Box Office Poison le-2

by Phillipa Bornikova

  “I wish he’d just refused to see me.” My voice sounded hollow and very far away. “He could have done that. He didn’t have to be cruel. This can’t be happening.” I ran my fingers through my hair, clutched at it so hard it pulled and hurt.

  “What will you do?” Qwendar asked.

  “I don’t know, but it can’t end like this. It just can’t!”

  “Perhaps things are different with humans, but that seemed like a pretty solid rejection.”

  I shook my head. “He came to see me. He brought me the flowers. Something to tell me he still cared. He’s being controlled. Maybe that thing she put in his eye. Maybe it can be removed.” I broke off abruptly, arrested by a sudden thought. I turned and started for the door.

  “What? What is it? I could see you thought of something.”

  “What’s been done can be undone, and now I’ve got a source who grew up with the Álfar and may have some advice.”

  “The human exchanged for John.”

  I made a gun with my finger, pointed it at him. “You got it on one.”

  18

  David came into the broom closet the next morning just as I was getting ready to dial the O’Shea household. He was carrying a copy of Daily Variety. I opened my mouth to tease him about going all Hollywood since he was now reading Variety instead of his beloved Chicago Sun-Times, but I never got the words out because he was peering at me so oddly. I put down the phone that I’d just picked up. “What?” I asked. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “You don’t look upset.”

  “I’m going to if you don’t stop staring at me like I’m the corpse at a wake and tell me what’s going on,” I replied.

  “Qwendar called me early this morning. He said you had a rough meeting with John, and he was concerned about you. Did you see John?”

  “Yes. But this is bullshit. How dare Qwendar call you. As if you have anything to do with this at all. And how could he think I’d go into a decline because a man—” I shut up before I could reveal just how much I was hurt.

  “Why did you do that without telling me?” David asked.

  “Because Qwendar called me late last night, and I don’t see how it’s any of your business anyway.”

  “O’Shea was an employee of the firm. We have an interest.”

  “Okay, that’s just hooey. He was an independent contractor. I know full well that the senior partners hired another private eye to handle investigations for the firm. They certainly weren’t losing any sleep over John.”

  “But you were, and the firm does have an interest in you.”

  “And I’m fine. Actually I’m glad you’re here. I was about to come see you. I talked with Kerrinan yesterday, and he just flat admitted that the Álfar throw glamours, almost without thinking about it was how he put it.”

  “Palendar will deny it,” David said.

  “And an accused murderer probably isn’t the best witness to refute that claim, but when you look at Kerrinan’s statement and the statistical evidence, it’s pretty damn clear.”

  “So we need to find an Álfar who will come clean,” David said. “Although it rather galls me to be doing LeBlanc’s job.”

  “To be fair she probably hasn’t been able to find an Álfar who would testify. No offense, but the Powers tend to stick together. We do want an equitable outcome, don’t we? And it’s pretty clear the humans can’t fairly compete.”

  “So you’ve decided against McPhee’s position?” he asked.

  “I thought about it a lot, but ultimately his analogy breaks down. Yes, money can be an obstacle to people getting cosmetic surgery, but people can acquire money. They can’t acquire Álfar magic.” An idea began to blossom. “We have the right to call witnesses too,” I said.

  “Yes, so? We don’t have an Álfar either.”

  “But we can get one. Well, he’s sort of a half-assed Álfar, but I’m betting he might be willing to testify about Álfar magic since he just got kicked out of Fey on his ass. Assuming he knows about their magic, of course. I’d have to find out.”

  “What are you talking about?” David demanded.

  “John’s brother … well, I guess you’d call him a brother. The human child John was switched for. He’s back with his human family. I found out last night.”

  David frowned and thought. “Before we go chasing off after this changeling, are you getting anywhere with Qwendar?”

  “He’s trying to get permission, but who knows how long that will take?”

  David frowned some more, then gave an abrupt nod. “All right.”

  “I’ll call him—”

  “No, go. You need to evaluate him as a witness, and he might not be willing. You can exert more influence in person. You can also report back to the senior partners while you’re on the East Coast.”

  “You know, they have phones too.”

  “They like the personal touch.”

  “What about the arbitration?”

  “You can be present via video conference.” He turned and left.

  I called our assistant and asked her to get me booked on a flight to Philly. I also had her order a car to take me to the airport. I just didn’t want to deal with the traffic around LAX. Then I gathered up my files, left a note for Merlin, and headed back to the Oakwood to pack.

  * * *

  “So you wish me to be a witness in a hearing that will discomfit the Álfar actors? I would be delighted. I don’t feel particularly loyal right now. They threw me out of the only home I’ve ever known.”

  The final words of Parlan’s harsh indictment were suddenly blurred by being forced past a lump in his throat. He coughed. I looked away. Men crying is the one thing that could truly slay me.

