by Sara Hanover
Hiram reported to Carter and Brian. Carter put a hand down under the table, unsnapped Scout’s leash, and said something. Scout launched himself at my table. He bounded into a table leg, upsetting a tower of emptied platters waiting for pickup, and they tumbled into my sweet tea glass, which dumped right into my lap. Okay, maybe five or six things took place. I jumped up as the ice-cold beverage swept across my good dress and began dripping down my legs. I didn’t have to fake the gasp of surprise and dismay.
Carter swept to his feet and darted over, apologizing. He dabbed me all over with a napkin and muttered, “Get yourself, your mom, and Aunt April out of here.”
“But who is that?”
“Someone we don’t want to meet. Trust me!”
I let out a strangled, “My dress!”
Both women got up and wrestled me away from the pup and tried to console me. Carter finished off with a promise to take care of the dry cleaning, tucking a business card in my mother’s hands. We’d already paid for our meals before we went in, so bolting from the restaurant wouldn’t raise any eyebrows. Mom did say, several times, “Cold water will work the stain out just fine,” as they pushed me down the hall back to the bathroom. The guys sauntered a little more casually after us, as if they weren’t part of the group. I thought I heard a sigh of relief from the buffet workers in charge of refilling the seafood bins at the sight of Hiram departing. Aunt April began to lag a little, as if the call of the casino machines filled her ears.
I took her by the elbow. “We’ve got trouble. Carter says to head to the car.”
Aunt April protested. I put my hand on Mom. “Both of you.”
So they retreated, grumbling a bit, but they went. I went with them despite the fact I had a jewel to reclaim, if the guys would run interference for me.
And everything would have been grand, Carter getting us out of harm’s way, and the object of our hunt having been located, at least for the moment.
Except we ran into a heist in the hallway.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
DUCK AND RUN
IF IT WASN’T a heist, then these guys looked pretty ridiculous running out of the art gallery with guns drawn, black hoods over their head, skin-tight black pants and shirts, and black silk pillowcases bulging with goodies in their free hands. Guns pointed. Words were snarled. They cut through us like a herd dog through sheep, separating us. My mom and Aunt April took to their heels and ran for the nearest exit door, while I took up the rear, wondering if I should summon my stone to life or try to keep it hidden. I considered running for it, but the guns pointing in my direction made that a terrible decision. I made the additional mistake of looking behind me.
“Freeze!”
I could hear the metal fire door exit clang into place and hoped my mom and great-aunt had gotten out as I flung my hands up and froze, back to the wall, expecting them to blow by me and out the nearest exit door. Gun barrels waved at me. I could hear the slow plops of iced tea draining from my gown onto the carpeted floor. I could also hear Scout’s excited yaps in the near distance, just around a corridor corner.
What I didn’t hear were alarms of any kind, surprising me as the sound of glass breaking and collapsing to smithereens continued, and two more men joined the exodus from the gallery. A final case cracked open, and the last perpetrator turned the corner, his prize in hand. Only this guy didn’t wear a black hood, bandanna, or even sunglasses. The Eye of Nimora in its diadem hung from his fingers. He stopped short and then gave me a smile that held absolutely no humor or warmth whatsoever. His smile simmered as cold as his eyes, and I no longer had any desire to smooth his blond hair off his forehead. I didn’t even want to be sharing the same casino with him.
“I wondered if we were going to meet.”
“I didn’t.”
I could feel the stone in my palm hiccough. I know marble can’t hiccough, and the stone isn’t a living or breathing thing (I do know that, don’t I?), but if it could have, it did. Or maybe it was a gasp. The only saving grace was that my glamour still held and hopefully Blue Eyes hadn’t noticed it because something had startled it as much as he’d startled me. How did he get from the back of the kitchen to the art gallery?
Then I realized that those trays of champagne offered during the auction had to be filled and carried from somewhere behind the scenes, and that would have undoubtedly been the kitchen. Silly me for forgetting these modern resorts had as many secret tunnels and back ways hidden from the public view as old and historic castles. I could barely breathe, let alone think.
