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Ella followed Addison to the car. Her girlfriend, as she was coming to think of her, was already in the driver’s seat, seat belt strapped across her body and hands clenching the steering wheel. Ella slid into the passenger side without a word. Addison didn’t look at her or even speak.
She only drove in silence until the city was far behind them. After almost an hour of driving, as they merged onto Route 40, Ella gathered her courage and turned to Addison. She didn’t mind being quiet, but this was getting to be too much for her.
“No matter what, no one should say the kinds of things your mother said or think the way she does. Everyone has their place in the world, including your aunt and cousin.” It seemed strange to defend witches, especially those who chose what Adriana had called the left-hand path, but Ella thought it must be the right thing to say. She knew she would have been upset if someone said those kinds of things to her.
Addison slid a narrow-eyed glance at her. “Even monsters? It must be nice to have those kinds of perky delusions. You must think human life is one big sitcom, small problems that are easily wrapped up in a neat little bow at the end.”
“I’m sorry, what?” The venom lacing Addison’s voice was like nothing Ella had heard from her. She drew back against the passenger-side door, not sure where this conversation was going.
“What are you, Ella?” Addison’s knuckles went white, the skin drawing taut over her hands. “Clearly, you aren’t human, you don’t even have a last name, but you’re also not a witch. What in the hell are you?”
Ella looked down at her hands, limp and cold in her lap. “I do have a last name. It’s Sunheart. And, no, I’m not human. I’m your faerie godmother.”
“My... my what?”
Ella blew out a long breath. She’d come this far, so she might as well just break all the rules now. “I’m your faerie godmother and I was assigned to you because of Head Office concerns about the path you might choose. At least, that’s what I think the assignment was. Sometimes, I’m not entirely sure of what I’m supposed to be doing for you.”
“Wow.” Addison’s jaw tightened, making her profile as sharp as her mother’s. This time when she spoke, her voice dripped with sarcasm. “Wow, wow, wow. So it’s not just my mother or aunt or cousin who think they can control my decisions and tell me what’s best for me. It’s you, too. Nice. Very nice, Ella. I sure do appreciate your honesty.”
“What? No!” Ella shouted before she could master her emotions. “It’s just that you were supposed to be my last real assignment of my first year of apprenticeship, the hardest one ever given to me, and at the time I think even the Academy didn’t know the full extent of your situation. I didn’t want to lie to you. I wanted to tell you the truth, but would you have believed me, or would you have thought I was some crazy person?”
A low growl escaped Addison’s throat. “Academy? Assignment? Forget honesty. Now I’m a whole other level of pissed off that you, or anyone, see me as nothing more than a prize for their coven, or quota, a graduate project, for your stupid faerie godmother school. Real fucking nice, Ella.”
With a half-hour left in their drive, Ella wondered how they would get back to Winslow without Addison continuing to go off on her. Addison, however, seemed to have made up her mind because she pulled off the highway into the dirt and gestured at the door.
“Get out.”
“What?” Ella’s heart raced at those two little words.
“Get out of my car and out of my life. You’re a faerie godmother. I’m sure you can find your way home without using mortal transportation.” Addison kept her gaze focused straight ahead, perhaps on some point in the distance. She seemed unwilling to look at Ella.
Ella wanted to argue, but she knew this wasn’t the time to state her case. She’d already messed up enough for one day, and Addison had heard more than she probably expected from her mother, as well. It would be better to give her time to process all of the information and come to terms with it on her own.
The door handle was cool, but Ella’s fingers were colder and almost didn’t want to cooperate with her intention to wrap them around the handle. She finally managed to tug it open and step out onto the reddish-brown dirt.
In the time it took Ella to get out of the car, close the door, and turn to look at her surroundings, Addison was gone. Ella closed her eyes and lifted her face to the sultry late afternoon air. The entire wide open landscape was disorienting in its vastness, without a car in sight until a semi breezed by at a high rate of speed.
Ella jumped as it thundered past her and gritted her teeth. Nothing was going according to plan. She would fail, not just what she was sure was her final assignment as a first-year apprentice, but also at keeping her promises to Addison. To love her, to look out to her, to simply be a friend to her. Addison had stated that Ella was capable of being selfish. More selfish, it seemed, than either of them had known.
Ella glared along highway 40. It stretched ahead, lonely except for a vehicle here and there, and heat waves rising from the pavement. She balled her fists at her sides. She could fly or teleport home, of course, among other things. But this seemed like a good time to take a long walk.
When she got home and inside the house, Ella slumped back against the front door and blinked the tears from her eyes. It wasn’t often that she cried. Crying, she’d always reasoned, was a waste of time. There was usually a rational way to solve a problem without resorting to emotions, but this seemed like a perfectly reasonable time to let the tears fall. After an hour of walking down the highway, with only one trucker stopping to offer her a ride—a kind, grizzled old man who seemed nice enough; she had politely declined—she’d used magic to ferry herself to her own front door. That was also reasonable, given the circumstances and the complete dearth of witnesses to her little trick.
