By noon, Maurice couldn't stand lying still. Especially with people coming in and out of Divine's to shop. He had never noticed it being so busy on a weekday before. Then again, he had never been visible, flat on his back on the sofa in the furniture room, with people coming in to look at a piece "I've been thinking about for the last week since I saw it," and stopping short at the sight of him. Angela had offered to put him up in her quarters, but the couch wasn't long enough for him and he didn't want to use her bed.
Maybe it was being visible that bothered him the most. He had grown used to, and grown to like, being able to zip around the shop nearly at the speed of light, avoiding traffic jams in the aisles, listening in on the fascinating and strange and sometimes totally inane conversations of customers--and being entirely invisible and inaudible to ninety-nine percent of the people he encountered on a daily basis. Now, he had to make eye contact and conversation and his body suddenly felt huge and slow and awkward. When he finally got up on his feet and got moving, he always seemed to be where someone wanted to look or stand.
He couldn't even complain to Angela about it, because the shop wasn't empty for more than two minutes at a time. Someone always wanted her help, or they loitered in the main room where Maurice perched on a stool and leaned on the counter. People were a lot more tolerant or else oblivious to extremely weird things in Neighborlee than in the rest of the Human realms, but he knew the things he needed to discuss with Angela might just push the envelope for anyone who overheard them.
"You're not invisible anymore," Angela said, when he tried to bring up the subject for the fourth time, thinking he might have an amazing three minutes of private conversation, and finally succeeded. "Think about it. Think about all the people you've wanted to make friends with. And all the people you wouldn't want to be friends with, who would be terrified at all the inside information you have on them." Her eyes sparkled and her lips twitched against a smile that struggled to break free.
Right on cue, the bells over the door jangled and a horde of children streamed into the shop, herded by three adult caretakers from Eden II, the community center. Obviously it was break time at the daycare center. Judging from the splatters of paint on little faces and hands and gobs of paste and colored tissue paper in their hair and stuck to their clothes, it was the art class this time. Yesterday it had been the peewee wiffleball class.
"Need help riding herd?" Maurice asked, and slid off the stool as three-quarters of the children thundered up to the counter, calling out the names of all the candy they wanted. How come those little voices sounded louder and there seemed to be more children when he was full-size?
He had fun for the next half hour or so, until he ran out of energy and had to sit down, finally retreating to the sofa in Angela's quarters. He sauntered around the shop, watching out for the children, keeping them from wandering away from their harried teachers, addressing them by name, pointing out their favorite candy, asking about their friends or their pets or older brothers and sisters. What amazed him was that the children seemed to know him before Angela introduced him as Mr. Maurice, her distant cousin, who was going to help with the shop for a while. Their teachers, however, were a little more stunned at this complete stranger showing up who knew as much about the children in their care as they did.
"My theory is that the children have seen you all this time, flying around and watching over them," Angela said, when they had settled down in her apartment that evening after the shop closed. "They know you in that place where they're still able to not only believe in magic and other worlds, but sometimes to find the doorways and trigger the magic. They're closer to that state of mind and soul where they know how to listen to the voice inside them."
"Jiminy Cricket," Maurice muttered, and got a gentle slap against the back of his head from Holly.
She had joined them for dinner, hurrying over as soon as the library closed. "In the original story, Pinocchio stomped on the cricket," Holly said. "So you be careful."
"Hey, there's no way anybody'd mistake me for a cricket anymore," he protested, grinning.
"Thank goodness." Angela shook her head at their foolery, smiling. "I wouldn't be surprised if some of the children don't approach you in the next few days, asking how come you're not flying anymore, asking where your wings went, and how you grew up so fast."
"Keep an eye on those special ones?" he guessed.
Naturally, the talk turned to the news Ethan had brought, and speculation about the Von Helados. What had suddenly alerted them to Angela's presence in Neighborlee, when up until then they had seemed blind and deaf to the magic anchored in the town? Holly had some ideas from different magic and fantasy books she had been discussing with her various age levels of reading groups.