He sauntered up to me. Far prettier than Legolas had ever been, definitely more chill, and taller, he put his gun hand out and traced my chin with his index finger. I held very still, praying the gun had a safety or maybe even wasn’t loaded, but there seemed little chance of that. That’s when I realized that our trap for which I was the bait had been successful. Here was our elf. I guess I’d known it since that first sight but hadn’t fixed on it. No wonder Carter had told me to hustle myself out of the casino.
“Do you know what this is?” He waved the Eye of Nimora slightly.
I shook my head very carefully, averting my gaze a bit, just in case he could read lies easily.
“It’s something interesting. I’ll spare you the details, but I collect interesting things. At least until I learn their value, and then I may keep them or pass them along, whatever serves my purpose. There’s a bit of curiosity about you, as well. My employer and I have noticed you.”
“Me? I just like to look around. A lot.” Employer? He struck me as all-Boss, but I stored that away for when I could think again.
“Not what I meant, but I think you know that.”
I shook my head. “I’m just a lot of trouble. Not worth it.” Or at least, I intended to make it a lot of trouble. My frame tightened in readiness to unleash whatever problems I could muster, starting with an ear-piercing scream and unleashing the stone.
“And you’re modest, too. So many interesting attributes. I think I’ll take you with me.” He swapped his gun to the hand holding the Eye of Nimora, which winked up at me with its dazzling crimson facets, and dipped his fingers inside his jacket. He moved, faster than I could draw breath for that scream, hand up. When he touched my brow, something sparkling drifted down, a rainfall of glitter. Surprise drove my intended yell from me, and I said instead, “What are you, an effing unicorn?”
He only smiled wider and colder as a numbness rained down over me. Words skittered away from my lips before they could be spoken, and all my little aches and pains of the day and the day before where Fourteen had hammered me on the hockey field just melted away. I felt as though I could fall asleep standing up and be perfectly happy to do so. I blinked rapidly, but the glitter caught on the tips of my eyelashes just spun out and on down my body where it disappeared like sea foam on wet sand. I couldn’t think of anything else important to say. There had been something, but I’d forgotten . . .
Nothing seemed important. If this nice man wanted me to go with him, I would. Surely nothing wrong with that. Pleasant bubbles floated through my head. What a beautiful evening it seemed to be. I could drift forever, almost boneless, certainly worriless.
“I’ve tarried a bit too long. You will make an appropriate shield, I think, not that I expect too much trouble. Your friends are watching and holding back to see what I do with you.” He took my elbow, and my left hand jerked up as though he’d stuck a hot poker into my palm.
Popping bubbles exploded in my skull and my foot swung up, kicking him sharply in the ankle as I pulled loose and swung my weight across the hall. A string of colorful words burst from him, words I had no way of recognizing, but I put my hand out, just in case they carried more than ordinary cursing, in elven.
Footsteps pounded our way, sight unseen but not unheard, and he grabbed for me again. I shrugged him off, body still not quite obeying what I wanted to d
o, but responding as well as it could. Resistance seemed to be the best option.
So I dropped. Fell like a sack of wet noodles to the floor, never mind dignity, never mind that he grabbed a handful of hair as I went down because I knew he was never going to get dead weight up and motivating in time to make good his escape. Or, at least that was the idea.
He ground out a few words and my body rose horizontally, shakily, like one of those ladies levitating in a magic show illusion, only I didn’t have hidden wires pulling me up. Fake Legolas had me like a balloon on a string and this time, stretched across midair, I had no leverage to strike back. Tugging me after him, my hair still firmly wrapped about his hand, we made our way through the corridor toward the main portion of the casino and the nearest emergency exit. I only knew that because my chin pointed at the ceiling and I read the neon sign as I floated under it. Emergency. Exit. This way. I struggled as he wrapped his hand deeper into my hairline until it felt as though he might scalp me. My body bobbed up and down like a cork in water, and he laughed. A mean, quiet, to-himself chortle as he steered my course.
