Enchanted Ever After

by Shanna Swendson

  The vote among my friends was unanimous on behalf of the dress I’d liked, so I held on to that one and my friends headed out to return the others to the racks. When I emerged from the fitting room, everything seemed pretty calm. There were no voices raised, no fireballs being flung. I spotted a gargoyle sitting in the rafters and felt a hint of magic, so I suspected there had been some magical help in calming things down. People hadn’t just suddenly become reasonable on their own.

  While I waited for the register, the woman in line behind me said, “You did notice all that, didn’t you?”

  “You mean the scuffle?” I asked, hoping she wouldn’t say, “No, the gargoyles who stopped the fight.” Then again, we were always on the lookout for magical immunes, so I’d know we’d found a good candidate if she saw it all and was still reasonably calm.

  “Yeah. I’ve seen fights at sales like this, and they didn’t get this crazy.”

  “Well, wedding gowns are expensive, so there’s more incentive to do whatever it takes to grab the one you want.”

  “But they didn’t have to use their hands to grab. I swear, one time the gown literally flew from one person to the other. Another time, it just poofed away and then reappeared. Like magic.”

  “Magic?” I said, trying to pour as much disbelief as possible into my voice. It took all my acting ability, since I was so steeped in magic. I’d even briefly had magical powers. At the same time, I felt bad for trying to make her think that something she’d seen for herself wasn’t real, when I knew it was.

  “I don’t know what else to call it. And it’s not the first time I’ve seen something like that.”

  Now she really had my attention. She wasn’t just speculating based on this event. “Oh?” I said.

  She leaned in closer and whispered. “Yes. This kind of thing goes on all the time in this city, but no one ever talks about it. I think a lot of it has to do with how focused New Yorkers are on their own business. They either don’t see crazy stuff at all or they pretend not to see it so no one thinks they’re a tourist. But then I also think there’s someone cleaning it all up so there won’t be any evidence.”

  I would have thought she was a crazy conspiracy theorist if I hadn’t known she was absolutely right. “Clean it up?” I asked, curious about what she’d noticed.

  “Like this.” She gestured with the arm that didn’t have a wedding gown draped over it. “One minute, there’s a magical war raging out there. Next thing you know, all is calm, like it never happened. I bet most of the other people who weren’t involved in the fight have already convinced themselves that it’s just wacky sample sale hijinks.”

  I noticed that she hadn’t mentioned gargoyles swooping down with magical happy dust to make the combatants forget their fight. That was good. “Maybe they just got a dose of perspective,” I said with a shrug. “You’ve got to admit, it is kind of silly to get that worked up over a wedding dress.”

  “Have you looked at the prices?”

  Only then did it occur to me that I’d selected a dress without even looking at the price tag. I really had been distracted. Screwing up my courage, I found the tag. The manufacturer’s suggested price nearly gave me a heart attack. It wasn’t much lower than my annual salary when I’d been working for my family’s business. That price had been marked through, and several more prices below that were marked through. There was a final number written in red that I still thought was too much to pay for a single dress, but that was better than I’d expected after reading all the bridal magazines Gemma had dumped on me, and I had to admit that this dress was much better than what I’d planned to wear. “Okay, maybe that is worth blacking someone’s eye for,” I admitted. “I’m lucky no one else wanted this dress and tried to take it away from me.”

  “And you’re really lucky it wasn’t some person with magical powers who wanted it,” she said, her voice grim. She reached into the outer pocket of her purse and brought out a business card, which she handed to me. “Here, if you’re interested in tracking this sort of thing, check out this blog. We’re putting together a body of evidence to prove magic’s real, and maybe soon we’ll have enough to get someone’s attention.”

  “Do you really think it’s that dangerous?” I asked. Visions of the witch trials we’d studied in history class danced through my head, making my stomach clench. The idea took on a whole new meaning now that I had so many friends who might be affected by a real witch hunt.

