Wickedly Charming (24 page)

The signing went better than Mellie expected. Most people hadn't even seen the news report. Only one person asked about it, and he had said, bravely, that he thought it was a hatchet job.

Nice man.

The line snaked around the new arrivals section, went into the bargain books section, and then disappeared out the side door. Most of the people who wanted her to sign had already read the book.

“You spoke directly to me,” said one tired-looking woman. “I'd love it if we could change every single fairy tale to be more female-friendly. Women are either witches or evil or helpless in them.”

“I don't know why we still read fairy tales to our children,” said another woman.

And a third added, “No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't stop my own little girl from wanting to be a princess.”

Mellie had smiled at her. “I think secretly we all want to be princesses,” she said, and a lot of people laughed.

Mellie stayed until each person made it through the line, which took an extra hour. LaTisha tried to hustle her out, but Mellie wouldn't be hustled. This was probably the last time she would enjoy one of her signings, and she was going to stay until the bitter end.

Which she did. As she left, rubbing her sore right arm, and swaying with exhaustion, her phone rang.

She looked at it. The call was from Charming.

“I'm going to take this,” she said to LaTisha. “I'll meet you back at the hotel.”

“I'll wait in there,” LaTisha said, and pointed at a bar across the street. Mellie didn't blame her for going to a bar. If Mellie were the drinking type, she'd be in a bar right now.

She walked past the bookstore windows, filled with
Evil
, as she answered the phone.

“Where have you been?” she asked, knowing she sounded desperate and not really caring.

“Something came up,” Charming said. “I had my phone off.”

“Did you look at my email?” she asked.

“Did that news thing really air?” he asked. “It was awful.”

His voice sounded thin and tinny. She could hear rain in the background. She knew it wasn't raining in LA. It hadn't rained in LA in weeks.

“You sound funny,” she asked.

“I'm in the Kingdoms,” he said.

“Oh, no.” Her knees buckled. It took all of her strength to remain upright. He was gone. She was going to have to do this on her own after all.

She allowed herself one second of panic, and then reminded herself that she had always done things on her own. She had survived.

Still, it would have been nice—it would have been great!—to have help. Sometimes help kept you out of trouble; at least, that was what she used to tell her kids.

She had never experienced that.

“It's okay,” Charming said. “My business here is done. I'm coming to see you. We'll figure out how to handle this.”

She put a hand on the bookstore's outer wall. It was brick and warm against her palm. “You're coming here?” she asked, not sure if she believed him.

“I'm in the Kingdoms,” he said. “If I take the right portal, I can be there in an hour. Where are you?”

“Boston still,” she said, and gave him the name of her hotel.

“Make me a reservation,” he said. “I'll be there soon. And make sure the room is a suite. I have the girls.”

Then he hung up.

She stared at the phone for the longest time. He would come here? He wanted to help? Really?

Had anyone ever offered to help her when she was in trouble before?

She couldn't think of a time that had happened. She'd had help before, but never when she really, really needed it.

Like now.

She stuck the phone back inside her purse. Then she squared her shoulders and headed across the street.

As she walked, she realized her mood had lightened just a little bit.

Charming would come here. He would help her figure out how to handle this crisis.

Just being able to share it took some of the pressure off. For the first time since the middle of the afternoon she felt a little bit of hope.

And a little bit of hope was all that she needed.

The nearest portal to Mellie's hotel was in Beacon Hill, in the yard of an ancient house that was once rumored to house a witch. Charming had been there before, and had actually looked up the house's history. It had housed a witch—if anyone with magic from the Kingdoms could be considered a witch. In fact, that woman was the first recorded Kingdoms member on American soil.

He would've told the girls that, but he didn't have time for the history lesson. Instead, he had to walk them quietly off the hill to a business district where they hailed a cab.

Boston was warmer than the Third Kingdom, even though it was clearly much later at night. The streets were empty and the cab drove in and out of streetlight puddles, making the interior of the cab light, then dark, then light again.

Grace clutched her book like it could save her. Imperia sat upright, back straight, her entire body rigid. They knew they were coming to Boston because he had to be in Boston. They knew that their mother had done something dangerous, which was why they couldn't go home just yet.

But he hadn't told them about the threat to their lives—and he wasn't ever going to, not if he had a choice. (He hoped that Ella would give him that choice.) His right fist clenched, then he forced himself to unclench it. He had no time to deal with his own anger at his ex-wife, although he wanted to.

She upset him so much that he found he really wanted magic—the fire-and-brimstone magic that only a few people ever had. He'd even burn it all out in one gigantic spell that would keep Ella and her minions away from his girls forever.

But he didn't have that choice.

Probably just as well.

“I don't like it here,” Imperia said as the cab wound its way through the deserted streets.

“We won't stay long,” Charming said.

“When are we going home?” She wouldn't look at him. She was clearly very upset.

Still he found a small measure of hope in her words. By home, she meant Los Angeles. The mock Tudor house, her school, her routine. Slowly his girls were becoming creatures of the Greater World, which was what he wanted for them.

Grace had her thumb on the middle of the page on her book. Her head was tilted slightly upward. To the casual person, it would still look like she was reading, but Charming knew better.

She was listening.

“We'll be home within the week,” he said in his warmest, most reassuring voice. “Maybe even sooner.”

“I'd like to be home now,” Imperia said.

“Me, too,” he said, and as he did, he realized that unprepossessing house, with its beautiful garden and its somewhat messy interior had become home for him as well. He was beginning to love it there.

Damn Ella for messing that up.

The cab stopped in front of a spectacular hotel. It looked expensive, even from the exterior. Charming was glad he always traveled with his wallet, even to the Kingdoms, because there was no way he was going to be able to walk into this place and charm his way past the front desk.

