Even and Odd Read online

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  Once Jeremy was calmer, he and his mother returned. Starry brought a satchel with her, carrying the strap in her teeth, and laid it on top of a table-size boulder. “I believe this portion is suitable to your palates. Please eat. I know you’ve had a long journey.”

  Even wanted to say she wasn’t hungry and it was more important to figure out another way home, but in truth, she was hungry. And she had no idea how to begin figuring out what to do next. Maybe if she ate, she’d have more ideas. She pawed at the rock. She didn’t think skunks were climbers, but before she could find out for certain, Odd scooped her up and deposited her next to the food.

  “Thanks,” Even said, to both Starry and Odd.

  Opening the bag, Odd took out a loaf of bread, a wedge of cheese, and a container of salad, as well as several cupcakes. Sniffing the cheese, Even avoided the cupcakes. Now that she’d met Jeremy, she knew she’d never look at a cupcake the same way again.

  As they divvied up the food, Starry asked, “So I am to understand that your home is the mundane world? How did you come to be in our world at this inopportune time?”

  Jeremy froze. His eyes were wide and worried.

  Even wasn’t going to get him in trouble, especially not after he had brought them all the way here and carried them away from an irate dragon. “We were testing the gateway, and we got stuck on the wrong side. Jeremy thought that you might be able to help us.”

  He gave her a slight, grateful nod.

  “Forgive me for being nosy, but was your home always the mundane world?” Starry asked. She still sounded friendly and upbeat, and Even appreciated that. It let her pretend that everything was okay—they were just having a friendly conversation with a unicorn over dinner, and everything would be back to normal soon, including the unicorns’ collapsed caves.

  Even helped herself to a bit of carrot. It tasted more delicious to her as a skunk than it ever had when she was a human. She tried a bit of lettuce next. She hadn’t realized how very hungry she’d gotten, with all the worrying and escaping from dragons they’d been doing. “We were born in this world, but we moved to the mundane world when we were little kids.”

  “It’s home now,” Odd added. “And I want to get back as soon as possible.”

  The lettuce tasted as sweet as cotton candy. Maybe I should transform into a skunk the next time Mom insists I eat more veggies, she thought. And then she couldn’t help the little thought that popped up: What if there isn’t a next time?

  If the gateways didn’t start working . . .

  If the border stayed closed . . .

  She wasn’t going to think like this. She was going to hope that it all magically fixed itself by morning, like Starry had said. After all, magical things happened all the time here. Maybe the Academy had already sent a hero to fix the problem.

  “Your parents must be very worried,” Starry said. “Parents always worry about their children. It’s universal, no matter what world you’re from.” She leveled another look at Jeremy, and he hung his head guiltily, even though it wasn’t his fault that his home had been transported. Of course, it had been his fault that he wasn’t with the other unicorns when it moved. “But I am curious why your family left Firoth when you so clearly belong here.”

  Even had wondered that many times herself, but maybe Starry was asking because Even was so furry? “I’m not really a talking skunk.”

  “She’s usually a human girl,” Odd explained. “She just got stuck like that because she can’t work magic on odd days.” She then glanced at Even and added, “But I think she makes a great talking-animal sidekick.”

  “Ha. Very funny.” Flicking her tail, Even pretended to glare at her. At least Odd was back to joking. Maybe she wasn’t busily imagining the worst. Maybe I should stop imagining the worst too, Even thought. At least until the worst happens. “I’ll be back to human when I wake up tomorrow—it’ll be an even day.”

  Starry was looking from one to the other of them and back again. “Your names are Even and Odd, and you work magic on even and odd days?”

  After swallowing one more bite of lettuce, Even explained, “Well, some months have thirty-one days, so the even-and-odd thing doesn’t always match the dates on the calendar—we just call them even and odd days because it’s easier. Basically, we have magic on alternating days.” This was the point where Even expected Starry to chuckle and say how clever their names were. That was what the border-shop customers always did when they learned about the sisters’ “quirk” of alternating magic.

