“False. There was a huge surge of magic where I found you this morning, and the magical remnants I discovered match the dream dust I confiscated from you.” She snapped my journal shut and glared at me. “Conclusion: you’re the culprit who performed the largest bit of unrecorded magic on Earth. There’s no room for doubt. Case closed.”
I shifted beneath her accusatory look. “Why does it matter? Nothing bad happened.”
“It does matter,” she said. “Because your unusual use of magic happened around the same time there was a theft in the Dream World.”
An ominous chill rippled up my spine. “What kind of theft?”
“A dream dust theft,” she whispered. “Thirty-seven minutes after dawn, a Dreamer reported that some of their dust had gone missing, stolen.”
“Maybe they just misplaced it.” In my short experiences with dream dust thus far, it had proven to be a rather slippery form of power.
Stardust shook herself back and forth. “Dream dust can’t just vanish. Dream lockets are enchanted to keep magic protected until it’s used, and only a locket’s owner can open and close it. Otherwise, only dark magic is strong enough to break such a secure charm.”
I sensed where her conclusions were leading. “You think there’s a connection between my magic and the magic linked to the theft?”
Stardust rolled her eyes. “Isn’t it obvious? Two impossible occurrences happen within moments of each other. That’s no coincidence. I’m here to prove the two are connected, because I need to be the one to solve this mystery if I’m ever going to become a famous detective.”
“Not only am I not the only potential suspect—there was that Nightmare whose dust you found beneath the tree—but there’s another problem with your theory: how could I have stolen anything from your world if I was on Earth the entire time? I’ve never even been to this Dream World of yours.”
Stardust slumped and slowly drifted from the ceiling. “I suppose that’s a solid alibi.” She didn’t remain droopy for long. “But it’s too soon to declare this a dead end, not when I’ve recently discovered another lead.” She morphed into her notebook, flipped through a few pages, and tilted herself towards me so I could see what was inside. My stomach dropped. Staring back at me were several of Mother’s plants, drawn in such detail I almost tried to pull them from the pages.
“When did you—how—”
She smirked. “I followed you the moment you left the attic. Did you think I'd let my prime suspect out of my sight for a moment, or sit quietly here the entire afternoon when there's a case to be solved? Please.”
“But I didn’t see—” Then all at once I understood. “You were one of the butterflies hovering around the garden.”
“I was many things, a butterfly only being one of them,” she said. “Even after witnessing my morphing powers firsthand, you failed to notice me as I watched you and your Mother for several hours; I was able to gather many clues completely undetected.”
How could I have been fooled by such an obvious disguise? I gritted my teeth.
“Back to business,” she said. “What exactly are these plants? They’re unlike any I’ve ever seen in my Mortal Studies book or my wanderings around Earth, and there’s an air of foreign magic about them. Did you create them with your powers?”
“No.” But my mind was reeling. Not only did Mother possess dream dust, but even her plants were magical?
“Well someone did, and they’re growing in your garden; magical plants don’t just pop out of nowhere, you know.” She frowned at her drawings. “These are the most unusual magical plants I’ve ever seen. They almost seem like hybrids of various plants growing in the Dream World, but proving that will require further research. Rest assured I’ll get to the bottom of this. Since you’re being uncooperative as usual, I’ll just have to discover the answers for myself. Maybe I’ll look more into your mother…”
Oh no she wouldn’t; this had gone far enough. “I’ve had it with your investigation. I didn’t perform any unusual magic, there’s nothing suspicious about Mother’s plants, and I’ve never been to your strange world, so whatever crime you’re trying to pin on me isn’t—”
Outside, something brown and shimmery suddenly shone in the darkness. It bounced against the windowpane, as if knocking to come in, before dashing out of sight. I scrambled to the window and peered into the velvet night.
Stardust appeared beside me. “Do you see something?”
I pressed my face against the glass. A dream emerged, hovering near the forest like a flickering firefly. It followed Wendy as she creaked the garden gate open and tiptoed towards the house, keeping herself masked beneath the shadows. The dream floated closely behind her, considerably shrunken from its earlier plump size, but unmistakably a nightmare.
“What’s that Mortal doing?” Stardust asked.
I eyed the bulging pouch Wendy clutched. “Probably paying for Mother’s herbs her grandmother purchased yesterday.”
Stardust gasped. “You’re selling enchanted objects to Mortals? That’s illegal.”
I ignored her, focused only on the murky dream. Now really wasn’t the time to steal a peek, not with an accusatory cloud breathing down my neck, but as usual my curiosity piqued: what sort of dream had lingered in Wendy’s memory all day?
Wendy reached the house, dropped the pouch on the doorstep, and scampered away, as if tarrying too long at the home of a suspected witch was enough to cast a spell on her. There was no time to lose.
I scurried from the window and lifted the loose floorboard, where I kept a reserve of empty jars, but when I returned the dream was gone. “Where is it?”
“Where’s what?” Stardust’s tone dripped with impatience. “I don’t see anything.”
“The dream.”
Stardust frowned. “Dreams are impossible to see. After Weavings they immediately disappear because—”
“There it is!” I pushed the window open. Wendy glanced up, wide eyed, before slamming the garden gate and running towards the village, her dream trailing behind.
I prepared to summon my magic but hesitated at Stardust’s
