Inherent Fate Read online

  Small clouds of smoke erupted from the lamp’s lid where we’d applied the explosive goop we’d concocted, but not much else happened. I coughed as Daniel and I got to our feet.

  “So much for idea number 3,774,” Daniel commented as he wiped dust bunnies from his leather jacket.

  I transformed my shield back to its wand form and shoved it in my boot. As I straightened my dress and dusted off some purple carpet hairs, Daniel picked up the genie’s journal from the coffee table and scratched an X across the page we’d been working from.

  I huffed in frustration. This was getting tiresome and I was getting worried. Aside from needing to escape Arian’s clutches, the longer we went without knowing what happened to SJ, Blue, and Jason, the more anxious I became.

  Arian had been after me; he got Daniel as a bonus. The rest of my friends had been in the clear when I’d split from them, which was good. But not knowing where they were bothered me. It wasn’t because I didn’t think we could find them. We’d all been on our way to retrieve the third item on our list to break the In and Out Spell, so I had a solid idea of where they were headed. The reason I felt anxious was because I was upset about how I’d left things with them.

  Over the last few weeks I’d been pushing them away, lying to them, and not trusting them. I regretted my behavior and yearned for the chance to tell them so. The thought that we might not be able to escape this lamp and they might never know that made me feel afraid. I was worried about dying, sure. But that was a fate I still believed I could avoid. The deterioration of my friendships was not. After all I’d done I wasn’t sure if I could stop it.

  I shook my head, refusing to let my spirits dampen. Right now I needed fire. And speaking of fire . . .

  I jumped back as a few sparks erupted from the goop we’d smeared on the lamp lid.

  While every escape idea we’d tried had gone up in smoke (quite literally, in this case), I was thankful we had a stash of materials to work with. We’d found an array of ingredients to use that would have made SJ (our group’s resident potions genius) jump for joy.

  Initially Daniel and I presumed the lamp’s interior was limited to the tacky, colorful lounge we were presently in. However, thanks to the genie’s journal, we located a hidden hatch in the floor, which revealed a flight of stairs that led to several more rooms. I didn’t know how this lamp allowed for that structurally, but I figured magical architecture played by its own rules.

  The lower chambers of the lamp featured massive white rooms full of random junk—colorful slides, a pool filled with glowing green sharks, miniature models of cities, and most importantly, a fully-stocked silver kitchen.

  The countertops contained various potion-making apparatuses, like mortar dishes and glass beakers. Alongside the equipment was an assortment of ingredients—everything from possum urine to eggplant skins. The genie must’ve been in the middle of concocting some kind of escape potion when the chain of events that set him free were put in motion.

  Daniel and I were grateful for this. Had this not been the case the two of us probably wouldn’t have any potion-making ingredients to work with. Even though he couldn’t escape, it seemed the genie’s all-powerful magic had allowed him to simply poof up anything he wanted. It was the only explanation for all the stuff down there.

  “Let me see the journal again,” I said to Daniel.

  He handed me the book. I moved under one of the lounge’s luminescent floating crystal balls to have more light.

  Different colored sticky notes protruded from the book corresponding to different kinds of entries. The red ones meant avoid at all costs. The blue were general observations concerning the lamp’s structure. And the green sticky notes flagged haikus that the genie had written to encapsulate his feelings on that particular day. My particular feelings about them were:

  Much profanity.

  This hurts my eyes like onions.

  Dude’s got no talent.

  Coming upon one of the blue sticky notes toward the middle of the book, my eyebrows shot up. Then I read the words again to be sure before looking up at Daniel.

  “Hey, I think I might actually have something here,” I said. “According to this, the lamp’s interior was forged in the blood of something called a Stiltdegarth—a creature that has magic-cancelling and magic-reversing abilities. That explains why the genie could use his magic within the lamp but couldn’t use it to get out. The lamp’s walls are specifically designed to cancel out magic. Anything trapped in here can’t use magic to break through.”

