Page 149 of Velveteen vs. The Consequences of Her Actions

The bikers shouted and spun, but not fast enough. The attacking toys broke over them like a wave, and while shots were fired, they pierced nothing more vulnerable than fluff, hit no one, and generally made for an underwhelming showing.

Velveteen came skidding to a halt, panting slightly from the exertion, and turned to watch as her toys restrained the bikers. Several of them had had the bad luck to have painted faces on the sides of their bikes, and had to watch as those same bikes changed sides, joining up with Velveteen as she subdued the rest of the gang.

“Was anybody hurt?” she asked.

“No,” said the vendor whose stand had taken the most damage. “But I don’t have superhero insurance.”

“Well, then it’s a good thing these men weren’t heroes,” she said.

Slowly, he smiled.

* * *

The Princess stepped through a full-length mirror at the back of a Ross Dress For Less, looking around with a distinctly charmed expression, like she had never seen anything more remarkable in her life. She was wearing a pink silk bathrobe trimmed in living butterflies, which fanned their wings in contentment as she walked toward the front of the store.

Every piece of clothing she passed transformed on the rack, going from cheap fabrics and last season’s fashions to the very latest things from the Paris runways, made of real silk and hand-spun cotton, becoming garments fit for royalty. She caught a salesgirl staring at the racks with an open mouth, and paused to lean close enough to whisper.

“You can mark ’em down, but if you try to mark ’em up, the tags will scan at the prices they have now when you run them through the system. Everything in here sells at a discount-store price, because it’s a discount-store item, and these people deserve a little magic. If I were you, I’d hop on the socials and let people know before corporate catches wind and tries to interfere. They can’t, but the attempt won’t be fun for anybody.”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am,” said the clerk, rapidly, as she pulled out her phone.

The Princess winked at her before blowing a kiss at the jewelry department. “Get yourself something nice before the flood gets here,” she suggested.

“Yes ma’am,” said the clerk, suddenly beaming, as the Princess walked on, sweeping out of the store in a cloud of glitter and rose perfume.

* * *

Velveteen was in the living room when someone knocked on the door. She was still Velveteen because she was wearing her headband: she wouldn’t be Velma until she took it off. It was a simple, if sometimes exhausting, arrangement. She turned toward the sound, sliding her legs out of Tag’s lap. He didn’t share her need to be in costume for most of his waking hours, but he liked to wear his mask when she had hers on, just in case someone saw them.

“I wasn’t expecting company, were you?” she asked.

Tag shook his head. “Not me.”

“Okay…” Cautiously, she approached the door, waiting until she was almost there to call, “Who is it?” She promptly ducked to the side.

No one shot, kicked down, or otherwise assaulted the door. Velveteen gave it a wary look.

“Sugar, it’s me,” called the Princess. “I felt like takin’ a walk. Can you let me on in, please?”

“Carrabelle?” Velveteen moved to undo the deadbolt, then the latch, before opening the door. “What are you doing here?”

“Trying to decide whether I’m makin’ a mistake,” said Carrabelle. She swept inside, past Velveteen, and nodded to Tag, who was still on the couch. “Being alive looks good on you. You should keep it up.”

“I’m planning to,” said Tag. He didn’t have as much experience with the Princess as the rest of them did, apart from spending a substantial amount of time dead in one of her receiving rooms. And he wasn’t entirely sure that counted. “How do you do?”

“Been better, been worse, been drinkin’ too much on account of how my best friend disappeared right out of my hands and I still remember caring about the person who came in and replaced her, but not enough to ask if she feels the way I felt about my Jack.”

“She doesn’t,” said Tag without thinking, then froze in horror as he realized what he had just said to the living embodiment of the fairy tale hopes and dreams of the world. “I mean…”

“I know what you mean, sugar,” said the Princess wearily. “You aren’t telling tales out of school: anyone who’s known Jackie long enough to have a drink with her knows our girl ain’t out there lookin’ for true love’s kiss. And my own story says true love’s dirty afternoon delight isn’t an option, either. Jack was the other way around. All the lovin’, none of the wantin’.”

“Cara…” said Velveteen, helplessly.

“What?” asked Carrabelle. She spread her hands. “I know my story. And you know how careful I have to be. If I let myself have certain things, if I cross certain lines, that’s it. My pretty bubble bursts, and if I’m lucky I wind up powerless and alone in a world that’s never been very kind to people like me. If I’m unlucky, I get to be the evil queen, and we wind up fightin’ each other until one of us goes down. You know I love you like a sister, but you also know you’d pay a lot more than either of us wants in order to beat me. My story’s too strong.”

“I’m sorry,” said Velveteen, voice going soft. “You said you were wondering whether you were making a mistake?”

“You know they got my Jack from a parallel reality,” said the Princess. “The Snow Queen owes me a few favors. I can get there if I really need to. I can⁠—”