A Fairy Tale (21 page)

Michael protested as she towel-dried his wet hair, but she ignored him. “You don’t need to be chilled. What were you doing out wandering the park at this time of day? I was walking the dog. I don’t know what your excuse is. Are you
trying
to catch your death of pneumonia?” She lifted the towel from his head and smoothed his hair back into place. “Now, I’ll put on the kettle, then run up and get you a dry shirt. I doubt there’s anything down here that would fit you.”

Before she could turn to go, he caught her arm just above the burn on her wrist. “Sophie, what is this?” he asked, then he looked up at her and saw her face. She didn’t need a mirror to know what a fright she looked because she could see it in his eyes. “What happened to you?”

“Beau saw a squirrel and took off, and he took me along for the ride. The leash gave me a rope burn,” she said as airily as she could manage.

He tightened his grip and frowned at her. She could feel him assessing her, see the doubt on his face. “Sophie, I’ve seen a squirrel run across Beau’s back—I guess it thought he was a rock—and he didn’t move a muscle.”

“You also don’t think he wants to walk beyond the end of the block, and I’m seeing otherwise.” She jerked her arm out of his grasp. She’d had enough of people grabbing her. “Now, I’ll get that kettle on. Where should I look for a dry shirt?”

“There should be a sweatshirt in the laundry basket just inside the bedroom door,” he said, sagging against the pillows. His posture looked defeated, but the glint in his eyes said this conversation wasn’t over.

“I’ll be back in a sec. Keep an eye on him, Beau.”

After setting the kettle on the stove, she dashed upstairs, forgetting the key in her haste, but she was able to unlock the door the way she had the downstairs door and Emily’s. Oh dear, she really did have powers. She wondered what she could do other than open locked doors. The NYPD sweatshirt was where he said it would be, lying in a basket of clean clothes. She grabbed it and ran back downstairs.

The kettle was just starting to boil when she got to it. It was too late in the evening for tea, so she rummaged through the cabinets and found a box of cocoa mix. Good, she needed a dose of sugar after all the shock, and it didn’t require the water to be fresh off the boil. She turned off the stove, then turned to focus on Michael.

“I can dress myself,” he grumbled as she approached with the sweatshirt.

“Do you really feel up to that?” He glared at her and eased his right arm out of the sling, then struggled to lift the hem of his long-sleeved T-shirt. When she couldn’t stand watching anymore, she snapped, “Oh, come on, no one’s going to give you a medal for changing shirts by yourself, and you’ll exhaust yourself trying.” As she helped him pull his arms out of the sleeves, she reflected that this was her first time to undress a man. She was glad the shirt was over his head so he couldn’t see her blush at the thought. Not that this was
that
kind of situation. It was more like helping a child get into his pajamas.

He had a lanky build, but he had a decent set of muscles, like he’d put some work into staying in shape. His ribs stood out, though, so he must have lost weight since being hurt. The upper right side of his chest was swathed in gauze bandages and surgical tape. “Do you need to change these bandages?” she asked.

“No, I’m fine. I saw the doctor earlier today, so these are fresh.” She helped him get the weaker arm into the sleeve of the sweatshirt, then left him to get the shirt the rest of the way on while she went to make cocoa. She put one mug into his hand, wrapped an afghan around his shoulders, and sat next to him.

He was breathing better, she noticed, and he wasn’t quite so gray. “You need to take better care of yourself,” she scolded.

“You’re one to talk. What happened, Sophie?”

“No one mugged me, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“What about trying to abduct you?”

There was no way she could answer that question in a way that didn’t sound alarming without lying, and she knew he’d know she was lying. Even so, she looked him in the eye and said, “It’s not what you think.”

“How do you know what I think?”

“Oh, honey, trust me, there is no
way
you can be thinking this.” She couldn’t hold back a laugh that sounded borderline hysterical.

“Care to share?”

“It has nothing to do with you.”

“Does it have anything to do with Emily? Nobody’s threatening you or asking for ransom, or anything like that?”

“I’d tell you if that were the case.”

“Would you? You’re lying to me about everything else. What about your meeting with our prime suspect earlier in the evening?”

