Hey all,
Search for the Lost, the thrilling sequel to Office of the Lost, is finished! Kim and I will be doing a paperback release for WorldCon at the end of this month, and an eBook release on 10/7.
I shared Chapter One here. Enjoy Chapter two below, and the cover tease above!
Chapter Two
Leo was really, really trying.
The thing was, living with someone else wasn’t easy. He knew this from previous occasions in which strained finances had forced him to have roommates. One roomie had moved out after the fourth kitchen fire. One had packed up her belongings during their third week in the apartment, shouted something like I’d rather live in a dumpster than with you, and stomped out the door. The third roomie had actually lasted for a few months, probably because he spent most of his waking hours stoned out of his gourd. But he also didn’t manage to cough up his half of the rent and utilities, so that time it was Leo who left.
He’d assumed, however, that in the unlikely event he found a Dearly Beloved, cohabiting would be easier. After all, they loved each other. And he and Crispin had survived all sorts of nearly lethal adventures together. Sharing a home should be a cinch compared to facing man-eating moths and misanthropic dinosaurs, right?
Except it wasn’t. Crispin’s place was way nicer than Leo’s cruddy old apartment… but Leo had sort of loved that cruddy old apartment. He understood that Crispin couldn’t live in Sacramento—a city whose unofficial motto was Sacramento: It’s Not that Bad—so Leo had ceded that point. And honestly, Sacramento probably wouldn’t feel like home anymore now that Leo knew his true identity.
But then he and Crispin had argued over furnishings, with Crispin insisting that the treehouse was already furnished perfectly well, thanks very much, and Leopold pining for his perfectly comfy couch. Eventually Crispin had given in on the couch, although Leopold strongly suspected that he was plotting its “accidental” demise. And even with the furniture issue more or less settled, they disagreed over orderliness. Crispin, of course, felt that everything had a proper place and belonged in that spot: dirty laundry ought to be tucked into a hamper and clean laundry ought to be folded and put away, the dishes should be washed shortly after a meal and then dried and put into cupboards. He wanted to make the bed, for goodness sake. Every single day! And Leopold didn’t see the point in that when it would only get unmade again. It was madness dressed up as Order.
There were other matters of disagreement as well. Like food. And entertainment. And bedtime and waking-up time. And whether cookies and crumpets ought to be eaten in bed and how loud the music should be and whether that interesting green stuff growing in the corner of the bathroom window ought to be observed or—boring!—eradicated.
And now, just when he was on the cusp of luring Crispin back into bed—because dancing the mattress jig was one activity they wholeheartedly agreed on—Crispin’s brother showed up. In truth, Leo sort of liked Aspin, even though he was stuck-up and had a history of treating Crispin badly. For one thing, he was entertaining. But Leo also understood that it must have been hard for Aspin when his brother was the literal personification of Order and had a perfect Perfecality Score. So ordinarily Leo would have been pleased for him to come over, especially since it seemed as if Aspin was making nice to Crispin. The news about the Queen of the Fae being missing wasn’t exactly welcome, but Leo knew that Crispin would make an excellent king, so that was all right. Aspin even seemed to be accepting, with moderately good grace, the fact that their mother had passed him over for the crown.
So Leo tried. He plated up the crumpets and attempted to make tea, although it turned out a very odd color and he wasn’t positive it was consumable. The effort was there, in any case.
But then Aspin had produced this… thing. The Schrodinger’s Cat Thing. Which was fascinating. Leo was drawn to it like a non-man-eating moth to flame. It reminded him slightly of the Chaos Cloud that had pursued him, in that the Thing had an unsettled aura, a sort of invisible spinning energy that he found exciting. It also reminded him of when he was a little kid and he’d discovered one of his Christmas presents wrapped in shiny paper and hidden in the back of his parents’ closet. Or when he’d held a nighttime janitorial job at a golf course and discovered one of the golf carts left out of storage, the keys still in it. He knew he shouldn’t touch these things, that if he did, bad things would happen. But nevertheless he wanted to touch. Badly.
But dammit, Leo was trying. So he kept his hands busy with crumpets instead. And when Crispin proposed consulting the Oracle about the queen’s disappearance, Leo had mostly held his tongue despite doubting how useful that the Oracle would be. No offense to Minkis, but… squirrels. Cool little guys, but he’d seen them dart in front of moving cars and bury nuts in places where they’d never be able to retrieve them. Nevertheless, that was what Crispin wanted to do, and it was his mother. Also, he was King Crispy now.
Leo was going to propose that they eat a proper meal first, because crumpets were more like a snack. And maybe wait until the next day so they could get a nice early start, first thing in the morning. In the interim they could send Aspin away and climb back into bed.
Then the Thing made a weird, sudden noise like a combination of a semi-truck horn and tinkling wind chimes. A blast of bright light and complete darkness momentarily blinded Leo. When he regained his sight, he found himself staring at a guy with messy hair and messier clothing.
