A Kind of Magic (29 page)

“Perfectly understandable.”

“I just have so much to deal with that I can’t deal with them, too.”

“How did the second night go?”

“Fine. No snow monsters. They attempted to do something similar with the lighting, and it almost worked. It was a lot easier to fight, though. I just had to pretend this time.” She nodded toward the newspapers she had under her arm. “The reviews are in, and I’m afraid to look.”

“You didn’t look online?”

“I haven’t had a chance. There was some talk about it in class yesterday, but I tried to tune it out. It does sound like they’re positive overall. At least, we didn’t get yelled at.” She gave a one-shouldered shrug that she seemed to be trying to make look casual, but which came across as tense. “Chances are, I didn’t even get mentioned.”

“I thought your return was a big deal. But if you’re worried …” He gestured toward the papers. “May I?”

She bit her lower lip and winced, then nodded.

He slid the papers out from under her arm and flipped to the arts section of the one on top. The review of the ballet was on the front of the section, with a photo of the snow scene, Sophie front and center. “The photo’s of you,” he said.

Her eyes widened. “Oh.”

“The caption mentions you making a comeback.” He skimmed the article. “Overall, they seem to have liked it, could have done with more vibrant dancing in the first act, beautiful Sugar Plum Fairy, time to shake up some of the other third-act dances. But they loved the snow scene and liked this take on it for more drama and excitement. They thought you were fierce and making a ‘welcome return to the stage.’ So relax.” Actually, the article had praised her more thoroughly than that, getting into the minutiae of her technique, but he thought he’d save that as a pleasant surprise for when she read the review for herself. “Do you want me to read the other?”

She smiled shyly. “I think I’ll be okay now. Thanks.” She lifted her arm so he could wedge the papers under there again. “At least my triumphant return wasn’t a big flop.”

“Far from it. You were great, and Mari liked the whole show, oddly enough. I have to admit, I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Your partner has good taste in high culture.” She started to open Emily’s door, but stopped just as he reached the front door. “Are you off work this weekend?”

“Yes. You need something?”

“Nana and I are cooking something up, and we may need your help. I’ll touch base with you tomorrow, probably in the morning. I have a matinee. Normally they have a different cast for the matinee, but since they were shorthanded due to injury and I only have the one scene, I’m doing all the performances.”

“Sure. I’ll be around. Will you be okay coming and going tonight?”

“Are you offering a personal escort, Detective?”

“I’m not sure what good I’d do, but I’d feel better knowing you weren’t alone.”

“I’ll leave a ticket for you at the box office if you want to come tonight.”

“Okay,” he said, surprised by how good that sounded. “I’ll see you tonight. I guess I’ll wait for you afterward.”

He realized as he headed down the front steps that he felt a lot more energized than he had a few moments before, and that infernal melody in his head had muted somewhat. It returned as he headed down the sidewalk. He found himself whistling it softly and wishing he could find a piano.

He usually walked to work because it was generally faster than anything on wheels going crosstown in the morning rush, and besides, there were worse places to commute than through Central Park, even at this time of year. Actually, right now it was even better, in spite of the lack of summer greenery. He knew it was because of the barriers between worlds fraying and that being most evident away from the concrete and steel of the city, but he still enjoyed the sense of walking through a fairyland. He didn’t know what other people saw, and he suspected they didn’t see everything he did or the newspapers would have been full of stories about strange creatures at play in the park.

He saw beings right out of an old storybook frolicking in spots that should have been bare or brown but that were lush and green. A few feet away, snow fell on a winter wonderland as sprites danced in the air. If he dared tell anyone other than Sophie and the others what he was seeing, he’d be locked up.

There was also music in the air. That happened in the real park too sometimes. People played music in the park for tips, there was a string ensemble that played at Bethesda Terrace on summer evenings, and there was someone who seemed to come to the Ramble to practice the violin, but it was usually quieter when it got cold.

This melody was familiar, though. It was the one running through his head. That came as something of a relief. He wasn’t suddenly composing music in his head, but rather must have subconsciously picked up on some fae melody he’d heard. He blinked a few minutes later and wondered where he was. The path was nowhere in sight. He must have veered toward the music without realizing it.