Maurice found it was hard to think back to those few minutes of struggle as the talisman pulled him upstairs and tried to pull him through the painting, but he fought to remember the sensations, the different frequencies of magic, to try to identify the source. "It's nothing I ever encountered when I was doing the tourist thing through different dimensions," he said, after working himself into a headache, trying to describe the experience to Angela and Holly. "That doesn't mean a whole lot. There are a lot of places I've never been. Maybe you should call the doc back and have him do another scan on me, see if he can pick up any of the frequencies or resonances or whatever that scorched me, and try to match to anything recorded in the Ether Lexicon."
"Wish I could get a look at that," Holly said, more thinking aloud than actually responding to the discussion.
"Oh, honey, you'd have a great time. It's as big as it needs to be. If knowledge is power, when the Lexicon materializes for you, I bet it's bigger than this house," Maurice offered. He laughed when she blushed bright red.
"What worries me," Angela said after a few moments, when their humor faded and the seriousness of the discussion returned, "is that I'm more sure than ever this is a reaction to that battle with Wolcott. I think the protective barrier around Neighborlee... I don't know, slipped? Faded? Blanked out for a few seconds? What I hope is that something leaked out."
"As opposed to?" Holly said. From the grimness around her mouth, Maurice thought she suspected the same thing that he and Angela seemed to.
"Something got inside the shield," Maurice offered, when Angela shook her head and sipped at her tea instead of answering. "Something snuck in, and when the shield went back into place, it was quiet enough that all the protective, seek-and-destroy aspects of the defensive spells didn't notice it."
"Or they were scorched enough not to be sensitive to something new," Angela said with a nod. "Or... Well, everything is so focused on keeping track of Big Ugly--" She spared him a brief grin, finally giving in to the name he liked to use for the malevolent inter-dimensional presence sleeping and seemingly trapped underneath Neighborlee. "Well, it's tunnel-vision. They're so focused on one enemy, all our defenses have become blind to new, small, quiet intruders."
"So what do we do?" Holly said.
"Warn our friends to be alert, to expand their search parameters, to look for anything that seems to fit, yet doesn't quite."
"Heh." Maurice hooked his thumb at his own chest. "That fits a lot of the people and things in this town, starting with me."
"You fit, Maurice." Her smile turned warmer, yet with a weariness that sent an ache through his chest at the same time. "You've made a place for yourself here. Now all that needs doing is figuring out exactly what you want to do."
All? Yeah, easier said than done. But Maurice kept his thoughts to himself. He was just glad to be able to sit here with his arm around Holly, feeling nothing but tired. The scorched, itchy sensation inside his skull and the inside of his skin had faded. For the most part.
And maybe he was a little proud of himself, too. Sure, two years ago he had been on a vengeance quest to right the wrongs and squash the bullies who enjoyed squashing and prolonging the torment of the "little guys" all around them. Sacrificing himself, risking his life and a chance at being with Holly was much more fulfilling. Granted, he was relieved he hadn't lost either. Knowing Angela was safe and Divine's hadn't been damaged and the dimensional doorways were safe was well worth the possibly permanent loss of his magic.
He knew what he wanted to do--settle down with Holly and learn how to live entirely in her world. Angela would offer him a job at Divine's if he wanted it. The question was if he really wanted it. Did he want to spend the rest of his life within smelling and touching and tasting distance of all the magic he had lost, and knowing he would never have it again? Maybe he needed to make the break. Not leave Neighborlee, but take the big step and look at the rest of the town. What kind of job could he do?
Didn't Humans need a lot of ridiculous paperwork to get around in the modern world? He would have to learn about cell phones and driving cars and working bank machines and remote controls.
Finally he put the consideration aside for later. He was tired, and more than willing to let Angela and Holly follow doctor's orders and cosset him for the rest of the evening.
