Page 89 of Shroom for Improvement

I had given it a lot of thought—Jenny, the agent’s offer, the guest house, the ritual, my job, my so-called life in Remy, Sonny—and I was seventy percent sure I’d made up my mind.

If I managed to figure out this ritual in time to save Stinkhorn Manor and the guests, I didn’t want to return to Remy. I would stay here. In Agaricus. In the Kingdom of the Fae.

Here, I had incredible food, and chai tea on tap. An exquisitely comfortable bed. Didn’t have to worry about dry-cleaning, the magic of the house or the sentry fae took care of that for me. The air was clean and fresh. There were no filthy, piss-soaked streets, no traffic, no noise pollution. You saw the stars at night, and heard the birds and the crickets and the owls. I’d lived in the city for so long, I’d forgotten what owls sounded like. Tawny owls, lovely. Barn owls, like Satan’s own children were trying to wake the dead.

And company. I never thought I’d ever be in a position to crave company. I’d always been so happy to be by myself, doing my own thing—my puzzles, my solo little job, my complete dearth of a social life. It was only when I’d considered how moving back to Remy would expose me to all that solitude again that it occurred to me: I was lonely.

I was lonely and alone.

At least at Stinkhorn Manor I had people to talk to. I was beginning to consider Willow and Oggy friends. They weresmart, and genuine, and never failed to make me smile, even if I still couldn’t tell them apart. And as much as I didn’t like Mr Dupont, Mrs Ziegler, and John, their presence certainly made the house more colourful.

And then there was Jenny. It was impossible to feel lonely with Jenny always there—watching, listening, chatting about nothing, interrogating me, casually berating me.

But Sonny wouldn’t be here, which was why thirty percent of me wasn’t sure. Thirty percent of me wanted to quit everything and simply follow Sonny around. Maybe he needed a lab assistant. Maybe he needed someone to polish his microscope—not a euphemism, but could be. Maybe he needed the companionship as much as I did.

Sonny had proper dreams, though. He didn’t dream of a bigger telly, or fancier chai tea. He didn’t even dream of money, or love, or power. His dreams literally involved saving the planet. There was no way I would ever stand in the way of them.

There was no way I could ask him to give up those things and move into Stinkhorn Manor with me...

His life was in Remy.

His dreams were in Remy.

The Eight and a Half Kingdoms’ salvation was in Remy.

Besides, none of that would even matter if we failed to solve the ritual. I’d be forced to go back to Remy regardless. But what would happen to Mrs Ziegler? What would happen to Oggy and Willow?

Into the ether.

I still needed to find out what that meant.

“Jenny, what does ‘into the ether’ mean?”

“Do you want me to wrap it up in pretty ribbons? Or do you want the truth?”

I swallowed. “Okay, give me the—”

“I found loads!” Sonny yelled, jogging over from the edge of the paddock. The way he ran was so gangly and uncoordinated. It was adorable. “There was a huge patch in the field behind this cute little grotto.” He held out his hand to show me five or six pale, leggy mushrooms. “We should go inside and line our stomachs with something stodgy before we try this.”

Without another word, I walked with Sonny back to the house. In no way was I delaying the inevitably horrific revelation of what ‘into the ether’ meant. I shouldn’t be distracting myself like that anyway, not before I was going to take hallucinogenic substances and open my mind to extreme focus. I would find out another time. Or not at all. Hopefully, we’d figure it out before then, and I’d never have to know.

We had lunch: ratatouille with the smelliest, creamiest, most delicious brie melted over it, and just-out-the-oven, fluffy, crusty, addictively moreish, white bread rolls. Then Sonny returned to his room to deliver a virtual lecture to his students. I had no idea who this Monty person was, but if Sonny didn’t trust them not to fuck up his lecture, neither did I.

I wanted to sit in Sonny’s rooms and watch him chat to his students through his laptop, but I wouldn’t have a clue what any of his talk meant. I barely followed along with his layman’s explanations at night. Plus, it was a weird thing to ask for, so I went into my room and practiced the teacup magic. Alone again.

In the three hours I was there, I’d successfully relocated the tea leaves from their little cup house to the table no fewer than six-point-two-five times. The point-two-five because one leaf jumping ship did not make a complete cup evacuation. I still had not made them swirl like a tornado, but baby steps.

“Sorry, that took so much longer than I expected. A couple of my students wanted to have in-depth discussions about their research proposals,” Sonny said after letting himself into my room around four o’clock. “Actually, some of themhave very interesting insights we should look into or try for the ritual. One student is studying the effects of sound waves on mycelium.”

I raised a brow.

“Perhaps you could try singing to the tablet.” Sonny smiled. We began walking toward the paddock again, taking the route that cut through the guest-house kitchens so we could grab some snacks in case we fancied them after our trip.

“You’re kidding, right?”

He laughed, but I knew he wasn’t joking.

“Fine, we’ll try that today as well.”

---