But I had no intention of going quietly. I sucked in a long, slow, determined breath. I couldn’t feel my body very well, but I reached for the rock in my palm. I knew it rested there, a small, warm core in my otherwise lukewarm and becharmed body. Nothing happened. I might as well have been nothing more than sea foam floating on the air. That wouldn’t do. I inhaled deeper. The stone had picked me out. Embedded in me. Given me all sorts of trouble. It had shielded me in chancy times. Ate up Brian’s cursed ring. Blown tires off a truck at fifty miles an hour. Swallowed a book on Dark Arts. I knew that gorgeous hunk of marble hadn’t moved. I dug down deep, a drive from inside me where I reached when I wanted to, had to, score.
It felt like touching bottom as I sank into a lake without end. I bounced off it, thrusting myself upward, back toward the sunlit surface, back to where I needed to be.
It hurt to dig so deep, feeling as though I’d turned myself inside out. The magic, when it answered, stabbed. It began to sputter, like a spark catching fire reluctantly in a wet and heavy wind, flickering, and then catching. The lake of nothingness surrounding me began to burn. Power seared the inside of my eyelids and my mouth went dry. The maelstrom stone poured heat into my hand and up my arm and over my shoulder, like sinking into a hot tub full of energy. I could feel the lethargy bursting in tiny pings as warmth spread, and my floating body bobbled a bit.
It did not keep me from going out a doorway into the dusk, the casino lights dazzling overhead. It did not halt a slow but steady float toward that elven arch, the one I was told never to go through. The stone burned brighter until I feared it would set my glove—and me—on fire. Not only would that hurt, but my secrets would be cracked wide open.
I tried to lick lips now split and hurting, so dry from the heat that burned through me. I could save myself if only I had a little help, the slightest of pushes that could bring me back to my feet and then I could take over. Sound came as if I were a glacier inching toward a melt. Not fast enough. Not soon enough. I had no idea where the guys were or what kept them, but if they didn’t show up soon, I was going to be floated over the rainbow. Or, rather, under it, to forbidden territory. Then it hit me that they could have already come running—and been met by a firefight none of them would have been prepared for. Except Carter, that would be, his military background would have more than readied him, but the others—no. A handgun against a magic wand was no contest at all. I might already have lost more than I knew. But surely I would have heard it, wouldn’t I? My gaze flicked back the way he’d pulled me, but all I saw was the immense side of the casino building with a door still halfway open. Nothing and no one came through it.
My mind sped ahead, thoughts racing and then . . . then . . . we hit a snag.
Actually, it felt like I hit a brick building. Or maybe an Iron Dwarf.
But I hadn’t. My head turned, and I saw Malender standing in his cloak of dark ooze, his hands spread, his garb of a rogue swordsman or bard in full costume unmistakable, his eyes blazing jade green, and he looked unstoppable. He’d a hand thrown up, and that had been enough to bring icy-eyes and me to a thumping halt. I would have yelled whiplash if I could speak. But I couldn’t . . . so how did he show up?
I hadn’t called his name, had I? And certainly not three times. If I could have called anybody, it would have been Carter or Brian. They were detained by caution behind us, and I had little doubt Carter was making plans faster than he was breathing to free me and the Eye of Nimora. But my throat felt locked down, my voice stifled. I hadn’t even thought of Malender, yet here he stood.
My feet lowered to the ground. I stood, although not on my own, my head tilted back as the hand wrapped in my hair tightened and my captor snarled in words I wasn’t meant to understand. He yanked me back toward him, a shield.
The corner of Malender’s mouth twitched. “You’re not taking her anywhere. I’ve marked her.” And his hand brushed the side of my face, by my temple, and into my hairline and I could feel an answering prickle of skin as though he’d awakened a part of me I hadn’t known existed.
“Interesting. Does Nico know? Possession and all that,” the elf answered. His breath grazed the back of my ear, as icy as the color of his eyes.
“You possess nothing.”
