Page 40 of Disenchanted

In typical Casimir style, he had stumbled across the correct answer entirely by accident, and while he had only been trying to get a laugh out of Sage with his guess, a pumpkin collision was exactly what greeted them. The driver of the carriage in question—a vivid orange pumpkin the size of a large four-wheel drive—had toppled the vehicle onto its side, and the thing had fractured into several large fleshy pieces across the pavement. The pumpkin was split wide open to reveal plush velvet seats inside, luxurious fabrics, books and paintings spilling from toppled luggage trunks. Floral drapes were strewn across the cobbles, hanging from what Sage supposed had been carriage windows. Four beautiful white horses had broken away from their harnesses in the crash and were galloping around the rose gardens in a huff. A footman and driver, whom Sage recognized as Dave and Ed from the Port Sylvan taxi rank, were doing their best to get the horses back under control.

“Sage! Sage, look!” Laurel was sprinting away from the crash and running towards them down the centre of the rose gardens, which were blooming even more abundantly than usual. She ran as fast as she could while wrestling an incredible volume of lilac fabric and pink petticoats gathered between her hands, revealing crystal slippers underneath. She finally came to a halt by throwing her arms around Sage in a hug so enthusiastic that it almost knocked her flat on her back.

“Well, this is awkward,” Casimir said, pointing between his doublet and her dress. “This either means we’re married or…”

“You wish, Everald. We’re strictly children of the realm,” Laurel replied, giving him a shove. “Thanks for making me the princess, Sagey.”

“Not sure I had much of a choice in the matter. Seems fitting, though. I think that’s always been one of the younger-sister rules, hasn’t it?” Sage replied, unable to hide the sulk in her voice that still lingered after an entire childhood of Laurel making her be the general, unidentified beast in their games, while she was the pretty princess. Laurel beamed, then gave a twirl that caught the light perfectly on the fine gold embroidery of her gown.

“Yes, yes, you look very nice. But, Laurel, more importantly…” Sage sighed, unable to keep the critical tone out of her voice. “What is this?” She bent down to pick up a large fragment of pumpkin that was stuck in Laurel’s skirts and waved it at her sister in accusation.

“Only the best gift you could have possibly given me! This just about makes up for depriving us of your magic all our lives. Thank you, thank you, thank you! I know we said to just trust the spell and soak up all the wonder, but you’ve really outdone yourself. I’m so proud of you,” Laurel squealed.

“I didn’t…This isn’t…” For once, Sage found that she was almost entirely lost for words.

“Were you in there?” Casimir marvelled, pointing at the toppled pumpkin carriage, which the footmen were now trying to heave back onto its huge wheels.

“Yes! You won’t believe me, but I grabbed a cab to catch my train this morning—I had that meeting with my publishers scheduled. In fact, I should probably let them know I’m going to be a bit late, but anyway, I nodded off for a second—up all night working on this chapter which has been doing my head in, you know how fixated I get—and then when I woke up, well, you can see the rest,” Laurel garbled, spinning yet again, her dress flying outwards. She was so excited that she was practically levitating, which Sage took a moment to check was, thankfully, not the case. “Anyway, we swerved at what was, honest to god, a wolf wearing a red cloak and carrying a picnic basket. I swear I’m not making it up, and…”

Sage suddenly came to her senses, her problem-solving mode emerging from beneath the adrenaline. Her sister had been in an accident, and it was all her fault. “Are you hurt?”

Laurel shook her head but gestured to a patch of deep purple that was already starting to bloom beneath the skin of her forearm. “Nothing major; only a few bruises.”

“You are hurt, I knew it.” Sage felt sick at the sight. “We should take you to the hospital, just to make sure it’s nothing worse.” Laurel groaned impatiently while Sage carried on. “You’ll stay at my place tonight, got that? Once I’ve got everything under control and you’re safe again, then we’ll—”

“Will you listen to me? I’m fine,” Laurel insisted, getting annoyed as she always did with Sage’s overcautiousness. She stuck out an ankle from underneath her endless petticoats. “I am not sleeping on your lumpy couch like I’m nineteen again. The only thing that hurts is my feet; they’re absolutely killing in these cute shoes, but it’s worth it. You’d think glass slippers would be made to measure or at least come with blister cushions.”

