Tales of Mundane Magic: Volume Four

By Shaina Krevat

Another year at Flories Boarding School, another year of bespelled bedlam.

At least, that's Bridget Mallon's point of view. No matter how she tries to stick to basketball and

• Language: English
• Publisher: Shaina Krevat
• Release date: Oct 14, 2023
• ISBN: 9781732501379

Shaina Krevat

Shaina Krevat's other job is a Software Engineer at YouTube, which is kind of her dream. She graduated from UC Berkeley with a BA in Computer Science, several best friends, and five full-length novels that she put on indefinite hiatus. In her free time, she cooks, tries to teach her dog Atlas how to sit on command, posts writing advice, and wonders if she'll ever figure out how to get Link to walk in a straight line in Breath of the Wild. She lives in Los Angeles with Atlas and her partner James, where they work on their respective creative endeavors and puzzles. You can follow her @shainakrevat, visit her websites www.shainakrevat.com and www.talesofmundanemagic.com, and purchase her first book anywhere books are sold.

Book preview

TALES OF MUNDANE MAGIC

Volume Four

A Shaina Krevat book

Copyright ⓒ 2023 by Shaina Krevat

All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-7325013-7-9

talesofmundanemagic.com

Cover illustration by Rachel Snodgrass.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

In memory of Atlas,

the greatest dog that ever lived

GERTIE AND BRIDGET TAKE YEARBOOK PHOTOS

GERTIE STRUGGLED TO find the perfect pose with one of the Flories Boarding School’s falcon statues. Just loosen up, Bridget suggested. Not every picture has to be perfect. We’re just getting the last few shots.

I’m figuring out what aesthetic I want to go for. These pictures are how I’m always going to remember high school, Gertie said, leaning backwards against the falcon, her comically large, pointed hat nearly falling back off her head.

Bridget smiled and snapped a picture with their mom’s camera.

Hey, I wasn’t ready!

I know, but it’s not like we’ll run out of film.

Gertie stuck out her tongue and Bridget snapped another picture.

Well, if it’s going to be like that! Gertie placed her hat on top of the falcon’s head, indulging in the farce by posing with a kiss on the statue’s cheek.

Oh yes, work it! You’re a model! Bridget laughed, dramatically kneeling on the ground to snap absurdly angled photos.

Gertie posed until her sides hurt from giggling and snatched her hat off the falcon.

Give me a second to switch out? Gertie suggested, heading over to their pile of jackets, backpacks, and her top hat, which was enchanted with infinite storage that she exclusively used for her hat collection. 

Of course, Bridget said.

Gertie shoved her pointed hat into the top hat, and it vanished with a pop. She called forth a pageboy cap, then changed her mind and stretched her hand down into the pointed hat up her shoulder, searching for something different.

Bridget sat on one of the benches and stretched her back, letting herself relax and stare out over the city of Wespire. Dusk was settling over the city. The lights looked as though the stars had fallen from the sky and settled themselves onto the skyscrapers and apartments. Restaurants and museums twinkled into existence. And, just barely visible to Bridget and to Bridget alone, was the magical city of Skyline. It was hidden by an invisibility spell, suspended in the atmosphere leagues above Wespire.

Can I look at what we’ve shot? Gertie asked, now wearing a beret with soft oranges, pinks, and whites that matched the sunset.

Go ahead. Bridget’s mind wandered to her schoolwork. The semester had barely begun, and she was already feeling like she might have taken on too much in her junior year. An elective might have been nice, but she guessed there was a part of her that had wanted to take on as many requirements as possible, so that next year would be easier.

Beautiful! Can you turn towards me? Gertie called.

Bridget looked over before she understood what her older sister was doing. But as soon as she saw the camera’s obsidian lens aimed at her, she jumped to her feet.

Gertie! Bridget self-consciously brushed her hair over her left eye, which had been ruined in a magical accident years ago.

It’s time for you to work it! Gertie said cheerfully, willfully ignoring her sister’s distress.

Bridget tried to hide her face. Gertie, please!

Gertie huffed. This is exactly why we have so few pictures together. She turned the camera, so the screen showed Bridget the pictures she had managed to take.

Look! Look at yourself and tell me you see how beautiful you are, Gertie demanded.

She felt a tightness in her chest, but Bridget glanced down. First was the photo Gertie had taken without her knowledge, of her staring out over the city. The soft light of the sunset cast her face in gold, and Bridget had to admit that there was something beautiful in the way Gertie had captured her. Her long black hair fell around her face, framing instead of covering it, like she was used to doing.

