A Kind of Magic (3 page)

She couldn’t help but take a closer look when she had to stop to wait for the light to turn. Judging by the photo under that headline, she had to admit that the story did involve an angelic-looking toddler. “Oh dear,” she muttered to herself.

Still, children went missing all the time. His babysitter might have run off with him. There might have been a custody dispute. Then there were those women who kidnapped other people’s children and pretended they were their own. It wasn’t her responsibility.

Besides, if the fairies had taken him, the parents probably wouldn’t have known their child was gone. A changeling would have been left behind, and parents these days had no idea how to check for that sort of thing. They’d just spend years seeing doctors and wondering why their child wasn’t thriving. Though that was probably an improvement over the way things used to be, when there had been cases of children thrown into fires to prove they were changelings—and most of them probably hadn’t been.

Even so, she was relieved when the light changed and she was able to cross the street, moving away from that nagging headline that pricked at what her sister Emily would call her overinflated sense of responsibility. She was just a dancer, not a fairy queen. She’d even prefer not to be an enchantress, as long as Amelia and Athena were willing to leave her out of it. Sure, she’d pitch in if a crisis arose, but it wasn’t her day job. She had a lot of ground to make up in her true calling.

Speaking of which … She reached the administrative offices for the ballet company and announced herself at the reception desk. She’d been eighteen the last time she was here, a promising rising star considered to be the next big dance phenomenon. And then life got in the way. She was surprised to see that there was still a photo of her in the role of the Snow Queen on the wall, and she was even more surprised when the director himself came to greet her, bypassing the usual air kiss for a bear hug.

“Good heavens, Sophie,” he said once he’d released her from the hug and gripped her shoulders to hold her at arm’s length so he could look at her. “You haven’t aged a second.” He glanced over to the photo, then back to her. “If anything, you look younger now. Were you spending all those years in suspended animation?”

“It’s just good genes and clean living,” she said. She imagined her fae genes did have a lot to do with it.

He led her back to his office, never moving his arm from around her shoulders, as though he was afraid she might escape. “I can’t tell you how glad I was to hear that you were taking class here in the city and hadn’t lost a step in all these years. It was like the answer to all my problems just fell into my lap.” They reached his office and he offered coffee before remembering that she didn’t drink it and sending his secretary to fetch tea. Not waiting for the tea to be delivered, he faced Sophie and said, “I don’t suppose you remember any of the Snow Queen choreography, do you?”

“I haven’t thought of it in years, but I imagine it’s still in there and would come back to me.”

“Do you think you could refresh yourself in the next few days?” Without waiting for her response, he plunged ahead. “You see, Natalia reinjured her foot—stress fracture that’s been a nagging problem, she thought she was better, now suddenly she can’t dance. The doctor says she needs six weeks of rest. We’re already down to barely having a cast because of other injuries. I could move some people around, but most of the roles involve partnering, and that’s really hard to just jump into when we open in less than a week. But the Snow Queen is a soloist with the corps—they’d hardly notice a new person being dropped in. Since you have a name, that gives me a reason to cast outside. Do you think you’re up for it?”

Sophie tried not to look as flabbergasted as she felt. When he’d called her about meeting to talk about possibly making a comeback, she’d thought he meant a spring production, after
Nutcracker
season, not a ballet that was opening next week. “I could try,” she hazarded. She was fairly certain her body was up to it since she’d been commuting to New York via the Realm to take professional-level classes. Whether she could resume an old role that quickly remained to be seen.

“Good. Are you free this afternoon? We can go over the choreography as a refresher and see how you look, then decide from there.”

Her head was still spinning when she left. This was exactly what she’d hoped might happen when she’d been relieved of both her family responsibilities and her regal obligations as queen of the fairy realm. A few snowflakes swirled around her as she walked down the street. She hadn’t lived in New York since she was a teenager, but it seemed a bit early for snow—still just mid-November. With a stern mental scolding, she forced her attention back to trying to remember ballet choreography. If she wasn’t going to let magical nonsense ruin her life again, she had to stop seeing magic in everything.

