The Last Adventure of Constance Verity (10 page)

“Ah, that's the spot, guys. Thanks.”

“If you're genuinely sorry,” said Connie, “you'll tell me how to break the spell.”

“Are you certain you want to do that?” asked Thelma.

“Why does everyone keep asking me that? For the last time, yes.”

“There's an old saying in the Godmother Corps. Be careful what you wish for. But if I could undo the blessing upon you, I'd do it. Alas, child, it isn't that simple. If it were a mere enchantment, I might be able to unmake it, provided I had the correct supplies around here. But we aren't talking about a simple enchantment here. This is a complicated compulsion, one that reaches into the very core of who you have become and the universe around you. It's woven into your soul. You can't simply mumble an incantation and remove it like an old coat you're tired of wearing.

“I may have planted the seed in you, but you nurtured it with every adventure you undertook, every monster you slew, every narrow escape, every larger-than-life exploit. The seed grew because of your actions. I set you on the path, but you chose to stay on it.”

“I don't need this metaphysical bullshit,” said Connie.

“Metaphysical bullshit aside, you survived, child. You managed, against all sensible odds, to live against a tide of unending danger and grow up. You made that choice.”

“What was my other choice? To die?”

“You still don't get it,” said Thelma. “You still think you couldn't run away from this. You could've at any time. You still can.”

“I've tried ignoring it. It doesn't work.”

“Maybe you haven't tried hard enough. Do you know why people have dreary, ordinary lives? For some, it never is a choice. But for others, it is a very deliberate decision. They focus on the minutiae, ignore the world around them, and live with no greater concern than themselves and their cares. To be sure, it's been harder for you, but it was always possible. Every candidate that rejected the enchantment did so by simply losing interest in adventure, and eventually, adventure returned the favor. If you really want to undo the spell, the next time aliens attack or disaster strikes, don't get involved. Just let it be. Just see these things like most people do. Not your problem.”

“So, just stand aside and let bad things happen?” asked Connie.

Thelma half-smiled. “You can't do it, can you? All this time, you've been blaming that spell placed on you, when it's been your fault all along.”

Connie slipped on her knuckledusters. “Changed my mind. I am going to beat the shit out of you.”

“That might make you feel better, Connie, but it won't give you the answers you're looking for. If you insist on getting the spell removed, I can't do it. But I do know who ordered it placed on you.”

“I don't need you for that,” said Connie. “I can just go to Godmother Corps records to find that out.”

“Your operation was off the books, strictly hush-hush. There are no records. Hell, even I only met one contact in person. He's the one who gave me the enchanted dust and the list of candidates that had your name on it.”

“Are we talking about a shadowy conspiracy to enchant children into becoming superheroes?” asked Tia.

“I'm not a superhero,” said Connie.

“Close enough. Why would anyone do that?”

“You'd have to ask him,” said Thelma. “I can't say if it's a conspiracy or if it's just this individual. His goals? Beats the hell out of me. How your name got on that list?” She shrugged. “But if you're looking for answers, you should talk to him.”

Connie said, “You know who he is?”

“No, but I can tell you where to find him. I put a tracking hex on him. Just in case. I have it around here somewhere. Let me find it for you. Then, if you want, you can still punch the hell out of me. I deserve it. But let me at least try to make amends.”

Connie considered. “All right. Give me the tracking spell, and we'll see what happens after that.”

Thelma fluttered her wings through the holes in her robe and floated in the air. “Wonderful. Now, I know it's around
here somewhere, but the place is a bit of a mess.” She directed the mice to begin searching the house, and the hundreds of rodents skittered about as an organized force.

“Can we help?” asked Tia. “What's it look like?”

“Oh, just an old scroll around here somewhere. I bet it's upstairs. We'll find it.” Thelma hovered halfway up the stairs but landed to catch her breath. “I really need to hit the gym again.” She walked the rest of the way, disappearing at the top of the steps.

The mice continued to zip around the piles of old newspapers and along the shelves. They opened drawers and worked in teams to paw through musty old books, page by page.