Even her eye, white and blank as it was, looked warm—a detail of the picture instead of the focus; a twinkling starlight of her own. Her normal, deep-brown eye was the focus instead, gazing out over the horizon.

Then Gertie clicked to the photo where Bridget had noticed the camera, and fear had tightened her features. Like the center of a target, her ruined eye was all she could see. It was haunted, pale, sickly—almost as if it reflected the wicked curse that had imbued itself in her. In a rush, the pain, the anguish, the years of mockery and abuse came barreling back, and she cleared her throat and grabbed the camera from Gertie’s hands.

Come on, Bridget said, deleting the picture where she was staring at the camera. If we don’t hurry and get the photos to the main office, you’ll have to just use the ones the school takes.

Okay, Gertie said softly, gathering her storage hat and bag.

Bridget glanced at the photo where she was looking at the city, the beautiful one, and passed over it, instead scanning through the photos in the camera where Gertie was the subject.

I like this one. It was Gertie posing with her chin in her hand, leaning against a desk with a colorful fedora on, nicely contrasting her tawny complexion. Her green eyes stared off to the side of the camera, giving the pose a thoughtful quality. It almost made Bridget feel like the one of herself had, but without the complex barrage of emotions.

It’s nice, Gertie said hesitantly, and Bridget had the feeling she wanted to ask her something.

But Bridget wasn’t in the mood, and pulled the strobe flash off of the camera. Can you put this away? she asked, holding it out to Gertie.

Oh. Gertie switched her storage hat to her other hand to accept the light. Sure. Where’s the camera bag?

Bridget stopped and looked at Gertie. Sure enough, their mother’s bag wasn’t over her shoulder.

I thought it was with our backpacks, Bridget said.

Gertie’s eyes widened. No…

They’d been all around the city throughout the day. A lot of places they had visited had hundreds of people pass through, and the museums or shops would be closed by the time they could get back.

And they hadn’t asked if they could borrow their mom’s camera.

Where’s the last place you remember having it? Gertie asked, sending a text to her boss Demetrius, whose Skyline shop they had taken pictures in that afternoon.

I don’t know. Bridget racked her mind. I set up the camera in my room. Could I have just left it there?

A visit disproved that hypothesis.

Fear bubbled into Bridget’s throat. Is there any chance that we can convince mom to move her product shoot without telling her why? she asked. Despite this whole thing being Gertie’s idea, she knew their mom would be disappointed in Bridget, somehow, if she found out what happened.

Doubtful, Gertie said as she read a text from Demetrius saying he didn’t see any camera bag. The office is open late today, right? For turning in photos?

Bridget couldn’t believe that Gertie would think so selfishly. How can you be worried about your yearbook photo when-?

What? No! Gertie looked sick at the thought. Someone might have turned the bag in to the Lost and Found.

Guilt settled in Bridget’s stomach, relieved only by the possibility that they might easily find the bag after all. Oh. Right.

Bridget was confused when her call to the school’s main office was answered by Toby, the school’s administrative assistant, and his response to her inquiry killed her last hope.

I don’t think anything’s come in, but it’s been super busy today. Kitt’s been out this week from the flu, so our attendance records are all over the place. It’s the last week for schedule changes, transcript demands, yearbook photos, club day is coming up-

Right, of course, Bridget replied into her phone as she watched Gertie try calling the Museum of Bespelled Apparel and Footwear only to shake her head when she was sent to voicemail.

Toby paused, and Bridget realized how short she had sounded, despite her best effort. Sorry, Toby, it’s been a long day. I know you do so much for the school. I’m sorry to bother you.

Thanks. She heard some shuffling papers and clicks on a keyboard. Anyway, I’m sure your camera case will show up.

Bridget bit her bottom lip, keeping her reply to herself. It wasn’t his business how tenuous her relationship with her mother was, and how something like this could unravel all the work she had done.

I’m sure you’re right, thanks. She hung up, wanting to hurl her phone into the nearest wall in frustration. Maybe we left it at Memo’s, she muttered, gripping her phone until her knuckles turned white. Or Spacer Park. We could try going there-

Gertie sighed. Bridget…

We have to find it, Bridget said. She could not afford another wedge in her relationship with her mother. Mom’s going to explode if we’re the reason she can’t update her website-

Bridget, it’s lost, Gertie said.