For a moment, my upright form swayed between them, caught in a nameless tug of war of will. I wanted to shake myself loose of both of them, and yet, beyond, that forbidden archway beckoned to me. If I could get to it on my own, I’d be freed.
My foot stirred.
“You would be better served to retreat gracefully while you can.” Malender’s cloak shuddered a bit around him as if it had a life of his own. I saw an edge of pain shoot across his expression. He shuttered his eyes quickly and when he opened them, that telltale emotion had disappeared. I wondered what I might have just witnessed.
Icy-eyes spoke bitterly. “I never retreat. You have to have lost to retreat, and I haven’t lost. Meanwhile, the world has all but forgotten you . . . and you still wear a cloak of imprisonment.”
That last sank in, and I hoped I wouldn’t forget it as the haze of numbness tried to grip me afresh.
“Ah, but it diminishes, and I restore while you fight to run in place. Your age has passed, yet you are too blind to see it. Know this. I will protect what I must and destroy what deserves it.” Malender brushed his hand over my face, and my senses reacted in sudden, dazzling liberty. I understood right then and there how mad a wet hen could be and threw my hands up to tear away the elf gripping me. Fingers ripped from my scalp.
Malender caught me by the wrist and twirled me away, spinning like a dancer, back against the casino building while he lunged forward. Shadows leaped up to cover him. For a blinding second, I saw the elven archway in clear relief, but that wasn’t the door Malender had taken.
Then I heard a snarling growl and a rush as a door clanged wide open and we were hit by the cavalry. Blue-Eyes went to his knees, my body jerked downward in answer, and I could smell dog—Scout, bless his heart—surging all around us. Malender disappeared into shadow with a sidestep, but I had no chance to worry about it as I fought for control of my body. Wet noodles had nothing on me. The spell broke, and I fell to the floor where I rolled to my hands and knees. Scout whipped around the elf like a golden whirlwind, teeth clashing and feet scrambling. The gun tumbled to the ground and then the Eye as Blue-Eyes fought to protect himself. Carter’s voice cracked like a shot.
“Stop right there!”
For just that moment, no one moved. Scout dove for Nimora’s crimson glory, retrieving it even as the elf reached in his pocket and pulled out another handful of glitter. He threw it.
My dog fell over, limp. Blue-Eyes scooped him up, jewelry and all, and ran. The elven archway winked as he leaped through it. Carter flung himself after but came to a halt himself as the parking
lot filled with uniforms and other familiar bodies and shouts and I put my hands up, just in case. A silk pouch lay on the asphalt, and I scooted one knee over to cover it as everyone surrounded me. A babble of voices whirled about, and I could only see one face clearly, that of Carter, and in the evening dark, he shone like the sun. Djinn, Steptoe would have whispered in my ear if he’d been with us, but he wasn’t, and I didn’t know what powers Carter had, but I was afraid to look at him. He’d come for me. As Malender had done. The rescue left me blinking in wonder.
It seemed hours, but it wasn’t, until Carter got everything sorted out. Brian brought me a bracing cup of tea in a cardboard cup although we both agreed china would taste better. Hiram toured the building to see if he could ascertain exactly where the other elves had exited because it seemed a certainty they didn’t just spill out into the parking lot like ordinary folk. He found residual traces of another, temporary elven gate. Brian’s face tightened, and his eyebrows knotted together like a storm cloud as I could see the professor inside fighting off anger.
Casino security finished with us eventually, and we all stood in the parking lot under a half moon, although with the blinking bling of the signs, the nighttime sky seemed very muted and far away. Carter took my hand.
“Are you okay?”
His warmth felt good on my skin. “Disappointed.”
“I didn’t think we’d walk out of here with the Eye of Nimora. Did you?”
I shrugged. “Maybe. At least we found it, though, right? Except Blue-Eyes has it.”
“Blue—oh. Tessa, that was Devian.”
I’d heard the name before but couldn’t quite remember where. “And he’s a big shot.”
“A big, bad shot.”
