Side blog for my sorta NaNoWriMo project. Each person makes a wish at 12 and at 24. At 25, one of the wishes is granted. When she was 12, Noelle wished to fly, but after an accident left her terrified of heights, that’s the last thing she wants. She spends nearly all her waking hours obsessively searching for a way to ensure her 24-year-old wish is bestowed instead. A couple months before her 25th birthday, she’s finally found her answer. With the help of a grumpy vet school dropout turned Lyft driver, who’s granted wish is to communicate with animals, she embarks on a cross-country journey. It’s a race against the clock to make sure her childhood wish - and greatest fear - doesn’t come true.
The window in front of Rita is huge and octagonal. The moon outside is so full and bright that it shines through the veneer of mold covering the glass, flooding the room with an eerie, green glow.
The space is large, and the furniture is sparse. It’s wide and open, as if cleared for dancing. Perhaps a room used for parties? An elegant chandelier hangs above Rita, its former brilliance now marred by fungal overgrowth. Strings and sheets of it hang down and stretch out around her, like a canopy. It touches the ground and spreads in every direction covering each surface in mold and mildew.
Within Rita’s organic tent, a ring of pale red mushrooms encircle her. The ants march past Noelle’s feet and prowl the perimeter of it all, like tiny soldiers on guard.
Rita stands motionless in the middle, her back to Noelle. She’s wearing the same outfit that Noelle had seen in all the pictures of her online - a white skirt and a red top. She looks ready to walk out on a tennis court.
Or, she would if it weren’t for the fuzzy green that’s growing up her legs and dotting her clothing. Her thick, brown hair is pulled up into a high ponytail, red mushrooms sprouting throughout it. The tennis racket that once belonged to Augur Samantha Cole - an auspice - hangs by her side, clutched in one hand. Noelle is stunned for a moment, trying to make sense of the bizarre and strangely beautiful scene and the fungus witch that created it. As she watches, Rita lets out a sob.
“Rita?” Noelle calls.
Rita turns quickly, her ponytail swaying. She raises the racket and fixes Noelle with fluorescent green eyes, tears pooling in them. “Who are you!?”
Rita really had ‘gone green,’ but what else did that entail? She was still Rita, right? Noelle moves inside the room, the door swinging closed behind her. “You talked to me online, I’m-”
“Can you help me?” Rita interrupts her, taking a few steps forward and lowering the racket. Her voice is desperate and pleading, her expression panicked. “Please, please I don’t know where she is! I sent the ants but they can’t find her!”
“Who?” Noelle asks.
“My-”
There’s yelling in the hallway. The door’s thrown open, hitting the wall with a bang. Felix, Claude, and Moldinator tumble inside, sprawled on the ground.
“Harold!” Rita growls.
“Harold?” Felix says, perplexed. Claude stands on his chest, carefully trying to avoid the mold on the floor, looking disgusted. His hackles raise at the green around him.
“Witch.” Moldinator address Rita as he gets to his feet, his sunglasses still missing. He unholsters a water gun and aims it at her.
Rita raises the racket again. The mold growing around her legs climbs higher. “You’re with him!”
“No, no!” Noelle tries to correct her, alarm spreading throughout her. “We’ve got nothing to do with him!”
But Rita ignores her. She points the racket at Moldinator. “Where is she! Did you do something to her? I swear, Harold, you’ll lose more than an eye if you hurt her!”
Felix stands, Antgelina’s pocket watch hanging from the chain looped around his arm. “Her who?”
The racket quivers. Mold sprouts from Rita’s hands and crawls down her arms. “My GGF!”
“GGF?” Felix shoots Noelle a questioning look and turns back to Rita. “What, Giant Green Fungus? Cause, uh, I have some good news,” he says, gesturing around the room.
“No,” Rita says coldly, tears forming again in her eyes. “Ghost Girlfriend.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Moldinator says, gun still trained on Rita. “You and the Ant Queen: every exterminator’s nightmare.”
Ghost Girlfriend who’s an Ant Queen? Noelle blinks, trying to put the pieces together. Which of those was her girlfriend’s wish? She needs more information, but Moldinator’s complicating that with his aggression. “Let’s just slow down here.” She raises both hands. “We can talk this out, right?”
Rita grits her teeth. “I’m done talking with Moldy.”
Felix’s face lights up. “That’s what I called him!”
Moldinator spits on the ground.
A green shape forms in one of Rita’s hands. Noelle mistakes it for a tennis ball at first, but then she realizes: it’s mold. Noelle’s mind wanders back to Moldinator’s missing eye. If this escalates any further, how bad will it get? She has to try to talk Rita down, but how? Her experiences with comforting or negotiating feel so limited and inadequate. She isn’t prepared for this.
Noelle says the first thing she can think of to try to sooth Rita. “We’ll find your girlfriend.”
Rita turns on her. “So you do know where she is!”
“No, but we can-”
Rita storms towards her, brandishing the racket, eyes glowing and wild. “Where is Damara!?”
“Whoa,” Felix says. “We don’t-”
Moldinator cuts in. “Don’t know where she is and wouldn’t tell you if we did.”
The ball in Rita’s hand is fully formed and mold has completely encased her arms.
She rounds on Moldinator and he begins to back away. “Hold your fire, fungus witch.”
“No, you’ve done something, Harold; I know it. This is the last time you come and threaten me. I’m not holding anything back anymore!” Rita tosses the mold ball into the air and brings her hands together on the handle of the racket.
Moldinator shoots the water pistol.
A stream of liquid hits Rita in the shoulder just as the net of the racket collides with the falling ball. It smacks Moldinator in the stomach and he doubles over.
Rita clutches gingerly at her shoulder where a wound has opened on her skin. Whatever chemical Moldinator’s concocted, it’s potentially lethal to Rita.
“Wait!” Noelle tries once more, but the following moments descend into pandemonium.
Moldinator recovers and takes aim again.
Rita begins serving mold ball after mold ball with alarming speed - not just at Moldinator - but at all of them.
Claude screams, watching the mold missiles sail by him. He clutches to Felix’s head, raccoon hands scraping at his face and nearly tearing the mask from his nose and mouth.
“Claude!” Felix yells, stumbling. “I can’t - I can’t see!”
Noelle raises an arm to cover her face amid the volley. There’s a searing pain as a ball hits her in the leg, the mold losing its shape and splattering on impact. She gasps. It hit harder and hurt more than she would have guessed.
A ball hits Felix in the arm as he scrambles. “Shit!”
Moldinator runs around the room, stepping on ants and mushrooms, and firing at Rita as she continues her barrage. There’s a pool of mold growing from her feet. It pulses beneath her, expanding outward. What else could Rita do?
Another ball hits Noelle in the shoulder, pain radiating from it as she moves for Felix.
Felix lets out more obscenities as he’s struck again. Between trying to wrangle Claude from his head, and dodging the balls, he’s floundering about, and only moving further from the door.
The mold around Rita’s feet has gathered to the size of a small pond. It’s waving back and forth, leaving the floor in large, haphazard chunks. The coverage is so thick over her that Moldinator’s chemical no longer leaves wounds when it hits her. Each successful shot merely causes a small dent in her mold armor before it’s quickly replaced.
Moldinator’s water gun runs dry and he chucks it at Rita.
One last look at Rita reveals a tide of mold swelling up behind her, threatening to crash down. It’s become heavy and viscous.
The bruising balls still continue to be served in every direction. Noelle catches up to Felix and is hit in the side, leaving her ribs throbbing. She goes to grab Felix by the arm, but hesitates.
Felix finally manages to pull Claude from his head and tucks the still frenzied raccoon under his arm. He looks at Noelle, eyes wide and hair a mess. Another ball finds his shoulder and he winces, stumbling to the side.
Noelle motions for the door and runs, feet squashing through the mold expanding out from Rita.
Felix runs after her, nearly slipping on the thick lake of mold that now covers the floor, obscuring even the trail of ants. They retreat, green pouring into the hallway after them.
Out of the line of fire, Claude stops his frantic movements. He stills under Felix’s arm, exhausted. Felix tries to catch his breath. “What- about the- racket?” he pants out.
“I,” Noelle falters. She hasn’t forgotten about it, but they aren’t going to get it. Not like this. “We’ll come back for it later, or-”
The wall behind them splits open. A wave of mold gushes out, nearly missing them. Noelle backs away, falling over. Felix nearly loses his balance and catches himself on the railing of the upper landing.
Moldinator screams as he sails by, caught in the torrent. The flood hits the railing, leaving him strained against it, sputtering and covered in green.
Noelle scrambles to her feet. Felix is still leaning on the banister as he stares at the hole in the wall.
Rita stands in the remains, her angry gaze fixed on Moldinator. Behind her there’s another wave of towering mold.
“That all you got, fungus witch?” Moldinator says, his hand closing over something on the ground - the water gun he’d lost earlier when Felix tackled him.
“How many times have we asked you to stay away, Harold?” The wave behind her tremors ominously.
Moldinator stands. “Yeah, well, this’ll be the last time.” He raises the gun and fires.
The wave rises and crashes down over him.
The floor beneath Noelle’s feet trembles as long cracks splinter from the point of impact. The railing behind Moldinator is the first to go as it tumbles and drops down.
Noelle’s chest tightens as alarm rushes over her. She steps backward, wavering on her feet. It’s only one floor, it’s not even that high, but the railing - the one thing that’d kept her panic at bay - is falling away as fast as her composure. It’s all happening so fast and it’s all so out of control.
The landing beneath Moldinator goes next, fracturing into huge chunks of falling debris. Moldinator’s gone, disappearing with the rubble, his shrieking nearly drowned out in the din.
How many times had falling invaded her nightmares? How often had she feared the safety and security of solid ground being ripped away? Noelle backs up against the wall, palms flat on either side of her, wide-eyed. It’s like her lungs have shrunk. She can’t get a full breath.
There’s yelling. Felix. Noelle pushes herself from the wall and freezes, watching with horror.
He’s left the crumbling railing and he’s trying to make his way towards her, but the quaking of the landing has him unsteady. He clumsily steps forward, the ground he’d been standing on just a second before plummeting - the last bit to fall away.
Felix loses his balance. He begins to fall backwards, a trust fall with nothing to catch him but the first floor below. Claude’s still on his shoulder, claws digging into his jacket. Felix flails, hands reaching for something, anything.
There isn’t time for panic or hesitation. She can’t even remember making the conscious decision to do it, but Noelle finds herself rushing forward, throwing out an arm, reaching, desperate. There’s a glinting in front of her, and her hand closes around the copper pocket watch still around his arm.
The chain goes tight as Felix grips the other end.
Noelle pulls on the watch, leaning backwards, bringing Felix upright along with it.