While he was still getting his bearings to return to the path and get to work, he heard angry voices nearby. More accurately, one angry voice and one terrified one. That fell under his jurisdiction, so he tried to determine where the voices originated and followed the sound.

As he drew closer, he thought he recognized both voices. The terrified one had a soft sibilance to it—his cat friend, it sounded like. The angry one was female but deep—Josephine? That changed the situation entirely. It probably wasn’t a police matter, but he suspected it was something he needed to know about, so he kept approaching, trying to stay out of their range of vision. Trees were a little sparser here, so that wasn’t easy.

When he caught sight of them, he saw that the cat woman was kneeling in front of Josephine. She seemed to be begging or pleading to the woman who loomed over her. Should he intervene? If Josephine hadn’t met him, he’d have played dumb and acted like a cop inserting himself into a questionable situation. Since she knew him, anything he did could be seen as having something to do with the overall conflict.

He decided that recon was probably the best plan at the moment, and he could always step in if someone’s safety appeared to be at risk. Moving more slowly and carefully, he edged forward, pausing each time he found cover.

Josephine’s voice carried better than the cat woman’s, so he was able to make out what she was saying first. “Loyalty hasn’t always mattered that much to you,” she snarled at the cringing woman in white. “Why should this time be any different?” The woman’s response was little more than a frightened mewl. “They still won’t let you back in. There’s no reason for you not to support me.”

“You think that will make things better for me?” the cat woman finally managed to say. “They already hate me. It could be worse.”

“I could protect you.”

“I don’t need protection.”

“You might!” Josephine raised her hand, as if to cast a spell, but before she could do anything, the woman morphed into her cat form and streaked away, heading right for Michael and leaping into his arms. He ducked behind cover and tucked the cat under his coat as he moved away from Josephine as stealthily as he was able. He didn’t relax until he was well away from anything that seemed at all fae—no odd microclimates, no music straight out of his head.

“It’s okay now,” he said to the trembling cat, trying to coax her out of his coat. She clung desperately with her claws to his suit jacket, so he let her be until she relaxed and let go. Then she crawled out on her own and leapt to the ground, transforming in mid-air.

“You have done me a great service yet again,” she said, bowing to him. “I will never be out of your debt, will I?”

“You could pay me back by telling me what that was all about.”

She glanced over her shoulder, back the way they’d come, and shuddered. “I shouldn’t.”

“I know who she is and what she’s trying to do. Why would an enchantress have any hold over you? Is she conspiring with more fae? What did she want you to do?”

“I won’t do what she wants, but I can’t betray her,” she said, looking miserable. She whirled away, turning back into a cat, and ran off.

“What is it with this woman that no one will turn on her?” Michael muttered to himself as he resumed his walk to work. He’d have thought that people would have been standing in line to stop someone like Josephine, but even people who couldn’t stand her refused to betray her. Was it magic, or was it something else?

Emily’s Apartment

9:00 a.m.

Emily didn’t know why she was tiptoeing up to her own apartment. If Sophie was there, she was surely awake by now, and she’d know Emily hadn’t come home last night. Emily had thought she was over feeling weird about the Walk of Shame, but then she’d never had to come home and face her older sister after a night out.

Bracing herself, she unlocked the apartment door and strode in like she owned the place. Which she did. Well, rented. “Good morning,” she said cheerily.

Sophie was up and sitting at the dining table, drinking tea and reading a book. A takeout container sat on the table near her. She somehow had managed to fit her entire body, including legs and feet, on the miniscule seat of the bistro-style chair. If it were a yoga position, it would be called something like Tangled Bowl of Spaghetti. “Good morning,” Sophie said mildly, barely looking up from her book. “I got you breakfast, and it may still be warm. Tea?”

“No thanks, I got coffee and doughnuts.” As much as she’d dreaded facing the Spanish Inquisition when she got home, it was a little disconcerting to get no reaction.

“Do you think you cured your costar?” Sophie asked.