Still, despite his resolve to be proud of what he had done, and not regret his loss, he still felt a pang when Angela asked the shop to "adjust" a little, extending a room out at the end of the hall to give him a full-size bedroom and bedroom furniture. He could have done it himself that morning. He wondered if he would ever be able to talk to the shop again, and have it respond, or if he would always have to ask Angela to intervene.
"Dream about us," Holly whispered, as she kissed him goodnight on the front porch.
"Try to stop me," he choked out, managing to keep his voice almost normal. His face actually hurt as he kept up the smile, standing under the porch light, watching Holly as she hurried down the sidewalk and vanished into the darkness.
He wouldn't be able to visit Holly's dreams anymore, would he?
Now he had something to regret.
"You are just starting your recovery," Angela said, as he stepped back into the shop and pulled the door closed behind him. "If you believe you will recover at least some of your magic, that is half the battle."
"But what if--" Maurice couldn't finish, didn't want to finish the rest of his question, even in his thoughts. He wasn't at all ashamed when a shuddering sigh escaped him, turning into tears.
Angela wrapped her arms around him, pulling his head down to her shoulder. It didn't feel at all ridiculous to let his few tears soak her shoulder, even though he was taller than her and had to bend down to do it.
* * * *
The question tried to slither up from the back of his mind several times through the following day. Maurice pushed the depressing thought aside by repeating positive thoughts to himself--I will heal. I will have magic again. I will. I believe. And he fought back with action. He carried crates of new inventory up from the cellar, and was encouraged when the magically sealed doors of the two lower cellars were not only visible to him, but opened for him without his having to ask. He filled shelves and rearranged the furniture room, and grinned at the old sofa where he had awakened on the days he was full-size.
He stayed out of the way, though, when the children spilled through the doors in swarms, depending on what activity group had just ended for the day. Their noise and their multitude of questions and simply the change in air pressure inside the shop bothered him, revealing that his scorched senses, physical and magical, hadn't fully recovered.
"Get out of here and face the full-size world." Angela said, while shaking her head, when he was chased out of yet another room by a tidal wave of children in search of treasures and treats. She laughed, finally sounding like her normal self, as Maurice sidled around the children and beat a hasty retreat for the front door.
He didn't make it to the front door, or even out of the main room.
A display of jewelry caught his eye, sunlight sparkling off faceted edges and casting rainbows across the room. Maurice frowned. Something about the angle of the light seemed wrong. A moment of thought showed him the answer. It was noon. The sun shouldn't be at that low angle at this time of the day, and certainly not stream through the windows like that.
He looked around, following the angle of the light, which streamed in strong and golden through a window that ordinarily wasn't there. That window looked like all the others in the shop, but the view through the sheer curtains revealed a forest-ringed meadow where unicorns and peacocks strolled.
Maurice grinned, wondering if anyone else could see that window and what lay beyond it. He glanced over his shoulder at Angela. She was busy holding a glass jar of multi-colored licorice whips for a little girl who could barely see over the counter. Still, she must have felt Maurice's gaze, because she glanced up for a moment and winked, and then tipped her head in the direction of the jewelry display that sat square in the middle of that beam of sunlight.
Maurice might have been without magic for the foreseeable future, but he could take a magical hint. He sauntered over to the display case and looked at it. He nearly staggered at what he saw.
On Valentine's Day, he and Holly had gone deep sea diving in her dream, and discovered a sunken treasure ship. Among all the gold and jewels and ornate chests and antiquities, Holly had found a small crystal box. Inside was a ring. The ring now sat in the display case, encased in sunlight, with the crystal box propped open. The band was three silver strands, braided, and the knot held a sapphire surrounded with tiny diamonds. In the dream, Holly had taken this ring and left all the rest of the treasure hoard behind. Maurice had promised himself that someday, he would find a ring just like it for her to wear when they were both awake.
He didn't have to ask Angela, because the light and the window were evidence enough that she knew about the ring and what it meant to both him and Holly. Maurice took the crystal box and ring from the display and turned, bowing grandly to Angela. She blew him a kiss and gestured him out with a shooing motion.