He falls forward on his hands and knees onto what remains of the landing, his breathing labored.
Noelle releases the pocket watch and backs up until she hits the wall. With the danger now passed, she collapses against it. She looks over to where Rita had been, but she’s already gone back inside the room, the hole in the wall sealing up with mold and mushrooms.
Claude jumps down from Felix’s still heaving shoulders, his fear of the edge of the ruined platform now seemingly overtaking his fear of the mold. He runs up to Noelle and crawls onto her lap.
Felix gets to his feet and joins them. He sits beside her as they stare out across the second floor of the mansion, processing. The mansion falls eerily silent as dust and particles still hang in the air.
Noelle pets Claude as the world comes back into focus. Her breathing finally begins to slow and the sense of immediate danger begins to ebb away. She concentrates on the fur under her fingers and the raccoon nestles into her - he’s a good comfort, especially with how drained she feels.
She swallows, her mind flickering back to the image of Moldinator falling away amongst the debris. “You think he’s-”
“Moldy?” Felix asks. He’s still staring straight ahead, looking traumatized. “He’s uh - I’m sure he’s - Moldy’s fine. Probably.”
It feels like a hole has opened in her stomach. Moldinator had been trouble from the start, but she certainly didn’t want him hurt. Or worse.
Felix lifts an arm and the pocket watch slowly turns on the chain. “What was it you said about these? They’re lucky, right? So, uh, guess we have confirmation of that. Thanks, by the way.”
Noelle hums in agreement and nods. With panic subsiding, a numbness is taking over. This auspice should have been in her hands hours ago, and instead it was used against her. Rita had been so hesitant to let any damage befall the racket, but that didn’t seem to matter while she’s ‘gone green.’ Could they help her out of that? Could her girlfriend, Damara?
A quiet returns over them until Felix says, “What?”
She shakes her head. “I didn’t-”
Felix picks up the pocket watch and lifts the cover. Antgelina is there, her antenna wriggling.
“Sorry, ant gal,” he tells her. “Hasn’t exactly been a fun ride out here either.”
Noelle’s hit with a flicker of guilt. She’d brought more than herself into this. “Felix, I had no idea it was going to be like this, or I wouldn’t have...” She wouldn’t have what? Come here? Put him and Claude in danger? She can’t really bring herself to say that because it feels dishonest. She knows nothing would have kept her from pursuing that racket. “Just, I’m sorry.”
Felix closes the pocket watch and says nothing. Noelle wonders if she’s lost her driver. If so, she could hardly blame him.
Claude seems to sense his human’s pensiveness. He rises from Noelle’s lap and crosses onto Felix, settling down and resting his head on his knee.
Felix’s eyes focus on the raccoon he’s petting until his gaze meets hers. “Hey, this beats driving strangers around all day.”
She’s struck by his use of the word “strangers.” Was she no longer a stranger? Could she be a friend? She finds she likes the idea of someone to really share all of this with - her research, the auspices, her plans, the trip; someone not just a driver that she’s only feeding pertinent details to. She’d spent so long being the only one invested in this that it would be kind of nice to have a friend involved.
Or was that pathetic to think? She knew she’d isolated herself in her pursuits, but now she’s starting to realize to what extent. Afterall, she was paying Felix to come along.
He stands, and Claude climbs his way to his usual perching spot on his shoulder. He offers her a hand. “So, we’ve got a ghost to find, right?”
Noelle looks from his hand to his face. “You’re still up for that?”
Felix scratches at his chin. “Hey, can’t get much worse than what’s already happened, right? So it’s all uphill from here. Hopefully.” He extends a hand again. “One step at a time, as Quasar would say.”
Noelle smiles under the mask. Maybe they could be friends anyway. She finally takes his hand and he helps her to her feet. “I suppose.”
Hoo boy. I just spent the last few hours carefully combing over the last three chapters trying to catch any errors and improving all that I could. Definitely some stuff added. Nothing plot-changing, so if you don’t want to reread, you won’t miss out, but it might be worth a look if you do.
I think I caught all typos, but if you notice something, feel free to let me know.
Also added chapter titles and previous/next chapter links.
Aaaaaand I’m also going to be uploading this to Wattpad in addition to this blog! You can check that out here, if you like Wattpad’s format better.
New chapter might be a little late with holidays and work getting in the way, but it should be here Thursday at the latest.
So I’m clearly not gonna make 50K words by the end of November. But that’s okay! I’m determined to keep writing this anyway. So as far as updating, this is my schedule:
A chapter will be posted every Wednesday. If I get done early, and I feel it’s up to snuff, I may post the chapter before Wednesday. But there will be at least a chapter a week.
I’m going to add chapter titles. They’ll be on all future chapters and I’m gonna add them to earlier chapters.
There may be author’s notes added at the end of some of the chapters if they’re needed, like if something was changed. For example, Felix’s cross pin was changed from red to gold in chapter one after I posted it.
And thank you! Thank you so much for reading! Sharing something like this is difficult because inevitably it’s hard to get people to engage with it. This is understandable, because reading something long-form like this takes up time. So I just want you to know that I so appreciate you taking the time to read this. And a special thank you to those of you who have sent me messages about it, or comments, replies, tags, etc. I read and reread it all because it means so much to me.
And if you have liked what you’ve read so far, please share it! The more, the merrier, and hey! I won’t lie to you, the more people looking for new chapters, the more eager I am to write them.
And finally, stay tuned for ways that you guys can get involved with this too. Soon I’m going to make a post where I ask for suggestions for auspices. If I like the idea, it’ll appear in Two Wish!
That’s all the announcements I’ve got for now. Feel free to talk to me about anything related to Two Wish here or on @cinniharpy!
The inside of the mansion is a sea of green. The floor, furniture, walls, and ceiling only exist in splotches among the fungus blanketing every surface. It gives the home an overgrown feel, as if its wealthy inhabitants left some time ago and now all that remains is rotting away, neglected and forgotten.
From the shapes beneath the mold and the bits of interior that are visible, the decorations and furnishings look about what Noelle expected from a mansion: expensive, lush, and elaborate. There’s fancy looking fixtures, and large picture frames - maybe paintings - that are now obscured by fungal infection.
Scattered around them are clusters of mushrooms, mostly small, but a few large, and all brown, white, gray, or pale red - though it’s a little hard to make out in the darkness. They aren’t as prevalent as the mold and there seems to be no rhyme or reason to their placement.
They’re standing in a foyer now, and Noelle wonders what Rita’s mansion must have looked like before the mold makeover. It’s current state makes her shudder. It’s just like the set of a horror movie. Sure, she liked watching them, but being in them? No, she’d much rather be in her apartment with one on her TV, crocheting, with no one to complain about the subtitles.
Claude is panicking on Felix’s shoulders. His paws grip harshly onto Felix’s scalp as he screeches.
“Buddy, what? What is it? Chill out. You - you want what?” Felix tries to comfort him, but Claude is inconsolable.
Noelle watches Felix struggle, unsure how to help and feeling guilty for dragging both him and his raccoon into this.
Claude’s still in a panic when Felix trots past Noelle to catch up with Moldinator who’d wandered ahead of them.
She follows, scanning all around her for any sign of Rita or the auspice. With the size of this place and the mold covering so much would they be able to find either?
Moldinator still has the water gun drawn when Felix reaches him. “Quiet!” he warns. “We want the upper hand on the fungus witch.”
“Uh, maybe you do,” Felix says, regarding Moldinator with suspicion. “Listen, you got any more of those masks? Claude’s kinda, you know, breathing too.”
“You want to give a mask to that pest?” he says turning around.
“Pest? Claude’s not a pest, he’s-”
“I know a guy who’d fix your raccoon situation right up, yessiree. Make you a hat so fast! Want me to spray it? Chase it off?” He lifts up the water pistol as if it were actually a handgun.
Felix removes Claude from his shoulders and holds him protectively at his side. “You do anything to this raccoon and a fungus witch is going to be the least of your problems.”
Moldinator doesn’t respond. He’s still got the gun trained on Claude as Felix glares at him. Then he lowers it, and waves a hand dismissively. “Got bigger things to bust than your personal infestation.” He finally gives Felix a mask before turning away from him. “Just keep it out of my way.”
Felix shoots him what is probably an incredibly dirty look that’s hidden by his face mask as he tries to fit Claude with his own.
“Is he okay?” Noelle asks.
Claude visibly calms as Felix adjusts the mask. “Yeah, he’s just, you know, particular.” Felix huffs. “Doesn’t mean he’s a pest though.”
Not a great start for Moldinator. Noelle hopes they run into Rita before he does. The way he’s talking about the “fungus witch” doesn’t exactly inspire trust within her either.
Moldinator crouches low, slowly moving forward through the mansion with both hands on the water gun, like a policeman moving in on a suspect. They follow after.
“Hey,” Felix says in a harsh whisper she’s only just able to catch. He waves her closer to him, keeping his voice low as she approaches. “I don’t-” she misses the next couple words. “We should-” more inaudible whispers. “Right?”
Noelle shakes her head and reaches for her phone, her hand bumping against the pocket watch auspice she’d been unwilling to leave in the car. She opens up a note taking application and hands it to Felix.
He stares at her for a moment, confused, before everything registers. Then he takes the phone and taps away at it as Claude climbs back to his shoulders, pressing raccoon paws against his new mask.
Moldinator’s still advancing up ahead. Felix hands her the phone as they move forward, straggling behind him. At least typing is quiet.
This guy’s got some personal vendetta against Rita. Also he’s kind of an ass. I don’t know if we should stick around him. What do you want to do?
She types back, Maybe we should try to find Rita on our own. Tell him see ya later, Moldinator?
Felix nods. “Hey Moldy!” he calls. “So, thanks for helping us illegally enter a home and all, but-”
Moldinator whips around, a finger to his lips “Shhhhh. And don’t you ever call me that again.” He squats near something, staring at the ground. “Now, come see this.”
Felix makes an obscene hand gesture at Moldinator’s turned back as they approach him.
Movement catches Noelle’s eye. There’s a line on the floor that seems to be shifting - a thick, black streak weaving along the ground. She leans closer, eyes squinting.
It’s ants. What appeared to be one mass is actually a bunch of ants all moving in the same direction like a tiny river of little black bodies - but there’s something off about them.
Ants always seemed automated to her anyway, with the way they function in colonies, but these ones seem downright robotic. They’re marching forward to some unseen goal in uniform lines, no ant out of step.
Most peculiar of all is what’s sprouting from their heads - tiny mushroom stalks rise from each; little radio antennas forcing them forward. The endless parade of small soldiers goes down the hallway and up a large, ornate flight of stairs.
Noelle has seen this before. This looks so familiar, but she can’t quite place why.