  But to Even’s surprise, Starry didn’t laugh. Instead she said, “I’ve heard of you.”

  “You have?” Even asked.

  “Do you know our mom, Janet Berry?” Odd asked eagerly.

  Excellent question! Even thought. If Starry knew how to reach Mom—

  “I’m afraid I haven’t had the pleasure, but I have heard your family’s story. Every once in a while, talk of you comes up—how splendid to see that you both are doing well!”

  Even wasn’t sure she’d call being stuck as a skunk and unable to get back home as “doing well.”

  “What do you mean, you’ve heard our family’s story?” Odd asked. “What story?”

  “The story of how your powers were split is taught by the Academy of Magic,” Starry said, “as a warning about the dangers of experimental magic.”

  “Our powers weren’t split,” Odd said. “We were born this way.”

  “What experimental magic?” Even had no idea what Starry was talking about.

  “Perhaps I’ve mixed you up with other children. I wouldn’t want to spread false information. Unicorns, as you may or may not know, pride ourselves as the spreaders of truth.”

  “You mean we love to gossip,” Jeremy said, mid-chew. He was halfway through eating a pile of clover. “I want to hear the story. I’ve never heard of people with split powers.”

  Odd insisted, “We were born this way.”

  “Are you twins?” Starry asked.

  “Well, no,” Odd said. “Even’s a year older.”

  “And wiser,” Even said.

  “That’s debatable,” Odd said. “But what does being twins have to do with it? Were the kids you heard about twins?”

  “The opposite,” Starry said. “If you were twins, it would be understandable that your powers were shared in some way. Many twins are born with identical powers or complementary powers. Some even—” Cutting herself off, the unicorn studied their faces. “Could it be you were never told the truth?”

  “What truth?” Odd asked.

  “Your truth, of course,” Starry said. “You, if you are indeed those sisters I heard about, weren’t born with split magic. One of you was born with magic, and the other was born without.”

  It was such a simple statement: one of them was supposed to have magic and one wasn’t. But it echoed inside Even. She felt her tail tense and firmly tucked it underneath her.

  She saw that Odd was frozen, staring at Starry. The words had hit her, too.

  One born with magic, and one without.

  “It’s common enough, even with parents who both have magical abilities,” Starry said. “Everyone agrees that you were healthy and happy toddlers. Different destinies lay in front of you, of course, but that can be glorious in and of itself.”

  It explained so much. Even had always felt like she was supposed to have magic, and Odd had always wished she didn’t have any. If I had been born fully magic . . . “What happened?”

  “Your parents were highly respected researchers, studying the essence of magical power itself. They were, with the blessing of the Academy of Magic, conducting experiments on a power stone.”

  “What’s a power stone?” Even asked.

  “It’s a rare artifact that allows the manipulation of magic. Very poorly understood. Your parents were on the cutting edge of research, looking for ways to use the stone to siphon magic from the earth to create a stream of boundless power. If they’d succeeded, it
could have meant the end to the daily limits that magic users face, and it could have made it possible for those without, or with lesser capacities, to use magic if they so wished. The Academy of Magic was very excited about the potential.”

  “What happened?” Odd asked.

  “There was an accident,” Starry said sadly. “During one of their experiments . . . Perhaps they failed to seal the laboratory properly or to account for the range of the stone. Regardless, unbeknownst to them, during one of their most innovative experiments, their beloved daughters wandered too close. Instead of taking magic from a natural inanimate source—such as the earth or the wind or the sea—the stone siphoned power from one sister and then shared it between them. As a result, the sisters were said to possess magic on alternating days. And thus they gained the nicknames Even and Odd.”

  She was never meant to have magic, Even thought. I was. It was a stunning thought, yet it also felt completely right. She’d always felt magical.

  Why hadn’t Mom and Dad told them?

  “At last inquiry, I had heard that your parents had abandoned their careers as researchers and moved far away, but that was several years ago. I hadn’t heard an update on your story since. Have you been well?”

