Page 39

Leopold

W hen Leopold was a little boy, he and his parents had lived in a house near the outskirts of Stockton.

The house had felt too small for Leopold even then—his frequent fits of youthful energy banging him into walls and furniture—and it seemed as though parts of the house were always needing repairs.

But he had his own bedroom, and just outside was an ancient oak tree with wide, gnarled branches. When he woke up in the morning, the first thing he always did was look through the window toward the tree. Frequently he’d find a squirrel or two staring back.

The squirrels had been cute enough, but he’d found the experience somewhat unsettling.

It was as if they were spying on him. He’d even complained about the creatures to his parents once but hadn’t found much sympathy there.

“They’re just curious,” his dad had said.

“Maybe they think you’re a little nuts.” Then he’d chuckled at his own joke.

Which was, Leopold had thought at the time, actually pretty funny.

Then Dad had done something to distract Leopold from the topic, and Leopold had never mentioned the squirrels to his parents again.

He’d never quite trusted them, however, with their bright eyes and twitchy tails.

When he’d met Minkis, Leopold had made an exception to his general policy of squirrel avoidance because Minkis clearly meant a lot to Crispin and, well, Crispin meant a lot to Leopold.

Now, though, it wasn’t just Minkis he was facing but rather four dozen of the fluffy gray rodents, all of them chittering at once. If there hadn’t been a whole crowd of people there to see him, Leopold might have run away.

Instead he took a deep breath and turned to stare at Crispin. “The Oracle is squirrels?”

Crispin didn’t seem any more thrilled—or any less shocked—than Leopold. “Apparently.”

“But… how? Why?”

Minkis hopped from Crispin’s shoulder onto Leopold’s and waved his little front paws in the air. “Acorns! We gather acorns. Sometimes we plant them. Sometimes trees grow.” All of his furry compatriots squeaked their agreement.

“I don’t get it.” Was he just being his usual dense self, or was this another level of crazy in a week that had already brought him a lifetime’s share?

Crispin gave Leopold’s arm a little squeeze, and that sparkly magic thing crackled briefly around them. “They’re metaphorical acorns, Leo.”

Leopold shook his head. “What’s a metaphorical acorn?”

“I think what Minkis means is that he and his, uh, colleagues, collect bits of information? And when they act on that information—by giving appropriate oracular predictions—there are often positive results.”

“Oh.” While all of the squirrels chattered something that sounded like agreement, and while Minkis gave Crispin a tiny high five, Leopold thought about this.

“I suppose it sort of makes sense. Squirrels scamper everywhere, so I guess they’d have access to all kinds of data.

” Maybe that’s what his childhood squirrels had been doing.

But that still left questions. He turned his head in an attempt to make eye contact with Minkis, which wasn’t easy considering Minkis’s proximity to his face. “Why do you do it?”

“Keeps us busy, Chaos Man. It’s fun.”

Well, that was reasonable enough. He’d done plenty of things for lesser motives than that. “How do you guys know what data is important? And how do you decide what predictions to give?”

Minkis made a tiny little squirrel sigh, as if Leopold were way too slow on the uptake. “If you plant enough acorns, at least some are bound to grow.”

Which meant, Leopold assumed, that lots and lots of the items currently in OotL’s collection hadn’t needed collecting at all, and now they were just sitting pointlessly somewhere in the vast building, sort of like years-old Beanie Babies in a closet.

Which probably didn’t matter if the items were inanimate objects and was maybe not so bad for the last members of those species that would otherwise have gone extinct.

But what about him? Had there been a good reason for the squirrels to send the desk fae with the highest perfecality score after a guy who’d screwed up everything for his entire life?

“What’s the matter?” Crispin asked softly.

“The squirrels make mistakes. What if I’m one of them?” His whole life felt like a mistake. Why should this be any different? But the thought of losing Crispin threatened to shatter his heart.

Crispin’s eyes widened. “You’re no mistake!” He grabbed Leopold’s hand, hard, grinning at the magic that flowed between them, through them, out of them. “Feel that? That’s us, Leo. And it’s amazing! That’s a pretty huge metaphorical oak tree, don’t you think?”

Their combined powers did feel wonderful, and Leopold loved seeing Crispin so happy. This wasn’t the fussy, uptight creature who’d come to collect him in Sacramento. This was the man that Leopold loved.

Except that was a problem too, wasn’t it?

Leopold gently extricated his hand, but only so he could turn and place both of his palms on Crispin’s shoulders. Minkis, of course, remained on Leopold’s shoulder, watching with bright eyes.

“Crispy, you need to think about this carefully. You got a job with OotL ‘cause your mom arranged it. You got sent after me because squirrels said you should be. Maybe you fell for me because my chaosness—chaosity?—be-spelled you into it. Aren’t you pissed off about everyone else screwing with your fate?” He took a deep breath.

This was the hardest part to say. “You’re the most incredible person I’ve ever met.

I think you deserve to be in control of what happens to you. ”

For a moment, everyone was still and silent. Even the squirrels. Crispin’s eyes were as big and shiny as an anime character’s. “Do you mean it?”

“I’d rather spend the rest of my life curated —locked up in a room and talking to old TV characters—than force something on you.

” Wow. That was completely honest. Leopold had never sacrificed anything for anyone, and it felt easier than he’d expected.