She hears the memory of Aunt Darcy’s voice. “Oh, well, now that’s just awful.” In her mind’s eye she can see her aunt covering her face with her purple shawl in the movie theater seat beside her. Up on the screen a mushroom stalk is erupting from a newly turned zombie’s head.
“Cordyceps!” She says, louder than she intends to.
Moldinator and Felix turn to look at her.
“At least, that’s what they called it in The Walking Fungus. Turned those it infected into zombies.”
Felix backs away from the ants.
“Don’t worry, outside of B movies, it can’t affect us,” she tells him.
“Ophiocordyceps unilateralis,” Moldinator says. “Fungus witch is pulling out some new tricks.”
“Have you,” Noelle hesitates. “Have you got something against Rita?”
“Got something against the witch spreading some foreign fungi around, yeah. Take a look at this place! She ain’t Rita no more.”
“What does that even mean?” Felix says aggressively.
Moldinator gestures wildly around. “Look at all this! Look what she’s done! Look at these ants! If you were hoping to find Rita, you might as well leave. All that’s left is the fungus witch.”
“What are you planning to do?” Noelle asks. She might only know Rita through her messages with R-da-1st, but Moldinator’s grudge is making her feel protective.
Moldinator hitches up his utility belt. “Whatever needs to be done to bust this mold.” He turns back towards the line of ants. “Starting with this mess.”
As he draws the water pistol, Felix looks alarmed. “Hey - Hey wait! Don’t!” He moves toward Moldinator, arms outstretched, ready to stop him from firing on the ants.
Noelle watches him, confused before she wonders with sudden panic: Could Felix feel the pain of the ants?
Moldinator sprays a stream of the liquid on the ants just as Felix shoves his arms, making him lose his aim. Claude clings to his head and shoulders, nearly flung from him in his sudden movements. The heavy chemical smell wafts over them again.
A handful of ants twist and writhe on the ground, covered in the liquid, and eventually go still. The rest of the insects seem undeterred, simply dodging around their fallen members in neat, ordered lines.
Felix winces, eyes screwed shut, but nothing appears to happen. He blinks, staring at the dead ants, then sighs in relief.
“What the hell was that about?” Moldinator demands.
“You know what you could have done?” Felix yells.
“My job!”
Noelle ignores their arguing and asks, “Can you even talk to them?”
“Talk to them?!” Moldinator says. “Is that what your problem is? You got some kinda varmint vocals?”
“Sure do!” Felix says. The fur on Claude’s back bristles. “And what wish did you get, huh? To be the textbook definition of ‘asshole?’”
Moldinator finally holsters the water gun again. “No. Wished for a steady office job at twenty-four and I got it.”
“So why aren’t you there now?” Felix still sounds angry.
“Because,” Moldinator points a finger at him. “The building I was working in was infested with mold. The company did nothing about it, and eventually faced numerous lawsuits. The office was condemned and destroyed, along with my wish. Poof! No job! I could’ve whined about it, but no! I chose to be Moldinator.”
“That’s the worst origin story I’ve ever heard, Moldy.”
“Don’t call me that!”
“I will-”
“Felix!” Noelle interrupts, and both men turn to her. “Can you talk to the ants?”
Felix runs a hand down the side of his face, shoots Moldinator one more nasty look, and crouches beside the line of ants still continuing up the stairs. “Talking to bugs is always so weird. They don’t really… speak. It’s more like, I dunno, impressions.”
Noelle kneels beside him. “Still, think we can get any information out of them?” Currently her most pressing concern is how dangerous the fungus witch - Rita - really is, and stopping Moldinator from doing anything rash.
“Guess we can try.”
Claude leans as far away from the ants as he can on Felix’s back. Like the mold, he’s clearly not a fan.
Moldinator folds his arms and watches, his posture emanating indignation, even with a face hidden by the mask and sunglasses.
“Hey ants, what’s the deal?” Felix says as the ants continue their march.
Claude’s tail swishes back and forth in the silence that follows.
Felix stands, shaking his head. “These guys are gone. Whatever that fungus did, well, they’re not home anymore.”
Moldinator sighs. “What do you think Cordeyceps-”
“Wait, wait, I’m getting something. It’s just - it’s just one though.” Felix walks down the line of ants, searching.
Noelle follows behind scanning for any ant that looks out of place.
Felix continues, stopping every once in awhile to ask, “Hello?” or “Where?”
They follow the river of ants until they reach a small hole in the wall that the ants are pouring out of.
“There,” Felix points.
A single ant without a mushroom stalk is milling about the hole. As they watch, it runs from ant to ant, wriggling antennas at them, but they give no response; just continue to march in their relentless procession.
“It’s not infected.” Noelle says.
“Maybe he’s immune?” Felix asks.
“Maybe. But I think most ants are female.”
“What’s it matter? You gonna name it?” Felix says sarcastically.
Noelle considers this. “Yeah, we’ll call her Antgelina.”
Felix groans. “You couldn’t pick, like, Sally, or something.”
Noelle huffs. She has to admit that she finds his exasperation at anything even slightly resembling a pun amusing. “Sally’s no name for an ant.”
“Fine, we’ll put it to a vote,” Felix says. “All those in favor of ‘Antgelina’ raise your hand.”
Noelle raises hers. Behind her, Moldinator sniffs and then raises his as well. Claude gives a small bark atop Felix’s shoulder and much to his human’s clear annoyance, puts a paw in the air.
“Okay,” Felix says, rolling his eyes. “Antgelina it is. I guess. Antgelina, what’s up?”
He listens for a few moments.
Moldinator taps a foot. Part of Noelle wishes he would go on without them, as she and Felix had planned, but another part of her can’t help but feel they should be keeping an eye on him - for Rita’s sake.
Felix stands. “Ant gal knows nothing. All I got was, ‘glass home, broke, sick, follow, why big ant.’”
“Big ant?” Noelle asks.
“She wants to know why I’m a big ant and- hey I told you talking to bugs is weird.”
Noelle sighs, not sure what she expected. They’ve seen no sign of Rita and there’s still so much of the mansion left to search. “I suppose we’ll just... see where the ants lead.”
“Yeah, well, uh, Antgelina wants to, uh, come along.” Felix says, looking as if he feels as silly as the words he’s saying.
“This just what y’all do? Pick up pests?” Moldinator says.
Noelle reaches in her pocket for the copper watch. The ant might be useful around the mansion; their own tiny tour guide. Besides, who wants to be left alone when all your friends are zombies? She opens the cover and hands it to Felix, “Think she’ll climb in here?”
Felix takes the pocket watch and sets it down beside the ant. “You wanna come along? This is your ride,” he tells her.
She twitches her antennae and crawls aboard, settling down on the watch face that had long stopped ticking years ago.
Felix picks up the pocket watch and carefully closes it. “Antgelina has joined the party.”
______
Back at the bottom of the staircase, they gaze up at the mold-encrusted flight. Moonlight emanating from skylights catches the threads of mold on it every so often, almost glistening as it weaves along every step and around the banister. The stairs look rotting and foreboding, like a ship sunk to the bottom of the sea. The only movement on them is the steady line of ants continuing their solemn advancement upwards, hugging the right side.
Moldinator now has not one, but two squirt guns full of that harsh chemical out and in front of him.
Felix has Antgelina’s pocketwatch clasped in both hands, glaring suspiciously at Moldinator as Claude rests around his shoulders.
Noelle is wary and exasperated. All she wanted was to talk to Rita and find the auspice. Moldinator, on the other hand, is poised to attack.
“Stay low,” he says, progressing on the wide, elegant staircase. “And stay behind me.”
Felix gives her a pointed look.
How were they going to play this? As much as she just wants to find the racket, she can’t do it at the possible expense of someone else. Rita had seemed perfectly fine and reasonable in all their correspondences leading up to meeting at the cafe. Moldinator on the other hand? Less so. “What are you planning on doing with Rita?” Noelle asks, taking one careful step up the stairs, Felix following behind.
Moldinator uses the tip of one of the water pistols to push up the brim of his hat just a fraction, and looks at her. “I’m taking out the fungus witch any way I can.”
“Take out?”
“Eliminate. It’s what a Mold Buster does.”
“You’re going to kill her?” Felix snaps.
Moldinator lets out a small, sarcastic laugh. “No, no, just the mold.”
“But, what if you can’t eliminate one without the other?” Noelle asks, the hair on the back of her neck standing up. Sticking with Moldinator is growing unbearably uncomfortable.
His voice lowers, threatening. Noelle can barely hear it when he says, “Well we’ll just find out, won’t we?”
Noelle swallows. “We could try talking to her first? Instead of going in guns ablazing.”
Moldinator whirls on the staircase, coming face-to-face with her.
Felix bumps into her as she halts in her tracks, startled.
Moldinator holsters one of the guns, the liquid inside sloshing, and wrenches the sunglasses from his face. One angry, bloodshot eyeball stares at her, while the other is an empty socket - there’s no roundness to the closed lid. Pale scars dart around the outside of the missing eye.
“You think this is the first time she’s gone green?” he says.
“Gone green?” Noelle asks, confused and unable to break her own two eyes from Moldinator’s one that’s so full of self righteous fury.
“That’s their little nickname for it. Last time it happened she took my eye. You understand now? Do you get it?”
“Do you get that you’re ridiculous?” Felix says behind her. “Walking around here with water guns and-”
Moldinator interrupts him “If you don’t understand the gravity of-”
There’s a voice suddenly from up the stairs - a woman’s voice. She yells something, but it’s too echoey for Noelle to make out. Whoever it is sounds desperate and afraid. A door creaks.
Moldinator glares at them a moment longer before jamming his sunglasses back on his face and dashing up the stairs. He takes them wildly, like a man possessed, two at a time, footsteps pounding away from them and reverberating off the mildewed walls.
Noelle begins sprinting after him before she can even properly assess the situation. What was once simply retrieving an auspice has suddenly turned into a rescue mission.
Felix appears beside her, tearing up the stairs, one hand running along the banister, the other still gripping the pocket watch. Claude clings for dear life to his head.
Noelle’s pulse pounds in her ears, eyes fixed on Moldinator. He’s too far ahead and getting so close to the top of the stairs. She can’t remember ever having to scale a staircase so fast. She’s only able to ignore the protest of her muscles with the adrenaline rush.
Felix is gaining on him, but it’s too late; Moldinator reaches the last step.
“Moldy!” Felix yells up after him.
Moldinator loses his balance, slipping on a streak of green at the top of the stairs, and falls face-first on the landing, his gun sailing away from him.
He struggles to get back up, sliding again on the mold underfoot, panting and struggling.
He manages to get to his feet just as Felix tackles his legs, sending him sprawling to the floor once more. The pocket watch chain slides down Felix’s arm and collides into the tile with a smack.
