Chapter 30
"Why did she turn around and leave, then? Why didn't she come into town?" David asks.
"She was acting like she was looking for something," Emma speculates. "And didn't find it."
"The town," Gold replies. "The original curse created a barrier around the town so passersby wouldn't be able to see it. All they could see was an empty field."
"But Emma broke the curse," Snow objects.
Gold merely shrugs. "This is just a guess, but perhaps that part of the curse remains."
"If that's true, we dodged a bullet," David smiles.
"Temporarily," Snow corrects him. "Regina will be back as soon as she figures out a way through." She turns to Gold. "Is there?"
"The original curse created a tight, unbreakable barrier, but it did allow for two people to pass through: she who would break the curse and he who enable her to do so."
"Emma and Henry," David says. "What if one of them left town and came back in? Could Regina grab onto them and follow them in?"
"Not under the original curse."
"But if it's been weakened or altered when magic was introduced here," Emma prompts.
Gold shrugs. "We would do well to prepare for Regina's possible arrival."
Snow straightens, her mouth tight. "Henry's at school."
"Come on." David yanks the office door open.
"Wait a sec. I want him someplace Regina would never think to look." Emma glances at Gold, who nods. David frowns in confusion at this nonverbal exchange, but Snow, drawing in a deep breath, casts the final vote: "It makes sense."
"What does?" David scowls. Then he gets it: "Oh, you're not thinking–Emma, if you knew half of what this man's done–"
"He's got magic–what do you call 'em?–things up around his house, protecting it."
"Wards," Gold supplies.
"And Belle's there," Snow points out. "Henry adores her. He'll feel safe with her."
Gold raises his chin. "He's my son's son. I'll protect him with all I have, just as you will."
"Fine," David relents. "We'll take him there."
Emma stands but gestures to the monitor, "I'll call Leroy: we'll need someone to watch the monitors. Until he can get here, though. . . ."
"Go," Gold insists. "I'll oversee the cameras and phone you if I see Regina."
"You don't know how to operate them, do you?"
Gold flicks a finger: the images in the six little windows displayed on the screen shift angles. "I can manage."
"I'll get some additional eyes in the sky," Snow suggests. "As soon as we step outside."
David grins with pride. "In a minute every bird in the county will be looking for Regina." He and Snow beat it outside.
"Emma, Regina won't hurt Henry," Gold adds. "She loves him. But make no mistake: she won't let anyone stand in her way."
"She's got me and three pissed-off grandparents to go through first," Emma declares.
"And an army of nun-fairies and a sassy Aussie who's been reading a lot of magic books." Gold reaches for his phone as Emma, grabbing her S & W, runs after her parents.
Within 30 minutes, roadblocks have been established at every entrance into town; watchful birds circle the skies; fishermen patrol the waterways; school has been dismissed and the city council has called for an immediate curfew for all minors. From the sheriff's office, Gold watches the surveillance cameras and keeps in touch with Blue, whose subordinates patrol the woods in groups of three (he can't help chuckling at the image of scowling, wand-carrying nuns trampling through the Forest in search of the town mayor); he also checks in with Belle, who, along with Snow, has the pink house barricaded. Emma and David are cruising alleys and side streets in the squad car.
One of the birds scanning the skies is Josiah.
Gold balked when Snow first suggested uncaging him, but he soon relented: he's seen Snow's almost magical ability to communicate with birds, so he trusts that Josiah–or Courage, as Snow calls him–understands the mission and will return to the pink house when Regina has been caught.
Mostly, though, Gold listens for any disturbance in the flow of magic. He can tell any time someone taps into it: Blue, conjuring lanterns when night falls; Bernadette, bouncing a fireball between her hands just to limber up . . . and Emma, totally unaware of what she's doing, causing little changes in her surroundings: making a red light turn green, filling a pothole as she drives over it, filling her gas tank when the needle drops to "e." All with magic.
Belle points out something that Gold suspected early on: if Regina can't get in to Storybrooke, neither can Bae. As long as the boundary curse holds, Gold and Belle can't get out; Regina and Bae can't get in. Only Emma and Henry can cross, but as long as Regina's out there, they're locked down.
Gold topples the trash can with his foot, then smacks it–just once, because he's trying, really trying–with his cane. "Something's gotta give."
Gold senses an expenditure of magic. A cloud of smoke appears before the sheriff's desk and he summons a fireball, but he extinguishes it when he detects the scent of honey. "Good evening, Blue," he greets her as she materializes, Leroy at her side. The dwarf mutters sarcastically, "Next time I fly Air Fairy, provide me with a seat belt first, huh?" He then motions for Gold to move. "Here. I'm takin' the graveyard shift."
"You know how to work the cameras?"
Leroy sniffs. "Does a bear crap–oops. Sorry, Blue, forgot you're a nun."
Blue smiles a little. "Let's hope Regina does too."
Stiffly, Gold relinquishes the chair. "How are things?"
"Nothing new." Blue had last phoned in an hour ago. "Henry's in bed. Emma went to your place to get some sleep. Snow's patrolling with David. The royal guard is spelling my fairies in the woodland patrol. The tension's worn off and everyone's tired."
"That's what Regina will be waiting for."
Blue nods. "But until she gets in, she can't access magic."
"And she can't get in unless it's on someone's coat tails. We've got to keep it that way."
"This curse is a blessing in disguise," Blue suggests. "Are you ready to stand down for a couple of hours? I'll keep watch." She sets a hand on his forearm. "Belle's waiting up for you."