Now that she had a moment to stand still and think, each breath stung her nostrils and chilled her lungs. Never had anyone been so angry at her or treated her with such disdain. She’d known since adolescence that being a faerie godmother wasn’t an easy job. Even among the fae, it was considered one of the most demanding careers, but no one told her there might be days she wanted to break down and sob.
Another thing no one told her was that it was easier said than done not to fall in love.
Ella buried her face in her hands, and her palms were soon wet with hot tears. All she wanted to do was stop crying but, for the first time in her life, she didn’t seem to have any control over her own emotions. Where was the smart girl who’d excelled in school and aced every test? Why didn’t these jobs go according to the textbooks?
“Ella?” The voice sounded distant, as if Ella was underwater and someone was calling to her from a distant shore. “Oh dear, what happened to you?”
There was no mistaking Morgan’s motherly response—a firm hug, a gentle “tsk,” and then a hand pushing Ella’s hair back from her face. Morgan guided her to the sofa and made her sit, before bustling off to the kitchen. When she returned, it was with a steaming cup of tea. She could have called it with magic, like Raven did with all her “cooking,” but Morgan almost always had the kettle ready to go. She’d explained to her apprentices that it was better to do as the humans did, so as not to arouse suspicion among their kind.
“I know it’s hot out there, but it’s cool in here and, besides, this is chamomile, to settle your emotions.” Morgan pushed the cup into Ella’s reluctant hands and then sat on the sofa next to her, stroking her hair as if she were a child.
Tea always solved problems in the movies Morgan liked to watch so much. What were they, again? Adaptations of some books about women in difficult situations, books written by some human author who’d died a long time ago at a young age. Ella couldn’t remember the author’s name, but the ladies in the movies were always saying things like “Do sit down” and “I’ll fetch a cup of tea” when another lady was distraught. Ella supposed she was the distraught character in this scenario.
“Will you tell me what happened?” Morgan pressed on with her questioning.
Ella inhaled so fast that a shiver built between her shoulder blades and then tingled down her back. She sipped her tea to quell it and Morgan was right. It did help settle her emotions somewhat. She drew a slower, deeper breath this time before saying, “I met Addison’s mother.”
“Oh. Yes. I can see how that would be upsetting. I think.” Morgan’s brow furrowed.
“She knew I wasn't... was... she knew what I was. She didn’t say it out loud, but she hinted that I wasn’t human in front of Addison."
Morgan winced. "And that means Addison finally found out and didn't take it well?"
"Yes. She demanded answers and, when I gave them, she took it worse than I could have ever imagined." Ella hiccupped and the tea sloshed dangerously close to the brim of the cup. "I'm a failure as a girlfriend and a faerie godmother. I couldn't get either one right and not only will I have to repeat my final assignment, but I'll also have to find a way to get over Addison."
"First of all, this wasn’t your final assignment. Whatever gave you that idea?”
“Well, you know, I finished first in my class and I thought maybe they would...” Ella trailed off as she realized how conceited she sounded.
Morgan shook her head. “Having the best grades doesn’t fast-track the graduation process. Honestly, Ella. You’re smart, but that doesn’t mean you get special treatment or to strike out on your own any sooner. You’re signed on for a three-year apprenticeship, the same as Raven. There are no shortcuts and cases like this are a perfect example of why. Second, what do you mean ‘get over her’?"
"Well, she hates me, so there's no other option." Ella took another sip of the tea and sniffled, her heart pounding almost painfully against her chest. How could Morgan bring her down a few more pegs, after all she’d been through? Now, not only was she upset, but also humiliated. "She's angry at me because I didn't tell her the entire truth. I broke the rules anyway by falling in love with her, and for what? To jeopardize my career and for a witch who hates me now. You’re right, I’m a failure as a faerie godmother."
Morgan took the teacup out of Ella's hands as it shook again, threatening to send liquid spilling all over the floor. "You didn't fail, nor did I call you a failure. You made some missteps and mistakes, but you didn't fail unless you didn't learn from them."
"Fine.” Ella couldn’t keep the exasperation out of her voice. “So, now what happens?”
Morgan set the tea on the coffee table, avoiding Ella's gaze. The corner of her mouth twitched ever so slightly. "That part has yet to be determined. Tests don't end because someone walked out, and the answers aren't always obvious. You’re going to have to figure out if you need to do something or wait and let everything sort itself out."
She left the room before Ella could ask her what any of her mentor's words were supposed to mean. After a moment, all she could do was blurt out "Are you serious?" to the empty space next to her on the sofa.
"Of course she’s serious. Morgan has to pull some Obi Wan level shit if you're going to learn and grow." Raven stood in the doorway to the kitchen, arms folded, a smug grin on her face.
"What's an Obi Wan?"
"Never mind." Raven rolled her eyes. "Book learning isn’t everything. You need to loosen up on the rigid academic point of view and use what’s between your ears, instead. Just listen to Morgan, okay?"
Ella pouted and tapped her feet against the floor. Now Raven was adding insult to injury, another thing she could have done without. "I did."
"No." Raven held up her index finger and said again, "Listen."
Ella squinted, not sure what kind of answer she was expected to give. Raven crossed the room and followed the same path Morgan had walked, down the hall to her own bedroom.
"A-are you giving me Obi Wan level shit, too?" Ella squawked.