Noelle reaches the top of the stairs to see Claude run from Felix’s shoulders to Moldinator’s head. He snatches the sunglasses off Moldinator’s face, and tosses them aside, letting out a triumphant raccoon screech.
She carefully avoids the obstacle course of appendages. Moldinator’s water gun rests by a railing overlooking the first floor of the mansion and the ants are making a neat curve around it. Her eyes follow them down a hallway to the right.
There’s a door ajar, a vertical line of moonlight radiating out of it. Was that the creaking they’d heard? Was the woman’s voice Rita? She’s so close to finding out.
Moldinator makes desperate grabs for her feet as Claude bats his hands away. She makes it past them, sprinting for the door, the ends of her scarf trailing behind her.
Noelle can hear Felix and Moldinator yelling and scrambling after her, but she doesn’t look back. All there is, is that line of moonlight and the stream of ants flowing into it. Even when she can hear footfall catching up to her, she focuses only on that glowing, thin, pillar of light.
Noelle throws herself into the door, and there, bathed in moonlight from an enormous window, and surrounded by a ring of mushrooms and ants is Rita Cardoso, the fungus witch.
Thank you for following and reading! And hey, if you’ve liked what you’ve read so far, sharing it helps me out a lot! And feel free to ask questions or what have you. Your kind comments have really kept me going! Thanks again!
“Why not get your own car?” Felix asks after they’d been awkwardly driving in silence for a while.
Noelle’s hands stop their motions. After wracking her brain for suitable things to talk about and coming up empty, she’d gotten out some yellow yarn and a hook to crochet. “What, for taking the auspices?” This had become her prefered way to refer to her plan.
“Well, yeah,” he says, looking at her over Claude. The raccoon is sound asleep draped over the right side of Felix’s chair, his furry head resting on his shoulder. “Wouldn’t it be easier to drive yourself? Just saying.”
She lowers the yarn. “Driving’s not far behind flying in my book.” And despite aunt Darcy’s encouragement, she’d steadfastly refused to get behind the wheel. “Besides, the city had plenty of public transportation.”
“So then a bus? Train?”
These were, of course, all things she’d thought of and considered. “I didn’t want to do a bunch of switching around or waiting on trains or bus routes. And the fewer people I have to explain this all to, the better.” Not to mention the less crowded an area, the easier she could hear and communicate. People in general felt like a challenge she wanted to keep to a minimum if she could. It wasn’t so much that she felt shy, she just knew that some found her and her habits (like her folder of endless notes) odd.
“And I guess a plane was outta the question, huh?” Felix continues.
“Completely. This was the best solution I came to.” She looks at him curiously. “Are you trying to get out of this?”
“No, no, just wondering.”
If she’s honest, she’s grateful for Felix’s eventual willingness to drive her, but it’s also hard not to wonder what’s led to that willingness. She’d been looking for someone desperate, and she seemingly found him. What exactly was his deal?
Noelle starts to crochet again when Felix’s phone rings. A song blares out from where the device is still in the cradle. Claude stirs to life. “Ooh baby, do you know what that’s worth? Ooh heaven is a place on earth,” Belinda Carlisle croons. The caller ID on the screen simply reads “NOPE.”
Felix fumbles in a panic with the phone, ripping it from the cradle and hitting the ignore button. He sets it back down when NOPE calls again, setting off another chorus of Heaven is a Place on Earth.
Another ignore, another call, one more ignore, and then silence. Felix sighs and returns the phone to the cradle.
“Belinda Carlisle?” Noelle asks, remembering the reviews she’d read.
“Yeah, well, they used it in my favorite episode of… nevermind,” he trails off.
Noelle involuntarily flinches at the last word. She’d been told “nevermind” or “forget it” countless times when she’d asked people to repeat themselves. True, Felix hadn’t used the word that way, but it still conjures an old frustration within her.
“Who’s NOPE?” she asks.
“Look, maybe questions should cost extra.”
Noelle brings the yarn and hook back up in front of her. “This road trip’s going to get awful boring with that attitude.”
“Fine. We’ll trade off questions one at a time. You can go first. Just don’t ask about NOPE.”
His resistance only makes her more curious, but she doesn’t push it. She focuses on the project in front of her as she asks, “What’s with the raccoon?”
Felix glances at Claude, who’s drifting off back to sleep on his shoulder. “I used to sort of work at a vet clinic. Never finished vet school, but because I could talk to animals, I was useful to have around. They had a raccoon that had been at the clinic for his whole life - that was Claude. His mother was killed when he was a cub, and he got so used to people that he couldn’t be released. He’s small, too, for an adult raccoon, which probably wouldn’t help in the wild. But that place? It - it wasn’t great. At all. So one day I left and I took Claude with me.”
Noelle pauses her work. “What do you mean ‘it wasn’t great?’” What could have been so bad that he would kidnap a raccoon?
“Hey, hey, it’s my turn for the questioning. What are you making?”
“This?” Noelle says, holding up the yellow object slowly coming together. “Not sure yet. Think your woodland creature will wear a sweater?”
“You’re gonna put a sweater on a raccoon?”
“It’s getting cold!”
Felix looks incredulous. “He’s got a sweater! He grew it.”
“So ask him if he likes layering.”
“Hey,” Felix bobs his shoulder up and down, waking Claude again. “You wanna wear people clothes? She’s making you something.”
Claude sits up groggily, rubbing at his face with tiny raccoon hands before carefully climbing down from his perch to the space between the seats. He looks from Noelle to her hands, watching her work. He chitters back to Felix.
“Well, looks like you’ve got a willing model,” Felix tells her. “He likes the color.”
“Me too,” she says, smiling at Claude. “It’s my favorite.” She remembers watching him argue with Felix inside the car as she stood outside. If he was what changed Felix’s mind about driving her, then this sweater was a thank you.
He turns his head at her and watches her work.
Claude was a surprise, but she’s warming up to him. Plus, the more accepting she is of him, the more Felix seems to chat. He’s clearly very attached to his strange pet.
“So what was so bad about the clinic?” she asks.
“I- I got a little something I didn’t ask for when I got my wish.” There’s a pause, like he’s considering how much he should really tell her. “I don’t just talk to animals; I can also feel their pain.”
When a wish is granted, there’s always a chance of a particular drawback accompanying it. Some are more severe than others, and some lucky few have no negative effects at all. Noelle became very familiar with what could await her with flying: insect wings require vigilant cleaning to function properly, bird wings have seasonal molts that can be painful and itchy, levitation could be involuntary, and on and on it goes. Talking to animals was not that unusual a gift, but this side effect was not one she’d heard of.
Felix continues. “And let me tell you, they sure used that to their advantage, even when they didn’t need to… Anyway, some of the staff were pretty annoyed with Claude. I think growing up in a clinic made him particular about things. He likes to be clean, and he’s a picky eater- well, except for marshmallows. Someone must have got frustrated with him and hurt him. He wouldn’t tell me what happened, but I could feel it; was like someone kicked me in the ribs.” His hand covers his left side for a moment.
“I asked around, but no one was gonna tell me anything. A lot of them didn’t want me there and they weren’t afraid to show it. There was a lot of fuss over me being a dropout. Things kept happening with Claude - minor injuries that he wouldn’t explain and no one knew anything about - then one day I caught it.”
Noelle listens carefully as Claude lays his head on her lap.
“He - one of the vets - thought everyone was gone, but I was still there cleaning up a mess a dachshund left and he didn’t see me when I stopped in the doorway. He’d tried to give Claude kibble, but he’d spilled it on the floor. Instead of getting new food, he just kinda swept it up into a bowl, and that? Even I knew that wouldn’t fly for Claude. There was no way he was eating food that had touched the floor.
“He pushed the bowl to Claude, and Claude pushed it back. The vet got mad, threw the bowl, and it hit Claude right in the face. I felt it too - nearly screamed. The vet went to leave, I hid, and when he was gone, I grabbed Claude and we got the hell out of there. That was a couple years ago.” He reaches into a pocket to hand Claude another marshmallow. “Been trying to do the rideshare thing ever since.”
Noelle isn’t sure what to say. What could she say? She can’t imagine anyone willingly being cruel to the creature seated between them, even with her ambivalence towards raccoons. “That’s… pretty awful.”
“Yeah, it was.” Felix taps on the steering wheel in a nervous way. “They weren’t all bad though. Couple of the other vets were decent, and there were always hilarious things happening. One time somebody brought in their boyfriend, Mothman, because they weren’t sure he could go to a regular hospital.”
“Are you serious?” Noelle laughs, grateful that he’s lightened the mood after such a serious story.
Felix grins, “I swear it’s true. Okay, okay, my turn.” He scratches at his chin. “Is this - is this alright? Like, for hearing? I’m not sure what, uh-”
She can tell he’s trying to broach the subject as carefully as possible - most people did. “The car’s quiet, and you’re to my left, so I can hear you fine. Just don’t put the music on if we’re talking.”
“Gotcha. … Anything else I should know?”
Noelle thinks for a moment, hands still continuing to work on the sweater. “When you can, talk to me face to face so I can try to lipread in noisier places. And when I ask you to repeat something, just repeat.”
“Alright.” They’re both silent for a moment, before Felix says, “Your turn.”
She considers the things he’s told her so far. “Why didn’t you finish vet school.”
“Oh, uh, there was just a lot going on and there was - it was just too much at the time. I figured I’d go back someday, but, well, here we are.”
“I didn’t finish school either.”
“No?”
“Nope, I was too preoccupied with this. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do anyway. I was just going for a general studies degree.” She thinks back to how disappointed her aunt was when she quit. There’s so much she’s put on hold for this trip.
Felix clears his throat. “Speaking of, what are we after in Spokane? An ‘auspice?’ That what you called it?”
“Thought you didn’t believe me.”
“I’m not saying I do, but as long as we’re driving there anyway, I’d like to know what mcguffin we’re chasing.”
Noelle sets aside the little yellow sweater. “It’s a tennis racket. I bought it off someone online who collects them. It belonged Samantha Cole, an Augur who was apparently fond of tennis.”
“And how do you know it’s the real deal?”
“I don’t, at least not entirely, but it looks legit and matched up to pictures I’d found of Samantha with it. The woman I talked to was knowledgeable and seemed almost hesitant to sell it. She was afraid of it getting damaged, so she wouldn’t ship it to me. I’m meeting her at a cafe in Spokane to pick it up.”
“Well,” says Felix, readjusting the seat belt fastened across him. “Here’s hoping it’s-”
“What, not a racket racket?” There is only one kind of joke Noelle is partial to: wordplay, especially if it’s terrible.
“You know, you saying that just made this drive twice as long.”