“How did you know?”

“You mentioned the idea, and when you didn’t come home, I did the math.”

“Oh. Well, yeah, I think it might have worked. At least, he thinks I’m the woman who’s been inspiring him and filling his dreams. Maybe it’ll wear off.” Then, because she was a little annoyed about getting no reaction out of her sister, she couldn’t resist adding, “But I’m in no rush. I mean, I mostly went through with it for the greater good, but it turned out to not be a case of closing my eyes and thinking of England at all. There’s a lot to be said about a man who’s obsessed with you and thinking of you as his muse. It was like being
worshipped
. A lot.”

Sophie’s face grew very pink, but she kept her eyes on her book. Unable to fight back a grin, Emily dropped her bakery bag on the table next to Sophie’s teacup. “Doughnut? I normally don’t indulge, but goodness knows I burned some calories last night.”

Sophie finally broke, dropping her book and pressing her hands over her ears. “Stop it! I can’t know these things about my baby sister.”

“Oh, don’t be such a prude, Soph. It’s the twenty-first century, not the Victorian era. And not even the Victorian era was all that Victorian. Those people had some serious kinks.”

Feeling that all was right with the world now that her sister was freaking out at the thought of sex, Emily sat in the opposite chair and took a doughnut out of the bag. “You’ll be glad to know that this might also have worked to get Eamon out of my system. I guess I was just fixating on the nearest interesting guy.” She didn’t know quite how true that really was, but she did know that the distraction was helping.

Sophie took a doughnut for herself. “Eamon’s not bad, for a fairy, but he’s not really long-term relationship material unless you’re looking for a very, very long-term relationship.”

“I know. I already got the lecture from Athena, who seems to have more of a past than you’d guess from looking at her. It sounds like she’s redirecting a lot of feelings through arts and crafts.” She couldn’t resist adding, “If you’re not careful, you’re facing a future of making your own clothes and jewelry. Don’t miss your chance with Michael.”

Emily was expecting a reaction, but Sophie’s response was stronger than she anticipated. She turned an interesting shade of red and didn’t meet Emily’s eyes. Emily couldn’t help but wonder if anything had happened between them. She noted that the trundle bed had either been put neatly away or never used. Then again, this was Sophie. Everything had been put away the moment she got out of bed.

But although Sophie’s face betrayed her, she tried to act cool. “If you don’t mind, I’m calling dibs on the bathroom.”

“Be my guest. We took a shower before I left.” Emily grinned and reached into the bakery bag as her sister shuddered and fled the room.

Amelia and Athena’s Apartment

3:00 p.m.

Sophie thought she was safe going to the apartment in the middle of the afternoon. She’d gone by the shop on her way there, and it had appeared to be open, so at least one of the sisters had to be out. All she wanted was to be able to slip in and pack a few things to get her through the next couple of days. Once she’d dealt with Josephine, she could hash matters out with the sisters and decide how much she wanted to do with the enchantresses going forward—and how much they wanted to do with her.

The apartment seemed quiet, but she tiptoed through the foyer anyway. She’d almost made it to the kitchen when she heard a throat being cleared and froze, holding her breath. Amelia’s voice said, “We were wondering if you’d ever come home,” and Sophie knew she was busted.

Trying to retain her equilibrium and avoid giving the appearance of a teenager sneaking in after curfew, Sophie turned around to face Amelia. “I was just coming to get some things. I’m staying with Emily.”

“So you’re distancing yourself from us entirely. When you left us, I wondered. We seem to be on different sides at the moment.”

“I left because I was sick of all of you. Does magic atrophy your problem resolution skills and your personal judgment? The only side I’m on is the one that doesn’t hurt innocent people or put them at risk in a quest for power,” Sophie said, knowing her voice sounded stiff. “If there’s a conflict between enchantresses and the fae, I’m a crowned queen of the Realm. If you’re sworn to support someone like Josephine against the fae, that puts you against me, since apparently your oath doesn’t have any loopholes that allow you to do the right thing, regardless of labels—or at least you don’t interpret it that way.”