Page 77 of Search for the Lost

Aspin stepped in. “Allow me.” He flipped the window open as if it were light as paper, and a welcome cooling breeze filled the living room.

“Thank you,” Juzir grumbled grudgingly. “I appreciate the help, even if he”—his arm shot out to point at Leo, who had popped his head back in to see Crispin’s handiwork—“caused it. At least the plumbing survived this latest barbarian attack. Now I really do need all of you to go. I have a bone-piano lesson to give at four, and your shenanigans have already made me a half-hour late in my preparations.” He looked impatiently at his watch.

Leo grinned. “Sorry, Juzee. Hey, is that a Fossil?” He was staring at the watch with a grin.

The wizard frowned.

“Don’t mind him. He’s always babbling on about Earth One stuff.” Crispin was determined to smooth things over as much as he could. You never knew when you might need a wizard’s help again.

Juzir flashed him a toothy grimace and crossed his little arms in front of his chest. “Earth Two. This is Earth One. And it’s not Juzee, it’s Juzir.”

“Got it. Thanks again, Juzee!” Leo disappeared back into the hallway.

Juzir stretched out his little arms and let out a frustrated bellow that shook the bone chandelier over his petrified-rock dining table. “You should have left that mouth of his sealed shut. I can still undo the cure if you…?” He tilted his head hopefully, waiting for Crispin’s response.

“No, I need that loud mouth of his.” For many things. He kissed Juzir’s scaly cheek. “Thanks, Juzee. I owe you. Come on, you all.” He slipped out of the room before Juzir could voice his displeasure at the continued use of the hated nickname. The enormous WOLFs slunk out last, lowering their shoulders to get through the door. One of them was carrying a large bone between its yellow teeth.

Crispin decided it was better not to say anything about that.

On his shoulder, Minkis chuckled. “Dinosaur Man not happy.”

Cypher laughed, his antlers bobbing. “That’s an understatement. I can’t believe you forgave him after what he did to you.”

That brought Crispin up short and he turned to stare at the faun. “Everyone deserves a second chance. All of us, every single one, has done something they regret.”

Cypher took a step back, having the grace to blush. “Ah. Yes. You’re right.” He scratched at his neck with one of his dexterous hooves.

Crispin and Aspin glanced at one another, but said nothing.

“So, off to Kansas, then?” Leo took Crispin’s hand, his fingers warm against Crispin’s palm, his other hand falling on Hindenburg’s neck fur. Named, according to Leo, because he seemed to be a complete disaster of a WOLF, with hair so mangy it looked glued on. “I’ve never been to Kansas. Only seen it in the movies, like The Wizard of Oz. I imagine it’s very flat—no hills for miles and miles, just corn fields and wheat fields and whatever else grows in fields. Potatoes? Probably not in Kansas, that’s more of an Irish thing, right? Like the Great Potato Famine⁠—"

Crispin put a finger on Leo’s lips. “Hush, my love.” For the shortest of milliseconds he wondered if Juzir was right.

But no. Leo was born to talk. It was part of his innate charm. Best to get things moving. “I believe there’s a mirror at the end of the hall….”

The odd party—two humans, a faun, two fae, a squirrel, and four rather frighteningly enormous WOLFs—trooped down the ornate hallway together, past paintings of tropical landscapes. They sometimes mingled with Earth Two inhabitants, an occasional few with a human on a leash. Thankfully, they didn’t run into anyone who might ask why so many apparent humans were being allowed to run around unleashed.

Sure enough, there it was: a large mirror, twice as tall as Crispin was, resting on the floor at the end of the hallway, framed by gilded bones. Dinosaurians really loved their bones.

They all stopped in front of it, the WOLFs creating a protective semicircle around them. Spike—he was pretty sure it was Spike—dropped her bone and looked up at Leo hopefully.

Crispin pulled Thea out of his pocket and blinked twice. She’d evidently decided to emulate local tradition, and her screen was framed with a lovely lacework of little bones.

“Bone phone!” Minkis chittered, climbing halfway down Crispin’s arm to get a better look.

“Yes, bone phone.” Better to let Thea have her fun. Crispin brushed his furry friend back onto his shoulder and pulled an acorn from his pocket to keep the little guy occupied. “Thea, can you take us to Kansas?”

The screen lit up. Thea’s spectral image shook its head. “Negative. There’s some flux in the ether there this morning. But I can take you to Kansas City. Will that work?” The distinct sound of shuffling cards could be heard in the background.

“Thea, are you playing games again?” Leo looked over his shoulder.

“Yes. It’s a new game, a hybrid, like you. It’s called Exploding Cats Against Humanity. Little buggers are so cute when they come apart at the seams.” Her voice took far too much pleasure at that, and Minkis shivered on Crispin’s shoulder.

“No exploding squirrels?” Crispin risked a quick glance at Minkis, who pretended to ignore him.

Leo laughed, a warm, friendly sound that melted Crispin’s own bones. But only a little. “No, Mink, you’re safe. And yes, Thea, Kansas City works. It’s just across the border from Kansas. Though we might want to magick up a little costumery, especially for Cypher and Mink. Earth folk aren’t used to fauns and talking squirrels.”

Crispin frowned. “Wait, so Kansas City isn’t in Kansas?”