Before she could try to wrench the conversation back to more immediate problems, Lance stood and gestured at her building and grumbled something about getting to work. Glori felt like wilted lettuce as she followed him to the back door to spell the lock open. Her children were about to show up. Time to brace herself, gather up the shredded remains of her magic and try to get through the day.
Lance didn't deserve his problems any more than she deserved hers. Maybe they could still help each other. But could she do it without her raging hormones getting in the way?
"I'll ask around," she said, and flicked her wrist, making the lock open and the door swing out. "My Regional Coordinator is here, and she has more access to records than I do. We do have some hereditary royalty, and they just keep a low profile. You know, kind of like the Tsar's relatives did when they got out during the Revolution?"
That hadn't been a fun time for the Fae. The Bolsheviks liked playing with explosives, and protecting the Enclaves from Human demolitions used up a lot of magic.
Lance's hopeful grin was worth every headache she anticipated waiting for her.
Maybe she could get a couple kisses to tide her over, kind of like aspirin when she really needed a nerve block? Nothing long-term, and certainly nothing with strings attached, but aspirin always helped in every situation, right? Even if it was a gaping wound, aspirin wouldn't hurt. Would it?
* * * *
Lance emptied several spray canisters that looked like they were better suited to Army defoliation exercises, injecting the foundation of the building from the outside, and then drilled little holes in the walls along the baseboards. That, combined with Glori's dark chocolate-buffered magic, put the bugs into a coma that would last as long as there was daylight. She ate a Nestlé's Crunch for a booster and added another spell to keep the stink of the chemicals from wafting into the building.
He hurried, and she wanted to kiss him in pure gratitude for being careful of her reputation. Glori could only imagine the questions and rumors that would start up if anyone saw his knight-skewering-a-rat truck parked outside her daycare.
Yes, she wanted to kiss him, but Lance seemed distracted, and after all the magic she had wrung out, her reserves and self-control were pretty low. She settled for asking him to come back at the end of the day when they could talk, he could meet Matilda, and they could try to find a solution. For both of them.
Matilda had promised to come back to inspect her spells and see if she could do something to bolster them. The daycare was so infused with Glori's magic in particular, it would be hard for someone else to come along and get involved with the thick layer of personalized magic. If anyone could do it, Matilda could. That was why she was a Regional Coordinator.
"Thank goodness I'm a Changeling. It keeps me firmly out of the contention for Administrator Queen," Matilda admitted that afternoon, when Glori told her about Lance's questions and her nauseous thoughts about Theodosius.
Matilda walked around the outside of the daycare, nudging a teeter-totter with her foot, flicking a few sparkles of magic at the swings so they creaked and swung without a touch of wind, frowning and "hmming" as she stared at the foundation of the building.
"Does this Lance have any magic in his blood? I feel something enhancing the purely Human chemistry involved."
"His ancestors have been living under a curse, and it's come down to him. That probably builds up the magic in the blood," Glori offered. It was just another sign of how wonky her magic had gone, thanks to the Need, that she couldn't sense other magic at work, even injected into the foundations of her beloved building.
"What sort of curse?"
"We didn't get that far. He needs a Fae princess to break the curse and if I find him one, he'll give me extermination for free for life. If my magic is going to be so unreliable, I'm going to need all the help I can get." She sighed and sank down on the plastic picnic table again. Funny, but just remembering how she had sat there with Lance that morning made her feel warm and protected. She could almost smell freshly ironed cotton and Irish Spring. Glori looked around, and there was Lance, striding through the gate into the playground.
The flying, tingly, warm, bubbly feeling she got just looking at him went a long way toward making Need bearable.
"Matilda?" she called.
She had to distract herself before she performed a flying tackle on Lance. He didn't need to see Glori lose all control, sprout dragonfly wings fifteen feet wide and dive-bomb him. At least, not now. Maybe when they knew each other better?
"Matilda?" she called again, her voice cracking. "He's here." Glori got up and darted around the side of the building, after waving for Lance to stay there.