The Upper West Side—the Antique Shop

12:45 p.m.

Michael was dead tired when his shift ended. Staying up most of the night was bad enough, but breaking the news of an untimely death—twice—was so emotionally draining that he could barely force his body to move. Even so, he wasn’t sure he could sleep, so instead of going home, he went to the little antique shop that seemed to mostly serve as a cover for the activities of the two ancient enchantresses who ran it.

He instinctively ducked his head as he entered the basement shop, the little bell above the door tinkling to herald his arrival. The ceiling was actually about a foot above him, but it was low enough to make him feel like he should be stooping.

“Detective Murray! This is a surprise!” Athena Abercrombie, the elder of the two sisters, greeted him. The tiny woman flitted forward to take his hand. Thanksgiving was still two weeks away, but she wore a sweater emblazoned with a turkey wearing a Pilgrim hat. “I’m sure you’re not here to buy antique china, so what magical problem do you have for us today?”

“Am I that obvious?”

“How much china have you bought lately?”

“Actually, I’m doing some early Christmas shopping.”

Her eyebrows rose. “Really?”

He couldn’t help but grin, in spite of his heavy heart. “No, sorry. I had a kelpie sighting this morning. I wanted to talk to you about it.”

“A kelpie? Where?”

“The lake in Central Park.”

“You’re sure it was a kelpie?”

“Pretty sure.”

“Oh my.”

“We have one death already. I’d like to prevent any more. What do I do about it?”

She darted over to the counter and banged her hand repeatedly on the bell while calling out, “Amelia! We have a kelpie!” Michael winced, her sudden blast of volume making his ears ring. More serenely, she said, “Please have a seat, Detective. Would you like some tea?”

He wasn’t normally much of a tea drinker, but being served a hot cup of tea by an elderly lady sounded so comforting that he couldn’t resist. Right now, he really needed the comfort.  “Yes, please,” he said, settling himself at the small table in the corner of the shop.

Athena fluttered off to the back room just as her younger sister, Amelia Abernathy, entered. At first glance, the two seemed entirely unalike. Athena was tiny and cute while Amelia was tall and regal, but they had such similar faces that they might pass as twins in a photo lineup. He stood to greet her. “Mrs. Abernathy, hello,” he said.

She offered her hand in a way that made him feel like she expected him to kiss it, but he settled for giving it a squeeze and a shake. “Detective Murray, how are you doing?”

He started to say, “Fine,” but the look she gave him made it clear that she wasn’t making social niceties. She really did want to know. “Okay, I guess,” he said. “It’s weird. Nothing has actually changed, and yet everything has. My life’s going on as normal, but what I know is different.”

She gestured toward his left hand. “I see you’ve quit wearing your ring.”

He rubbed his thumb against the spot where the wedding ring used to be. “Yeah. Everyone seems to think that seven years is long enough, and since I know she’s not coming back, I figured it was about time I tried to move on.”

She placed a surprisingly gentle hand on his shoulder. “I know it’s difficult. Everyone mourns in his or her own way, and everyone has a different pace. You notice that I never remarried after my husband died.”

He refrained from saying that there weren’t too many centenarians in the dating pool, because he’d seen what she could do with a well-aimed fireball. Instead, he swallowed the sarcastic remark and said, “Thanks.”

Just as Athena came bustling out of the back with a tea tray, the front door bell jingled and Emily Drake entered, Beau the bulldog waddling behind her on a leash. Michael noticed that she, too, instinctively ducked when she came through the doorway.

“Whoa, Michael, this is a surprise,” she said as she unclipped Beau’s leash from his collar. The dog headed straight for his bed behind the counter and commenced snoring.

“I guess it is weird seeing your neighbor away from your building.”

“No, I meant that you must be having a supernatural incident, too.” Belatedly remembering her manners, she said, “Hey, Amelia and Athena.”

“You’re just in time for tea,” Athena said. Michael noticed that she’d brought out extra cups.

Emily flopped into one of the chairs and stretched out her long legs. “So, what do you have?” she asked, taking a cup from Athena.

“Kelpie in Central Park.”