"Who's that, Miss Angela?" the little girl buying licorice chirped.
"That's Mr. Maurice. He's a very distant cousin of mine, and he's going to be living here now. You'll like him a lot. He tells wonderful stories."
"Oh, thanks a lot, Angie-baby," Maurice said as he hurried out the front door. Then he laughed. Actually, he knew a couple hundred stories he could tell the children to amaze and amuse them. It would be easy, because most of them were true.
Maybe he would make a living as a storyteller. Why not? He had to find a way to make a living, the Human way. He had already decided he couldn't become a magician like Alexi and Megan. He might have fun doing investigation work like Stanzer, or working with Harry. If he could stay here in Neighborlee, that would suit him just fine.
Stay in Neighborlee and marry Holly.
Maurice took one last look at the ring tucked safely in its crystal box, swallowed hard, and put it down deep inside the pocket of his jeans.
Yeah, he was going to marry Holly. That meant he had to think about things like finding a job and making a living. No way was he going to be like some bums among the Fae, who got themselves into trouble and had to flee the Fae realms, and found some gullible princesses or shepherdesses to trick into marrying them, so they could claim diplomatic asylum and live the good life for thirty or forty years, until things cooled down back home. He was here for the long haul.
He strolled down the streets, not really with any plan in mind. Eventually, he would end up at the library and surprise Holly and walk her home from work. It was about time he started looking outward and thinking about her, looking after her, going to her instead of making her come running to him.
Maurice smiled a little wider, recalling how she had appeared so quickly yesterday morning, terrified for him. Definitely, Holly had some innate magic of her own, to know what had happened. Angela had confirmed that it wasn't just Holly's link to the shop through the passkey. A bond had formed between her and Maurice and let her know when he was endangered.
It was a little ironic, he realized now, that Holly might just have more magic than him, when it was his magical heritage that threatened to create the biggest obstacles to a future together. But that was okay. As long as they could be together, the other little details didn't matter.
Except for the detail of finding a job. Exactly how was he going to get one, when he didn't have all that boring Human paperwork, like Social Security numbers and a resume?
The answer came quickly enough, almost as soon as he thought of that question. Maurice looked down the street and saw the sign for the Neighborlee Tattler. Not that he wanted to be hired by the newspaper, but the best place to start finding an answer was to ask a friend. He kind of liked the idea of shocking Lanie Zephyr by showing up, full-size, sans wings.
No one knew yet what had happened to him. Angela had fielded numerous calls throughout the day yesterday from friends calling to ask about the ripples of power and odd dissonances they had felt coming from Divine's. To each one, she promised an explanation much later, and simply said the emergency had passed. At the time, Maurice had been puzzled why she wouldn't just share the news. Then, when his headache cleared up, he appreciated Angela's consideration in letting him break the news of the drastic change in his life in the setting and timing of his choice.
He wondered now how long it would take for Lanie to recognize him. As he crossed the parking lot to the newspaper building, Maurice nearly laughed aloud to realize that his head had lost the last tingling remnant of that scorched feeling and his skin didn't prickle under the touch of the sun. Nothing like getting his mind on something besides feeling sorry for himself, to finish his recovery.
"Can I help you?" the skinny, red-haired woman at the front desk asked, as Maurice strolled through the front door, which was propped open.
"Is Lanie here?" He looked around, struck yet again by how different familiar places looked when he wasn't six inches tall and flying through. Perspective was everything.
"Somebody taking my name in vain?" Lanie called.
Maurice turned to the left and saw the ramp leading up to the next level of the office. The Neighborlee Tattler had taken over and annexed the buildings on either side as it had grown through the decades. Where floors weren't even from one building to another, the new owner built ramps. That was convenient for Lanie in her wheelchair. She turned a corner, slid down the ramp to the main floor, and skidded to a stop, her mouth dropping open as her head tilted back and she looked Maurice over, head to foot and back again.
"What kind of trouble are you in now?" she finally said, after several crackling seconds of silence. Then she burst out laughing and opened her arms.