To Catch a Queen (8 page)

She went through her usual routine of parking her car, hiding it, and opening a gateway. Once inside the Realm, she immediately opened another gateway that took her into Central Park, and finally breathed a little easier with a sense of freedom. After pulling a belted wool jacket out of her bag and putting it on, she headed to the restaurant where she was to meet her colleague. Her mind, though, was already on that night’s market.

The Theater District

11:15 p.m.

Emily changed quickly as soon as she came offstage. As far as she could tell, she hadn’t lost her mojo when the spell on her had broken. The house was still full and she still had to do multiple curtain calls. She could hear Sophie’s voice in her head, telling her that magic had nothing to do with it, it was all her and she had just needed the chance to shine and be noticed. Maybe her mental Sophie was right. And if the crowd outside the stage door was a little smaller, it was because it was a Thursday night.

She signed a few autographs and smiled for photos as she made her way to the street and hailed a cab, making a mental note to put a car service in her next contract, assuming that it didn’t all go up in a puff of magical smoke. If the cabbie thought there was anything odd about her asking him to take Central Park West on the way to her apartment, he didn’t say anything.

She kept her eyes peeled for unusual activity around the park. Since Halloween was a huge fairy holiday, she was pretty sure there’d be a market soon, and that would be a great place to investigate this phony queen. Sophie might not be ready to delegate, but that didn’t mean others couldn’t volunteer to help. The real queen couldn’t very well scope anything out about the impostor, and any information she could glean would only help her sister.

The area around the park didn’t look too different. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but there weren’t any hordes of strange people streaming into the park. She was about to direct the driver to take her home when the cab stopped for a light and a man with a dog on a leash crossed the street. It was Michael and Beau, and Michael wasn’t dressed like he was just taking the dog out for a late-night pit stop, but rather like he was going on a casual date, and he carried a messenger bag over his shoulder.

She threw a few bills at the driver and said, “I’ll just get out here, thanks. Keep the change.”

She had to run to keep Michael in sight. He moved like a man on a mission. As they went deeper into the park, the level of activity increased, and she could see the faint trace of aura that told her these people were fae—that sense hadn’t disappeared when the bonds had broken.

Michael stopped on the bridge overlooking Bethesda Terrace, and she hung back, reluctant to let him see her. Was he meeting Sophie, or was he on some mission of his own? Then not too far away, she noticed Athena and Amelia. “The gang’s all here,” she muttered to herself. This night could get really interesting.

Central Park

11:55 p.m.

Michael stood at the balustrade overlooking Bethesda Terrace and checked his watch one more time. His pulse quickened with anticipation. The first time he’d seen one of these markets, he’d had no idea what was happening. He’d tried to rationalize an entire festival materializing out of thin air in Central Park. Now that he knew the truth, he braced himself for the shock.

One more check of his watch showed that he still had a couple more minutes. Others were starting to gather in the area. He was sure most of them were some kind of fairy folk, but now he knew there were more humans in on the secret. A stirring in the waters of the lake on the other side of the terrace startled him, then he realized that there were people in the water—using the term “people” loosely, of course.

Beau, who’d been slumped against the railing, came to attention and stood, so Michael checked his watch again. It was almost time. He held his breath, and while he waited, the terrace suddenly transformed.

This market was bigger than the ones he’d seen before, like the difference between the regular greenmarkets and the Christmas markets held around the city. The terrace was packed with brightly colored booths. The only empty space other than the narrow aisles between rows of booths was a dance floor near the edge of the lake, beside which a small band played.

The market was already crowded with folk who’d come from the Realm, and the more earthly fae who’d been gathering flooded down stairs and paths into the market. Beau started walking, joining the flow of the crowd, and Michael came along behind the dog.

When he reached the first of the market stalls, he put his hand in his coat pocket and felt for the little angel figurine. It was a pewter version of the fountain in the middle of the market. Detective Tanaka had given it to him when Michael started his training to be a detective, continuing the joke begun during Michael’s patrol days when someone had realized that St. Michael the archangel was the patron saint of policemen. Michael tolerated the good-natured teasing and had a box full of angel figures, magnets, and postcards that had landed on his desk or in his locker over the years. This one was the most meaningful because it had been a sign that the senior detective had accepted him. He hadn’t realized just how important it was to him until he contemplated giving it away.

But what would be a worthwhile trade for it? Not food or drink, which eliminated about half the stalls. He’d brought human food with him, either to sustain himself or use as payment while in the Realm. Fairy food was unlikely to do him any good.

On second thought, he realized he shouldn’t be looking at the stalls, but rather at the vendors. His trade would only have value if he got something they valued, and they wouldn’t be selling anything personally meaningful to them. He walked slowly through the market, glancing at the fairies and other beings staffing their booths. None of them appeared to be wearing anything that looked like it might have great sentimental value. Then again, would anyone guess that his most treasured item of clothing was his first NYPD sweatshirt, now faded and tattered?

On his second pass through the market, he noticed a woman selling small sculptures that looked so lifelike that he halfway suspected they weren’t sculptures at all, but rather enchanted beings frozen into position. In this place, that wasn’t entirely out of the question. Her booth was nearly empty of shoppers, and he thought that was causing her some distress. Her eyes darted back and forth as she watched people approach and pass by, and all the while, she absently stroked the shawl around her shoulders. It might have been woven from spider silk, it was so filmy, but the colors were more intense than anything in nature, and they seemed to shift. Even if he didn’t need to use it to buy Jen’s freedom, it would make an excellent welcome-home gift, he thought.

Her eyes lit up when he approached her booth, and he felt bad for not being a real customer—that was, until she said, “Get your own brownie here, sir. You can release him when you need his services, then put him under enchantment and out of the way again when he’s done his work.”

