The Last Adventure of Constance Verity by A. Lee Martinez Page B

launch a lightning bolt, the wand exploded in her face. Swearing, she beat the sparks out of her hair.
    â€œShould we do something?” asked Tia.
    â€œShe’s fine,” said Connie.
    After smothering the flames, Grandmother Willow grumbled.“Whatever you’re selling, I’m not buying. I don’t want to hear about whatever gods you’re fortunate or foolish enough to believe in. And I don’t grant wishes, if that’s what you’re here for. That is a genie. I’m a whole different thing. Or I was.” Grandmother Willow wiped her watering eyes and took her first real look at Connie.
    â€œOh, shit. It’s you.” Grandmother Willow sneered. Her left eye twitched. She blew out her smoking wand.
    â€œYou remember me?” asked Connie.
    â€œYou’re Constance Verity, child. How could I not remember you? I was wondering if you’d ever try to find me.”
    She stumbled back inside.
    â€œWell, are you coming in, or did you come all this way just to watch an ex-godmother make a fool of herself?”
    Connie and Tia followed Grandmother Willow into her home. The place was a mess of old newspapers, dusty furniture, and mice. So many mice scampering about underfoot, in the open, across the coffee table. The only sources of light were an old TV bathing everything in a pale blue and what sunlight managed to filter through the tree branches over the fresh hole in the ceiling.
    Grandmother Willow flopped onto a floral-print couch covered in plastic. Staring at the TV, she asked, “You two want a wine cooler or something? I think I have some gingerbread in the oven. It’s a week old but probably still good.”
    â€œNo. Thank you,” said Connie.
    â€œSuit yourself.” Grandmother Willow snapped her fingers.Several mice, carrying a bottle, scurried out of the kitchen and handed it to her. “Thanks, fellas.” She twisted the cap off and chugged the cooler.
    â€œAre you going to stand there like a couple of idiots? Take a seat.”
    A rolling office chair and a recliner ambled over to Connie and Tia. The recliner waddled slowly on its stubby legs, and the office chair knocked over a pile of newspapers.
    â€œAh, hell, I just got those organized.”
    Connie and Tia took mercy on the walking furniture and navigated the mess to sit down.
    â€œYou must have a lot of questions,” said Grandmother Willow.
    â€œWhat the hell happened to you, Grandmother Willow?” asked Connie.
    Grandmother Willow snorted. “It’s Thelma. Grandmother Willow was my godmother name. I lost that when I lost my license.”
    Thelma snorted.
    â€œYou happened to me, child. Someone like you. Except not you. You’re the lucky one. You turned out all right. Took to my blessing rather well, but I suppose someone was bound to eventually. I must say I’m surprised it was you. You didn’t leave much of an impression on me. There was a girl in Munich who I thought had such potential. But these things are unpredictable.”
    â€œThere are others?” asked Tia. “Like Connie?”
    â€œLike Constance? No, there aren’t any others like her. She survived her blessing. Many others didn’t. A life of adventureisn’t for the weak. There were many candidates, but only one could fill the role.”
    â€œYou twisted old bitch,” said Connie. “How long have you been doing this?”
    â€œMe? I’m just a glorified delivery faerie. I go where I’m told, bestowing enchantments as directed. Just a drudge in the Godmother Corps. Or I was, until I lost my license. And it’s all because of you. Or someone like you but not so fortunate.”
    â€œHang on,” said Connie. “My parents told me you said I chose my blessing.”
    Thelma chuckled. “That was a bit of showmanship. I am—I was a professional. I could’ve darted in while you were asleep, sprinkled some faerie dust on your head