  We were seated in the living room of the O’Shea house, and quite alone. Big Red and Meg had gone off to watch one of the grandsons play in a hockey game. It was a typical East Coast house. Narrow, three stories, siding, and steep steps leading up to the front door. There were identical houses to either side, the only difference being the color of the siding. The O’Shea house was blue, the ones on either side were gray and beige. Through the living room window I could see an array of snowmen illuminated by streetlights and standing like sentries in the front yards of the houses across the street.

  The room had a comfortable, lived-in look. One arm on the big sofa had a kid’s western saddle and an arrangement of rope on the end so a grandchild could play cowboy. The bookcase held an assortment of novels, books on criminology, and coloring books. There was a big flat screen TV, and a braided rug on the wood floor. There were a few paintings on the wall, watercolors that had been done by Meg O’Shea on summer vacations on the coast, but most of the walls were filled with photos of the children and grandchildren. John, proud in his PPD dress uniform, smiled out at me from the east wall. It was my turn to look away and swallow a few times.

  Parlan and I looked back at each other at the same time. He was an attractive man. I knew he was forty-three because he and John had been switched as infants, but the lost expression made him seem younger. Parlan had his red-headed father’s flamboyant coloring though silver now frosted the hair at his temples. It was long, held with a silver clip at the nape of his neck, and the tail hung over his shoulder. I wondered how long before Big Red got him in for a haircut? Parlan’s eyes were a deep blue, almost aquamarine, with crow’s feet etching the corners. He had a square jaw with a cleft in the chin, and a powerful, barrel-chested body. He was the antithesis of the delicate Álfar physique. He was dressed in blue jeans and an oatmeal-colored cable-knit sweater that suited him very well.

  “But only if you can shed light on the case. What do you know about Álfar magic?”

  “Quite a lot, actually. I can’t do it, of course, but I did study with a court enchanter.”

  “I don’t understand. If you couldn’t do magic, why have you study it?”

  “I had to learn how to resist the glamours. If I hadn’t, I could have been tormented by any Álfar
s who weren’t terribly keen about having me around.”

  “Okay, it sounds like glamours are little magic, something an Álfar does almost without thinking.”

  Parlan was nodding. “Yes, that’s correct.”

  “So, are there big magics, the kind of magic that would put an Álfar into a killing rage and then not have any memory of it afterward?”

  “Yes. I think so. Some of the powerful old ones can really get inside your head and essentially turn you into a meat puppet. But you need blood from the person that you’re looking to control.”

  Outside the wind had started to kick, moaning around the eaves of the house and setting the limbs on a big beech tree scraping against the window like nails on a blackboard.

  “So, does the glamour require blood?”

  “Oh no, no, no, that’s like breathing for them. They don’t even have to think about it. They just do it.”

  “Wouldn’t an Álfar know if another Álfar was trying to control them?”

  “Not if the enchanter was powerful enough and had enough training.”

  “How much blood are we talking about?” I asked.

  Parlan shrugged. “It would depend on the skill of the controller. If they were good—not a terribly large amount.” He paused and cocked his head to the side. “So, do you think I can help you?”

  “Definitely.”

  He gave a rather predatory smile. “Good.”

  I couldn’t help it, I blurted out the question. “Did you really like living there?” I asked.

  “Of course I did. I was the pampered son of a powerful queen. I was exotic. I got laid a lot. Of course, what I realized too late is that I wasn’t really her son. I was a toy that she played with until she became tired of me.”

  I couldn’t help but ask another question. “What’s it like? Do you have modern conveniences? I know you have cars. I saw them when John and I…” Now it was my turn to clear the obstruction in my throat. “Well, I saw them.”

  “There wouldn’t be a tree left in the world if we were still living like it was the Middle Ages. We’ve been stealing power off the human grid for decades. Electricity and gas heaters beat the hell out of fireplaces. The translation to Fey does seem to play all holy hell with computers and cell phones, so that hasn’t happened.”

  “Were you educated?” I asked.

  “Not in a way you’d recognize. I have a courtier’s skills.” He glanced up at me from beneath his lashes and this time the smile was bitter.

  “I don’t know what that means,” I said.

  “I can dance, hunt, dress well, make conversation. I also found that I liked studying their history and magical arts. They let me because I had something they lacked—focus.”

  “John said something like that. I think that’s why he didn’t like it after growing up here. So what are you going to do now that you’re in this world?” I blurted because my internal editor had gone on strike.

  “I have no idea. My … father.” The hesitation didn’t escape me. “Says I have to get my GED. Or perhaps I’ll just ask if you want special sauce on that burger. Or deliver pizzas. I hear there’s good money in delivering pizzas.” He gave me a smile. “Of course, I’ll have to learn to drive. Wonder if I could use a horse? Riding was one of my great joys.” Again the smile, both brave and ironic.

  “I love horses too,” I said.