"Well, there's something to be said for a first crush." Matilda's smile was crooked with sympathy and that nasty sense of humor that nobody could resist. "Darling, you should see yourself. All sparkling and heightened color and...well, about two inches off the ground."
Glori looked down and gulped. Sure enough, she could see a gap between her sneakers and the child-battered grass. She stretched with her toes, found the ground again, and firmly anchored herself to the laws of gravity.
"You're beautiful," Matilda whispered. She slid an arm around Glori's shoulders, turned her around, and led her back the way she had come. "Even without all your magic, you'd be hard for a normal man to resist, much less--" She stopped short, abruptly enough Glori walked out of her support. Matilda gulped, choked, and went deathly pale.
"Mortimer?" she shrieked.
Chapter Six
"Uh...no...the name's Lance. Lance Knight." Lance looked at Glori, eyes wide and begging an explanation. She couldn't give him one. He held out his hand. "How are you? Are you Glori's boss? She said maybe you could help."
"Well..." Matilda got her color back. She swallowed hard a few times, nodded, and staggered over to the picnic table to sit down. "I can give you some answers, at the very least."
"About what?" Glori looked at Lance, who shrugged, just as lost as she was.
Matilda shook her head, waved her hands in front of her, and conjured up a scry-globe. It looked like a gigantic soap bubble, one foot in diameter, but the iridescent rainbow control pad didn't flicker and slide across the surface. With a snap of her fingers, the globe shot straight at Lance. He ducked, but couldn't move fast enough. In a moment, it enveloped him, expanding and shimmering all around him, then yanking free before he could react with anything more than his jaw dropping.
"What was that about?" he demanded as the globe flew back to Matilda and balanced in her outstretched hands, much smaller again.
"Answers. Collecting data. Much easier on the subject than putting you through twenty questions, don't you think?" She didn't even look at him as she studied the silver script that scrolled across the surface of her globe.
"Sorry," Glori whispered, as she stepped over to stand with Lance. It wouldn't do her any good to try to read over Matilda's shoulder, so why bother?
"What's wrong with her?" Lance said, softening his tone.
"Family reunions are always difficult when you aren't expecting them," Matilda said. Her scry-globe vanished with an audible pop. She dusted her hands against each other and stood up. "Where is Mortimer? You're his spitting image, you know. At least, I hope you don't spit like he used to. It was disgusting how he..." She sighed. "You are haunted by Mortimer's ghost, aren't you?"
"Yeah, but how did you know?" His mouth fell open. "Are you the Faerie who zapped him with the curse in the first place?"
"No--I'm Mortimer's little sister, who almost drowned because he was always an arrogant, bull-headed, oblivious--" Matilda shook her head. "Maybe we should go someplace a little more private to talk."
"Mortimer's sister? The one who got kidnapped by Fairies?" Lance's voice rose half an octave and cracked.
"I was not kidnapped, and if that oaf had ever bothered to listen, you wouldn't be in this mess today." Matilda snapped her fingers. Colors flashed around them, and a moment later they
stood in Glori's kitchen. "We're going to need more than chocolate, dear."
Glori agreed. She snatched up her phone and got to work calling all her favorite carry-out restaurants that delivered.
"You... Sit." Matilda flicked her fingers and the chair bumped out from the end of the table.
Lance glanced once at Glori before obeying.
They sat in silence while Glori made her calls. By the time she finished, Matilda and Lance both looked impressed with the amount and varieties of food she had ordered.
"How are you going to pay for all that?" Lance said, with a whistle of appreciation.
"Daycare pays extremely well when magic takes care of most of the basic necessities." A bit of pique flared and slid out her lips before she could stop herself. "Did you think we paid in false gold, just conjuring up an illusion of riches from trash?"
"Sorry," he said under his breath, and studied his crossed arms resting on the table.
"Well, it's nice to see this generation has learned some manners and to admit when they're wrong," Matilda said.
Or rather, she smirked. Glori breathed a sigh of relief to see her supervisor and friend had returned to her normal sense of balance and humor. Seeing Matilda unbalanced and shocked was enough to make the world spin off its axis.