  “Fine,” Odd said faintly.

  “Amazing!” Starry was beaming at both of them, clearly unaware of how shocked the sisters were. “Everyone assumed the effects would be catastrophic to your lives.”

  It was supposed to be mine, Even thought.

  And their parents had never told them.

  “What a remarkable opportunity to share a story with the very people that story is about!” Starry gushed. “Enjoy the rest of your dinner. I’ll check on the gateway and will let you know if there is any news. When you’re finished, Jeremy will help you find blankets and show you where you can sleep.”

  “Thanks,” Even said, speaking just as faintly as Odd had.

  Both of them stared at Jeremy’s mother as she walked across the cave, her hooves ringing like chimes on the obsidian floor. She’d just delivered the truth about their past as cheerfully as if she had told them about sunny weather.

  Odd’s face squinched up. Looking at her, Even laid a paw on her arm. She couldn’t tell how Odd was taking the news. Was she upset? Mom and Dad had lied about their origin story for all these years. They’d never even mentioned being researchers, much less causing an accident that had led to Even’s and Odd’s futures unfolding differently than they would have otherwise.

  Odd began to laugh.

  “Um, are you okay?” Even asked.

  Odd lifted her up by the armpits. Even felt her whiskers twitch, and her tail swatted back and forth like a cat’s. “Do you know what this means?” Odd asked, holding her so they were looking eye to eye.

  “Mom and Dad aren’t as good at magic as they think they are?” Even guessed. She tried to make her voice light, but it shook anyway. She could think of several things it meant: it was because of Mom and Dad that she wasn’t fully magical, because of them that the family had had to move to the mundane world, because of them . . .

  “It means it’s not my fault,” Odd said. “I’m bad at magic for a reason!”

  “Yeah, you don’t practice.”

  “It means there’s a reason I’m the way I am. And a reason you’re the way you are.”

  “Um, Odd, can you put me down?” Even wiggled her back paws in the air. It was completely undignified to be lifted up by one’s little sister and held like the prize piglet at a county fair.

  “We have to get home,” Odd said, setting Even on the table. “Mom and Dad have a lot of explaining to do.”

  Even agreed with that one hundred percent.

  11

  Even woke in a corner of a bejeweled cave and blinked a few times before she remembered when and where she was. It was an even day. She was in Firoth. With Odd. And a lot of unicorns. Uncurling herself, she stretched out her tail—and froze.

  I still have a tail.

  Why do I still have a tail?

  Forcing herself to calm down, she took a deep breath and concentrated. Carefully, she painted a picture of herself inside her imagination. She remembered what it was like to have hands with fingers, to have two legs that she walked on, to have hair on her head and no fur. She fixed that memory in her mind and pushed an image of her skunk self into it.

  She felt herself tingle.

  Yes! Please, yes!

  The tingle spread all over her, and her fur vibrated. She felt her legs begin to stretch. Her back lengthened, and her tail shrank until it disappeared.

  A second later, Even was human, lying in a nest of blankets between piles of jewels. She hugged her arms. Arms! She’d missed having arms. And feet! Look at her feet, wearing her sneakers! She patted her hair, relieved it didn’t feel like fur.

  “Odd, I’m back!” She stood up, wobbled, and put her arms out until she remembered how to balance on two legs. “Wake up, Odd!” Nearby, a few unicorns stirred. Most of the unicorns were already awake and outside the cave. Even spun in a circle like she was on a fashion runway. “Who has two thumbs and knows how to use them? Me!”

  “Is it open?” Odd asked, her eyes still closed.

  “What?”

  “The gateway,” Odd said. “Can we go home?”

  Even quit spinning. Oh. For a moment, she’d forgotten.

  At least it was good news that she was human again, right?

  But the fact that no one had woken them to say the gateway had reopened was bad news.

  “I . . . don’t know,” Even said, subdued.