“You should at least tuck in your shirt,” he scolded the guy… just as it registered that the guy was him. And if that was the case….
He looked down and discovered less tummy than he was used to, covered by a gray tweed vest. His bottom half wore pleated wool trousers, and underneath the vest was a collared, long-sleeved shirt in silky white cotton. And when he raised a hand to his neck… a bowtie. He was wearing a bowtie.
“Crispin?” Leo said the name, but it was not his voice that came out of this mouth. Then he added something else he felt was important to establish immediately: “This wasn’t my fault!”
The other Leo had gone very pale. “Leopold?” Naturally, that was Leo’s voice.
“What in heavens is going on here?” demanded Aspin. He looked confused, terrified, and… was that guilt shadowing his face? Maybe. “What are you two playing at? Mother is missing, and here you are—”
“Quiet!” The other Leo sounded impressively authoritative. He firmed his jaw. “Leo, is that you in… me?”
“Yes, and not in the good, fun way.” Hmm. It was interesting to see his own face go red. “I take it I’m looking at Crispin?”
“Yes. Of course you are. You’re—” Crispin-in-Leo’s-body paused, looked down at himself, and ran a hand through this hair. But it was only when he touched his ears and discovered that they were rounded instead of pointy that the reality seemed to sink in. He made a small whimper and sat heavily onto the couch.
Leo, on the other hand, felt slightly energized with the realization and hopped up and down a few times. “Ooh! Ooh! I know what happened! We’ve been Freaky Fridayed!”
Crispin squinted at him. “What?”
“Freaky Fridayed, like the movie. The one with Jodie Foster was pretty good, but I think I preferred the Lohan/Curtis version. Less sexism in that one, although the whole fortune cookie bit is a little ugh, but if you can overlook that part it’s great. I always love Jamie Lee, and this was Lohan at her peak. I think they made a sequel more recently, but I haven’t—”
“Leo!”
It had never occurred to Leo that when he was angry, his face went all scrunched up and red, and his eyebrows dove deeply toward his nose, which wasn’t very attractive. It wasn’t fair, really, because he’d seen Crispin angry plenty of times, and Crispin just looked sort of adorable then, like you wanted to kiss the tip of his nose and tweak his bowtie. So right now, Crispin should be wanting to do those things to him, only Crispin just looked pissed off.
Leo sighed and sat on the couch. “We’ve swapped bodies, Crispy.” He felt unexpectedly calm, and when he noticed that the frolicking unicorn tray was sitting crookedly on the table, he adjusted it to make it straight.
“How? Why?” Crispin flapped his arms. “How do we switch back?”
Now Leo was slightly offended. “Is my body that awful? I know I should probably exercise more and I—”
“Your body is lovely,” said Crispin, apparently tamping down his hysteria a bit. “But I prefer it on you. And can you imagine what chaos this will cause if we can’t fix it soon?”
Leo was exceptionally good at imagining Chaos. It came with the territory, and he was fond of it in small doses. But he didn’t like when it adversely affected other people, especially Crispin, and he understood that adverse effects were definitely on the table right now. Especially because Crispin had just been made king. He’d be great at it, but Leo would suck at it big time.
“Okay,” said Leo. “I get it. We need a plan to figure out how to swap back and also find your mother. Do you want to grab a notepad so we can brainstorm?”
Crispin was giving him an odd look, as if Leo had said something really strange. He hadn’t, though—a notepad and brainstorming session made total sense. They had to remain calm and go about solving their problem in an orderly fashion or else—
Oh no. Leo took a few deep breaths. “I feel… off.”
“Of course you feel off, you idiot,” chimed in Aspin, who’d been unusually quiet. “You’re a human in a fae body. It’s like stuffing a Strogian Megaslug into a satin gown.”
Before Leo could take offense—or ask what a Strogian Megaslug was—Crispin straightened his back, lifted his chin, and pointed a finger at Aspin. “You will not address my beloved like that in our home. Behave yourself or I’ll have you thrown into the dungeons.”
“We don’t have any dungeons,” said Aspin. But he said it very quietly, and he also cast Leo a look that could be interpreted as apologetic, if you squinted.
Leo decided that imperious Crispin was very sexy—or would be, if he wasn’t stuck in Leo’s body. Wait—what if they had sex like this? That would be deeply weird. But also… intriguing. Leo knew that the tips of Crispin’s ears got really, really sensitive in a good way when they were being frisky, and it would be pretty interesting to see what that felt like.
While Leo’s mind had been traipsing down this path, which was way more fun than the saving the queen path or the magical quest path, Crispin had in fact fetched a pad of paper and a pen. It was one of those feather pens like in old paintings and historical movies, only it was enchanted or something and didn’t need re-inking, and Crispin had made it clear that he’d be seriously upset if anyone else touched it. Even Minkis kept clear.
Speaking of which…. “Where did Minkis go?” Leo looked around. “He was here eating crumpets when the Thing did its thing.”
