What I Wore to Save the World (26 page)

Where was my support? Where were the unicorns? Where, oh where, was Colin?

The chant was insistent. There was no way to wait any longer.

Finnbar took hold of the podium microphone and announced in a solemn voice, “All right, time for the election! First we register eligible voters, ballots will be distributed, filled out in number two pencil, then sealed and transported in armored cars to the offices of Price Waterhouse . . .” He paused and saw the
enough, already
look on my face. “Never mind, we don't have time for all that. If you're here you can vote! How about a show of hands? All in favor of Queen Titania staying queen, raise your hands!”

About half the hands I could see went up. To my eye it seemed that Titania easily took the gargoyle vote, and most of the trolls. But there were literally thousands of votes to count.

Finnbar was overwhelmed. “I'm going to need a little help, please,” he cried. Obligingly, the swarm of fireflies appeared from nowhere and whizzed around the crowd, counting. Then they formed a blinking numerical scoreboard directly over our heads.

Finnbar waited until the figures stopped tabulating. He whistled in admiration at the total. “What a big number! That's going to be hard to beat. All right—now raise your hand if you want Morganne to take over as queen!”

More hands went up. I seemed to have strong support among the pixies, humans and elves. The leprechauns looked evenly split. The fireflies scattered and re-formed, new numbers flickering until the tally was final.

My total was two votes short of Titania's.

“I win, I win!” Titania danced around, waving her pirate sword in victory. “What will I wear to the coronation? Must go shopping, must go shopping—”

There was a sound like distant thunder. The ground shook beneath our feet.

“Stop the tally,” Finnbar yelled.

From the back of the press pool I heard Anderson Cooper's steady voice: “Election still too close to call; more voters are arriving at the polls, stay tuned for updates—”

As it got closer the sound grew more distinct. It was the sound of hooves, rhythmically pounding the earth. In the nearby hills I saw a mass of dust racing along the ground toward us, shot through with flashes of light and the glint of silver.

The unicorns were here! They leaped from the hillsides onto the boardwalk and then to the piazza. The crowd parted and the beautiful animals galloped through. They were led by Epona. Her silvery tail waved behind her proudly, like a flag of liquid metal.

On her back, white as a sheet and clutching her mane for dear life—Colin.

“Bloody hell,” he cried, as he slipped off her back and nearly fell to the ground. “That's a bit different than riding a bike, I'll tell ye that much.” He gave me a shaky grin and almost lost his balance again. Epona nimbly blocked his fall with her horn.

A moment later, Grandpap trotted up on another unicorn. He was his real age again but looked as hearty and vigorous as I'd ever seen him. Unlike Colin, he was perfectly comfortable on horseback.

“Whee!” He jumped confidently to the ground. “Haven't had a good gallop like that in years! Makes a fella feel young all over again.” He gave me a broad wink.

I'd never been so glad to see anyone as I was to see these two. I threw my arms around Colin. “How did you know to come?”

“Are ye kiddin', lass?” Grandpap gave his mount a hearty muzzle-rub, which the unicorn seemed to appreciate. “Yer famous! This election business is all over the telly. We would've got here sooner but we were lollygagging on the farm; the news got to us a wee bit late.”

Colin gave me a wry look. “Ye were right about the surprise, Mor. Though it was a happy one, once I picked me jaw up off the floor. But it was surely good to see Granny—well, Nan, again.”

“Aye, that it was.” Grandpap's voice was full of emotion. “Lucky these fine ponies here came by and picked us up, or we'd still be walkin'. But enough jibber jabber, we're here for the votin'. Where do I put me mark?”

“Sorry, you're too late,” Titania barked. “Polls are closed.”

“No, they're not,” Finnbar said, hands fluttering nervously. “We haven't declared a winner yet.”

“Well then,” Grandpap declared, “I vote for Morgan here.”

“I do too.” There was an unmistakable glow shining in Colin's eyes. “I know this girl as well as I know anyone, and I know ye could have no finer queen than she'll be.”

Titania howled with contempt. “‘Knows her well'? Please! He didn't even find out she was part goddess until today!”

“That's not entirely true,” Colin said firmly. “I may not have understood it, but I always knew there was something special—something
magical
—about Morgan. Ye'd have to be blind not to see it.”

He took both of my hands in his own. “What a stubborn-headed fool I've been, Mor. When I think of what ye must've gone through, having to keep such a big secret from everyone—even from me—just so as not to upset the world the way this selfish biddy seems eager to do. That takes a kind of courage that few people have.”

“His grandmother talked some sense into him,” Grandpap said to me as an aside. “Told him some of the old stories about the half-goddess Morganne too. Shoulda seen the look on his mug!”

Colin turned to the crowd. “The truth is, Morgan Rawlinson's always been a goddess in my eyes. And I'd be proud and happy to see her as Queen of the Faeries.”

It may not have been very queenly, but I couldn't help it. I jumped up and kissed him, right on the lips. The fireflies obligingly formed themselves into a blinking heart shape encircling our heads, which made us laugh so hard we had to stop smooching.

“Don't look so happy, chickie,” Titania snarled. “Even with these two highly questionable votes counted, it's still a tie. And I'm already queen, so in case of a tie I win. That's a rule.”

“Really? I don't recall seeing that in the
Book of Horns
.” Finnbar hoisted the book into his arms and ruffled through the pages in a panic.

“Call it the Second Amendment,” she said with a sneer. “I just thought of it.”

“But what about the unicorns?” I laid my hand on Epona's warm neck. “They have to vote too.”

Epona half-lowered her long lashes. “We voted absentee. You know how shy we are.”