No. Bridget insisted. Don’t say that.

Gertie crossed her arms. "There is something we can do."

Bridget met her sister’s gaze, eyes wide. She had grown up hearing the stories about heroes going there to find what was lost, but she never thought she’d go to The Exchange herself.

But here Gertie was, laying it out as their last chance.

Okay, you go, let me know if you find it.

Her sister’s shock and hurt pierced through Bridget.

Really? You’re going to make me do this on my own?

Bridget squeezed her eyes shut, trying to find her balance as guilt and fear swirled through her. You know how I feel about that sort of stuff-

Fine, Gertie huffed. We’ll just tell mom that we lost half her camera equipment and she’ll understand.

But Bridget knew that wasn’t true.

No. Bridget met Gertie’s determined gaze. You’re right. Let’s go.

Gertie looked back to her phone to find the closest location of The Exchange.

People said The Exchange was never closed. Gertie didn’t know about that. The latest she had ever gone there was eleven o’clock at night to find the handwritten notecards for her presentation the next day. She had gotten an A on the assignment, and hadn’t worried about how much it cost. She normally forgot her dreams as soon as she woke up, anyway.

At least they knew that at four o’clock on a Sunday afternoon The Exchange would still be open.

Every location of The Exchange looked like a hole-in-the-wall thrift shop, which were a dime-a-dozen in Wespire. It wasn’t until they went inside that things started to feel off.

Gertie pushed open the door only to get a whiff of the scent of Great-Grandma Gertrude’s mulled apple cider. Bridget took a deep breath and recognized the flowers from the garden of their neighbor who had moved years ago.

The Exchange had aisles and aisles that one could just get lost in. Each section was labeled with ridiculous accuracy—from where she stood, Gertie could read Lost Three Years Ago over the entire section and Textbooks - Third Grade and Bridesmaid Dresses - Green on the shelves underneath. There were rickety stairs off to the side, and many more floors to look through, which seemed impossible given the squatness of the building from the outside.

A woman with mismatched clothes and hair reaching down to her waist stood behind a counter, off to the side of the front door. She looked as if she dressed exclusively from items that remained unclaimed. She noticed the girls noticing her and asked, Can I help you?

We lost our mom’s camera case today, Gertie told her. We didn’t ask permission, so we need to get it back. Could you have it here?

We haven’t done inventory for today yet, the woman said, gesturin out to the shelves labeled Lost Today - Good Luck. You can look around.

The girls went to work. Nothing was organized into sections, but Bridget stopped at anything dark black to see if it was a camera case, and, if it was, to check for the label with their last name. Given the ever-present tourists with bad memories, there were a lot of bags to inspect.

Gertie bit her bottom lip to not squeal as a mouse skirted over the shelves. The rodent picked up a runner’s medal and walked it to the edge of the aisle to drop it in a basket labeled Of Interest. The mouse wore tiny circular glasses, and Gertie knew it was one of The Exchange’s many helpers. She couldn’t risk offending it, even if rodents gave her the jitters.

The almost-mouse scurried away, and Gertie let out her breath.

The sisters looked up from their search as the door opened and two men entered.

I don’t know what this is going to help, the first man huffed.

His partner soothed him, saying, We’ll just check it out, and then we can figure out something for date night.

How can I help you? the woman at the counter asked.

The first man grumbled.

My husband lost his wedding ring, the second man said quietly.

Gertie and Bridget’s eyes went wide. That would cost a lot to get back.

I see. The clerk glanced at the first man. When did this happen?

I don’t know, he said. It’s been years since I wore it—it’s just distracting when I play with it at the office. But I went to find it for our anniversary, and it was missing.

The woman nodded. There’s an ‘Indeterminate’ section with a subsection for ‘Jewelry’ and then ‘Rings’. Keep going up the stairs until you see the gold cape - that’s the right floor.

Gertie watched the two men head upstairs, holding hands despite the tense atmosphere.

What happens when someone exchanges for the cape? Bridget mumbled to Gertie.

Gertie shrugged, hoping that the couple was able to find their ring. If she ever got married, she’d never take her wedding ring off.

There was a nattering behind the sisters. When Gertie turned, a not-quite squirrel was scolding her, its little bowler hat nearly falling off its head from the effort.

Sorry, Gertie breathed. The not-a-squirrel huffed and jumped off the shelf away from them, extending its limbs to reveal its webbing-wings, and glided through the aisle until it was out of view.