______
But, puns did not extend the drive, and now they sit, waiting at a tiny cafe called Lochness Latte. They chose a table in the back corner away from the noise of the entrance, and watch for Noelle’s contact to arrive.
A waiter comes by; a man with large, leathery bat wings and Noelle becomes laser focused on the tiny menu in her hands. She won’t meet his gaze, even as she orders hot cocoa.
Felix watches her hand the menu to the bat-winged waiter without looking at him, but says nothing. He’s seated across from her where she can clearly see his face.
In addition to the settings on her hearing aid, Noelle relies on a few different observations for conversation when not in a space like an enclosed car. There is lipreading, but sometimes missed words could also be found in body language or certain facial expressions - like how people have a tendency to raise their eyebrows while asking a question.
It’s exactly what Felix is doing now as he asks, "Who are we waiting on?”
“All I know is a username: ‘R-da-1st.’ I guess just watch for someone walking in with a very old tennis racket.”
R-da-1st had been suspicious of her when they first started messaging one another - she didn’t seem to want Samantha Cole’s racket to go to just anyone. Noelle had no interest in tennis, but she knew Augurs, so she earned R-da-1st’s trust in their conversations about Samantha.
“You don’t have a name?”
Noelle shrugs. “She wouldn’t give it. Just someone who collects tennis memorabilia, I think.” This particular auspice had been the easiest to find since R-da-1st just happened to list it online. She wouldn’t get so lucky with the rest. She could have dug more into who was selling it and how it got there, but with with other objects to track down and someone willingly giving this one up, she turned her sights on more difficult pursuits.
“Well,” Felix says, “Guess we’re on racket watch.”
Then the waiting begins.
Their drinks come and Felix and Claude have an argument over whether Claude can have the marshmallows from Noelle’s hot cocoa. They reach a compromise where Claude is ordered some granola with chocolate-free marshmallows on the side. Though, this doesn’t stop the raccoon from eyeing Noelle’s cup as he sits in his own chair with a booster seat.
Noelle and Felix sit and idly browse their phones while nursing warm drinks, glancing at the cafe door each time it opens.
Felix’s phone rings again, suddenly flooding the cafe with Belinda Carlisle - NOPE calling once more. He hastily ignores it.
Noelle’s own phone vibrates with a text message - Aunt Darcy asking how she is. She keeps the conversation simple and mentions nothing of “taking the auspices.” She doesn’t want her to worry or try to convince her to stop.
They watch and wait, but the appointed time for meeting with R-da-1st comes and goes with no one in the cafe carrying in a tennis racket.
Felix yawns. “Where’s your gal, huh?”
“I’m not sure.” Noelle checks her exchange with R-da-1st on her phone. Maybe she’d gotten the time wrong? But no, her contact really had just not shown up. Maybe R-da-1st is late?
She sends another message, but there’s no response.
Meanwhile Felix and Claude bat a balled up napkin back and forth to each other.
She watches a few Quasar videos to bring the unease she’s feeling down. She’s watched and rewatched so many that galaxy print itself feels like a comfort. Where did he get all those shirts? They almost never repeat.
“Quasar?” Felix asks when he hears the voice from her phone.
She nods. “You a fan?”
“For sure.” He smiles.
“You think he’s an Augur?” She was always curious to hear people’s response to that question.
Felix looks surprised for a moment, his eyes widening. Did he not know that was one of the most popular fan theories about Quasar? He scratches at his chin. “I dunno. It’s possible, I guess,” he says and goes back to Claude and their makeshift ball.
____
Now it’s growing dark outside. Noelle resumes crocheting while Felix has leaned back in his chair, head resting against a wall, asleep. Claude’s curled up in a furry gray circle on his chest, nearly blending in with his jacket.
The waiter returns. Noelle sees his wings out of the corner of her eye and her jaw clenches. She feels bad for how rude she must seem - she certainly doesn’t want to offend the waiter - but her reactions feel involuntary.
He says something quietly, obviously trying not to wake her table companion, and Noelle doesn’t catch it. She glances at Felix but he’s still passed out, Claude rising and falling with his breathing.
Noelle lowers the yarn in her hands and forces herself to make eye contact. The waiter seems apprehensive of her and she feels a pang of guilt. Perhaps she had offended him. His name tag reads “Steve.” She focuses on his face and ignores his wings. “What did you say?”
“Are you waiting for someone?” he asks again, his tone uneasy.
“We were supposed to meet someone here a while ago,” she tells him, hands fidgeting with the crochet hook, “but I guess she’s not coming.”
“Mind if I ask who? Maybe it’s a regular.”
“I only know her username.”
Steve moves a hand in a circular motion - an indication to say it anyway.
“R-da-1st?”
Steve’s face suddenly becomes all smiles. “Rita!”
Felix jumps, waking and sending Claude sprawling onto the table. “Is she here?!”
The waiter seems unfazed. He pulls out a chair and sits with them, his features alight with interest. “Rita Cardoso! She always meets her buyers here! Been selling off some of her collection recently. Took that loss pretty hard and quit for awhile I guess. Wonder if she’s done for good.”
“Loss?” Noelle asks.
“Done with what?” Felix says as Claude climbs up to his shoulder.
Steve looks at each of them, and his wings give a perplexed quiver. “Don’t you know who Rita Cardoso is?”
“Rita Cardoso,” Felix repeats. “Something about that sounds familiar.”
Noelle shakes her head.
Steve jumps to his feet, the chair behind him clacking to the ground. To Noelle’s horror his wings spread behind him as he crouches down, bringing two hands together to hold an invisible tennis racket. “Rita Cardoso!” he yells, throwing an imaginary ball in the air and swinging. “The unbeatable first lady of tennis!”
“Right!” Recognition registers on Felix’s face. “That’s where I’ve heard her name before! Rita’s a tennis star!”
“Love-fifteen!” Steve points at Felix.
______
Per Steve’s directions, they’re driving down a long wooded road outside Spokane to the mansion of Rita Cardoso, former tennis star and holder Samantha Cole’s auspice. Noelle feels a little odd about just showing up at this woman’s house, but she lets her pure determination to find the racket shove that aside. Maybe Rita had forgotten? Maybe this would be more convenient for her even?
Felix seems to share her concern. “Hope she don’t mind us turning up on her doorstep.”
“Well,” Noelle says. “We came all the way out here. We can’t not try, right?”
“I suppose, but, uh, there’s probably a reason she’s got her place in the middle of nowhere.”
And probably also a reason why she meets people at the cafe instead.
Noelle frowns. This was definitely not her best plan. “Let’s just see what it looks like and we’ll figure it out from there.”
While they drive, Noelle researches what she can about Rita on her phone. There are many photos of a woman in a white skirt and red top, with a long, full, brown ponytail bouncing along behind her. She’s muscular, tall, and formidable. She looks every bit the tennis prodigy the internet claims her to be. She tries searching several different ways, but can’t find any mention of what Rita’s wish had been.
Rita seemed to have a successful career with win after win, but something happened: She unexpectedly lost to a relative newcomer and disappeared from the tennis world. Many articles wonder when or if she would make her return. Some even questioned where she was now, claiming she was in hiding from her defeat.
The more she reads, the more she hesitates. If what she’s found is any indication, Rita doesn't want company. But what’s the alternative? Lose this auspice? No, she has to at least see what they’re up against.
There’s a break in the trees as Felix turns onto a long driveway.
He slams on the breaks.
They’re stopped in front of a huge mansion, but something is most definitely wrong. It’s covered in something fuzzy and mottled green, white, and gray colors. It’s spread over the entire building like a blanket, long strings and sheets of it stretching to the ground. It’s so well encased that it’s hard to make out what the mansion’s proper shape should be.
“Is that… mold?” Noelle says.
They drive closer, and stop outside the doors. Both get out of the car and gawk at the impossible in front of them. There’s no lights on inside and no one around. It looks forbidding and abandoned. The night air is chilly and the mansion is giving off a mildewy smell. Wind rustles some of the mold coats, making the surface of the building look like it’s undulating.
“Guess that explains why she wasn’t at the cafe,” Felix says as Claude perches on his shoulder, a disgusted look on his furry face.
“Hope she’s home.” Noelle mumbles, still in awe of the mansion.
She ducks back inside the car to grab the pocket watch, afraid to leave the one auspice she has behind.
They walk towards the mansion, inspecting it. Claude gives an anxious chitter.
“What? Nah, we’re not going inside,” Felix tells him. “Right?” He looks at Noelle.
She considers this. Was she willing to go inside? “Let’s start with knocking on the door first.”
They stand on the massive porch, and Noelle looks for any open areas not mold-covered to knock on.
There’s the sound of squealing tires behind them.
A black car is speeding down the driveway, white writing along the side of it. It’s windows are tinted so dark that they can’t see anything inside. It screeches to a halt in front of the mansion right beside Felix’s car.
Now that it’s stopped, Noelle makes out the words “Mold Busters” on the car along with a phone number and the slogan, “If you’ve got mold and mildew, we’ll help you bid it adieu.”
She and Felix exchange glances.
A man emerges dressed completely in black and wearing sunglasses despite the darkness around him. Across the front of his shirt in a curvy font that looks befitting of a tattoo shop is “Moldinator” in white letters. A black cap with the company name tops his head and a bulky utility belt is strapped to him.
“Oh no, no, no, I don’t think so!” he says, stomping his way up the porch to them. “This is my job. Who sent you?”
“Whoa, what are you talking about?” Felix says, holding his hands defensively in front of him.
The man in black points up at the mansion. “You see this? This, is Moldinator’s territory! You hear? I’ve got this.”
“Moldinator?” Felix asks. Claude growls.
The man jabs a finger at his own chest. “That’s right! That’s me, and I’ll be busting this mold on my own. I don’t know who sent you, but you can leave now that a real mold professional has arrived.”
“We don’t want to do anything with the mold,” Noelle tells him, bewildered at what another strange turn this is taking. “We were just looking for the owner.”
Moldinator’s demeanor changes. He crosses his arms and puts a hand to his chin, pensive. “Ah, yeah, the fungus witch. That’s gonna be a time.”
“Fungus witch?” she asks him.
“Lady who owns this mess!” He sounds exasperated with them. “Always knew that wasn’t gonna end well.”
Another exchange of looks between her and Felix.
“Guess that was the wish she got,” Felix shrugs.
Why would a tennis star wish to be a fungus witch? Noelle makes a mental note to add Rita to the data in her folder if she gets a chance. Maybe Moldinator too.
Moldinator pulls out a child’s water gun from the utility belt around his waist. “Well, if you’re not a competitor, I guess you can stay. Might need the help anyway.” He sprays whatever’s in the squirt gun onto the door handle, and an overwhelming chemical smell fills the air on the porch.