“She wants to help,” said Tia.

“She wants to save her skin,” said Connie.

“Does it matter, if she gets you what you want?”

Connie shrugged. “I suppose not. But I was hoping I could just kill her and be done with it, but that would be too easy.”

While they waited, the mice brought Connie and Tia two cups of tea and some Fig Newtons. The tea was cold, and the cookies were crusty, and while the mice seemed polite, they were still rodents. They left droppings everywhere, and the place smelled exactly like it.

“She's been up there too long,” said Connie.

“It's only been a minute.”

The mice formed a circle around Connie. They stared at her with their cold pink eyes.

“Ah, damn it.”

The lead mouse squealed, and the legion skittered forward. Tia jumped up in her chair, but Connie pressed forward. The mice couldn't stop her, but some of them scampered up her pants leg and started biting her ankles and calves. She ignored the pain and ran upstairs and kicked open the only closed door.

Thelma was halfway out her bathroom window. Connie grabbed the old fae's ankle and attempted to drag her back in. Thelma reached into her robe pocket and flung a handful of glittering dust at Connie. She dodged. The dust hit the toilet, transforming it into a giant porcelain frog that hopped off its fixture. Water spilled across the bathroom floor. Connie slipped on the wet tile, and Thelma wriggled the rest of the way through the window.

“Sorry, child!” shouted Thelma.

She flapped her withered wings and jumped into the air. But fae flight was more a product of magic than physics, and her magic wasn't what it used to be. Yelping, she fell from the roof to land with a thud.

Connie shook the mice out of her pants as she ran downstairs. Tia was busy kicking off waves of rodents. She'd grabbed a lamp and was using it as an impromptu club. She looked like she could handle herself, so Connie dashed outside.

The monster mouse that had knocked over the tree squealed and cowered in a shallow hole.

Thelma limped away on a sprained ankle. Every three
or four steps, she'd try flying again, only to land after a brief moment and yelp.

“Give it up,” said Connie. “You aren't going anywhere.”

Thelma leaned against the fence post and caught her breath. “I don't know anything. I can't help you.”

“Then why are you running?”

“You're here to kill me.”

“You said I didn't have it in me.”

“I've been wrong before.”

Tia came out of the house. She tossed her broken lamp aside.

“Conquer all the mice?” asked Connie.

“I don't want to talk about it. Ever.” Tia reached under her shirt and pulled out a twitching rodent by the tail. She threw it onto the lawn, and it scampered away to join its monstrous brother in the hole.

Thelma pulled her wand from her robe. It had been bent in the fall.

“Don't do anything stupid, now,” said Connie.

Thelma waved the broken wand over her head. It spurt puffs of glitter before bursting into flames. Hacking, she fell to her knees. A pair of great leather wings burst out of her back as her skin grew dark and leathery. Her neck bulged, and her eyes yellowed. Her hands became red talons. She cracked her spanking new tail like a whip and knocked over the mailbox and what little of the fence was standing. The towering dragon chuckled as she spread her wings. The broken wand had been unable to transform her fully. Bits
of flesh remained pale and smooth. Her right wing was an underdeveloped, misshapen thing. Her horns were crooked and malformed. But she was still a fifteen-foot-tall monster. She turned her merciless gaze on Connie as green flames burst from her nostrils.

Thelma spit a baleful emerald fireball. Connie and Tia dove out of the way as the porch burst into flame. Connie rolled, coming up on her feet as Thelma gouged the ground where Connie had stood moments before.

“Damn it. Hold still!”

Thelma swung her tail across the yard. Connie somersaulted over it while Tia hugged the ground. The house collapsed as the limb crushed a corner. Mice ran screaming in all directions.

“There goes my security deposit,” said Thelma with a scowl.

Connie slipped on her knuckledusters and charged the dragon. Thelma slammed her tail in front of Connie and wrapped it around her, pinning her arms and the knuckledusters to her side. The iron burned the transformed fae's scales, but not enough to make her release her prey.

