After all the magic has been sorted out in Mo’s extremely cool attic and Susannah has gone to her dark realm, Carousel and Daniel get a ride back down from the Cliffs in Mr. Anabin’s car. She gets the front seat; Daniel and the Harmony ride in the back. Bogomil has gone ahead of them with Laura.
Daniel’s knees are up around his shoulders practically. He should have taken the front, but that’s Daniel for you. Very kind, not very intelligent.
First they stop at the Cliff Hangar because Mr. Anabin says there is someone there who needs Daniel’s help. This turns out to be the guy who runs What Hast Thou Ground? He’s sleeping up on the platform of the carousel, which Carousel has never loved. She’s always felt she was in competition with it, whether or not the carousel knew. It’s definitely more popular than she is. But it turns out she’s more magic.
“Malo Mogge did this,” Mr. Anabin says to Daniel. “You might use your magic to undo it. What magic you do here gives Susannah magic of her own. If you do none, she will, in time, have none.”
Daniel kneels by the sleeping guy. He says, “Hey. Billy. Wake up. Party’s over.”
The guy, Billy, opens his eyes, sees Daniel, and smiles. “Danny boy, my good friend,” he says, “long time no see. How you been?”
Carousel wanders over to the windows and surveys the night. Laura is out in the bay tearing apart Malo Mogge’s temple. She becomes aware that Bogomil is standing there, too, also watching. There’s someone else, a boy Carousel doesn’t know, the one who flew into the attic with Mo. They all watch in silence.
Mo? Mo stayed home. He said today has been a lot and he could use some downtime.
Carousel wonders what Susannah is up to in her realm. She wishes she could go visit, see this place, but apparently that’s another thing she’s not allowed to do, even though she’s in charge of the key. Most of the key.
Back in the car, Billy gets the front seat and Carousel goes in the back with Daniel and her new guitar. It’s all banged up and scratched, and maybe it wouldn’t mind if Carousel puts some more stickers on it, something to make it feel more like it actually belongs to her.
Billy keeps dozing off. Daniel is talking about applying to state schools. He asks Mr. Anabin to write him a recommendation. Carousel is perplexed. Her brother is the guardian of a magic door now. He has magic, he can do magic, he is magic. Shouldn’t he be thinking bigger? Well, he’ll figure it out as he goes. Carousel will, too. She sits beside Daniel, the guitar across her lap. She has discovered that she can talk to it and it talks right back. They didn’t really ask you if this was what you wanted, Carousel says. I didn’t ask. Is it okay? What do you want?
To be something other than what I have been, the guitar says.
Fair enough. Carousel has no idea what she wants to be, either.
They have to make more stops on the way home so Daniel can help people step down off pedestals. Help them stop being statues. It’s nice to see Daniel using his magic. Carousel is proud of him. She knows how hard it can be to try new things.
When Mr. Anabin finally drops them off it’s so very late that time has wrapped back around itself and now it’s early. The rest of the house is asleep, but here are Lissy and Dakota. They have their coats on over their pajamas, and they’re putting on their boots.
“Where are you going?” Carousel says.
“Where have you been?” Dakota asks. “Do you know what time it is?”
“Don’t worry about that,” Daniel says. So they don’t. “What are you up to, anyway?” he asks, and Lissy says, “We’re going out to do a spell. We want it to keep snowing a little while longer. And maybe ask for the lottery tickets back.”
“I want it to snow through Christmas,” Dakota says.
“Okay,” Daniel says. “Just don’t stay out too long. And keep your voices down. Don’t wake anybody else up. I’ll make hot chocolate. It’ll be ready when you’re done if you don’t take too long.”
Carousel says, “I think I’ll go to bed.” She doesn’t mention the pearl in her pocket, the one the statue lady put in Carousel’s hand when she left her on the shore. It’s the size of a chicken’s egg, lustrous and perfectly round. Who cares about lottery tickets? But she can show everyone the pearl tomorrow. Or save it for Christmas even.
She doesn’t bother to turn on the light in the bedroom. She leans the Harmony against her bed, looks out the window to where Lissy and Dakota stand in the yard, holding hands and chanting, looking up at the sky. “I’m not supposed to just go around doing magic,” Carousel says to the guitar. Her guitar. Her magic. “But we’ll see about that.” She calls the snow down.