  “Someone could have been seriously hurt out there. Plus, if people have magical powers, it gives them all kinds of unfair advantages. They can break the laws of physics, so it’s not even like someone being smarter or more athletic than others. It’s on a whole different level. Think about it.”

  I had no idea how to respond to that. I wasn’t comfortable stating that magic wasn’t real, since that was a lie, but defending magic would mean admitting I knew it was real, and that was strictly forbidden. My friends joined me once their mission was complete, saving me from having to answer. There was too much chatter from them for me to interact with the random woman in line.

  Soon afterward, I reached the register where, much to my surprise, the final price rang up at another thirty percent off the lowest price on the tag. “Wow!” I exclaimed. That was good enough that I didn’t even freak out when handing over my credit card.

  “See, I told you there were good deals here,” Gemma said. “But don’t you dare tell Owen what you paid for the wedding gown. Leave that much a mystery.”

  “Can I tell my mother?” I hated to get this kind of bargain without getting to gloat over it with someone who’d appreciate it.

  “Yeah, tell your mother. The discount might be enough to make up for any disappointment about you not wearing her dress.”

  In all the excitement about my great deal, I completely forgot about the woman I’d been talking to. I put her card in my purse when I got out my credit card and didn’t give her another thought.

  We wrestled the bulky garment bag home on the subway, and when we got back to our apartment, I tried the dress on again with more appropriate undergarments—though Gemma said I’d want to buy all new things for the occasion, even if I did already have a strapless bra that would work. The gown looked even better when not worn over leggings and a tank top. “Now, aren’t you glad you listened to me?” Gemma asked.

  “Yes,” I said, not even grudgingly. This gown was so much more “me” than my mother’s dress was, and it was a lot more comfortable, with no itchy lace.

  I was still wearing the dress when the intercom buzzed from the front door downstairs. “Hey, it’s Owen,” a scratchy voice said over the speaker.

  All of us squealed, and I ran for my bedroom, Gemma and Nita at my heels. I heard Marcia say, “You’re going to have to wait a moment.”

  Gemma and Nita helped me out of the dress, and while they put it back in its bag and hung it in the closet, I hurried to put on jeans and a sweater. By the time my friends had buzzed Owen through the front door and he’d made it up the stairs to our place, all signs of wedding gown shopping were gone, and I thought I looked reasonably nice—ordinary nice, not princess in a white dress nice.

  I greeted him at the door with a kiss. “I’m assuming things went well, if you had to stall me,” he said.

  “We’re not telling,” Gemma said firmly.

  “I don’t think you’d have made me wait to come up if you didn’t have something to hide,” he said, grinning.

  “Yes, the expedition was a success, and no, I’m not giving you any hints,” I said.

  “Buying it was a bit of an adventure,” Nita said.

  Owen flinched ever so slightly before saying, “Oh, really?” and I realized why he’d chosen now to drop by. He wasn’t curious about the dress. He was making sure we were okay. I wondered which of my winged colleagues had tipped him off.

  “You know, New York sample sales,” Gemma said with a shrug. “Anyone want coffee? I’m starting to feel like I got up before four, so I
think I’ll make a pot.”

  “Whose idea was it to get up that early?” I teased. “And, yeah, I could do with a cup.”

  “As long as you’re making it . . .” Owen said.

  Nita yawned. “Me, too.”

  “I think I’ll just head home and get a nap,” Connie said. “My husband made plans for the evening.”

  Trix, Isabel, and Marcia chimed in for coffee, and Gemma went to work in the kitchen. Nita picked up the TV remote and began flipping through channels. “I wish I had time for a nap,” she said, “but the coffee is going to have to do. I have the day shift today, so it may be a struggle if it’s boring.”

  I didn’t pay much attention to her channel surfing until she shouted, “Hey, this is where we were!”

  I turned to see a breaking news report about what they were calling a riot at a wedding dress sample sale. “It really wasn’t that bad,” I said. “More of a scuffle than a riot.”