The mold covering the handle deteriorates and recedes.
“What, we’re breaking and entering now?” Felix says warily. There’s nervous chitters from Claude as he stands on his shoulders and places his hands on Felix’s head, eyeing Noelle.
Noelle freezes, mind filling with questions. How far was she willing to go for this auspice? Should they really be doing this? But, why had Rita not met them at the cafe? Why does the mansion look like this?
“What if there’s something wrong?” she says, unable to keep the last questions silent. “What if Rita or someone in there needs help?”
Moldinator hitches his pants up by his belt. “And that’s why Moldinator’s here.”
Felix scowls. “But the door might not even be-”
Moldinator turns the handle and the door opens with a loud, ominous creek.
He shines a light inside, looking around and making a “hmmm” noise, before fishing in one of the many pockets of the belt. He takes out three surgical masks, one black and two white. He hands the white ones to each of them, saving the black one for himself. “Just in case,” he says placing the mask over his nose and mouth. “Spores.” He walks cautiously inside.
Noelle sighs, knowing the masks will make lipreading impossible. She stares after Moldinator, hesitating. This auspice was supposed to be so easy to get and now? Now she’s facing a moldy mansion and a fungus witch. She thinks about how close her 25th birthday is; it’s like a ticking time bomb. She’s got to try. Noelle turns to Felix, pulling her mask onto her face, careful not to disrupt the hearing aid. “I’m going in.”
Felix frowns at the mask in his hand, and Noelle wonders if it reminds him of his time at the vet clinic.
“You don’t - you don’t have to go,” she tells him.
He looks up at her and is silent, thinking. Then he starts to put the strings of the mask over his ears. “Eh, what’s a little mold, right?”
Noelle gives him an appreciative smile, though the mask hides it.
Claude’s grip increases around Felix’s head. Felix pries at his paws, trying to loosen them. “He doesn’t wanna touch the mold.”
“That makes two of us,” Noelle says gingerly stepping over the threshold.
They follow Moldinator inside the fungus infested home.
Two wishes: that's what everyone gets. Make one at twelve, one at twenty-four, and at twenty-five, one of them would finally be granted.
But what did a twelve-year-old know about wishing for a twenty-five-year-old?
Noelle just wanted to fly.
So, as she neared twelve and it was soon time to make her first wish, that was her simple request. Others her age planned to ask for far more fantastical things, like super strength or the ability to manipulate plant life, so Noelle often felt like her wish was inadequate. Her parents and other adults didn't help in this regard with their gentle advice to ask for something practical; something that might secure her future, like mathematical genius.
But wishes had to be genuine or they'd be rejected, and for Noelle nothing was more honest than her desire for flight.
The entire wish making process was difficult, scary, and exciting. Or, at least, everything leading up to it was. It comprised a lot of playground talk, and older children would tell younger ones stories of the monster that hears your wishes. Others said it was a ghost, some said alien, her own grandmother once told her it was probably god. It's name varies from place to place, but its most common one is The Avis. You only speak to this being to make your wishes; twice you’d be in its presence and no more. Wars had been fought and religions had been formed in The Avis's name.
Noelle thought she'd know for sure what it was once she'd made her first wish, but instead she only came to understand why it was so undefinable.
At the exact hour of the start of her twelfth year, it happens. At 9:13AM she was sitting in the backseat of her parents car on the way to a birthday camping trip, a new scarf her mother had crocheted sitting in her lap. It had one big, light blue stripe, another yellow one, and a smaller white one separating them. It reminded her of a sunny day. She’d only had it since her mother completed it at 9:02, and handed it to her from the front of the car, but already it was her most favorite possession. Her hands were still lovingly petting it when at 9:14 she falls into a trance.
It's dark and there's nothing around her, but she knows someone - or something - is there. However, this isn't terrifying, but rather, comforting. A voice somehow speaks to her without making a sound. She can't tell if it's male or female, or if it's even human. It's familiar, yet strange. It's everywhere, but nowhere, and still there is nothing to see but darkness.
It's time. What is your first wish? The Avis asks.
Noelle hesitates. This is her last chance to change her mind. What else could she ask for? She'd once heard that someone had wished to go back in time to see their dog that had suddenly passed away. A boy in the grade above her told her that time requests were rarely granted, but possible. Should she ask for that? Her grandmother died last year. Surely even at twenty-five she'd want to see her grandmother again.
No. You cannot wish for that. The voice says, reading her thoughts.
Another lie the older kids had told her then. Panic is starting to creep in as Noelle scrambles for more ideas. She'd finally come to terms with what she wanted, but now that she was in the moment, her doubts are overbearing.
What were the rules? Because, of course, there must be rules; to wish for anything at all would be chaos. Could she remember all the rules? Which ones were even true? Which ones could be bent? You can't wish harm, you can't wish to rule, you can't change the course of history, you could wish for something for someone else but those were truly rare, you can't wish to-
You know what you want. The Avis interrupts her thoughts. Say it.
"I wanna fly!" Noelle blurts out. And it's true. She doesn't care how it happens, be it wings, levitation, floating, a jetpack, anything. This wish was the truth and it was the one she'd come back to time and time again, so how could she ever say anything else?
Accepted.
She opens her eyes and she’s back in the car with her parents. Her mother welcomes her back with a smile as bright as the scarf in her hands. Noelle smiles back, feeling relieved and grownup. She’d finally made her first wish.
At 9:24 there is an accident. So much is lost in those few moments, including Noelle’s desire to fly.
____
One month before her twenty-fifth birthday, Noelle stands outside what was formerly her apartment. Now, like the job she quit and the possessions she sold, it's nothing but a shell she's leaving behind. Years of work and research have led to this. Nothing left now, but the money she's carefully collected and items she decided to keep in an overstuffed backpack hanging on one shoulder. The ends of her scarf blow in the wind and she pulls her jacket closer to her.
This was it; she was finally going to do this. How many times had she imagined what this moment might be like? Sometimes it felt like she couldn’t wait to set her plans into motion, and other times she wondered if she could really go through with it at all. Right now she feels both of those things. There’s a nauseating combination of anticipation and anxiety crawling up her spine as she looks about this Seattle street one last time.
It’s busy, as always, with people hustling about. Noelle watches two men standing on the sidewalk opposite her. One was much older, while the other looked about her age. Suddenly the older one dissolves before her eyes, his form fizzling out in a cloud of lights. Then the lights reform and the man is standing beside her, already placing his hands around his mouth and yelling to the younger one, “Now you try!” A grandfather showing his grandson how to use his newly granted teleportation abilities. Funny how often members of the same family would wish for the same things.
The man across the street looks hesitant, his shoulders high and tense. Then, with a look of great concentration, he too dissolves...
And reappears atop a car stopped at a red light in the middle of the road, missing his mark.
The window of the car rolls down and the driver’s head pokes out. The woman begins berating the man standing on the roof of her car and as she does so, her neck continues to elongate, stretching out from the window until she’s face to face with him. He quickly climbs off the vehicle, nearly falling, and retreats to the sidewalk where his grandfather is standing. The woman’s head, still glaring at the pair of them, recoils back inside as the light turns green and she drives away.
There’s a shadow above Noelle and she glances up to see a slim woman flying by, her insect-like wings iridescent and translucent in the sun. Noelle reflexively looks away. Flying is a common wish, but it still irks her every time she sees it. Couldn’t her twelve-year-old self have wished for anything else? She’d even take a boring wish, like being incredibly good at doing taxes, over flight. But, that’s why she’s here, right?
She grabs her phone from her pocket, presses a button, and the screen brightens. A still frame of a man stares back at her - a video she’d paused earlier. His eyes are exceptionally friendly and warm, as is his smile. He’s got long dreadlocks tied back behind his head and he’s wearing his signature galaxy print shirt. In front of him is a painting of a bright orange and yellow bird - mercifully perched and not flying. His hands are frozen over the canvas in mid-sweep of a brushstroke.
Only a few seconds left on the video. Noelle hits play, and his hand continues its motion.
“Just one step at a time,” the man says, the words popping up in closed captions. His voice is smooth, soothing, and calming, though she can’t hear it after leaving the quietness of her apartment. Still, she could imagine it in her head perfectly - she’d listened to him so many times.
The man’s username below the video is Quasar. He’s known for making videos that have an almost sedative effect. In each he talks slowly, but confidently to the viewer while doing artistic activities like painting or sculpture. His movements are always precise and fluid, with every brushstroke always seeming to go right where he intends.
They might seem silly, but the videos are extremely popular, making Quasar nearly a household name. Plus, they were good for easing anxiety or insomnia.
There’s a rumor that he’s an Augur - someone granted a wish early at the age of twelve. For Augurs, the wish is always the same: the power of persuasion. Noelle had heard that they can convince anyone to do anything, though she’s never seen this firsthand. She’s never even met one; most haven’t. They are extremely rare with only two or three alive at any one time. When one passes, another is born somewhere.
They’re said to have a special connection to The Avis, and many of them become religious leaders. For as much as Quasar’s videos have developed a cult-like following, he isn’t that.
Still, people swear up and down that Quasar’s calming videos are the result of him being an Augur. Maybe he’d merely wished for internet fame, and this was how it manifested. Surely if he were truly an Augur, it would be more widely known. She would know, given all the digging she’s done on them.
Though the videos calm her, they do not always have the same effect on her compared to her aunt, who’d recommended them. High-strung aunt Darcy would be completely mellowed out after a couple Quasar videos. Noelle was mostly just more able to focus or at least reassured. Relaxed yes, but not quite the zen state aunt Darcy achieved.
Regardless, Noelle’s grateful for the videos and watches them on occasion when she's anxious, like now. Most things she could keep a level head about, but this? This trip and what it means? How can she not be nervous about that?
She’s going to ensure the wish she’d made at twelve will not be granted. It had taken years to get here, all to make sure she will never fly.
Flying. She chased away the images of the woman who’d buzzed by earlier. Sometimes even if she so much as thought too hard about heights or flight she’d shiver. Nightmares where she endlessly falls are frequent. Sometimes it’d make it hard to sleep - another instance where Quasar’s videos came in handy.
“One step at a time,” the mini Quasar on her phone screen continues, “and we’ll get there. Don’t matter how long it takes. All that matters is that we get there.”
The video concludes and Noelle returns to the home screen. Right, one step at a time. Now, it’s time to take the first step in her plan.
Inhaling, Noelle opens an application called Fun Ride Timez. A map appears with a pin on her location. Tapping through options, she requests the nearest car to take her as far as the app will allow.
A notification pops up. Your ride's on its way! Your driver's name is Felix. A tiny virtual car begins moving towards her pin on the screen. The driver's name sits below the map along with a countdown to his arrival. Noelle taps on the name and scrolls through the reviews left on the driver's profile. His rating is two stars out of five. It doesn't look good.