  Odd didn’t even slow to brush her fingers through her hair before marching out. Even hurried after her. Coming outside from the darkened cave, she shielded her eyes from the sudden light. As her eyes adjusted, she saw that Odd had already started making her way down the slope toward a stream at the base of Unicorn Hill. Several unicorns were drinking from it. As she hurried to catch up to her sister, she wondered if the stream was supposed to be connected to the mermaids’ lake.

  In the morning light, the hillside looked even worse than it had when they’d arrived. Whatever force had moved the unicorns’ hill hadn’t been gentle. It looked as if the earth had been pried up by the plump fingers of an oversize toddler and then dropped back down.

  One unicorn broke from the herd. As Even watched it trot closer, she recognized Starry Delight. “Good morning, children! Ah, you must be Even, in your human form. I see the family resemblance now.”

  “Is the gateway open?” Odd asked without any preamble.

  “Did you sleep well? I hope you had a comfortable night filled with delicious dreams!” Starry’s voice was cheery, and Even wondered if she was dodging the question. Or maybe she was just naturally perky?

  Odd said, “I had nightmares all night that the gateway didn’t open and we were trapped here, and we never saw our home or our friends or our parents ever again. Please tell us. Did the gateway open? Did any of them open?”

  The unicorn sighed, and Even guessed what she was going to say before she spoke. “I’m afraid not, my dear,” Starry said, her voice full of sympathy.

  “Are you sure?” Even asked. “They’re closed? All of them? The one to New York City? Tokyo? The Antarctic research station? That one’s not very popular except with Yetis, but I’ve heard about it.”

  “All closed.”

  “Fresno?”

  “I don’t know where that is, but closed,” Starry said.

  “It has a lot of fast food,” Even said. “Really popular gateway. What about the ones to Europe? Those were heavily used a few hundred years ago, my parents said. They’re more strictly regulated now, unlike ours.”

  “Please, we’ll go anywhere we can get to,” Odd begged. “So long as it’s in the right world. From there we can get home. There must be a gateway open to somewhere!”

  “She’s right,” Even said. “The gateways have always been open.” She knew her history. Open gateways were the explanation for the G
rimms’ fairy tales, Beowulf, Alice in Wonderland, and those famous unicorn tapestries, as well as a few of the stranger cartoons that Mom and Dad liked from the 1980s. Their worlds had always been connected, at least as far as she knew. “What would make them all suddenly close?”

  “We don’t know, but we do know of an expert in the field, a wizard named Lady Vell. She has made a study of border magic, the wellspring of power that fuels the gateways. We are hoping she can provide some assistance.”

  “Great!” Even said. “Can we use your magic mirror to call her? Ask her to help us?”

  “Unfortunately, we haven’t been able to reach her yet,” Starry said. “Either the problems with the border magic are affecting our mirror connection, or too many are trying to contact her at the same time. The border closing has caused chaos with the land and separated a great number of families, and I’m sure others have thought to turn to her too. Don’t worry, though—we will keep trying to reach her. We only started yesterday. I feel certain we’ll have success soon.”

  She had no way of knowing that. It occurred to Even that though she had to tell the truth, Starry Delight took optimism to an extreme. It made Even wonder if she should take what Starry said with a grain of salt.

  Maybe we can’t wait for the unicorns to fix things, Even thought. Maybe we need this Lady Vell instead. She might have the answers they needed. “What if we try to talk to her in person?” she asked. “Can we do that? Where does she live?”

  “Would it make you feel better to try?” Starry asked.

  It wasn’t about feeling better, she wanted to say. It was about getting home. “Yes. Definitely yes,” Even said instead. Beside her, Odd was nodding vigorously.

  Raising her musical voice, Starry called across Unicorn Hill, “Spring? Effervescent Spring, could you come here a moment, please?”

  A unicorn trotted across the hillside of torn-up flowers toward them. His mane was rainbow-colored, and his hide sparkled in the sunlight. Starry introduced him as Effervescent Spring, Jeremy’s father. “These two are asking about Lady Vell, Spring,” Starry said. “Do you know where her estate is?”