She wavered between tackling that head-on and trying to deny it. Either way, it would look bad. “I see Detective Tanaka has talked to you,” she said. “It’s not what he thought. It wasn’t the same guy.” Metaphorically speaking, that was true. The first time she’d encountered the fairy, he’d been an enemy, but this time he seemed to be an ally.

“You can tell me off the record if you need help with something and you’re afraid to involve the police.”

“I appreciate your concern, really, I do, but this isn’t a police matter, and there’s nothing you can do to help. I’m not up to anything illegal, if that makes you feel better.”

“Are you in trouble?”

She paused, thinking, then shook her head, “No, no, I don’t think so.” With a bitter chuckle, she added, “I may be the one causing the trouble, but that’s usually the case.” She placed a hand on his arm and said, “You don’t need to worry about me. I can take care of myself.” The memory of taking down her would-be abductors and flinging them around magically flashed before her mind’s eye and it took all her self-control not to burst out laughing.

“Just like they don’t give medals for changing shirts by yourself, they don’t give prizes for self-sufficiency. You don’t have to do everything.”

She sighed. “Yes, I do. Otherwise, it doesn’t get done.” She stood and nodded toward his mug. “Are you finished with that?”

He handed it to her, and she took both mugs to the sink, then turned to face him. “Can you make it upstairs by yourself, or do you need help?”

He grinned suddenly and shook his head in disbelief. “Look at you—you act like you have to do everything for yourself, and yet you’re the first one to offer help.”

“Okay then, when you’re back to full strength, I’ll let you carry me up the stairs.”

He got off the daybed, groaning only slightly, then stood still for a moment to steady himself. As he let her take his arm, he said, “I’ll hold you to that.” She had a vivid mental image of him scooping her into his arms and sweeping her up the stairs, and when she met his eye, his expression told her he’d seen a very similar image. Both of them quickly looked away, and she could hardly wait to get him up the stairs so she could take her arm from around him. She should have outgrown the hopeless crush phase years ago, so this was awfully silly of her.

Upstairs, he unlocked his apartment door and hesitated a moment with his hand on the knob. “Here, let me help,” she said.

“No, I’ve got it.” He took a deep breath and opened the door, then turned back to face her. “I think I’ll be okay from here.”

“Let me know if you need anything,” she said with forced brightness. She felt about a ton lighter once his door closed behind him and she returned to the shelter of Emily’s apartment.

And then she wished she’d kept him around because now she didn’t have anything to distract her from all the thoughts raging in her head—the lost dreams, pointless sacrifices, unnamed debts, and uncertain future.

Maeve’s Lobby

A Moment Later

“Such insolence!” Maeve sputtered at Eamon. “You owe me obedience. I don’t need to explain myself to one such as you.”

Eamon glared at Maeve. “I am not a member of your court.” He straightened his shoulders, and it seemed to Emily that he grew taller. “I would never bow to you.”

Maeve’s eyes went so icy that they could have emitted freeze rays. Her voice dropped to a sinister whisper. “If you are not a member of my court, why do you spend so much time here?” Her gaze flicked to Emily, who shivered at the sudden blast of cold that struck her. “It’s the girl, isn’t it? You’ve become fond of the human girl.”

She moved forward in a walk that was practically a slither until she was eye-to-eye with Eamon. “When you enter my court, you come under my rule, and I will not tolerate traitors,” she spat. Then she raised her voice and shrieked, “Seize him! He will tell us how to find Sophie Drake.”

Before Eamon could react, he was swarmed by henchmen, one of whom bound his arms against his sides with a silver chain. Another moved his hand, and Eamon slumped limply to the ground. The henchmen hauled him away.

Without thinking, Emily rushed forward and slapped Maeve hard across the face. “You bitch!” she screamed. “You have no
right
! He’s free!”

The look on Maeve’s face should have scared Emily, but she was too outraged to feel fear. Was this what it was like to be Sophie? Whatever it was, they could sell this feeling as a drug. She was invincible. “And while I’m at it,” she continued while Maeve was still too stunned to speak, “you had no right to grab me. You also have no right to whatever it is you want from my sister, and I am sick of getting caught up in your stupid little power trip.”