Because, well, he loved Crispin. And if he had to make this declaration in front of a fairy queen, an ogre, a stuck-up older brother, and an assembly of squirrels, all while wearing nothing but his underwear, so be it.

Crispin let out a noisy breath. “I wish Mother hadn’t been so sneaky—stop glaring at me like that, Mother—and Bidulla had been more forthcoming.

I wish we hadn’t almost been eaten so many times.

I wish Minkis had been more honest with me.

” Crispin gave Minkis a severe look and the squirrel managed, briefly, to look abashed.

“And by the way, it turns out that I’m an agent of Order, and we’re apparently fated to be together. ”

Leopold blinked. “You’re what now?”

“Order, Leo. Just like you’re Chaos. Yin and yang. We belong together because neither of our natures is any good all by itself, but combined we can do anything.”

“Oh.” Leopold blinked a few times. That made sense.

“But you know what? It doesn’t matter. I don’t care how we got here or even why—I’m just really, really glad that we got here. Together. Because there’s no place that I’d rather be than with you.”

It was kind of hard to hug and kiss someone with a squirrel on your shoulder and a whole audience watching, but they managed it, and it was even better than before.

Usually Leopold felt swirly and wild in…

well, in his soul, or whatever equivalent he possessed.

When he kissed Crispin, though, his inner tornado settled into something calmer and more soothing, like a warm breeze on a tropical beach.

At the same time, he could feel Crispin’s inner self, usually as carefully stacked as a wall of interlocked Legos, jiggle and warp a little into pleasing curves and interesting swirls.

Judging from his tight embrace, Crispin enjoyed this as much as Leopold.

Then someone cleared her throat and Leopold remembered where they were. He drew slightly apart from Crispin and turned to eye Minkis again. “Okay, fine. If Crispy’s okay with this… situation then so am I. But at least give us an explanation. Why was it so important that I get collected?”

Minkis and the other squirrels made exasperated noises, but before they could answer, Cerillia stepped forward.

She didn’t look as shiny and glamorous as the last time he’d seen her, but honestly, he liked this version better.

She seemed more real. And she wasn’t staring imperiously at him, which was a nice change.

“Leo,” she began. He was going to interrupt and explain that no, his name was Leo pold , but maybe that ship had sailed. There were worse fates than being stuck with a nickname given to you by a beloved. Besides, if Crispy could handle it….

Leopold managed a small smile. “Yes?”

“My son is capable of great things?—”

“Of course I am!” interrupted Aspin. “Last week I slew an entire flock of cockatrices, and?—”

Cerillia stopped him with a raised hand.

“My other son is capable of great things. Just as you are, in fact, Leo. Alone, however, each of you would likely cause more damage than good. But together !” She pressed her palms against one another, her eyes glittered, and she was more beautiful than ever.

“Together you can create so much joy, and prevent so much sorrow.”

Crispin puffed out his chest a little and Leopold felt an unusual surge of pride. And something more: possibility. Which was, in his estimation, infinitely more precious than perfecality.

But Leopold had more to say. “You could have just introduced us, though. Would’ve been a lot easier.”

She looked a little stern. “Proper introductions were on the agenda, in fact. But the Oracle suggested that we send Crispy to collect you, so we did.”

“Crispin,” muttered the former desk fae in question, but without much real heat. He did, however, furrow his brow at Minkis. “Why couldn’t everyone have been straight with us from the start?”

“The best trees aren’t straight, Acorn Man. They twist and turn.”

Cerillia laid a hand on Crispin’s arm and gave him a gentle smile. “To be honest, I had reservations about the wisdom of you partnering with Leo. Chaos is dangerous and unpredictable. And I had doubts about what he was like as a person. I wouldn’t want my son married to a schmuck.”

“Leo is not a schmuck!” Although Crispin was impressed that she knew the word. He wrapped a protective arm around Leopold.

“I know that now. I didn’t then.”

Her explanation didn’t make perfect sense. But Leopold was hardly the type to demand consistency and solid logic, and if he remembered his mythology properly, the fae weren’t exactly famous for careful, cool-headed decisions.

However confusing Cerillia’s motives had been, however irritating the Oracle, however bullheaded Bidulla, and however obnoxious Aspin, here they all were.

Here Crispin was, holding him tightly and looking a lot more sure of himself than the guy who’d knocked on Leopold’s door one rainy Sacramento day.

“I think,” Leopold said to Crispin, “it’s okay. If we hadn’t gone through all those adventures together, I’m not sure we would have fallen for each other. I would have blown you off as a bore with a stick up his, uh, butt. And you would have been horrified by the walking disaster zone that I am.”

Crispin gave a slow nod. “But this way we showed our true selves, bit by bit. And Leo, I love your true self. Even the messy parts. Maybe especially the messy parts.”

“And I love you.”

The squirrels cheered. Cerillia beamed. Aspin rolled his eyes. Bidulla saluted.

Juzir popped his head into the doorway, loud booms announcing that Fromlith wasn’t far behind. “Hey, what did I miss? Where’s Bidulla? And… hey? Why are there so many squirrels?”

Crispin and Leopold laughed together. “I’ll explain later, Juzzy.”

Thea started played Etta James.

Leo and Crispy stared at one another, and Leo saw the true beauty of Order in Crispy’s eyes. They kissed again—the very best kiss so far, with even better yet to come.