Crispin frowned. “I don’t know. Perhaps the commotion startled him. I’m sure he’s fine, though. Let’s concentrate on the bigger issues for now.”
“Such as finding mother.” Aspin moaned. “There’s supposed to be a fencing competition next week, and Mother is supposed to be the judge, and—”
“And you’re competing and expect her to pronounce you the winner.” Crispin rolled his eyes. Which were really, at the moment, Leo’s eyes.
“Of course she’ll pronounce me the winner! I am the best, after all.” Aspin wrung his hands, which Leo hadn’t realized was an actual thing. He’d assumed it was just one of those phrases that authors stuck into books so they could suggest emotion without actually coming right out and telling you what the emotion was.
Anyway, the poor guy looked genuinely distressed, so Leo patted his knee again. “I’m sure we’ll find her before then. Or she’ll turn up on her own. I think she’s a pretty resourceful person.” That was an understatement. She was the freaking Queen of the Fae. “How do we know she hasn’t just skipped town for a few days for a little getaway? She could be getting a seaweed wrap at a swanky spa or enjoying the drinks package on a booze cruise.” Neither of those possibilities seemed all that likely, but then, he had no clue what fae royalty liked to do on vacation.
Aspin and Crispin were both shaking their heads, however. “Mother wouldn’t do that,” said Aspin. “Not without telling someone. She takes her duties very seriously.”
Crispin nodded his agreement. “I’m afraid Aspin is right. This is uncharacteristic.” He perched on an elegantly carved wooden chair with beautiful inlays that looked as if it belonged in a museum. It always gave Leo an almost-instant backache every time he sat in it, which is why they’d needed his beloved couch; the couch never hurt him.
“Aspin,” Crispin continued, “tell me what Mother was doing the last time you saw her.”
While Aspin launched into a long, boring description of a meeting with the Red Dukes—who apparently were part of that whole Grimm brunch group thing—and a bunch of people that Leo had never heard of, Leo stared at the Thing. It was so hard and squishy, and its coloring was either neon bright like a holdover from the 1980s or as gray and black as a goth kid’s favorite clothing. It wasn’t moving now. The weird aura still existed but was much more muted, like a humming you could barely hear. He had the sense it was still… alive? Or whatever it had been when Aspin hauled it out of the sack. But now it was dormant or something.
“Crispin? Why don’t you try touching the Thing again? Maybe that’ll reverse the swap.”
Crispin looked up from the pad; he’d been taking notes while Aspin droned on. “I’d prefer not to.”
“I know. But it might work.”
Mouth scrunched up, Crispin sighed and got to his feet, far less gracefully than usual. He reached out, slow and tentative, finally just barely brushing one fingertip against the Thing.
Nothing happened.
Leo scratched his neck where the bowtie felt too tight. “Maybe I have to be the one to do it.” So he touched it a little more forcefully than Crispin had. The Thing was cold and hot, making him sweat and sending a chill down his spine. But it didn’t do anything to put him back into his own skin.
“What if we touch it together?” Crispin raised a fuzzy Leo eyebrow.
“Um, sure?” They tried it, with no more success than the other times. “Was worth a try, I guess.”
For a few moments, Crispin stood there, gnawing on his lip. Then he nodded as if he’d reached a decision. “Fine. My original proposal stands: we’re going to see the Oracle. Only now, in addition to assistance in finding Mother, we’ll ask for help with our own, er, predicament.”
Since Leo didn’t have any alternative ideas, he didn’t argue. “Fine. I guess we’re off to see the Oracle.” He hummed the opening line of “We’re Off to See the Wizard”—and although Aspin didn’t get the reference, the glimmer in Crispin’s eye said that he did. It turned out that, while Leo usually couldn’t carry a tune to save his life, in this body he could hum perfectly on key. He had the feeling he’d be able to sing beautifully too. Another thing to explore later. For now, he stood, started looking for his shoes, and remembered he needed Crispin’s instead. He found them neatly placed on the little shoe rack right near the door. Huh. Maybe storing things where they belonged made some sense.
Crispin pointed at the Thing. “Aspin, return that Thing to the bag, please. We’ll ask the Oracle to identify it.”
Aspin didn’t seem enthusiastic about touching it, but he obeyed and then angled the bag toward his brother. “Here you go.”
“Oh, you can carry it.”
“But you’re going to the Oracle and I’m—”
“Coming along with.” Crispin put his now slightly pudgy hands on his waist, fingers balled up into fists. “You know, Leo and I were having a perfectly pleasant morning until you joined us. Now you get to help us sort things out.”
Aspin grumbled something under his breath and then slung the bag over his shoulder. He looked like a grouchy teenager being forced to go to school. Well, if teenagers wore chartreuse doublets embroidered with pearls, marigold tights, and whatever those odd puffy shorts were called.
Crispin paused to fill one of his jeans pockets—Leo’s jeans pocket—with the acorns he kept in a jar. Minkis might be unhappy to discover his stash depleted, but the Oracle would be pleased to receive it.