I swear this is the same model, Bridget said, glancing at the lenses in the latest camera bag. But no ‘Mallon’.

Meanwhile, Gertie started looking over the nearby shelves in other sections. She ran her fingers over the spines of children’s books, smiling as she found a title her father used to read to her.

I used to love this book, she said, pulling it from the shelf and brushing her fingers over the raised title.

Bridget halted her search despite herself, joining Gertie. She smiled down at the little teacher on the front cover, instructing her stuffed animals.

Gertie flipped it open, and the sisters gasped when they saw Gertie M. written in her childish script on the inside color.

I thought I lost this ages ago! Gertie said.

Bridget rolled her eyes. It’s here, so you did.

Well, I never thought I’d see it again. Gertie flipped the book over so they could see the price.

Your next good idea was scrawled under the barcode.

Dang. Gertie frowned, drumming her fingers against the cover.

We could make it a birthday gift for him, Bridget said. It’s coming up.

Yeah, but are you going to give your next good idea for it? It’s not like he’d read it to us anymore.

But he’d probably like it, Bridget argued.

And what? We wouldn’t tell him how we got it? Gertie asked.

A knot of anger curled in Bridget’s chest.

We don’t have time for this, Bridget muttered, taking the book and slipping it back between its neighbors.

Gertie bit her lip to keep from retorting.

That’s exactly why we don’t come here, Bridget said as she examined another bag and slammed it back on the shelf. The fate you exchange for what you lost is just too high.

Hey, getting back something you lost is expensive, Gertie said, despite herself. The amount of magic it takes…

I know, I know, Bridget said. She huffed as she replaced another lost camera case.

A not-starling wearing fancy closed-laced shoes flew down from the staircase, landing amongst the unsort day’s take. It peeped a few times, grabbed the runner’s medal from the basket the mouse had put it in, and took off again, carrying the medal in its beak.

Excuse me, Bridget said, kneeling next to the not-quite goose that waddled around the Lost Today - Good Luck section.

It stopped, adjusted its necktie with his beak, and fixed its beady stare up at Bridget.

A cold swirling feeling took root in Bridget’s chest, but she took a calming breath. She remembered this from the stories. She just had to be endlessly polite.

My sincerest apologies for interrupting your work, she said. We are looking for our esteemed mother’s camera case. It has ‘Mallon’ stitched inside it. By chance, do you or your valued colleagues recall having sorted it today?

The cold feeling warmed slightly, and Bridget took another quick breath.

The not-goose honked, but in Bridget’s mind, she heard a deep, wise voice.

No, I’m sorry. I will spread the word to keep watch for it.

Then the almost-goose turned, and the voice and feeling were gone. Bridget shook her head to clear it. She should know all about this feeling, it was so close to her visions. But instead of the pain that normally accompanied such an experience, she felt peaceful, as if she was waking up from a good dream.

Yes! came an echoey cheer from upstairs. Bridget almost couldn’t believe they could hear it on the ground floor, but The Exchange worked in mysterious ways. The couple returned triumphantly with a box with a gold ring in it.

The woman smiled at them. Are you sure it’s yours?

The owner of the ring held it up so she could see the inside of the band. A...peacock helped me find it. It has our wedding date.

Same as mine, his husband said, holding out his left hand.

Gertie, you’re staring, Bridget whispered.

Gertie snapped her gaze down. Oh, sorry. It’s just so romantic.

Wonderful. The clerk took the box and looked underneath at the label. She nodded thoughtfully. You saw the price?

My next ten kisses, the man said. He shrugged. There will be plenty more.

The woman smiled. Glad to hear it.

She scanned the price tag and handed the box with the ring back to the couple.

The man took the ring out and slid it onto his finger. I won’t take it off again, he assured his husband.

His partner smiled and took his face as if to kiss him but hesitated unwillingly.

Bridget could feel the spark of magic in the air as the price was extracted and her eyes grew wide. She could imagine the flicker of resentment building in her chest if that happened to her.

But the man smiled and pecked his partner’s cheek. Only nine left.

They exited the store holding hands.

That’s quite the price, Bridget muttered.

Gertie shrugged. They’re just kisses. Imagine if they weren’t able to talk to each other.

Bridget huffed in frustration at another wrong bag. This one still had the camera in it.

Can I help you girls? the clerk at the front said. Gertie looked over to her and saw her inspecting what looked like