"All right, let's get the unpleasant explanations out of the way while we're waiting for the food." Matilda sighed and leaned back, leaving her hands resting palms down on the edge of the table. "Did Mortimer ever tell you about our Uncle Maximilian?"
"When he isn't raging about the nasty--" Lance clamped his mouth shut, swallowed and tried to smile.
"Tell?" Glori thought she felt the Earth tip again. "Is your swine brother still alive? Is that part of the curse, too?"
"No, the curse is that all the ghosts who didn't find true love haunt the next generation and make it really hard to find a decent girl." He rolled his eyes. "Two topics of conversation with Sir Mortimer. The other one is how his uncle--your uncle," he corrected himself, nodding at Matilda, "stole his inheritance, his castle, the woman he wanted to marry, and made Mortimer seriously consider becoming a rogue knight to stay alive."
"He never told you about Uncle Maximilian's taste for little girls?" Matilda said quietly.
Glori gasped. Then she understood. Three years ago, she had almost been hauled before the Review Board for violation of the Invisibility Act: excessive use of magic in an aggressive and predatory fashion, thereby risking the exposure of Fae presence among Humans.
She had devoted a lion's share of her free time to tracking down and tormenting the non-custodial father of one of her girls, after she discovered why he was allowed no contact with his daughter. Child molesters, rapists, pornographers and drug dealers all belonged in the same torment reserved for the Magic Folk Defamation League.
Matilda had championed Glori during her hearing with the Review Board. Now Glori understood why.
"No," Lance said slowly. "He never did. Knowing Mortimer, I bet he never guessed."
"Oh, my, some of your ancestors must have married extremely intelligent women and improved the breed. He's a keeper, darling." Matilda winked at Glori. "You're exactly right. Mortimer never knew what Uncle Maximilian meant when he said he loved me." She shuddered delicately. "Fortunately, my nurse was a Valkyrie and she never left me alone for a minute. Up until Uncle Maximilian decided I was too old for a nurse and sent her off to marry his chief pig herder. I climbed out my window that first night I was alone and he came after me." She snorted. "He tried climbing down the rope I made with my bed curtains and sheets. It broke under him. He was laid up for nearly four months with a broken back before he died. But that has nothing at all to do with Mortimer, does it?"
"Uh, no." Lance flicked a questioning glance to Glori. She shook her head. She had heard some of this story, but not those particular details.
"It turns out, I had some predilection for magic already in my blood. Fae men have a tendency to...sow their wild oats, so to speak. That's the only way Changelings can become Changelings, of course. Somewhere in our history is a Halfling or two. It wouldn't do a spot of good to adopt and take an ordinary Human child to live in the Enclaves. They can't learn Fae magic unless it's already in their blood."
Glori glanced at Lance, wondering if he had any magic in his blood, after all these generations. If he looked like Mortimer as much as Matilda said, maybe he was a throwback? Would that touch of magic help explain at least part of her unreasonable, hormonal attraction to him? She could only hope.
Or would that just make things more complicated and sticky?
Speaking of sticky-- She could use an entire bottle of Hershey's Syrup right now.
"I made the bed sheet rope hold up against all logic," Matilda continued. "When I saw Uncle Maximilian climbing down after me, I made it break. All without realizing it. That working of unconscious magic attracted Feathedora. She showed up as I was trying to cross a river, saved my life, and was in the process of recruiting me when Mortimer showed up.
"Uncle Maximilian claimed he was injured trying to protect me from Visigoths." She snorted. "There hadn't been Visigoths in our part of the country for nearly thirty years, but of course, Maximilian wouldn't remember and it never occurred to Mortimer to question."
"Mortimer tried to skewer Feathedora, thinking he was protecting you, from a Faerie Visigoth?" Lance said with a snicker.
"Feathedora tried out for the NFL, and almost made it," Glori offered softly.