“That’s not really something I want right now,” he said, suppressing a shudder. “But I was admiring your shawl.”

She glanced down at it and ran a hand along it. “Yes, my first brownie made this for me.”

“What do you want for it?”

“It’s not for sale,” she said, wrapping it tighter around herself. “Does this look like a clothing booth?”

With a surprisingly strong pang of remorse, he took the figurine out of his pocket and held it out to her in the palm of his hand. “Would you perhaps be interested in this?”

“Ooooh,” she breathed, her eyes growing wide as she leaned down to look at it. “How did you ever enchant one of those?”

He started to correct her mistaken impression but thought better of it, instead closing his fist around the figure and pulling it away. “Trade secret,” he said vaguely. “But I might be willing to trade for your shawl.”

“May I see it again?” she asked eagerly, almost greedily. He opened his fingers just long enough for her to get a glimpse, then closed his hand again. She shut her eyes, and her face showed her internal struggle before she whipped off the shawl and thrust it at him. He handed her the figure and hurried away from the booth before she realized that there was no enchantment on the angel figure—at least, not that he knew of. He couldn’t take that for granted any longer.

He pulled back on the leash when Beau got too far ahead of him. In this crowd, he didn’t want to trip anyone. A moment later, he saw why Beau was so eager when he glimpsed red-gold curls in the crowd. How had he not noticed Sophie earlier? At least, he thought it was Sophie. He craned his neck to see around and between the people in front of him. She was shorter than most of the fairies here, but as slightly built as she was, she still looked more substantial, more real, and that made her stand out in the crowd. Meanwhile, as bright as her hair was in the regular world, it was dim compared to the unreal hues the fae folk sported.

He eased up a little on the leash to let Beau follow Sophie. He wanted to see what she was up to at the market. She paused every so often to speak to the people working the booths or to passersby, but mostly she kept moving like she was looking for someone. What surprised him was how little attention she got. She was the queen of these people, and he couldn’t imagine the queen making an appearance in such a public place without causing a bit of a stir. When he’d been with her in the Realm, everyone seemed to know at first glance exactly what she was.

Frowning, he put his hand in his pocket to grab his clover keychain and took another good look at her. Nope, there was nothing there. Should there have been? He’d barely seen her in months, and in those rare times he hadn’t bothered to look with his enhanced sight to see if there was something magically different about her.

She did have a bit more of a glow about her than an ordinary human, but she wasn’t wearing a tiara not visible to the naked eye, or anything like that. If there was something about her that said “queen,” she must have hidden it, the fairy equivalent of a movie star wearing dark glasses and a baseball cap.

But he knew what she was, and she was just what he needed. He closed the gap between them before loosening Beau’s retractable leash. “Go get her, Beau,” he murmured, and the dog trotted forward to circle around her. When he was certain there was no way she could dodge or escape him, he said, “Hello, Sophie. We need to talk.”

Bethesda Terrace

Midnight

When the marketplace magically appeared on Bethesda Terrace, Emily couldn’t help but squeal and clap her hands in delight. It was so magical, like something out of a dream.

It also looked real and vivid. The spell that had seemingly trapped her in a gray haze might have been broken, but the world still wasn’t what it once had been to her, and she was beginning to wonder if it ever would be. This place, though, had all the color and life of the Realm, everything she’d missed since her return. She didn’t want to go back there, not forever, but it was good to get a little dose of it.

All around her were bright colors, intense smells, lively sounds. She imagined that if she were to eat or drink anything, the taste would be amazing, but she knew better than to try. That was why she was in this mess in the first place.

Fortunately, there were enough people around and there was enough noise that Michael didn’t seem to have heard her squealing. He was so fixed on whatever he was after that it apparently hadn’t occurred to him that anyone he knew might be there.

She joined the others heading down the stairs into the market. Then, through a gap in the crowd, she saw strawberry-blond curls floating gracefully, barely moving, as though the person wearing them was gliding. “Oh crap, Sophie?” she muttered. It was going to be a challenge keeping a safe distance from four people.

A band was playing a lively jig that made her toes tap, and she wanted more than anything to join the dancing, but she wasn’t here for fun. Maybe when all this was over, she could come to a market on her own time.

She couldn’t resist reaching out to touch the silk floating from one booth. It slid through her fingers like cool liquid. The next booth sold a spicy drink, and she could detect the spices from where she stood—cinnamon, cloves, and something utterly alien. Her mouth watered, but she reminded herself that it was risky. She didn’t know if the usual Realm rules applied to this place, so she didn’t want to take the chance.

A familiar silvery head on the next aisle made her smile, and she glanced around to make sure none of the people she knew were watching her before she ran to greet Eamon. “I was hoping you’d be here,” she said, hugging him.

“I am somewhat surprised that you are,” he replied, not releasing her after belatedly returning her hug.

“I thought I’d do some research into the impostor. But the enchantresses, my sister, and Michael are also here. It’s a party.”

“Have you found anything useful?”

“I just got here. You?”

He glanced around. “This market seems small. There must be activity elsewhere.”

“This is small?”

“For this market at this time.”

“What else might be happening?”

“Whatever it was, I was not invited.” He frowned at her. “Are you sure it is wise for you to be here?”

“Oh, you mean the bonds and potential hostage thing? All better. Check me out and see for yourself.”

He studied her for a moment, his eyes widening. “That does seem to be the case,” he said.

“You mean you didn’t do it? I woke up this way after you left.”

“I had nothing to do with it.”

“Maybe they realized I was too well-guarded to take this time.”

“Perhaps. But I am still concerned about the impostor queen.”

She hooked her arm through his elbow. “Let’s do some investigating, then.”