  “How does that help?” Daniel asked. “Even if you knew what your magical ability was, that just means the thing that’s supposed to give you power can’t do anything to aid in our escape.”

  “Please, Daniel. My magic doesn’t give me my power. I like to think that derives from my boldness, creativity, and wit.”

  “Don’t forget your humility.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “My point is that there’s a note in here that says that while Stiltdegarth blood coats the inside of the lamp, the lamp’s outsides are made from ordinary metal. So although these walls cancel out the force of internal magic—”

  “There’s nothing working to cancel out the effects of external magic,” Daniel finished. I saw the spark of an idea flicker in his dark eyes. “So in theory . . . if someone or something used their magic on the outside they could free someone trapped within the lamp?”

  “Exactly,” I affirmed. “Like plan number 1,083.” I pointed to the page beside the sticky note. It had a star drawn in the upper right-hand corner, which I recalled seeing on other pages. I began flipping through the book, searching for pages that were also marked with stars.

  “And plan numbers 2,016, 2,310, and 2,812, and so on.” I stopped there and read from an entry beside one of the crossed-out ideas.

  “It’s late August. I have just finished serving a rapscallion by the name of Darralind. Between granting his wishes I attempted (yet again) to find another source of powerful magic to free me from this prison from the outside. But (yet again) I have failed. The hands of my fellow genies are tied, as they are all either trapped within their own lamps or have their magic bound to serving whomever it was that let them out. That only leaves witches and Fairy Godmothers. Most witches are locked in Alderon, but even the ones that aren’t have corrupted hearts, so I doubt they’d help me. And Fairy Godmothers love order far too much to take mercy on me. They would never risk upsetting their precious fairytale norms. As a result, I must try to find another means of escape.”

  I looked up from the book, grinning.

  “This is our way out of here,” I said excitedly. “Don’t you see? We just need Fairy Godmother magic.”

  “Knight, we went over this,” Daniel interjected. “Your powers are no good here. You can’t exactly throw your own magic the way a person throws their voice.”

  “I don’t have to,” I replied slyly. “And we don’t need anyone else for this plan to work either. I have everything we need right here.”

  I picked up my satchel from one of the chrome tables in the room. The trusty old bag was still soggy, having recently been dragged through ocean currents and submerged caverns. But I was confident that the item I sought inside was still in pristine condition.

  “Ah, here we go.”

  I met Daniel’s eyes in the reflection of one of the wall’s silver-and-gold mirrors. The green light of the table’s candelabra made my smile look more devious than I intended and caused my green eyes to appear mystifyingly viridescent.

  I presented Daniel with the envelope I’d taken from the bag. It was still in perfect condition—not a crinkle or tear in sight.

  “Magic paper,” I explained in response to Daniel’s confused expression. “It’s incapable of getting ruined.”

  “Sure, why not.” Daniel rolled his eyes. “That still doesn’t tell me how it’s supposed to help us.”

  “Then allow me,” I said as I took the envelope back from him. “Remember
that night we were in Adelaide bent on breaking into Fairy Godmother Headquarters? The Godmother who was assigned to me, Debbie Nightengale, gave this to me. It’s a survey to evaluate her performance. She said I wouldn’t be able to lose it until I filled it out and signed it. Since she didn’t give me any other instructions, it’s plausible that this thing is enchanted to poof back to her when I’m finished with it. Meaning—”

  “Meaning that if you sign it while we’re in here, whatever Fairy Godmother magic that’s supposed to poof it back to her might be able to take us with it?”

  “In theory.”

  “Well then what are you waiting for, Knight?” Daniel grabbed a quill and passed it to me. “Sign the thing.”

  “All right, all right,” I said.

  I glanced at the envelope hesitantly.

  “What’s wrong?” Daniel asked.

  “Nothing,” I replied quickly. After looking over the rectangle of paper, I identified an overlap and carefully tried to separate the two pieces without harming the document. Alas, I started tearing the envelope.

  “You’re ripping it,” Daniel protested, snatching it away from me.