  “It’s crazier than anything I’ve ever seen,” Nita said, turning up the volume.

  On the screen, a reporter stood in front of the warehouse, describing the event witnesses reported. She turned to interview a woman standing next to her—the woman who’d been in line with me.

  “I’d say they were definitely using magic,” the woman said.

  2

  Owen and I glanced at each other, and he winced. On the television, the reporter said, “Magic?” Her tone made it clear she thought the woman was a crackpot.

  “Yes, magic,” the woman said firmly. “I can’t think of any other explanation, and I’ve tried. Dresses were disappearing out of people’s hands and appearing in other people’s hands. You can do sleight of hand with a coin, but with a wedding dress? You can’t exactly stick one of those up your sleeve. I also saw dresses being levitated, and once people were fighting over the dresses, they started throwing fireballs and what seemed to be spells at each other.”

  “Interesting,” the reporter said with a nod, but with an expression that said, “Get me away from this lunatic.”

  “Yes, and then they suppressed the whole thing, like it never happened.”

  “Okay, someone is off her meds,” Nita said. “I didn’t notice any of that stuff. There was just some really rapid tug-of-war going on. I mean, yeah, it was crazy, but hocus-pocus? Really?”

  Marcia developed a coughing fit, and Trix bit her lip while turning red, so I got the impression she was stifling giggles. “Well, it is New York,” Isabel said with a shrug. “It takes all kinds, and that’s not the craziest thing that reporter will hear all day.”

  “I don’t know, maybe there was some magic involved,” I said. “That’s the only explanation for the price I got.”

  “Katie!” Gemma said. “I thought we agreed.”

  “Oh, come on, you can’t expect me to get that kind of deal and not talk about it. Owen will be impressed that I got a bargain, right?”

  “It was a good bargain?” he asked.

  “They practically paid me to take it.”

  “And it’s gorgeous,” Nita added, now distracted from the news story—as had been my plan. “No details, but I think you’ll love it.”

  “Now we just need to tend to the million and a half other items on the agenda,” I said.

  I normally liked having Nita around. She’d been my best friend since elementary school and had moved to New York the previous summer. But I really wanted to discuss the morning’s magical events with Owen and the others, so I couldn’t wait for her to finish her coffee and head to her job at a Manhattan hotel. It would have been so much easier if they’d let me bring her in on the truth, but my requests had been decisively shot down by my superiors at the company. They were that paranoid about keeping magic a secret.

  When Nita was gone, I said, “I should look into that woman from the sale.”

  “Did you catch her name?” Trix asked. “Maybe they’ll rerun the story in the next half hour and we can see it then.”

  “No need,” I said, remembering my encounter with her. “I got her card. At least, I think I still have it.” I went to get my purse.

  “Wow, a month on the security team, and you’re already that much on the ball?” Owen teased.

  “She was in line behind me at the register, saying pretty much the same stuff she said on TV.” I rummaged in my purse until I found the card. “Ah, here it is. She said she writes for a blog that tracks magical incidents.” I handed the card to Owen. “Does this ring a bell?”

  He glanced at it, shrugged, and handed it back to me. “Haven’t heard of it, but that’s not really my department. Is she a magical immune?”

  “I don’t think so. She talked about everyone suddenly calming down, but she didn’t mention the gargoyles swooping in, so I’m guessing their veiling spell worked on her. No, she’s just perceptive and has an open mind, so she notices things and is willing to believe her own eyes.”

  “That’s a dangerous combination for us,” Isabel said.

  “And now that she’s started noticing things, she’s looking for them, which makes her even more likely to see magic,” I added.

  “If she starts talking about these things, then other people may begin noticing them, too,” Trix said. “That’s the real problem. If people start believing in magic, then they’ll see it everywhere. They only don’t notice a lot of it because they know it’s not possible.”

  “Would that be so bad?” Marcia asked. “Then you wouldn’t have to hide what you are.”

