I suppressed a frustrated scream. Nothing worked. What sort of awful enchanted book was this?
Hudson helped me up and handed the book back to me. “Let’s hope the wizard’s magic works better.”
Chapter 23
Another light came bobbing up the trail toward us—the wizard hurrying, but not running. He slowed when he saw me. “Where is this statue you said entrapped the girl? What sort of trickery are you up to?”
“No trickery,” Hudson said. “I told you the truth. A leprechaun took the statue away because it was made of gold, but you can look at the mark on Tansy’s arm if you don’t believe me.” I didn’t expect the wizard to actually care about the proof, but he strode over to me. I showed him the mark on my forearm. It was deep red, almost purple, and my arm was swollen. He wrinkled his nose, then turned back to Hudson. “Very well. Let’s conduct our business directly. Where is the Gilead?”
Hudson opened the pouch at his waist and pulled out the branch.
“You can have it if you promise to send everyone here back to our time period. We can pay you gold for your extra trouble.” The wizard pursed his lips. “Our bargain was for one person. No more.”
Hudson motioned to my family. “All of us need to go home. We don’t belong here.”
“Do you know how much effort, how much magic, that would en-tail?” The wizard held up a finger. “One person. Choose whomever you desire.”
I didn’t want to hear this, not after we’d been through so much.
“Please,” I said, but Bartimaeus probably didn’t even hear me. Hudson was talking again.
“It has to be all of us,” he said.
317/356
My dad stepped forward. “If you help us, we’ll give you the things we brought with us from our day—walkie-talkies, flashlights, watches, first-aid kits …”
Perhaps the wizard might have been interested if he had known what any of these items were, but he didn’t bother to ask. He shook his head as though we couldn’t possibly have anything worthwhile.
Sandra walked over to him, still carrying the baby. “Think how you would feel if your own family were stranded in the wrong time.
Wouldn’t you want someone to help them?” A moth flew by the wizard’s oil lamp, and he batted it away. “That is precisely why I have no family. They’re simply more people who need something from you. Annoying insects.” I wasn’t sure whether he meant families or the moth that was still circling his lamp. “The mos-quitoes will be out next.” He swung his hand through the air as though swiping away an incoming swarm and glared at Hudson. “Choose who will go, or our bargain is over.”
Hudson turned to me, his dark eyes pained. He was going to say good-bye to me now; he was leaving. The realization caused a spike of pain in my heart that rivaled the stab of the enchantment. I wanted to tell Hudson it was okay, that I wouldn’t blame him for going and leaving the rest of us here. I couldn’t do it, though. My throat felt tight at the thought of never seeing him again.
“Well,” I said, trying to keep my voice light, “it turns out ‘happily ever after’ isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.” He walked over and took hold of my hand. I didn’t want this moment of kindness. It felt like a consolation prize. I couldn’t pull my hand away, though. Suddenly I wanted to cling to him and was afraid I wouldn’t be able to let go.
“Should we send Stetson back?” he asked.
318/356
“What?” It hadn’t been what I expected him to say. I couldn’t process it. He wasn’t leaving?
“We could send Stetson back to our day. He’d be safer there—with modern medicine and better food …”
Emotions swirled inside me. Hudson wanted to stay with me. He had chosen the baby to go back instead of himself. But where exactly would we send Stetson? Who would take care of him? I couldn’t send him to the void of the future and never know if he was all right or not.
I shook my head. “He belongs with me.” Hudson nodded then turned to my family. “Nick, do you want to go?”
Nick looked at Sandra and my dad. “Not without the rest of my family.”
My dad put his arm around Sandra. “We go as a family or not at all.”
Tears welled in Sandra’s eyes, but she didn’t let them fall. “We’ll make do in this century if we have to.” Hudson turned back to the wizard, keeping the branch close. “If you want the Gilead, it has to be all of us.” The wizard grunted, and a sneer curled his upper lip. “You’ve wasted enough of my time. When you decide who to send, you’ll find me in the carriage. But be quick about it. Once the horses are rested, I’ll leave.” He turned so quickly that his cloak spun around his feet, and he stalked off down the trail to the carriage.
My father rubbed the three-day beard on his chin and glanced over at Hudson. “Are you sure you want to stay? Your family is back in the twenty-first century.”
Sandra shushed my father, but he ignored her. “Hudson shouldn’t give up his trip home without thinking about it.” 319/356
Hudson fingered the Gilead, turning it over in his hand. “I’m beginning to wonder if this plant might be more useful than a trip back home. Just imagine the things we might need to fix: leaky roofs, swords, broken arms …”
Hearts, I thought. Could the Gilead fix the gold enchantment that hurt my heart so badly? Could it fix the sadness I felt about never seeing my mother or sister again? Could it fix Hudson’s pain?
Hudson raised his voice as though talking to someone besides those of us standing on the trail. “We might even be able to make some good changes to the Middle Ages. With twenty-first-century knowledge, unlimited wealth, and a bit of magic to fix things, we’ll be able to accomplish anything we want.”
I realized what he was doing and raised my voice too. “Right—we could raise armies, create new countries. Do you think the fairies will mind if we take over, say, Belgium?” Chrissy popped up in front of me, her wand visible in her crossed arms. Her glow lit the area so brightly that the flashlight beams seemed to dim. She wore modern clothes again: a white miniskirt, a polka-dot blue halter top, and rhinestone-embedded flip-flops. A pair of white sunglasses sat atop her deep blue hair, and a purse with pictures of little beach umbrellas hung from her shoulder. “It’s not nice to threaten fairies,” she told Hudson and me pointedly. “I was going to come talk to you just as soon as my pedicure was over. Look—” She put out her foot to show us her toenails. All but one were painted baby blue with fluffy white clouds swirling all over them. “I had to leave before my last toe was done. I suppose Belgium can thank me later.”
“The story is over,” I said. “You said you would take us back to our time period.”
She sniffed and tossed her hair off one shoulder with a hand that featured the same blue-polish-with-clouds manicure. “In the original 320/356
contract, I was to take you back once Tansy defeated Rumpelstiltskin, but as you pointed out, you changed things. Now you’ll get back when Tansy writes down the moral of the new story in the magic book.” She looked at me and sighed in exasperation. “Really, the outfits you keep showing up in. My ball-gown professor would fail me for that dress alone.” She flourished her wand in my direction, and my brown dress turned into a slim-fitting golden evening gown.
I ignored the change, picked up the magic book, and showed it to her. “I wrote down the moral that Clover told me to. It still didn’t work.”
Chrissy took the book and flipped through the pages, checking on the story since she’d seen it last. “He probably told you the moral of the story is that leprechauns are awesome, didn’t he?” I nodded. “Something like that.”
She rolled her eyes. “That’s the moral he takes from every story, but this isn’t his story. It’s yours, Tansy. You need to write your moral.” She reached the page where I turned Rumpelstiltskin into a golden statue, and a smirk stole across her lips. “That’s what he gets for un-derestimating women. I bet he wishes he’d gone off on that cooking spoon now.”