  I folded my arms defensively. “I’ve never been good with envelopes, okay? Princesses don’t exactly get a lot of mail, and SJ’s bird friends send messages for us via scroll if we need anything.”

  Daniel stared at me and I felt my shoulders curve in embarrassment.

  “What?” I rubbed my arm sheepishly.

  “Nothing,” Daniel replied. “Sometimes I can’t believe your life is so ridiculous.”

  “Well, I’m sorry we can’t all be cool and collected lone wolves with leather jackets, Daniel. Being a princess has its quirks. Deal with it.”

  Daniel smirked at me. He reached into his jacket and removed a small pocketknife. He flipped it open and used the blade to cleanly open the envelope.

  “Here,” he said, handing it back to me.

  “Thank you,” I responded dryly.

  For a moment I paused—looking at the envelope but thinking of him. Aside from some light snarkiness (which to me was like breathing), this was the longest Daniel and I had ever gone without arguing.

  Our formerly tense relationship had recently reached an unexpected climax. For the first time we’d been honest with each other and let ourselves be truly vulnerable about a lot of important, personal things.

  For me, that meant owning up to my fears, admitting my innermost doubts and dreams, and reaching the conclusion that I would no longer allow other people’s views to define me.

  For Daniel, that meant telling me the truth about his prologue prophecy. And as uncomfortable as my truths had been to face, his were way worse.

  Apparently the reason he wanted the Author to rewrite his fate was because his prologue prophecy indicated he might not end up with his true love, a girl from Century City called Kai.

  Worse still? His prologue suggested that while I was to be a key ally to them both, Kai might come to a very permanent end because of me.

  Obviously, this made things terribly awkward between us.

  So while Daniel and I were attempting to give friendship and trusting each other a shot, I knew the odds of long-term success were very low. Right now we were treading lightly and things were going fine. But I was aware of how fragile this connection was. As much as he and I had the potential to get along well, I couldn’t imagine any guy who would ever truly trust the person with the potential to bring down his true love.

  “Knight,” Daniel said, calling me out of my space-out.

  “Right,” I said sheepishly.

  Refocusing my attention, I opened the envelope. Inside I found a faintly glowing piece of parchment with six questions written on it. Hurriedly I filled out the questionnaire, giving Debbie five out of five stars in each category. Since this survey might be our only chance of escape, I’d say she certainly deserved them.

  I reached the bottom of the form and saw the signature line. Below it—sure enough—was a short note beside an asterisk.

  *Fairy Godmother Headquarters thanks you for taking the time to fill out this survey. Please sign the document and it will be magically teleported to the designated Godmother. Your feedback is important to us.

  “You were right,” Daniel said. “It’s enchanted to go back to where it came from.”

  I gripped the paper tightly in my left hand. This was it.

  “Grab on to me,” I told Daniel. “This could get rough.”

  He tightened the strap of his sword sheath across his shoulder then took hold of my arm. His grip was firm and warm. Even through the sleeves of my dress I could feel the roughness of his hands, callused from a combination of his hero training at Lord Channing’s and also, I suspected, from his life as a working-class common before being chosen as a protagonist by the Author a few months ago.

  “Here we go,” I said. With a deep breath I signed my name on the document.

  Oh please let this work, I thought as I dotted the many i’s and crossed the many t’s in my full name—Crisanta Katherine Knight.

  As I added the final curl to my last name, I sort of expected there to be a delay before the magic kicked in. There wasn’t. The moment I finished, the paper morphed into a new envelope. It immediately began to glow bright red and tried to free itself from my firm grasp, jerking about like a wild cat. I refused to loosen my hold. After a few seconds it stopped fighting and I felt its red glow spreading over me and Daniel.

  My skin vibrated as the two of us were absorbed within the magic shell. My ears hummed. Suddenly I felt like I couldn’t breathe, as if the glow was sucking the oxygen from my body like a giant flame. Then just as I thought I might pass out, everything was stripped away and replaced by a scarlet flash that blinded me before consuming us.

  hen I opened my eyes I discovered that the tacky décor of the genie lamp lounge was gone. Our new setting was a sparkly punch in the face.