He ignores the itching sensation on his skin where she's touching him. "I've got a visit to pay first."
"At this time of night?" Blue follows him outside. "Good night, Leroy."
"That's when I'm at my best, dearie." Gold winks.
"Perhaps someday you'll explain to me why you brought magic here." There's no criticism in her voice; she's not trying to pick a fight.
"You figured out it was me, did you?"
"No one else could have. It was a groundbreaking act of magic."
He thinks about it a moment. Detente exists between them; cooperation exists. But the degree of trust that it would take for him to let her into his plans? "Good night, Reul Ghorm."
"Hello, dearie."
Gasping, Sidney bolts upright in his bed. "Who–what do you–"
Gold snaps his fingers and the bedroom light comes on. "Ah, you have the Clapper. I've wondered how well those work."
Sidney is fumbling under his pillow, but Gold clicks his tongue. "Are you looking for this?" He produces a handgun. "Really, Mr. Glass, your pillow is not a safe place for such toys."
"What do you want?"
"Are you chilly, Mr. Glass? You're shaking. Such a warm evening it is, too." He sits on the edge of the bed. "Have you heard from our mutual friend?"
"You mean Regina?" Sidney licks his lips.
"Naturally."
"No."
"You're lying." Gold makes the gun disappear and a phone appear. "Your call history says otherwise. She called at 6 a.m. this morning and again at 6:10. What did she want?"
"I don't know. I didn't pick up."
Gold cocks his head. "Why not, dearie?"
"I. . .didn't want to talk to her."
"Well, obviously, but why?" When Glass stares at the sheets, refusing to answer, Gold presses, "Did it have anything to do with the fact that she left you behind?"
"Without even a goodbye," he snaps. "I would have gone with her. Anywhere."
"But she ran off. Didn't call, didn't write. The first time you heard from her was yesterday." Gold looks sympathetic. "Unrequited love's a bitch, isn't it, Mr. Glass? But you've made your point by making her wait. When she calls again–and she will, because she needs you to do something for her. But you're not going to do it, are you, Mr. Glass?" Gold makes the phone disappear and in its place, an oil lamp appears in his hand.
"Oh, no–" Glass squirms. "No, I won't help her. I won't even answer the phone."
"That's right. I'm sure you've heard what happened to Mr. Dove. My theory–and at this point, it is just a theory, until I can round up some test subjects. You wouldn't care to volunteer, would you, Mr. Glass? My theory is that, when one crosses the barrier, one reverts to one's original form, that is, the form one had before magic ever touched one's life. Hence, Mr. Dove became a dove. Now you, genie–"
Sidney's shuddering. "I was created from magic."
Gold purses his lips in mock pity. "Ah. So before magic touched you, you were. . . nothing. Nonexistent. So if you crossed the barrier, you'd simply–that is, if my theory is correct–wink out of existence. Interesting."
Sidney stares at his phone in shock.
"Mr. Glass, I'd say your petulance did you a favor! Imagine if you'd returned Regina's call!" Gold clicks his tongue. "But I know how insistent Her Majesty can be, and how overpowering love can be, so I'm going to help you. No, no, you needn't thank me. Consider it a public service."
Sidney finds his voice. "What are you going to do?"
From the golden lamp a curl of smoke leaks out. "I'm sending you home, Mr. Glass."
"No!" But the smoke surrounds the former genie, transforming him, sucking him in. "No!"
"Sleep well, genie." Gold sends the lamp back to his shop. Then he pulls out his phone and types a text to himself. "Gotta remember he's in there, when this is over."
All these years of modern living have made him soft, he chastises himself as he tramps through a cornfield on the southern edge of town. He's only walked five miles and has three times that to go, but his ankle hurts and his bunion is rubbing against his conjured sneakers and he can't keep his thoughts from wandering to his soft, warm bed and his soft, warm girlfriend snuggled up in that bed.
In the old days, he would have thought fifteen miles a mere stroll. He forces himself to suck it up: he wouldn't be in this spot if he hadn't brought magic to town. So he continues his trek, circumnavigating Storybrooke so that he can test the curse's limits. He needs to find the weak spots so that he can fortify them before Regina discovers them.
As he walks, he sends out pulses of magic, and when the pulses bounce back, he's reassured the boundary is holding: he's watching for a pulse that doesn't return, and then he'll know he's found a breach. He finds a gap somewhere in MacDonald's potato field, and he mends it.
He keeps walking. His feet grow heavy and slow; he's used to walking around town, but on sidewalks and park pathways, not fields. And he's feeling a little sorry for himself that he's not warm in bed, in Belle's arms. A hole catches his foot–the right one, if course–and twists his ankle and he falls, avoiding face-to-dirt contact by landing on his hands. With a groaned curse, he plops onto the ground to rest, sweating despite a chilly breeze. He gets his breath under control.
And then he feels it: a second breeze, going in the opposite direction of the first: an unnatural breeze. There is a hole in the magic, large enough for someone to pass through.
He phones Emma, but even as he dials, he feels the magic being dipped into, wallowed around in, toyed with. "She's in," he says as soon as Emma picks up. He doesn't have to explain.
"You think she'll go home first, charge up? You did say magic's different here; maybe she won't be able to start using it right away."
"Emma, she's going to your apartment. After that, she'll turn the town inside out." He hears an insistent beep on the other end; Emma puts him on hold, then she's back in a moment.
"She's at the loft."
In the distance he hears an explosion.