"All that aside, Mortimer wouldn't listen to me. He kept trying to chase Feathedora and she kept whacking him with her wand and sending him flying. He never could have hurt her--with his sword or lance, anyway. His mouth, however--"
"You don't have to explain that part. I've been on the receiving end of Mortimer's vocabulary," Lance said. "So he insulted the Faerie... Sorry, Fae. He insulted a Fae into cursing him, and you were so ticked at the moron, you went to live with her instead of going home and risking Uncle Max teaching you to lap dance."
"Hmm, I do like this new generation." She batted her eyelashes at him, which made Lance blush a little. "You, and probably the last ten generations, certainly don't deserve the curse. If I had thought Mortimer would ever convince some featherbrain to marry him and make him a father, thereby perpetuating the curse, I would have done something about the problem centuries ago."
"When there were still real princesses," Glori added.
"We have to do something. The sooner the better. You shouldn't settle for the first knight errant who comes along. I mean, honestly, Glori, much as I loved my brother, it was a relief to go into an Enclave and know the years were flying by. You don't want to tangle yourself up with the males of my Human family. No, not at all. Thank goodness none of my sons inherited any of that bad blood. No, not at all. As much as Lance impresses me... I suppose I have to change my mind. It's only common sense. The two of you would not make a good couple."
Glori's mouth fell open. She had never heard Matilda talk this way about anyone. Certainly not in front of them.
What made it worse was that after a few frowning, confused moments, Lance seemed to understand exactly what she was talking about. He cocked his head to one side and gave Glori one of those considering looks that had her feeling hot and somewhat childish, as if she had been caught sneaking chocolate syrup and diet cherry cola into her bunk after the camp director declared lights out.
"A good couple?" he finally asked quietly.
"Oh, our dear Glori is going through a change in life and it's affecting her magic somewhat dreadfully. That's why her magic is working in reverse at the daycare. Usually a few easy spells keep the place spotless, free of disease and bullies and pests. Bugs, as well as politicians and telemarketers."
"Change in life? Like, menopause?" Lance's frown deepened. "You don't look old enough. How old are you?"
"Even Fae women don't like admitting their age," Glori said so primly that she thought she could spit lemons. Whole.
"Glori
is barely out of high school, in Fae terms." Matilda patted her clenched hands, which gripped the edge of the table hard enough to threaten to dig holes in the wood. "No, this change in life requires certain...stimulation."
"Stimulation?" Lance blushed, dark red and hot enough Glori felt the air temperature rise from the other side of the table. "What exactly--"
"It all depends on the Fae woman involved. Anything from a light romantic encounter to a steamy affair to a lifetime commitment and soul-bonding on the deepest level." Matilda glanced back and forth between them. "I was hoping you could provide her with some amusement and diversion, help her release some steam, so to speak. Now, I'm not so sure." She sighed and bounced up from the table. "Well, now that those questions are cleared up, I think I should get going. Enjoy your dinner, children." She snapped her fingers. An enormous iridescent disk appeared in Glori's kitchen wall. She stepped through it and the disk vanished.
"Release some steam?" Lance growled. "Like, some cheap fling? A one-night stand? What kind of jerk does she think I am?"
"It wouldn't be one night. From the way Matilda was talking, it could be a couple months or a few years or even..." Glori saw the way his mouth dropped open and some of that insulted dismay in his eyes changed to a gleam of speculation. Her mouth got dry. Then his gaze flicked over her and that gleam turned to definite flames.
While it was gratifying to know Lance was attracted to her in a totally carnal manner, she wasn't interested in simply gratification without anything else. At least, not yet. And not in some cheap, no-strings-attached way, either.
"What's keeping Mama Jo's driver?" She leaped up from the kitchen table before she really did dig her fingers through the wood.
Either her magic had some positive benefits when it went wonky, or Matilda had thought ahead. When Glori went to the door, she found both her car and Lance's truck neatly parked in the driveway, and all five delivery drivers pulling up in front of her cottage. Even on a good day, Glori couldn't have managed to coordinate the drivers. The law of averages and the Law of Invisibility simply precluded such use of magic on a regular basis.
Day and Knight Page 5