  “Easy to say when you don’t have wings,” Trix said with a shudder. “But I can see my people being dissected.”

  “She didn’t exactly sound pro magic,” I said. “She thought it was an unfair advantage to be able to break the laws of physics. I could see her as the type to campaign for restrictions on magical people.”

  “So I guess you’d better put a stop to this, fast,” Gemma said, “before they start burning your people for witchcraft.”

  “They burned heretics,” Owen said. “Witches were more likely to be hanged or suffocated. Unless they were also heretics, I guess. But this isn’t anything to get too excited about.”

  “Says the person unlikely to be dissected,” Trix said.

  “Believe it or not, this happens all the time,” Owen said. “We try to keep magic under wraps, but it’s impossible to keep it completely hidden, and yet it’s still a secret after all this time. You need a critical mass of people believing in the possibility of magic before anyone talking about magic can get any traction, and there’s much less belief these days.”

  “Are you sure about that?” I asked, studying the card. “She talked like her blog has a following, with people sending in reports. Maybe I should cross-reference to see whether or not their reports are valid and look into how credible these people seem. Just in case.”

  “Sounds like you’re really taking to this security thing,” Owen said, draping his arm around my shoulders and pulling me against him in a hug.

  “Are you surprised?” I asked.

  “Not in the least.” He gave me a quick kiss on the temple. “And now there’s a place I thought we might investigate for lunch. We can be on the lookout for any magical activity.”

  “Oh, yes, I think we need to do that,” I said. “And then I’m going to need a nap.”

  Gemma ran out of the living room and returned with a binder. “While you’re having lunch, don’t forget to go over your timeline and checklist. I think we’re on target, but you’ll want to see what your next action items are.”

  As we headed down the stairs, I said, “It’s still not too late to elope.”

  “Hey, maybe if this magic exposure thing turns out to be an actual threat, we’ll have the excuse of being too busy to plan a real wedding,” he said.

  “We can only hope,” I replied, hefting the binder.

  I didn’t put much thought into the bridal brawl for the rest of the weekend. Planning a wedding—two weddings—had a way of eclipsing all other potential distractions.
There was very little short of a direct nuclear strike on the city that would have forced me to lose focus on my epic to-do list. Only when I got to my desk Monday morning did I recall my mental note to look into that blog. I took the business card from my purse and typed the address into my browser.

  The blog was on a blogging service rather than on a site with its own domain name, and it was obviously done on a ready-made template. Whoever was behind it wasn’t investing any money in the crusade. I scrolled through the past week or so of posts. The incidents reported wouldn’t have sounded too convincing if I hadn’t known that there was a good chance they were real. The contributors wrote of people and objects disappearing into thin air, people feeling strange compulsions to do things they otherwise wouldn’t have wanted to do, and odd phenomena, like bursts of light. Even a desperate tabloid reporter would probably hang up on callers reporting this sort of event, but I knew they were all things that really did happen.

  Some of the posts were accompanied by alleged photographic evidence, but it wasn’t particularly convincing. These photos were even less clear than most pictures that supposedly showed Bigfoot or the Loch Ness Monster. All they proved was that the blogger was honest enough not to doctor the photos.

  I didn’t have time to dig any further before it was time for the weekly staff meeting. I used to dread Monday-morning meetings, but since I’d joined the MSI security team, they were a lot more interesting, like something out of a cop show. They were more a briefing on ongoing cases than the litany of urgent tasks as everyone tried to prove how busy and valuable they were that I’d experienced in most of my previous jobs.

  It was sometimes a little disconcerting being one of two people in the conference room actually sitting in chairs instead of perching on the backs or arms. Most of the security team members were gargoyles, since their role from medieval times of watching over churches translated into watching over the company and the magical world. The only other human in this particular meeting was Trish, another magical immune I’d met and recruited during my recent undercover work. She was a military veteran and probably more qualified for this job than I was, but she was new to the magical world.