“Is that the seal thing or the horse thing?”

“Horse,” Amelia replied.

“You sure it wasn’t just a carriage horse making a break for it?”

“Across the surface of the lake, with a mysteriously drowned body nearby?” Michael asked.

“Oh. No, it’s hard to come up with a non-weird explanation for that.”

Amelia said, “I’m surprised the kelpie was able to do much of anything in this world. You’d have to believe at least a little bit in order to see it. It’s that sliver of belief that makes a thing like that dangerous—believing enough to see it, but not knowing enough to recognize the danger.”

Michael nodded thanks as Athena handed him a cup. He wrapped his hands around it and let the warmth soothe him before he said, “She might have believed, or at least hoped. She had all kinds of fantasy and fairy-related things in her room. I’d definitely say she was a dreamer.”

“I’m still concerned that this creature was here at all,” Amelia said, frowning. “There have been no documented sightings for centuries. It takes very deliberate effort to get through the barriers between worlds, and a kelpie isn’t as conscious as something like the Hunt.”

“So if things like the kelpie can get through, does that mean other stuff might be happening?” Emily asked, sounding a little too casual, like she was trying to fish for information without rousing suspicions.

“Why? Is something up with you?” Michael asked.

“I’m not sure. I’m not even sure that it’s anything weird. That’s why I wanted to get a second opinion.”

“What is it?” Amelia asked.

“One of our cast members didn’t show up for yesterday’s matinee.”

That instantly caught Michael’s attention because it reminded him of the day Sophie had appeared at his door when Emily didn’t show up for a matinee. “Another fairy abduction?”

“I don’t think so, not unless they gave her back pretty quickly. She was at the theater by the end of the show, on crutches. She said she woke up late and then her foot wouldn’t take her weight. It turned out to be broken, like someone had stomped on it really hard. She has no memory of doing anything but going to bed with a perfectly good foot. She also looked dead tired, but I don’t know if that was pain or something else.”

“There is that sleeping pill that sometimes makes some people do strange things in their sleep,” Michael suggested, even though he knew he was desperately clutching at “normal” straws.

“There used to be stories about humans being taken into the fairy world to dance the night away, then returned to their beds with no memory of the night,” Athena said. “All they knew was that they were exhausted, like they never got any rest. Has she been tired lately, before this incident?”

“I think we’re all tired, all the time,” Emily said. “We work weird hours.” She frowned, considering. “But I think she might have seemed less her usual self the last couple of weeks, now that I think about it.”

“You should ask her if she’s been having strange dreams,” Athena suggested.

“That’s not the only thing I’m worried about. Olivia—you met her, Michael—is her understudy and took over the role, and she was
amazing
. I knew she was good, but this was beyond anything I’ve seen her do before.”

“Do you think she’s responsible for whatever happened?” Michael asked. Olivia had been one of his suspects when Emily went missing, and though she turned out to have had nothing to do with it, he couldn’t help but wonder about two of Olivia’s friends having things happen to them, especially when she stood to benefit.

Emily frowned and bit her lip. After a pause, she said, “I don’t
think
so. But there may be something else at work. Maybe someone—or something—else is giving Olivia an opportunity.”

“It could be a leanan sidhe,” Amelia said. “It bears watching because that could be dangerous for Olivia.”

“What’s that?” Michael asked.

“It’s along the lines of a vampire muse,” Athena explained. “It’s a kind of fairy that inspires people in the arts, but it also saps their life force. That explains many poets and artists—a spurt of brilliant creativity, then an early death. Has Olivia seemed tired when she’s offstage? Has her appetite changed?”

 “Not that I’ve noticed,” Emily said. “But like I said, we’re all tired.”

“Have you talked to Sophie about this?” Michael asked.

“No! And I’m not going to. She needs a break, and it’s not her job anymore.”

The elderly sisters exchanged a glance that suggested to Michael that they didn’t entirely agree, but neither of them said anything.

“It’s probably nothing,” Emily added. “I’ve become a fairy paranoid, seeing them in everything. But then there’s your magic horse running on water.”