  We must be at Fairy Godmother Headquarters. What other place would have so much glitter?

  Shimmering swirls decorated the walls. Crystal light fixtures in the shape of erupting fireworks hung from above. The carpet was white and matched the desk and filing cabinets; it also seemed to sparkle, like the dust trapped within the fibers was enchanted.

  Everything glistened except a black orb protruding from the wall in the upper left-hand corner of the room. It was about the size of a cereal bowl and reminded me of the lone eye of a Cyclops, complete with a tiny red pupil blinking at me in the center.

  “It worked!” Daniel’s voice was high in amazement.

  It hit me. My face broke into a grin. We were out of the genie lamp. We were free and as far away from Arian and Nadia’s reach as possible.

  I let go of the envelope (still wriggling in my hand) and excitedly whirled around to face him. “We did it!” I exclaimed. I literally jumped with joy and hugged Daniel.

  Hold on a sec.

  Am I hugging Daniel?

  Abort! Abort!

  Daniel noticed the mistake at the same time and the two of us quickly pulled apart.

  “Uh, good work, Knight,” Daniel said gruffly as he extended his hand.

  “Uh, yeah. You too,” I replied self-consciously while I shook it.

  “Crisa?” squeaked a timid, high-pitched voice.

  I spun around. The envelope had floated into a silver tray on the desk across the room. Next to the tray was a nameplate that read: Debbie Nightengale—Trainee. Behind the tray I spotted red hair and big blue eyes peeking out from behind the desk.

  “Debbie?”

  “Crisa!” Debbie popped up from her hiding place like a piece of toast from a toaster, the confusion in her eyes replaced with delight. Her bright red ponytail bounced around her shoulders, sparkly hairpins catching the light.

  The last time I’d seen my Fairy Godmother she’d been wearing a dress that looked like it was made of lightning strikes. Today her gown emulated a tsunami. It was floor-length, each ruffled layer a different shade
of dark blue or gray that appeared to be rippling. The colors crashed against each other, producing fabric creases that were sparkly white and reminded me of sea foam. Watching it made me dizzy, as did the tackle hug that Debbie gave me in the next instant.

  “Oh my gosh! What are you doing here?” she exclaimed. “It’s so amazing to see you! Sorry about hiding.” She waved at her desk. “The bright red flash freaked me out. But thanks for finally filling out the survey!” Debbie smiled as she gestured to the envelope in her inbox. When she pivoted back around she finally noticed Daniel. “Who’s this?”

  “Oh sorry, Debbie. This is Daniel my, uh, friend?”

  I glanced at Daniel for affirmation and he shrugged his approval.

  All right, I guess that’s a thing.

  Debbie looked Daniel up and down and scrunched her nose. “You’re tall.”

  “Um, thank you,” he replied.

  “Anywho,” Debbie said as she stepped back and tilted her head at me with an appraising look. “You know I’m always happy to see one of my Godkids, Crisa. But, um, regular people are kind of forbidden from setting foot on official Godmother premises. I got in major trouble six weeks ago for inadvertently contributing to you breaking in here. Like, seriously. I lost my wand privileges for a week and had to clean Pegasus stables by hand as punishment.” I cringed. “Oh, I’m sorry, Debbie. I didn’t think they’d actually—”

  “Relax,” Debbie interrupted, her mood swinging back unexpectedly. “I’m totally over it. I’m more interested in what you’re doing here now. That survey didn’t exactly require hand delivery, so I assume the reason you followed it was worth risking another round of the Godmother Supreme’s wrath.”

  Daniel shrugged. “Long story short: we were trapped in Aladdin’s genie lamp.”

  Debbie shivered like a child thinking about getting a shot or eating broccoli without butter. “Oh, that is so not awesome. I hate those tricky, icky things. Smart thinking using the letter to escape. External magic cancelling out internal magic—classic fairytale loophole.”