Page 80 of The Hocus Pocus Handbook

“You just dropped everything and took a chance?” Thea sounds so surprised.

When she turns her head, I can see that she’s smiling. And her eyes are very bright. I’m so glad that someone proved to her she hasn’t been forgotten by the mortal realm. Once Olive gets to know Thea, she’ll treasure her even more, as Mudge and I do.

“Of course! You’re my sister, and I was so scared I’d never even get to meet you. I started a sabbatical as soon as I heard you were missing. I didn’t have a plan past getting here, but I had to try. And here we are.”

“This means a lot to me,” Thea says softly.

“The sky is so different,” Olive muses, gazing upward.

I have never visited the mortal realm, so I quicken my pace slightly, ensuring that I stay close enough to hear what she has to say. Taragon appears curious as well, and I can tell by Thea’s quick head tilt that she’s interested. Her hair is tangled, darkened with the filthy water from the In-Between, and yet to me, she’s still so beautiful that I find myself smiling at her back.

“How so?” Thea asks.

“There’s no sun here. I’d imagine there are no stars at night either. Just…colors. It’s like living beneath the aurora borealis all the time.”

“What’s that?” Taragon asks.

Though I’m loath to admit it, I’m curious too, drawn by the information Olive must possess. As we enter the forest, the path narrows, so we can’t walk together, even if Olive seemed inclined to. She doesn’t budge from Thea’s side, though she smiles at Taragon to acknowledge that she heard the question.

“It’s also known as the northern lights, visible only at certain times and in certain parts of the world. Something to do with charged particles or solar wind, interacting with the planet’s magnetic field. I think it also relates to oxygen and nitrogen somehow, but this isn’t my area of expertise. I’m a physician, not a physicist.”

“I don’t understand anything you just said.” Taragon frowns, as if she doesn’t enjoy feeling left behind.

I cannot say I comprehend the terms either. While I have read some fiction from the human realm, the stories I perused seem to have been written long ago. I rather enjoyed some detective stories by a Mr. Doyle, though I found his protagonist rather lacking in social graces. Rather like me, come to that.

“Sounds complicated,” Thea says. “If the northern lights look like the sky here, then maybe it’s glimpses of the fae realm slipping through where the veil is thin.”

“I like that explanation,” Taragon declares.

“A physician is a medical doctor?” I am fairly sure I read that in some mortal tome that made its way here.

“Yep! I specialize in virology. And…I’d rather not talk about work.” Olive smiles at Thea, seeming alight with happiness. “Have you learned to manage your abilities?”

“You mean my endless craving to leech from people until they collapse? I wouldn’t call that an ability. More of a curse.” Thea’s bitterness is tangible.

I wish I could comfort her, but I stay quiet. Olive is likely better suited to the role.

“It shouldn’t be like that. What do you know about our physiology?” Olive asks.

“Nothing. My dad tried to figure out what I need, but there are no resources. The fae aren’t terribly interested in others, at least not beyond seeking some territorial advantage.”

“They sound like cats,” Olive says.

“That is accurate,” Rosa pipes up. “Pet us, give us treats, offer what we want when we want it, and we are the dearest creatures. But should anyone prevent us from having what we desire?” The pixie’s smile chills even me.

“I’ll teach you as we travel,” Olive says, touching Thea’s arm in a comforting gesture.

We’ve reached the tree line, and Zeph whistles, high and clear. A bird swoops down, a glossy black-winged beauty, circling above our heads with raucous calls. They converse in chirps and trills; it’s fascinating to hear such sounds come from Zeph. They don’t realize that I’m conversant in crow, not fluent but knowledgeable enough to get the gist.

How do you fare, madame crow?

Well enough, though you’ve caused me no end of grief.

Is my mother well?

She worries. As she should, considering your predicament.

Update?