A Kind of Magic (22 page)

“I don’t need a wingman, and if I did, I have Emily and Emily’s dog. But she’s just getting her dance career started again after taking some time off, so after tonight I imagine she’ll be jetting around the world, being a prima ballerina.”

She studied him for a while, tilting her head slightly to the side and narrowing her eyes. Then she grinned, shook her head, and said, “Wow, it
is
serious. I was going to make a joke about one-night stands fitting well within the jet-set lifestyle and you needing a rebound, but if anything happens with this, it’s not just a rebound, is it?”

“Shut up, Mari,” he said wearily. He wasn’t in the mood to argue with her, and this wasn’t the time to be thinking about this sort of thing. He really had no idea how he felt or what he thought. And besides, he’d just spotted Josephine.

Although he’d have paid good money and bought popcorn for a hypothetical bitch-off between Mari and Josephine, in reality the last thing he wanted or needed was his partner running into a rogue enchantress. Pretending he hadn’t seen Josephine, he turned and began walking casually across the lobby, heading for the bar. Mari came along with him, chatting about tight buns in tights, with hand gestures to illustrate her points. She didn’t seem to notice that she’d been redirected.

He watched Sophie over Mari’s shoulder. Amelia and Athena were approaching her from the direction opposite Josephine and her entourage, which relieved him somewhat. At least Sophie would have some backup. He noticed another woman headed in that general direction and did a double take. She looked familiar, but entirely out of context. Then he realized it was Mrs. Smith, dressed in a luxurious evening suit. And he’d thought he was just being silly when he imagined her living on Park Avenue and using the bag lady persona as a disguise.

It looked like something was about to go down, and he wanted to be there for it, but he didn’t want Mari anywhere near it. Scanning the crowd, he got an idea. “Hey, isn’t that guy the one who did the Arabian dance?” he asked, nudging her attention toward a slender, dark-haired man nearby.

“You mean the really steamy one where he was barely dressed? I don’t know. He’d need to unbutton his shirt for me to get a definite ID. But I’d better check. What do you think of ‘Hi, I have handcuffs’ as an opening line?”

“A surefire attention-getter.”

She grinned. “Works for me.” She headed off, abandoning Michael so entirely that he had no qualms about making his way toward the confrontation.

Mrs. Smith had held back, within earshot of the enchantresses but not engaging. He joined her. “Fancy meeting you here,” he said.

“I leave the shopping cart behind every so often. And I had a feeling things might get interesting tonight.”

“I think it’s about to get
more
interesting.”

She shook her head. “No, not here. They wouldn’t risk it. But I am curious to see how your fairy princess handles it.”

So was Michael. This scene could end up being more entertaining than the ballet, just with less jumping and spinning. Sophie took the offensive, moving forward to meet Josephine and her cronies. “Why, Josephine, how wonderful that you could make it while you’re in New York. It’s just not the holiday season without
The Nutcracker,
” she said, her drawl thicker than usual. She glanced at the women flanking Josephine. “And you brought friends. I do hope you enjoyed the ballet.” She stuck her hand out toward the woman on the left end of the line. “I’m Sophie Drake.”

The woman glanced at Josephine, looking for a cue. Josephine narrowed her eyes, and the woman lowered the hand she’d just started to extend. Sophie raised an eyebrow, but otherwise didn’t react to the snub. She kept her smile plastered on and continued. “Things did get a little exciting in the second act, but we were fortunate you were there to take care of it, Josephine.”

“What?” Michael whispered to Mrs. Smith.

“Shh. This is getting good,” Mrs. Smith whispered in response, not taking her eyes off the scene.

Josephine’s mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. Amelia stepped up beside Sophie and added, “And it’s a good thing, too. We barely had a chance to react.”

The women with Josephine all turned to look at her, but she remained speechless. Next to Michael, Mrs. Smith chuckled. “Oh, she caught her in a trap, alright,” she said, grinning.

“But she’s giving Josephine credit for saving the day. Isn’t that what Josephine wants?” Michael protested.

“Yes, but now Josephine can hardly accuse her of using fae magic to fight off the creature. If she does, she doesn’t get to take the credit, and I’m not sure her ego can handle that.”