Literally the worst Fun Ride Timez driver there is.
I dunno. He's ok.
This man has an actual wild animal in the car with him.
How is he still a driver? See this is why no one uses FRT.
Omg that last person called it FRT. I can't believe how close that is to fart. I never realized. Anyway, yeah, this guy is a disaster.
Yeah he's just bad. He's got like a possum or something with him. Or is it opossum?
I earn $4435 a week working from home! Follow the link to find out how!
The only music he would play was Belinda Carlisle and Cyndi Lauper... I asked if he had anything else at all and he made me get out of the car.
I jumped out of the car. While it was moving.
Well these people are all just awful! I had a fine time and I enjoyed the music. This was the music I listened to when I was his age! He reminds me of my son.
He went into waaaay too much detail on what's involved in operating on a dog's eye and I was made to be very uncomfortable.
Just cancel your ride and find another driver.
No, not good at all, but maybe this was useful. Truthfully she's going to need someone desperate. With these reviews and ratings, people probably often cancel rides on him, so maybe he'd be willing to take her up on her offer. She'd rather not continually switch cars and drivers, so if she can manage it, she's going to convince this one to take her further than her specified location. The less shuffling around she has to do, the better.
The problem was convincing. She could lie - make up some more believable story that would enlist some stranger in her meticulously planned road trip - but, she’d never been good at lying.
“Ah, Noelle,” she heard the memory of her aunt Darcy say in her head. “So pragmatic you are, just like your mother, my sister.”
Aunt Darcy raised her after the accident - a feat she wasn’t always prepared for. Her aunt is awkward, but friendly; always outgoing, even if everyone around her is staring at her oddly. She’s so bubbly and strange, like a drink flavor you weren’t sure should be carbonated. Noelle adores her, despite the fact that she’s always comparing her to her deceased parent.
The phrase “your mother, my sister,” begins so many conversations with aunt Darcy. She says the words so often they’ve lost their meaning. They feel like a royal title her aunt has bestowed on her beloved lost sister - a sister that she insists Noelle is so very like.
Noelle doesn’t mind the comparison, but she wonders how much of it is true. Her memories of her mother are bright and cheery and Noelle often doesn’t feel that way, even if her hair is as sunshine yellow as Your Mother, My Sister.
Aunt Darcy is a librarian, and, how could she not be with the wish she was granted? She can call books to her and they fly towards her open hand with amazing speed. She can put them back in their proper place in much the same way. She sashays around the library with her huge glasses and purple shawl (another crocheted gift from Your Mother, My Sister) sending books this way and that.
She is, unfortunately, a bit clumsy with this gift. The other librarians set up warning signs when aunt Darcy is working. They urge patrons to watch their heads lest they get smacked with a book.
Noelle had spent so much time growing up in that library - It’s where her plans for this day had begun.
Aunt Darcy’s wish also made her a proficient researcher - a beneficial side effect. She can track down just about any info you please and Noelle used this to her advantage, despite protests.
“Ah, Noelle,” another Aunt Darcy catchphrase. “You know, even if you get wings you could just stay grounded! Is all this really necessary? Maybe we could work on finding ways to... come to terms with this instead? No? Ha! Still as stubborn as your mother, my sister. Alright, what you’re looking for should be here.”
Aunt Darcy is supportive, always, even if she doesn’t fully understand, like when it came to Noelle’s love of horror movies. She’d cover her eyes throughout almost entire run times, but she’d take her niece anyway. Every subtitled showing of the latest gory scare fest, they’d be there.
There was a third thing the accident had taken besides her parents and will to fly: Noelle is nearly deaf in her right ear.
She’s worn a hearing aid for years, which helps, but it’s still nowhere near the same as before the accident. In quiet places, like her aunt’s library, it’s easier. There, she can focus, hear, and usually make out what people are saying. Crowds, loud machinery, and noisy scenes like this busy street are more difficult.
Aunt Darcy had taken notice of her frustrations early on. By now, Noelle’s fully adapted to being hard of hearing, but this adjustment wasn’t always easy, especially not at first. Classmates were less than understanding, often telling her that she now “talked too loud,” and they grew tired of repeating themselves for her.
One day in the library after school, her aunt came and sat with her at the table where she’d been reading. Aunt Darcy placed a paper on the table and gently slid it towards her, giving her a thoughtful look. “Would you like to do this? We can both enroll.” Aunt Darcy learned to be easy to understand in a way that wasn’t condescending - always facing Noelle, and always at her normal speaking pace - no exaggerated slowness or yelling her words the way the children at school did on the playground or in the cafeteria.
Noelle picked up the paper. It was an ad for American Sign Language classes.
This opened up a new way for her and her aunt to communicate. It was another in a new box of tools she was learning to use. She’d utilize different things depending on the situation, be it spoken word, sign language, text, or pen and paper. Her aunt would watch her for clues on how she felt like communicating at any given moment and respond accordingly. If her aunt were here now, they probably would have signed amid all the noise.
But Aunt Darcy is nowhere near here. She’d stayed back in her library, while Noelle had gone off to college in Seattle. School might have gone better if it weren’t for the one thing that was always on Noelle’s mind: thwarting this wish.
That had become obsession to the point that she ignored schoolwork. She’d done much the same throughout high school too, but that seemed somehow easier to manage. While at college, she’d reached a breakthrough and she had to follow through with it, no matter what the cost, even school. In any case, there would be time for that later.
She’d stayed in Seattle even after dropping out - it was crucial to what she’d found. She got a small apartment and took whatever jobs she could find working from home, carefully planning and saving money in preparation.
All of this - everything - has led to the silver car coming to a stop in front of her now. Her phone vibrates with a new notification. Your ride is here!
Noelle takes one steadying breath. She’s ready for this.
She opens the door and is greeted by the voice of Cyndi Lauper loudly singing, “Flashback, warm nights. Almost left behind. Suitcases of memories-” The driver inside turns off the music.
Noelle begins climbing into the car, but the driver doesn’t look at her. He stays staring straight ahead, and says in a bored tone that she strains to make out while the door’s open, “Hello and thank you for choosing Fun Ride Timez. I’m your driver, Felix, and- okay you’re sitting in the front seat. I guess that’s happening.”
Noelle moves a bag, a water bottle, and other assorted items to the back, so she can sit properly in the front passenger side. She shoots him a perturbed look at his not so friendly greeting, but he still hasn’t turned his gaze toward her. She closes, the door, making sure not to shut it on her scarf.
She knew the items in the seat were meant to discourage passengers from sitting there, but sitting up front with him might make it easier to correctly hear him. She could have sat in the back and tried to catch any missed words by reading his lips in the rearview mirror, but that was always so exhausting and inaccurate.
Felix continues his obviously corporate mandated monologue as she clicks her seat belt into place and the car pulls away from the curb. “We here at Fun Ride Timez hope you enjoy your ride and leave our fine driver a four star review. Be sure to recommend Fun Ride Timez to your friends for a discount code. Yada yada yada and so on and so forth.”
Noelle looks around the car. A couple of the reviews had mentioned a “wild animal” but she doesn’t see anything. It’s just your average, relatively clean, reasonably new, four-door car. No animals in sight, wild or otherwise. He’s yet to turn the music back on, keeping the car mercifully quiet.
She turns to Felix. His eyes are still immovably forward. He doesn’t seem interested in engaging with her at all, but she needs him to if she’s going to sell him on her plan. This wasn’t exactly her forte. The ferocity with which she chased her goal didn’t leave much time for socializing. What would Aunt Darcy do? She was so good at making conversation in her own strange way. Noelle decides to go with discussing his music choices. “So… Cyndi Lauper?”
For the first time Felix glances at her for just a moment. “Yep.” Nothing more.
Fine, if he wasn’t going to talk much then maybe she should just add to her notes. Noelle opens the backpack by her feet and sifts through it. Her hand brushes against some yarn and crochet needles - she had picked up her mother’s hobby a few years back. Well, if the situation became dangerous, at least she had some sort of makeshift weapons. She finds the folder she’s looking for and pulls it out. It’s yellow, worn, and very full of paper. She removes the pen clipped to the front of it.
Noelle has notes of all kinds related to her quest, some kept on her phone, others on her computer, and some in the folder on her lap. The chart she’s taking from the pocket now comprises the bulk of the folder. On it are names and traits belonging to them that she’s kept for years.
She thought that maybe she could predict the likelihood of knowing whether her twelve-year-old or twenty-four-year-old wish would be granted based on physical attributes. For example, from the data she’s gathered, green-eyed people were more likely to get the wish they’d made at twelve, while blue-eyed people more often got their twenty-fourth.
At the top of this list on the first page is her own name: Noelle Dobs, eyes: brown, hair: blonde, gender: female, wish granted:? Then there is her aunt: Darcy Webster, eyes: green, hair: brown, gender: female, wish granted: 24th. And on and on the list goes with countless names and stats she’s collected.
When she was younger, there’d been more categories on the list. However, she quickly learned that not everyone was too keen on being asked more personal questions. Places for things like weight and height had been removed to make it less awkward.
Noelle clicked the pen down. “How old are you?” she asks Felix matter-of-factly.
Another dubious glance from her driver. “Um, what?”
“How old are you?” she repeats.
“Twenty-seven. Why?”
Good, he’s been granted a wish and so would be good data to add. “And which wish did you get?”
This time he stares a bit longer, giving Noelle the opportunity to jot down that his eyes are brown and his hair is black. His dark hair is a bit messy and shaggy, like it’s a week or three past needing to be cut. She adds his gender in the proper category.
The car suddenly swerves a bit. Noelle looks up to find Felix craning towards her.
“What’re you writing down? What’s this for? You know, most people just leave a bad review, they don’t do… whatever it is you’re doing.” He looks alarmed.
“No, no, it’s not like that,” Noelle tells him.
“Then, what’s it like?”
“This is just for me. It’s for a project. Nothing bad. I’m not going to leave a bad review or anything.”
His face is screwed up in confusion. “You do this to every driver?”
“Yes, actually.” She gives him a small smile. She does this to anyone she dares ask. The more data, the better.
Felix blinks a couple times, his hands nervously shifting around on the steering wheel. “I got my twelve-year-old wish.”
“And what was it?” This isn’t a category on her chart, but he has no physical indications of what he’d been granted and she’s always curious.
There’s more fidgeting and then Felix mumbles something that she doesn’t catch.
“I’m sorry?”
“Animals,” says Felix. “I can - I can talk to animals and they can talk to me.”
This feels surprising to Noelle, but maybe it shouldn’t. Maybe he’s just better with animals than he is with people. “Oh, that’s pretty neat.”
“Yeah, well, you got any more questions or are you done?”
