Right at noon, Mom opens the back door. “Ready, Elle?” She wears another sundress. Sadly, this one seems to hang even more loosely on her frame. My throat tightens. How much longer does she have?
“Almost,” I reply. “Just need to lock up.” I reach the front door and navigate our collection of bolt locks and key codes. “What’s the plan for today?”
“We visit fourth floor for a party of some kind. That’s all I know. The animates are organizing everything.”
“Whatever it is, I’m sure it will be nice.” The animates adore my parents.
Once I’m done with the locks, I flip the sign to read closed. After that, I follow Mom through the back exit and into the warehouse itself.
“Did I tell you about our latest artist?” asks Mom.
“No.” This isn’t a surprise, though. Somehow, new animates always find their way to my parents.
“It’s an enchanted violin. She’s a Stradivarius.”
I let out a low whistle. “She must have had a ton of emotion around her.”
Here’s the deal. When a human pours feelings into an object, part of their soul becomes attached to the item. Later, when an enchanter casts a spell on that same object, those traces of soul can get activated as well. If there’s enough emotion, then the object comes alive. Permanently. We call those animates. They appear like objects to humans, but those with magic can see their true nature.
“Has she chosen a name yet?” I ask.
“Varrie,” answers Mom.
“Oh, pretty.”
While we chat, Mom and I pass through the maze of inventory shelves and then march up the back staircase. On the third floor, there’s Harvest’s studio. She’s an enchanted scarecrow who carves things with a farm theme. This level also has animates who paint, sculpt, and do old fashioned photography. As we climb up more steps, my pulse speeds.
I love the fourth floor. That’s where the phoenixes work. I also love the story on our phoenix population. It goes like this.
Once upon a time, there was a human artist, Zander White, who lived in New Mexico and carved marble phoenixes. Zander put so much feeling into his creations, we now have a whole flock of his work living on our fourth floor. They’re majestic creatures: eight feet tall with flowing red feathers and a long tails. Our phoenixes are also experts in glassblowing, which goes with the whole rising up from fire thing. Their leader is an alpha named Kokkivo.
The fourth floor is a wide space that’s filled with a lot of tables—the phoenixes use them to cool new creations. Their enchanted furnace sits against the far wall. It’s a dark mound with a circular, fiery mouth. I scan the scene. The only folks here are Kokkivo and Dad, who both stand by the furnace.
“Where’s Blackaverre?” I ask.
Blackaverre is Mom’s fairy godmother. Mine too, I suppose.
“Not sure,” says Mom.
Some Cinderella trivia: ever wonder why the fairy godmother doesn’t show up until the end of the story? It’s because fairy godmothers follow the classic fairy life template. Which means they are supremely unreliable and prone to deceit.
Speaking of fairy godmothers, Blackaverre appears before us. She’s a small blue creature with pink wings and pointed teeth. While hovering before Mom, Blackaverre bows wildly.
My mother beams. “You’re so sweet.”
Sweet isn’t the word I’d use. Blackaverre likes to turn our cream cheese moldy for fun. Plus, she only speaks in broad hand gestures. It’s like having a permanent mime on site.
Mom turns to me. “Don’t you think Blackaverre is the best?”
Actually, I think my mother is the best. Mom stubbornly refuses to see anything but good in everyone she meets.
“Something like that,” I say.
Blackaverre sticks out her tongue at me. I return the gesture. Mom laughs. “You two! Always playing about. I love it!”
See what I mean? It’s literally impossible for my mother to be nasty. Or to see evil in others, for that matter. She’s like a fairy miracle.
Kokkivo moves closer while fluttering his great wings. It’s how Phoenixes say hello. It’s also a welcome break from interacting with Blackaverre.
“Greetings, Elle and Rae.” It’s amazing how Kokkivo can talk with his long beak mouth, but he manages it perfectly.
“It’s good to see you,” says Mom.
“Greetings, Kokkivo.” I wave. “Hey, Dad.”
My father winks at me before focusing on Mom. “My Rae of sunshine.” Dad positively beams as Mom approaches. He’s had a chance to nap, shower, and change clothes. It’s a much better look on him.
Mom leans against his shoulder. “My Declan.” She turns to Kokkivo. “So what’s all this about?”
“I need everyone present first.” Kokkivo whistles.
Animates march onto our floor from every corner of the building. There’s Harvest and her scarecrow crew. Jacoby materializes with Doc Eight, who’s an enchanted set of medieval armor. There are also enspelled Greek statues (the guys all wear togas), life-sized paintings (you have to look at them straight on or you’ll miss them), and even our new Stradivarius. Best of all, there are dozens of phoenixes.
Dad waves me closer. I stand beside him and Mom.
Marchesa and her daughters step out form the stairwell and rush over.
“Rae, you look gorgeous.” That’s Marchesa.
“Mr. and Mrs. Cynder, how can we thank you enough for including us?” asks Ivy.
This goes on for two full minutes. Kokkivo and I share a dry look. Technically, this is the animates’ party. Like her husband, Marchesa is powerful potion master. She doesn’t see animates as legitimate life forms. It’s rude.
“We’re ready to begin,” announces Kokkivo at length. “I’ve been elected spokesman for the Cynder animates.”
By now, the floor is filled with about a hundred animates of all shapes and sizes. They let out a hearty cheer. I angle my body so I don’t have to look at Marchesa, Ivy, and Agatha. No reason to let them ruin my day.
Kokkivo flaps his wings again, which makes the audience fall silent. “If it hadn’t been for Declan and Rae Cynder, all of us animates would have been ruined. Am I right?”
More cheering follows.
Kokkivo continues. “We wanted to give something back to show our appreciation.”
Dad shakes his head. “Rae and I don’t want anything.”
“Ah,” counters Kokkivo. “But this gift isn’t for you. It’s to support Cynder Mercantile.”
“What do you mean?” asks Mom.
“I’ve been working on a special glass treasure chest,” explains Kokkivo. “It’s tiny in size, but massive in power. All of us animates contributed a little of our life force into it. Once a day, the owner may open it and the box will provide whatever the store most needs. I call it the Coffer of Wonders.”
Mom pops her hands over her mouth. “Oh, my. That’s lovely.”
I get a little misty, too. The animates know that things are turning dicey with Mom’s illness. They’re trying to keep things going.
Kokkivo leans back his head and caws. All the other phoenixes do the same. At that call, a magical red mist surrounds Mom’s hands. One moment, there’s nothing in her palms. The next second, Mom holds a small box made of red glass.
“Go on,” urges Kokkivo. “Use it.”
Mom pulls off the box’s lid. Dad then asks, “What do we need most for today?”
More red mist flows out of the Coffer of Wonders to fill the room. When the haze vanishes, the tables are all covered with cakes and punch.
Mom grins. “Oh, I love it!”
While we all dive into the food, Marchesa lurks in shadows. I’d worry about it, but my parents are happy and enjoying their lovely gift from the animates. My little cocoon of happy surrounds me once more, and I’m going to enjoy it.