”Bruce,” Bo tilted her head and put a light hand upon his shoulder. ”The only thing you have cursed me with is happiness. Whatever it is you want, just ask and it’s yours.”

His wide chest heaved as he tightened his hold on her hands. ”Your happiness is an illusion, my Queen.”

”There are no illusions here,” she cackled, then spoke to the teddy bear by her side, ”Kenzi—straighten him out!”

”That’s what I’m trying to say, my Queen,” he took advantage of her return to madness, ”Kenzi has something to say to you. Take this and say the words a final time,” he looked at her hands, ”and never more after today. This is my humble request.”

Bo appeared confused. ”No, Bruce,” she pushed it back to him. ”What you ask is im-…”

Tamsin grew past impatient. ”For God’s sake, Bo! Listen to Bruce. There’s a message from Kenzi.”

”Say the words, my Queen,” Bruce begged. ”Say them for her…and let this be the last.”

Her eyes darted between Bruce and Tamsin as they hoped silently between them that it was a flash of clarity they spied in her eyes, however fleeting. Bo sat back and said the familiar words only because it was Bruce who had begged her. Almost instantly after she finished the verse, the room of shadow and sorrows that Bo inhabited slowly disappeared from view to be replaced by the brightness of day. She did not recognize the narrow and uneven street that sloped downward and tilted slightly to the right. Unconsciously, and perhaps because of the summer’s heat that made her clothing cling tightly and her skin sticky with sweat, Bo fanned herself as she tried to get her bearings.

Bruce, Tamsin, and Vex stood by, watching. Tamsin turned to Vex, ”What is she seeing in there?”

”You’re all nuttier than rabid hounds. What is she doing?”

”Shhh!” Bruce warned them both into silence.

Bo’s focus landed on a shop on the corner of an alley, a shop with a wall of tiny windowpanes and a wooden door cracked and beaten by wind and time. She heard a tiny bell jingle and, as it opened, Bo froze as a slender young woman emerged, costumed as a debutante abroad, draped in a closefitting sleeveless floral dress, her sleek dark hair pulled into a loose ponytail. Bo would not have recognized her until the young woman’s ice-blue eyes blinked skyward for a few seconds before being covered by a pair of oversized sunglasses. ”Kenzi,” Bo cried out for her friend and felt a rush of blood pumping into her chest. Kenzi stood there, waiting. Bo had been staring so intently that she hadn’t noticed the still open shop door, or the slender woman with the golden hair stepping forward into the sunlight. This apparition was familiar, and she was beautiful. The fine hair on Bo’s arms whisked to attention and her heart twisted with nervousness. Lauren. Bo’s eyes lingered over her every detail: Lauren’s graceful neck awaiting Bo’s lips; the soft skin beaming and kissed by the sun; and sweet brown eyes that crinkled whenever she smiled and dispossessed Bo of every urgency except one, to be with her immediately and always. Lauren, the timid ember that had been her broken heart pulsed with hope and pierced the first tiny pinprick of sanity into Bo’s mind. She observed the unusual physical closeness between them as Kenzi handed Lauren a small gift bag. ”I saw you looking at it,” Kenzi beamed. ”Happy Birthday.”