"It was on your licence when you opened your wallet downstairs," Dad said with a tiny, almost secretive smile which didn't indicate either way as to the assertion's truth. It was absolutely possible, of course. Entirely possible.
Which didn't necessarily follow that it was the truth. It was a logical conclusion. A conclusion Barney could accept and internalise if he wanted, if it made him feel better to dismiss every other oddity as just those--oddities. But there was something in the amused gleam in Dad's eyes which suggested, just as this whole experience did, that there was something deeper. Something under the surface, something which indicated there was a depth and delight of existence possible if Barney only had the courage to reach for it--to believe in it.
The thing was, there was faeries and there was faeries. Allie's mother had been part Welsh and made very sure that Allie grew up on the same stories she did--Welsh and Irish. On King Arthur, and the Tuatha de Danann. Allie knew what girls thought faeries looked like nowadays; how they were tiny, and had sparkly wings.
She also knew they were wrong. Faeries were more like elves were described in The Hobbit. They looked like humans but more beautiful, more graceful, more everything. Allie didn't dislike the faeries most girls believed in now, because they were pretty and they were fun, but she knew they were just a cover--a way to make people stop looking for the real fae.
So the only way Ghastly could have a friend who had wings was if the friend was an angel.
And she didn't appreciate being laughed at. Sick or not, Allie bristled and lifted her chin and was prepared to ignore Ghastly as making fun of her this whole time, white with indignation. Grownups never understood. Daddy humoured her a lot, and sometimes Allie thought maybe he wasn't actually humouring her, but mostly she knew that he was, even though he never thought she was silly like most grownups did. She never told him, but sometimes she felt like she didn't want to become a grownup if it meant she had to stop believing in wonderful things like faeries and angels.
But then Ghastly tried to stop, really tried, and the way he looked at her then--like his eyes were shining. Like his whole face was glowing, and she could see past the disguise. Like he was royalty and just pretended not to be to make her feel more comfortable.
For a moment Allie just stared wide-eyed, too awed to even be embarrassed at the thought that she'd started to think he was just playing with her.
"Oh," she said, and yet none of her questions now had anything to do with the angel. She figured she'd already met an angel, even if she didn't know it. The Bible said that sometimes strangers were angels, and you couldn't know it, and that was how they could tell if you were really a good person or if you were just pretending. So chances were she'd already met one.
Allie knew about angels. She didn't need to know more. Not right now.
"Why are you called Ghastly?" she asked, still wide-eyed, still watching the magic in his face, the way his laughter lit up his eyes and the sunlight made it look like he was wearing a crown. If she tilted her head and looked out of the corner of hers eyes, she thought she could see through the disguise. "It's such an awful name. You're too pretty for a name like that. It's not your real name, is it? Mama used to tell me stories about how names were important."
She thought that over and then nodded. "It's another disguise, isn't it? An awful name so people don't see that you're really a prince. People don't expect a prince to have anything that's awful, let alone an important thing like a name."
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Which didn't necessarily follow that it was the truth. It was a logical conclusion. A conclusion Barney could accept and internalise if he wanted, if it made him feel better to dismiss every other oddity as just those--oddities. But there was something in the amused gleam in Dad's eyes which suggested, just as this whole experience did, that there was something deeper. Something under the surface, something which indicated there was a depth and delight of existence possible if Barney only had the courage to reach for it--to believe in it.
The thing was, there was faeries and there was faeries. Allie's mother had been part Welsh and made very sure that Allie grew up on the same stories she did--Welsh and Irish. On King Arthur, and the Tuatha de Danann. Allie knew what girls thought faeries looked like nowadays; how they were tiny, and had sparkly wings.
She also knew they were wrong. Faeries were more like elves were described in The Hobbit. They looked like humans but more beautiful, more graceful, more everything. Allie didn't dislike the faeries most girls believed in now, because they were pretty and they were fun, but she knew they were just a cover--a way to make people stop looking for the real fae.
So the only way Ghastly could have a friend who had wings was if the friend was an angel.
And she didn't appreciate being laughed at. Sick or not, Allie bristled and lifted her chin and was prepared to ignore Ghastly as making fun of her this whole time, white with indignation. Grownups never understood. Daddy humoured her a lot, and sometimes Allie thought maybe he wasn't actually humouring her, but mostly she knew that he was, even though he never thought she was silly like most grownups did. She never told him, but sometimes she felt like she didn't want to become a grownup if it meant she had to stop believing in wonderful things like faeries and angels.
But then Ghastly tried to stop, really tried, and the way he looked at her then--like his eyes were shining. Like his whole face was glowing, and she could see past the disguise. Like he was royalty and just pretended not to be to make her feel more comfortable.
For a moment Allie just stared wide-eyed, too awed to even be embarrassed at the thought that she'd started to think he was just playing with her.
"Oh," she said, and yet none of her questions now had anything to do with the angel. She figured she'd already met an angel, even if she didn't know it. The Bible said that sometimes strangers were angels, and you couldn't know it, and that was how they could tell if you were really a good person or if you were just pretending. So chances were she'd already met one.
Allie knew about angels. She didn't need to know more. Not right now.
"Why are you called Ghastly?" she asked, still wide-eyed, still watching the magic in his face, the way his laughter lit up his eyes and the sunlight made it look like he was wearing a crown. If she tilted her head and looked out of the corner of hers eyes, she thought she could see through the disguise. "It's such an awful name. You're too pretty for a name like that. It's not your real name, is it? Mama used to tell me stories about how names were important."
She thought that over and then nodded. "It's another disguise, isn't it? An awful name so people don't see that you're really a prince. People don't expect a prince to have anything that's awful, let alone an important thing like a name."