Not to mention that the price of the suite Mellie had reserved for him had to be as much as one of his house payments.

But he wasn't going to think about that. He could afford it, even if it was wasteful.

He paid the cab driver, hustled the girls out, and realized, at that moment, they had no luggage. It took him the entire trip across the sidewalk to realize he had a lie for that too.

He and the girls walked into the lobby. Fortunately his daughters were used to fancy places. Neither girl felt uncomfortable among the gold fixtures, the overstuffed furniture and the high-end plants. Even the rug looked expensive—too expensive for a public place. The hotel probably had to replace it every single year.

One pinch-faced young woman stood behind the black reception desk. She had pulled her long red hair back severely, making her pale skin look ghostly against her high cheekbones.

“May I help you?” she asked in one of those tones that meant
What the hell do you want
?

That was when Charming realized he had to look a mess. He'd been in the same clothes since that morning. He'd worn them around Los Angeles, and in the rainy Kingdom forest, not to mention the smoke-filled corridor at Gussie's. The girls looked all right, but none of them were carrying luggage.

He let his shoulders wilt, allowing himself to look as tired as he felt.

“My name is Dave Encanto. You should have a reservation for me and my girls.”

The woman clicked the computer, and perked up. “Ah, yes, Mr. Encanto,” she said in a decidedly friendlier tone. That suite had to be worth a fortune.

Charming braced himself for the price.

“Everything's in order,” the woman said. “Just let me see some identification….”

He held out his driver's license. She took the number, then slid a piece of paper at him, along with a key.

“Would you like a key for your girls?” she asked.

“Um…” he said, “don't you at least need my credit card?”

“All expenses, including incidentals, were paid when your friend made the reservation,” the woman said.

Charming was tired, but not that tired. Mellie paid? Why? He would have to talk with her about that.

The woman was still looking at him expectantly.

“Yes,” he said. “Two extra keys for my daughters.”

“Would you like help with your luggage?” the woman asked.

He had a lie prepared for this one. He hadn't briefed his daughters on it, but they would understand. They knew that no one in the Greater World should know about portals or magical travel.

“I'd love some help with my luggage,” he said, “if only I had some. The airline lost it all.”

“Oh, dear,” the woman said. “Do you need personal items?”

“Yes,” he said, “toothbrushes and combs at least, and maybe some large T-shirts for my girls to use as nightshirts.”

“Certainly, sir. We'll have it all delivered to your room.” She handed him the extra keys. “Enjoy your stay.”

He smiled at her, a warmer smile this time, then gathered his daughters. Grace was nearly asleep on her feet, but Imperia was watching the entire lobby as if she expected someone to attack her. She knew he hadn't told her everything. And, honestly, he wasn't sure how much to tell her.

He steered his girls to the elevators, glanced at the paper the woman had handed him with the room number, and pressed the right button. The elevator was as gaudy as the lobby, with mirrored walls. As the door slid closed, he saw that he didn't have to force himself to look tired; he clearly was tired.

Grace leaned against him, wrapping one arm around his leg. Imperia stood straight, still on alert. He didn't know how to relax his oldest daughter.

When the elevator doors eased open, he followed the signs, leading the girls to the end of a long hallway. He used the keycard to open the door, and stepped into luxury. A bank of windows opened onto a long balcony. Behind it, the Boston skyline winked in the night.

The main room had two couches, a dinner table for six, a big screen television set, and a baby grand piano. Still the room looked just a bit empty.

To the left, an opulent room done in white and gold. Two beds and another television, which he promptly unplugged. The private bath had a third television, which he also unplugged.

Neither of his girls protested. Either they were too tired or they really didn't care.

Housekeeping had been here ahead of him and left two large T-shirts with Boston written in flowing script on each bed. Both beds were turned down, and a small mint graced the pillow. Toothbrushes, combs, and other toiletries sat on marble counter in the bathroom.

“Let's get you guys ready for bed,” he said.

“Where will you sleep?” Imperia asked with some concern. His eldest was needy but trying to hide it.

“Let's go see,” he said.

They trekked across the oversize living room to the master bedroom. The king-sized bed looked small, but it was covered in pillows. The curtains were drawn, but clearly they overlooked that balcony as well. Another couch and two chairs sat on one side. This was a hotel room all by itself—and the bathroom was large enough to hold a family of four.

“Wow,” Imperia said. “It's big.”

“Scary,” Grace said. “You wanna sleep in our room?”

He smiled—a real smile for the first time in a while. “I think I'll be fine here. But now you know where I am.”

“Seems far away,” Grace said.

“That's just because it's a new place,” he said. “We'll be fine here for the night.”

“Are we leaving tomorrow?” Imperia asked.

“I don't know the answer to that yet,” he said.

“What about clothes?” she asked.

“We'll find some in the morning,” he said. “We have to get you girls to sleep.”

And then he did just that, helping them with their routine as much as he could. Teeth got brushed, hair untangled, faces washed. The girls opted to sleep in the same bed. Grace put her book on the bedside table, but asked for a story anyway.

Charming had barely gotten out the “Once Upon a Time,” when he realized his youngest was sound asleep.

“You want me to finish?” he asked Imperia.

She shook her head and curled against her sister. “'Night, Dad,” she said.

“'Night, Imp,” he said, and smoothed a hand over her forehead. She smiled just a little, her eyes closing. Within a few minutes, she was asleep as well.

His girls.

Damn Ella for threatening them. Thank all that was magical that Gussie could clean up the mess. Now if she could only discover what had inspired Ella to go after the wrong kind of magic.

He sighed and headed out of the bedroom, shutting out the light as he went. He left the door cracked open. Then he went into the master bedroom and picked up the phone, letting the automated phone system put him through to Mellie.