“I do regret it came down to this.” Thelma smiled. Half her teeth were missing, but the half that were there were sharp enough. “But, in the end, I did promise you a glorious death.”

Connie had been face-to-face with death many times. She'd made peace with the reaper years ago. Literally. She'd met the Grim Reaper, and he'd seemed a good guy only doing his job. He hadn't told her when she would die, and she hadn't
been tempted to ask. It didn't matter. Everybody died, extraordinary and ordinary people alike.

But, damn it, she did not want to die like this, eaten by a washed-up fairy godmother. If this was indeed her last adventure, it was a lousy way to go out.

Tia threw a rock that struck the dragon just under her eye.

“Let her go.”

“Tia, stay out of this,” said Connie.

“Yes, do stay out of it. It doesn't concern you.”

Tia grabbed the burnt remains of Thelma's wand. “Don't make me use this.”

Thelma shook her head. “I know what you're doing.”

“What am I doing?”

“You're attempting to distract me so that your friend can pull off one of her legendary last-minute escapes.”

“Am I?”

“I'm not an idiot. Now shut up so that I can end this already.”

“Why don't you shut up?”

Thelma groaned. “Really? That's the best you can do? You're embarrassing yourself and me and Connie. Is this the best sidekick you could find?”

“It was short notice,” said Connie.

“Hey, I'm trying to save your life here!” said Tia.

“You don't do that by threatening a dragon with a broken wand,” said Connie. “You were better off with the rock.”

“Excuse me for trying.”

Thelma chuckled. Green flames danced at the back of her
throat. “I must admit, this wasn't the way I expected Constance Verity to die, but I suppose there is a certain poetic nature to it. I planted the enchantment. I might as well be the one to finish it.”

“Abracadabra!” shouted Tia as she hurled the wand at the dragon's back. It bounced away harmlessly.

Thelma shook her head. “Just for that, I'm going to eat you after I'm finished with your friend here.” She turned to Connie, clutched tightly within her tail.

Connie wasn't there.

Thelma glanced around the yard. “Where?”

Connie whistled from under the dragon. Thelma craned her neck down. “How?”

Connie slammed her iron knuckledusters in the equivalent of a dragon's solar plexus. Thelma collapsed with a shriek, and it was only Connie's reflexes that allowed her to jump out of the way instead of being buried under her opponent.

While Thelma gasped for breath, Connie punched the dragon across the jaw. The iron and the blow proved devastating for the fae dragon, who fell limp.

“But I had you,” she said in a rough whisper. “I had you.”

“I studied escape artistry under Houdini's ghost,” said Connie, “and I've fought enough dragons to understand their biology. And a helpful distraction never hurts either.”

“Stop,” said Tia. “You're embarrassing me.”

Thelma tried to rise, but her strength had left her. She spit out several loosened fangs and slumped on her yard. “I can't believe I fell for that.”

“Don't feel bad. Better bad guys than you have.” Connie tapped her knuckledusters together with a clink. “Now, are you going to help me, or do I have to get rough?”

“I told you, I don't know anything.” Thelma belched, and fire erupted from her throat. It scorched the non-dragon portions of her half-transformed flesh. “Excuse me. I don't know what—”

With a painful retching heave, her head burst into flame, consumed down to the bone in a green-and-blue explosion. The rest of her flesh followed suit, turning to ash in moments. A smoldering, malformed reptilian skeleton was all that was left behind, and that crumbled to blackened powder when the breeze kicked up.

“Son of a bitch,” said Connie.

“What happened?” asked Tia.

“Bad magic from a broken wand and iron don't mix.” Connie swept up a handful of ashes in her hands. “I need something to hold this in.”

Tia took off her sneaker and offered it to Connie. “Glad I didn't go open-toe.”

Connie scooped more ashes into the shoe.

“What are you doing?” asked Tia.

Connie shrugged. “Grasping at straws.”

“C
an you do it?” asked Connie.

Madam Zura examined the plastic bag filled with ashes. “I don't know. I've never tried to channel a nonhuman spirit.”

“Is there any harm in trying?”