“Ha! The unicorn vote has already been counted! Now, about my coronation . . .” Titania's evil chuckle was the only sound to be heard.

“Wait a second,” I said suddenly. “Finnbar!
You
haven't voted yet!”

“I can't.” Finnbar was practically twitching with anxiety. “I'm holding the book, see?”

Colin held out his strong, reassuring hands. “No worries, pal. I'll hold this tome while ye cast yer ballot. It's yer right and yer duty, as a citizen.”

“And as a librarian,” I added.

Trembling from head to foot, Finnbar handed the book to Colin. He looked at me, and then at Titania. All the television cameras were trained on him. A dozen microphones were suddenly in front of his face.

“Oh my!” He giggled nervously. “I feel very, very important right now. I feel like what I say next will actually make a difference in the world. Like humble, ordinary me has the power to affect the course of history!”

He stopped shaking, and his voice gained strength. “In fact, I feel so important that I'm not scared anymore. And since I'm not scared anymore, I cast my vote for—” He paused for effect, then pointed at me. “Morganne! Let's hear it for Queen Morganne!”

“Nooooooooo!”
Titania screeched, before the crowd could react. “Look at him! He's not old enough to vote! His vote doesn't count.”

“He's fekkin' immortal!” I shouted. “How could he not be old enough?”

My supporters took up the cry. Finnbar tapped his chin thoughtfully, but now there was a gleam of mischief in his eye. “Hmmm. If you're going to judge solely by appearances, then Mother dear does have a point. But that problem is easily fixed.”

And then, right before our eyes, Finnbar changed. First he made himself younger, until he was about Tammy's age.

“Oops!” he squealed, in his little boy voice. “Wrong direction, hang on.”

Then he made himself older.

And older.

And older.

Until he looked like—

Correction: until he
was
—

“Mr. Phineas?” I croaked.

the crowd finally got to go wild. there was cheering, yelling, more firefly pyrotechnics, and revved-up unicorns doing a victory wave with their light-up horns. But all I could do was stare at Mr. Phineas—I mean Mr. Finnbar—oh,
phek it
—Phinnbar!

“You?” I still couldn't believe it, but there was no mistaking that shiny bald head surrounded by wild gray frizz. Even the ear hair was visible.

He chuckled. “You have to admit it was very clever, that bit with the ‘check your e-mail at 8 P.M., follow instructions exactly!' Ha-ha! But I did
so
want you to come for a visit! It'd been ages since we'd seen each other!”

Only then did I notice that Colin and Grandpap were staring at Phinnbar too—Colin in amazement, Grandpap with a look of fond recognition.

Colin sputtered. “B-but—when you were a little boy there, a moment ago—that was you too then?”

“They're all me, Colin, old pal.” Phinnbar grinned, revealing his yellow teeth. “Don't you remember me?”

“Bloody hell!” Colin cried. “Of course I remember ye! Ye're Finn; ye were my imaginary friend when I was just a wee boy-o. And then I went to school and I told ye to be gone, because I was too old for such babyish ways.” I could swear Colin was blushing now. He stuck out his hand to Phinnbar. “What a rude dolt I was. I feel like I owe ye an apology, there, Finn.”

Phinnbar took Colin's hand graciously. “No need. It happens all the time with you mortals. And as you see, old friends never disappear for good.”

“He used to come visit me and Nan too, after ye were grown,” Grandpap added, crossing his arms. “She made him cups o' tea; oh, he'd tell us marvelous stories, marvelous! We always enjoyed yer visits immensely, Finnsie. Do ye know, it was Finnsie's idea for me to come back to Wales on me anniversary to begin with! Ye stopped by the house just last week, didn't ye? We had a long chat about it. Ye stuck the idea in my head like gum to the bottom of a chair.”

“Ye daft old thing, why the bloody hell didn't ye tell me that a faery told ye to come here?” Colin sputtered. “I gave up a weeks' work for it, ye know!”

“Didn't tell ye?” Grandpap cuffed him on the side of the head. “How many times did we tell ye about the wee folk livin' in the fields and the forests? And did ye ever stop mockin' us long enough to listen?”

“All right, settle down, Paps—”

“Ye wouldn't believe in
him
, a faery lad ye'd seen with yer own eyes,” Grandpap jerked his head toward Phinnbar, “but ye have no trouble believin' in them bloody Gloogles and Internets, and I defy ye to show me where those thingamabubs live. So which one of us is daft, then, tell me that?”

Titania, meanwhile, was crumpled on the ground like a broken pirate doll.

“Don't
any
of you want to change your vote?” she whimpered. “Just a few people, that's all it would take. Anyone? It would really cheer me up!” But now that Titania was powerless her former supporters seemed to have evaporated.

She clambered to her feet and went over to Grandpap. “How about you, you adorable old man, you?” she pleaded. “Surely you can appreciate how the charms of experience
deserve
to triumph over the callowness of youth?”

“Sorry dear, but I've met yer type before, when I was in the service,” Grandpap said, not unkindly. “Morgan's got my vote. I'll have none of ye, thanks.”

An evil shadow crossed her face, which she quickly covered with a phony smile. “But if I'm queen again, I can make it so you can live on that adorable little farm forever, frozen in time with your charming deceased bride, back when she wasn't so deceased,” she cooed. “There's no need to be old and lonely, is there?”

Grandpap hesitated, and my heart crawled halfway into my throat. Finally he spoke. “No thanks, lady. I'll be buyin' the farm on me own steam, soon enough. Though I must say, it was a glorious anniversary—well worth the trip.” Maybe it was a trick of the light, but it looked like there was an actual twinkle in Grandpap's eye.

“Ah, ah—
achoo
!”