“Last one. What’s your full name?”
“Felix Yin.”
And with the last of the information filled out, Noelle replaces the folder in her bag. She looks him over. The torso of the jacket he’s wearing is a gray denim, while the sleeves and hood are made of a black sweatshirt material. The colors almost reminded her of-
A raccoon - a real, live raccoon - leaps up onto his shoulder and lounges there as he continues to drive. Noelle jumps and stifles a scream. Felix doesn’t react.
Noelle stares openmouthed as the animal chitters at her. Where had it been hiding?
“Nah, it’s fine,” Felix says.
She’s nearly asks him what he’s talking about when she realizes he’s talking to the raccoon.
”It’s kind of far, yeah, but it’s fine,” he continues. Then he glances at Noelle and does a double-take at her still shocked face. “Oh, uh, so this is Claude.”
“Claude?!”
“Well, Claude Bourgelat founded the very first veterinary school back in 1762 and- what?”
Noelle is dumbfounded. “The raccoon’s name is Claude?”
“I mean, I could tell you his name in raccoon, but I think that’s just gonna confuse you more if ‘Claude’ is so mind blowing.”
“It’s more that there’s a raccoon in the car at all,” Noelle huffs.
“Don’t like raccoons?”
She pauses. “I’m not the biggest fan.”
“Oh.” Felix looks disappointed. He nudges Claude with his shoulder. “You shouldn’t be up front anyway, buddy.”
More chatter from the creature - arguing Noelle isn’t privy to.
Felix reaches into one of the pockets on his jacket and pulls out a small, white object - a marshmallow - and tosses it over his shoulder.
Claude watches it sail into the back of the car and dives for it.
As Felix leans back into his seat the sun glints off of something stuck to the left side of his jacket. There’s three pins there. One of a piece of broccoli, one a golden plus sign, and the last is something familiar, yet unexpected: It’s a silver feather standing upright, it’s top end curling into a spiral - the symbol of The Avis. “Are you… religious?” Noelle asks.
Felix looks perplexed by the question for a moment, then his hand seems to subconsciously cover the pin in an almost defensive way. “Not particularly.”
There’s a scrambling up the back of her chair. Raccoon paws clamor to the top of the right side, and Claude perches beside her head. He sniffs at Noelle and regards her suspiciously. She leans away.
“Leave her alone,” Felix tells him. Did his pet always bother customers like this?
Claude nearly barks at him. Felix glances away from the road, about to speak, but Claude continues.
“What?” Noelle asks as a raccoon hand pats her head.
Felix clears his throat. “He, uh, wants to know what’s in your ear.”
He’s an observant little guy. She tucks her hair behind her ear as Claude watches. “It’s a hearing aid. I’ve lost most of my hearing in this ear.”
“Ah.” There’s an awkward pause. “You know sign language?”
Do you know how to sign? She signs to him, though he can only look for a moment at her motions.
Felix shrugs. “I don’t, uh-”
“I know a good bit, but I’m rusty,” she tells him. She’d felt out of practice with it since she’d moved to Seattle.
Claude continues to pat her head. He chitters again at Felix.
“It’s just helps her hear,” Felix says. He reaches a hand over, attempting to push the raccoon away from Noelle, but Claude just shoves his hand back with his paws. “Would you quit bothering people!”
The car swerves again.
“It’s fine!” Noelle shouts as Felix corrects the vehicle.
His hand retreats from Claude. “You sure?”
Noelle looks up at the raccoon. Claude stares back at her, his head turning to the side. She really isn’t a fan of raccoons, but this one was cute enough. Besides, whatever kept the car from wavering. “Yes.”
Felix gives her a relieved smile and points to the glove box in front of her. “There’s marshmallows in there, if you wanna give him some. Just be careful - he’ll take the whole bag if you let him.”
Claude goes on full alert. His face goes from hers to the glovebox and back again.
“Guess you gotta now,” Felix laughs.
Noelle carefully pulls the latch and the compartment swings open. An open bag of marshmallows sits inside. Claude sniffs at the air. Quickly, before he can get any bright ideas, she takes one and closes the glovebox.
When she holds it up to him, he slowly reaches for it, almost reverently, before snatching it from her hand. He scurries to the left side of the top of the chair so he’s between her and Felix. He pats her on the head once more in an appreciative way while the other paw shoves the marshmallow into his mouth.
“So you’re headed to...,” Felix glances at his phone sitting in a cradle attached to the windshield. “A gas station?”
The furthest location the app would allow her to select was indeed a gas station about an hour away.
“So about that,” she begins. “Would you be willing to drive further than that? I’ll pay you of course.”
“How much further?”
“My first stop is near Spokane and-”
“Spokane? That’s, like, four hours away.”
“Yes, but-”
“And what do you mean ‘first stop?’”
Noelle inhales and exhales. Well, here goes nothing. “When I was twelve, I wished to fly, but then there was an accident and now? Well, now I need to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
Now it’s Felix’s turn to look at her with his mouth slightly agape. “What?”
“I’m going to make sure I get the twenty-fourth one instead.”
Claude notices Felix’s alarm and looks at her, his face coming between the both of them.
Felix tries to push him out of the way. “I’m sorry, there’s an entire raccoon happening between us and you - you’re gonna do what now?”
Noelle swallows. She knows how this next sentence is going to sound. “I’m going to convince The Avis to choose that wish.”
Felix turns a corner a little too sharply and Claude almost loses his footing on the seat. “What, you think you’re gonna get a third chance to talk to that thing?”
You do usually only talk to The Avis twice, and the second time had not gone so great for Noelle, in fact, it felt rather disastrous. This third time, if she can get it, would be better.
“Yes,” she tells him confidently.
“And how, exactly, are you going to do that?”
“You know what Augurs are, right?”
Felix laughs in a strange, rueful way. “Yeah.”
“You look up enough about them, and you’ll keep coming across mentions of objects they have that seem to be supernatural - lucky items. Sometimes they’re called ‘auspices.’ Usually they look just like any old thing, but they’re personal.” Noelle’s hand goes to the scarf around her neck. If she’d been an Augur, she’s sure it might have been her auspice.
“Okay, and what’s this got to do with Spokane?”
“If you can gather enough of these objects, it might,” she stops for a moment, feeling silly speaking this all aloud. She can tell by the look on his face that he’s not even slightly convinced. She deflates a little. She knew it couldn’t possibly be that easy. “It might be enough to call the Avis. A literal ‘taking of the auspices’ so to speak.”
“I know for a fact that’s not true,” is all he says.
There’s a flicker of defensiveness in her chest. “And how could you possibly know that?”
“Well, for one, that’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. And two-”
Noelle rummages through her bag again.
“What now?” he asks.
When she sits back up, there’s a tarnished copper pocket watch hanging from a chain in her hand. There’s a feather etched on the front - the same symbol as Felix’s pin. “I’ve already got one,” she tells him.
Felix glances at it a couple times. “Yeah, that sure is a pocket watch.”
“A pocket watch belonging to Hector Evans, an Augur in the 1920’s. His auspice.”
“You really believe this, huh?”
“I have to.” Noelle clasps the watch in her hands, her thumb running over the symbol etched on the cover.
“All this because you don’t wanna fly?”
“It’s more than that.”
“You’re afraid?”
Noelle is quiet. “Afraid” feels like such an understatement. This is more than being “afraid;” this is all-encompassing - it’s crushing.
“Yes,” she says anyway. It’s still a simple enough word to try and sum up what she feels she can’t convey.
Felix’s hands shift around on the steering wheel again. “Flying’s not so bad. My brother flies… and he’s also indestructible and got the whole super-strength thing going on.”
Noelle barely resists the urge to roll her eyes. Flying is “so bad” to her and it’s frustrating when others try to diminish that. “Is he part of the National Superman Association?” she asks. One of the more common wishes people make is to be a particular superhero. There are many, many Supermen.
“Nah,” Felix huffs. “He’s lacking the heat vision. Or something. Ha, he was pretty pissed when he couldn't join. Anyway, point is, you get used to it, don’t you? Flying?”
Noelle shakes her head. “I just - I just can’t.” She needed to move on from this subject.
“So now you need someone to escort you on your wild goose chase?”
Noelle feels like she’s losing a handle on the situation. “Look, it doesn’t matter if you believe me. I just need someone to take me to these locations. You’ll be paid. You don’t have to do anything but drive. Are you gonna do this, or not?”
Felix drives quietly for a moment. Claude chitters in the silence. “You got more stops after Spokane?”
“A few.” Maybe more than a few.
Felix sighs and puts a hand to his head. The car begins to pull over, stopping by the sidewalk.
Noelle feels disappointment creeping over her.
His gaze meets hers, his face resolute. “Yeah, I don’t think I’m your driver for this one. Sorry.”
No, of course, it wouldn’t be that easy. Noelle says nothing, but opens the door and gathers her bag, stepping out onto the sidewalk. Claude gives her one last bark as the door closes.
Is it worth calling another driver? Will every reaction be just like this? She’d hoped the promise of pay would be enough to do the job even with all the implausibility, but maybe she was wrong. No, she won’t give up, but is she going to have to find another way?
She gets out her phone, waiting for Felix’s car to pull away, but it doesn’t. She can’t hear them, but inside it looks as if Felix and Claude are having some kind of heated debate. The raccoon is waving his paws in the air and chattering in his human companion’s direction. Felix looks exasperated and is shrugging his shoulders with his hands in the air in an “oh well” kind of motion.
Noelle’s lowers the phone in her hand as she continues to watch them. What? Is it too much to hope that they’re changing their minds?
The door opens. Felix stands out of the car, Claude hanging over his shoulder. He walks around the back, approaching her. “You’re gonna pay for gas, food, driving, everything?”
Noelle blinks, feeling disbelieving, but relieved. She nods.
Felix stares at her for a moment, considering. Then he turns and begins picking at something on the car window. Confused, Noelle leans to look. It’s a Fun Ride Timez sticker.
He scratches at it, cursing under his breath in words that Noelle can’t catch, until Claude runs down his arm, and in one swift pull peels off the sticker, handing it to Felix.
He turns back to her and with utmost seriousness, tosses the decal onto the ground.
He’s about to speak when his raccoon lets out a distressed squeal. Claude scrambles down, grabbing the sticker, and climbing back up to shove it in Felix’s face, clearly reprimanding him.
“Yeah, yeah, alright,” Felix takes the sticker back.
Noelle steps toward them. “What’s he saying?”
Felix sighs. “He said, ‘Don’t litter. What are you, an animal?’”
Noelle laughs. Well, this certainly won’t be a boring trip.
“So,” says Felix, opening the door as Claude gives her a ‘right-this-way’ gesture. “Spokane, right?”
