Maybe this mischievous, Machiavellian, magnificent head—could be right.
The last few months, I was sure I was longing to start at EFG, but what if I wasn’t? Maybe I was just longing for the idea of what I thought it’d be like. For what I thought my life could be.
Then, to hide my pain and disappointment, I got obsessed with missing Hanry. But that was only half of it. Hanry was the link to my Salem life I felt safe holding on to. I didn’t want to admit that I’d been afraid to hold on to anyone or anything else. That I’ve spent years pushing away my family, even some of my friends, in order to achieve what I thought were my dreams.
That I’ve been lonely.
And since last night, while I’ve been theoretically focused on saving Hanry—that is, Prince Hanry, Changeling Abductee and the Wuss ofFairyland—the truth is that as much as I’ve wanted him, he hasn’t been the thing I’ve wanted most of all.
I’ve been in denial for who-knows-how-long. Only now, finally, the truth shines bright in front of me, like a trash fire.
I ran away from New York and came to Fairyland to throw a wedding.That’swhy I’m here—not for Hanry. Because I knew it would be fun, planning this lavish, outlandish event. I couldn’t wait to be laughing with my friends and handling their hijinks and quirks and building something wonderful. My deep unhappiness in New York and at EFG ended the moment I left it behind. I don’t mind the weird monsters and zaniness and unpredictability of the paranormal world. Not in the least.
The truth is, I have loved—Idolove this stupid job.
Are you up there, Grandma? Are you watching all of this now, looking down on me and Bulan? Maybe you’re choking on your ziti. You should start paying better attention; there are “I told you sos” to be said. I get it now, okay? I know.
There’s something I like more than Hanry’s face. And it’s not threatening people with finger sandwiches. It’s weddings. These damn amazing weddings.
And if it’s not too late to turn this disaster around, then here’s a promise for you, Grandma: Hanry’s wedding will be the best one I’ve ever done.
29AND NOW FOR SOMETHING COMPLETELY DIFFERENT
IPARADE OUT OF THEdarkness of the Royal Wing with a confused but mollified Bulan under my arm. A weird and novel feeling swirls in my stomach. Could it be regret? A sense I’m making a terrible mistake, launching me onto a path I’m too late to navigate successfully to the end?
No. It’s probably just hunger.
Throwing the entire tray of desserts at Hanry before I left the suite was likely unnecessary. Maybe Bulan’s right and I should consider anger management. But that will have to wait. Pivoting from planning a heist to a counter-heist is going to require reeling in a hefty quantity of chaos. It’ll take a miracle to undo my wedding-ruining machinations and make Hanry and May’s nuptials worthy of the Spüktacular wedding brand. So, first things first: I’ve got to divert Queen Mab and her entourage from May’s bridal suite.
I look left, right. Rub away snot dried onto my cheek. Aha. The Green Wing may be ineffablygreen, but the bridal suite will be around the corner and a few doors to the left. I remember the minty-toothpaste tinge of the wallpaper, and I remain unimpressed.
“Sabby, do you mind me interrupting your frightening determination to finish what I started here?” Bulan asks near my armpit.
Glancing down, I observe his pleading eyes. He could be intimating a thousand things, and I’ve no time for guesswork.
“What do you mean? Grandma Rose didn’t have specific plans for Fairyland, did she?”
“Not that I’m aware,” answers Bulan. “However—”
“Caww CAWW.”
A frazzled crow emerges from the shadowy eaves, a red sticky note attached to its beak.
“Ahoy there, Stefan! Sabby, look!” As if I’m going to miss this harbinger of madness circling overhead. Since when did we have red sticky notes, anyway? Whatever. I reach up to take the note from Stefan.
It’s sticky withfresh blood. Satisfied at causing horror, Stefan the doom-bird takes off, all casual-like, in the opposite direction of May’s bridal suite.
“Ah, yes,” says Bulan. “Dave’s chosen mode of communication, blood! Stefan and I were looking into that sullen vampire’s rather nonspecific dilemma, right before I saved you from yet another poorly concocted life decision. You’re welcome, by the way.”
I swat him. There’s no need to rub it in.
“Listen, I’ll follow Stefan and figure out what Dave wants. Then I’ll visit May and Mandy. In the meantime, you go round up the rest of our troops and tell them about the change in plans. We’re canceling the heist and sabotage. Got it?”
I put Bulan on the floor. He waggles his eyebrows cheekily.
“Yes, ma’am! We’re still friends, right?”
“Shut up,” I say, but Bulan is already roll-bouncing away. Stefan flaps ahead of me, leading me around the corner. Immediately, I stumble into some minions.