Instead of yelling, Maeve smiled sweetly. “You ignorant, insignificant, pathetic little human,” she said in a voice that made saccharine seem sour in comparison. “You have no idea what is happening here, no idea at all. Stay out of matters that don’t concern you.”

Still riding the adrenaline high, Emily snorted in derision. “Don’t concern me? This concerns me a lot, in every meaning of the word. Considering that I’m being held prisoner and you’re trying to do God knows what to my sister, yeah, it concerns me. And I’m pretty damned concerned about what all this means.”

“I have had enough of your insolence.” Maeve reached out and touched Emily’s forehead. The last thing Emily heard as the darkness closed in was Maeve’s voice saying, “Your sister will pay for her defiance.”

The Antique Shop

Friday, noon

Sophie did not want to join the enchantresses. She had so much more to worry about than humoring a pair of dotty old ladies. Yes, the magic had been helpful the night before, but she didn’t think that committee meetings about how to handle the fairy situation would be of much use. Unfortunately, the fairies took debts and obligations very seriously, and if she didn’t carry through on what she’d promised Tallulah, she might be asked for something even worse. She went to the antique shop the next day.

As the bells on the door jangled at Sophie’s entrance, Athena looked up. She was dressed in gingham and denim trimmed with eyelet lace today. Sophie let Beau off his leash, and he went straight to his bed.

“You’ve reconsidered?” Athena said.

“I have.”

Athena clapped her hands excitedly. “I knew you’d come around.”

“I wouldn’t really say that I’ve come around,” Sophie said, already regretting this move. She suspected it was about to complicate her life even further. “It’s more of an obligation.”

Athena made a “tsk, tsk” sound and said, “I’d have thought you’d know better than to oblige yourself to their kind.”

“This is a very old obligation.” Sophie sighed. She might as well come out with it instead of wasting time talking in circles. “It turns out I was wrong, about everything. Tallulah didn’t take Emily, and Emily wasn’t the price for my training. It’s Maeve who has Emily, and no one seems to know why. But Tallulah has called in the debt I owe her, and she said I had to accept the offer I was extended yesterday. So here I am. Quite reluctantly, to be honest.”

“Oh, my. I’d better call Amelia. But in the meantime, you can start learning some basics.” She went behind the counter and brought out a stack of binders. “I created a curriculum,” she said as she handed the binders to Sophie.

Of course you did,
Sophie thought. She opened the first binder with some trepidation, not sure what to expect of a magical training course. It turned out to be along the lines of “Dick and Jane Learn to Channel Mystical Forces,” complete with short, simple sentences and colorful illustrations on laminated pages.

“I wrote that for Amelia’s daughter, years ago,” Athena said. “I don’t mean to insult your intelligence. You can sit at that table over there and I’ll be back in a moment.”

Sophie sat and read about how Hortense realized she had magical power when she knocked her brother Mortimer away from her toys without touching him. Her mother then taught her to use her power properly. Younger brother Mortimer mostly served as the person Hortense didn’t magically kill for being an idiot. Sophie got the impression that Amelia’s daughter had a younger brother who’d been in danger of being turned into a toad.

“Oh, Hortense, honey, there are so many other ways to deal with younger siblings,” Sophie muttered as she read. Or were there? Had everything she’d done actually been magic and not just intimidation and wits?

She looked up to see Athena standing in front of her. “Amelia should be here soon. Do you have any questions about what you’ve read?”

“I think I figured out most of this for myself without realizing it involved magic.”

“You have good instincts, and your association with the fairies may have taught you more than you realized. I’m surprised they didn’t recognize what you were. When did you stop visiting the fairy realm?”

“Before I was eighteen.”

“Ah, that explains it. Your power wasn’t fully developed then. You may have had stirrings, but they wouldn’t have thought to look for magic in you.”

“
I
didn’t think to look for magic in me, but it’s probably always been there. For instance, I’ve always thought I just had a forceful personality. People usually do what I want them to do. I suppose I was making them do it.”