“You’re being silly. The outfits are the least of our problems,” Sage said. She was pacing now, determined to regather their focus. “Did you bump your head? You should be resting. We’ll go straight to my house once we’ve recorded these findings. Maggie will have some arnica for the bruising.” She whipped out her papers and noted the time in the margin, then marched towards the pumpkin crash. “Casimir, you start with the digital camera while we still have at least one modern convenience remaining. Get close-ups of the joinery and see the detail in the upholstery there? Exceptionally fine work.”

“Have you seen this?” Casimir beckoned her over to one of the large wooden wheels and snapped axle, the elegant spokes impossibly decorative. “There’s even a maker’s mark, as though Lilara crafted the coach herself. The stamp etched in the wood is the same star as on her grimoire and her cloak. Amazing stuff.”

Sage gasped at the incredible minutia. She should have known that Lilara wouldn’t be one to skimp on the finer detail; they really were one and the same. If you were going to enchant an entire town into a spellbind, then you might as well do it properly.

“Laur, snap off a sample of the pumpkin shell, will you? We should try to preserve some of the specimen as quickly as—”

“Oi! Can I help you? Don’t touch anything! You’ll ruin my claim!” The driver of the coach had spotted their snooping. Sage shoved her papers behind her back and hurried Laurel to hide the segment of pumpkin within her petticoats.

“Dave! Did you catch the match on Saturday? We heard the crash from across town, only wanted to make sure that everything was okay,” Casimir said, his well-rehearsed, charming voice coming out to play.

“Oh, all right, Cas! How are you, mate? That’s kind of you,” Dave said, softening. “They’re just making sure we’re all right, Ed,” he called back to his colleague, who was still wrestling with two of the horses. “Something ran out into the road, so I swerved to make sure I didn’t hit it. A ruddy dog, I think. Maybe a fox.” He tutted.

“You mean, big bad wolf…” Laurel whispered to Sage.

“And how do you feel, sir?” Sage asked, batting her sister away. “Are you feeling any different, unsettled? Any…unusual sensibilities? How’s your mood?” She poised her pen above her notebook.

“Pissed off about my insurance premium, but it is what it is,” Dave grumbled. “As long as you’re okay, madam?”

Laurel nodded an enthusiastic, high-pitched “mm-hmm,” struggling to juggle the fragment of pumpkin discreetly. It seemed enough to appease Dave, and he wandered back to the horses. It was only then, as Sage breathed a sigh of relief, that she noticed both of the drivers’ outfits had also begun to change. Slowly but surely, their old jeans were turning the palest shade of dove grey. And their scratched-up leather bomber jackets were stretching, transforming into what appeared to be the long tails of formal suits. Her hand flew to her mouth as Ed’s usual brown flat cap made a loud popping noise and, in a flourish of sparks, became a tricorn hat. Both driver and footman were entirely oblivious to all this, however, and simply carried on as normal.

“Dapper,” Casimir said, impressed.

“Remarkable magical mechanics at play…But he’s right, we should examine you more closely; you could have been killed.” Sage turned to her sister. “Is anything aching, Laurel? Your bones, your head, even your corset? Is your heart rate normal? There are so many anomalies to consider, but you’re both ideal case studies. We need to gain some understanding in the physics of the characters you’re—”

“Oh, give it a rest, will you? I’m fine,” Laurel laughed, snatching the notebook from her sister and batting her over the head with it. “For once in your life, just let go. You’ve got to surrender to it. It’s not like it’s going to last forever, so we might as well enjoy it.”

Sage recalled the spell’s final words. Magic forever, everywhere.

“Come onnn,” Laurel said, stretching out her words in a drawl. She linked a puffy, satin-covered arm through Sage’s in the sweet, sisterly way that Sage, annoyingly, found irresistible. “I saw that you and Lilara have turned the hairdresser’s into a fairy godmother salon, and I’ve needed a trim for ages. I can’t believe your mind is even capable of this sort of imagination. You’re much more fun with magic, you know.”