Josephine finally pulled herself together enough to say, “Well, that is part of the job. I’m glad I was here to be able to help.” Spots of bright color had formed on her cheeks and she looked like she could have spit nails, but she maintained her poise as she turned and walked away, her flunkies following her, but glancing back uncertainly at Sophie.

Athena hugged Sophie. “Oh, well played!”

“Yes, but it made me sick giving her the credit,” Sophie said with a grimace.

“But she couldn’t accuse you, and that’s what’s important right now,” Amelia said.

“It also makes it harder for me to accuse her, and that’s what I’m going to have to do to keep her from taking over.”

Michael started to ask Mrs. Smith what she thought, but she’d disappeared, melting into the crowd. Athena spotted him and said, “So, what did you think of our Sophie’s dancing?”

“Impressive,” he said. “But are people going to expect a battle against a snow monster every night?”

Sophie smiled. “I’m sure they’re trying to figure out what happened out there even as we speak.”

His pocket vibrated, and he checked his phone to find a text from Mari. “You’re on your own, Rev, see you at work,” it said. He felt bad for being relieved at her absence, but it was nice not to have to worry about his partner getting caught up in any of this.

More autograph seekers approached Sophie, and Amelia and Athena joined Michael while Sophie dealt with her fans. “It’s really a shame her life has to be so complicated when she has that kind of talent,” Athena said, shaking her head sadly.

“She has other kinds of talents that are just as important—more important, really,” Amelia said. “This is just entertainment. We’re talking about the survival of mankind here.”

“We need to find a way to stop Josephine so we don’t have to worry about all this,” Michael said. “It’s too bad I can’t find a reason to arrest her.” He paused, then added slowly, as the thought firmed up in his head, “But surely we can get her in trouble with her people. Don’t you have some kind of code of conduct? I’d think that lowering the barriers to the Realm would be pretty high on the list of no-nos, considering your mandate.”

“We don’t have any real proof that’s she’s responsible,” Amelia said.

The crowd was starting to thin out, so it was easier to spot Josephine and her gang, still huddled together and eyeing Sophie from across the lobby. With Sophie being such a center of attention, there was little they could do here. If fans weren’t asking for autographs, photographers were asking her to pose for photos. She took picture after picture with other dancers or with various patrons, smiling the whole time, but Michael could see the weariness overcoming her.

The lobby was all but empty by the time Sophie was left alone. Michael approached her once the last fan had gone. “You’re still here?” she said.

“Mari ditched me for the guy who did the Arabian dance, and I didn’t think it was a great idea for you to head out on your own, under the circumstances.”

Her weary sigh was audible. “I’d hope she’d give it a rest after round one tonight, but I guess it’s not to be. Let me get my coat, and I’ll let you escort me to a cab.” While she headed off to the dressing rooms, he retrieved his own coat from the coat check. He noticed when she returned that she was limping slightly.

“Are you okay?” he asked as he took the huge bag she had slung over her shoulder. He knew she was utterly beat when she didn’t protest even the slightest. She merely nodded an acknowledgment when he held the front door open for her.

“My feet are killing me. Pointe really does a number on them, and then the heels add insult to injury. It’s cruel to make us do this kind of event after dancing.”

Impulsively, he bent and swept her up in his arms. “Let’s give your feet a rest, then,” he said. “You did promise that you’d let me return the favor when I was well, after all those times you had to help me.”

For a moment, he wasn’t sure how she’d react. It probably wasn’t the smartest thing he’d ever done, now that he thought about it, but after a moment of shock, she smiled and put her arm around his neck, settling herself more comfortably in his arms. “Yes, I suppose I did promise. Then you may carry me to a cab. My feet are eternally grateful.”

She weighed a bit more than he would have expected of someone who was so tiny, but she was mostly muscle. Even so, she wasn’t much of a burden. In fact, it was rather nice having her curled up against his chest, and she held herself in a way that made her easy to carry, her weight perfectly balanced. When he dared to glance down at her, he saw that she was smiling up at him. The moment their eyes met, she quickly looked away. He wondered if they should have talked about that kiss, if it had meant anything more than being a ruse to either of them, if something was happening between them. Or was it too soon? If she was settling so comfortably into his arms, should he just put her in a cab and then head home, or did he go with her? It had been way too long since he’d been in the dating pool, and Sophie Drake was hardly an ordinary date. Not that this was a date.

