian talents."
"Yeah, but is that a good thing?" she muttered.