He was still pondering this, dreading the moment when they reached the line of cabs by the curb and he’d have to make a move, one way or another, when he noticed Amelia and Athena heading toward them. That made the decision for him. He’d have to put Sophie in a cab with them to head home, unless Sophie specifically requested otherwise. He supposed it wasn’t meant to be.

And then he noticed Josephine also coming toward them. Meanwhile, there was Mrs. Smith, and he also spotted a silver head moving across the plaza.

“I think you’d probably better put me down now,” Sophie whispered.

The Theater

11:00 p.m.

The applause was loud and long, and Emily couldn’t blame the audience. It had been a particularly good performance. Not only had all the dancers been on their toes, but Olivia had continued to raise the bar and Charles had found a flicker of humanity. He plumbed unprecedented depths of emotion in the songs, actually bringing tears to Emily’s eyes in the “Badly done, Emma” scene when she thought she’d lost his friendship. She had a feeling there wasn’t a dry eye in the house when he finally confessed his love for her, and every woman in that theater—and some of the men—was madly in love with him.

She was particularly surprised when Charles hugged her after the curtain finally went down for good. It was a remarkably spontaneous gesture.

“Good show,” she said, patting him on the back. He didn’t fully release her after the hug, keeping his arm around her as they walked offstage. Was he expecting her to go home with him, as though the connection they’d found tonight was real? She supposed he’d already worked his way through most of the other female cast members, so it was probably her turn. Not that she had any intention of going there.

But the arm around her didn’t feel like a come-on. In fact, he was leaning heavily on her, like he was using her as a crutch. “Whew, that kind of performance really takes a lot out of you,” he said, and she noticed that his forehead was beaded with sweat. She fought not to roll her eyes. The only dancing he did was in the party scene, when he took pity on Olivia’s character and asked her to dance so she wouldn’t be a wallflower. He didn’t do any real dance numbers. He mostly just stood around and sang. That could be tiring, but if he was wilting while the other cast members who were a lot more physically active were still peppy, something had to be wrong.

“Are you okay?” she asked, wishing she could shrug his arm off her without looking bitchy.

“I just put my all into it tonight,” he said, gazing deep into her eyes.

“Then you should probably go home and get some rest because we have to do it again tomorrow. I know I’m dead on my feet after two shows today.”

He didn’t respond, just stared at her like he was seeing her for the first time. “You?” he said in a hoarse whisper. “It’s you, isn’t it?”

“It’s me, what?” she asked.

He reached out for her. “You’re the one doing this to me, aren’t you? You won’t let me rest.”

“I’m not doing anything to you, trust me.”

She slipped out of his grasp and hurried away from him. Olivia, who’d been watching the whole scene, met her with a giggle. “So he finally tried it with you.”

“Tried, and failed.”

“Aw, come on, you didn’t want your own notch on his bedpost?”

“I’m nobody’s notch.”

“I hear you. I’m not sure how you’d look at yourself in the mirror after going there. But you have to admit, he was good tonight.”

“Yeah. You almost have to wonder what got into him. Were there any rumors about movie producers being in the audience?”

“Not that I heard. But it would explain a lot.”

“Are we sure he’s not drinking?”

“You’re the one who has to kiss him onstage. Did you smell anything?”

Emily frowned, trying to remember. “Not that I can think of.”

“Well, one thing we can’t argue with: he did an amazing job. Maybe he’s been spending his nights with that scarred guy in the basement.”

“Yeah, that would explain a lot. Or you forced him to raise his game, so he’s devoting every waking hour to working.”

Olivia smirked. “Yeah, but that doesn’t explain why he was giving you that ‘it’s you’ routine.” She elbowed Emily in the side. “Maybe he’s really fallen in love with you, and that’s showing in his performance, even as he pines away with longing.”