  “I miss mine. He was spectacular.” The brave front trembled a little, but Parlan recovered.

  “She’s just awful,” I said.

  “I can’t disagree. All she had to do was wait another thirty or so years and the problem of the human changeling would have been resolved. Now I have to live what remains of my life in a world I don’t know and don’t understand.”

  The sadness touched me. I reached out and laid my hand lightly over his. “You’ll be okay. You have good people around you. A family that can help you.”

  “But they don’t love me.”

  “And she didn’t love you either,” I shot back. “If she did she wouldn’t have treated you this way. Or John. You’re both just objects to her. Things to possess until she gets tired of you.”

  His hand was jerked from beneath mine, and he held it up like a shield. “Don’t! I can’t bear to…” He broke off and coughed again.

  “Would you like a drink?”

  “Sure, but nothing alcoholic. I’m jet-lagged and booze would put me to sleep, and I have to get up to New York tonight.”

  “Come on,” Parlan said, and gestured toward the door. I followed him down the hall and into the kitchen. It was another homey space redolent with the scent of recently baked cookies. “Hot chocolate?” Parlan asked.

  “That sounds great,” I replied. I settled down at the kitchen table and watched as he prepared a pan, milk, sugar, and cocoa. “I didn’t think cooking was a princely skill,” I said, and smiled to indicate it was a joke. He took it in the spirit it was offered and smiled back.

  “We are permitted eccentric hobbies,” he answered dryly.

  A stunning idea struck me. “You should open a restaurant. Serve Álfar dishes. You really are the prince from a foreign land. You’d make a fortune.”

  He stood frowning at me, the wooden spoon hanging between his fingers. Then the lines in his forehead smoothed, and he slowly nodded and used a word I’d never heard. “Hilial, you may be right.”

  “What does that mean, hilial?”

  He pursed his lips considering as he stirred the hot chocolate. For a long moment the only sound in the room was the hiss from the gas burner and the slow scrape of the spoon on the bottom of the pan. “None of these are exactly right, but morph, transfigure, transmute.”

  “So you follow the Álfar religion.”

  “Of course. It’s how I was raised.”

  “How’s that going over with Big Red?”

  “As you can imagine, not great.” He poured cocoa into a mug and handed it to me.

  The ceramic sides were warm against the palms of my hands. I blew across the surface, and streamers of steam bowed and danced. Risking a sip, I managed not to burn my mouth, and I was pleasantly surprised. It wasn’t too sweet.

  A few more sips of chocolate gave me the courage I needed. “May I ask you something else?”

  “Of course.”

  “It’s about John, so it might be awkward, painful.”

  “I don’t blame him. He’s as much a victim as I am. I know he didn’t want to stay in Fey,” Parlan said.

  “How do you know that?”

  “I lived there forty-three years. I had friends, even among my mother’s guards, and they’re still my friends. Some of them slip over to visit me, and they told me the devil’s bargain she offered.”

  Outside, snow had begun to swirl. I was jumpy enough that I kept expecting something to coalesce out of the whirling flakes. I drew in a breath. “I saw John, and he was so changed. And she blinded him in one eye. Why would she do that?”

  “Control. Also part of Álfar magic. A sliver of ice that blunts all emotion toward anyone but herself.”

  “Well, he had contempt down pretty well,” I said, trying to mask the hurt and pretty sure I hadn’t succeeded.

  “That’s actually a good sign. It means he’s fighting back.”

  “So she rejects the son who does love her and has to use magic to make the other one love her. Wow, that is really fucked up.”

  “Yes.” Parlan dropped his head and stared down at his hands. “And you’re right. I do love her, still.”

  His expression was so lost and despairing that I couldn’t help it. I once again reached out, and this time I clasped his hand in mine. “It will get better.”

  There was again that smile that flickered like summer lightning. “You promise?”

  My lawyer caution warred with a human reaction. I was proud to see that human won. “Yeah, I promise.”

  “So what happens now?”

  “I tell my boss you can help us,” I said.

  19

&nb
sp; The next morning I walked back into the main office at Ishmael, McGillary and Gold. The snow that had blanketed Philadelphia had also hit New York City. Central Park looked beautiful under a layer of white. Dogs and children romped in the snow, while a few parents and owners, and mostly nannies and dog walkers, looked on. Now I was glad I had lugged my heavy coat to Los Angeles. Otherwise, I would have been in New York without a coat. Though the thought of taking it back to LA was daunting.

  The Legal Eagles Pop Brigade was on hand to greet me. It was what we young female associates in the firm had dubbed ourselves after we’d all issued an epic smackdown on a vampire partner who had been using and harassing female associates. Caroline, looking elegant as always, was in the lead and gave me a fierce hug.

  “You don’t have a tan,” she accused.

  “It’s been raining in LA and cold. Well, cold for them.”

  “So no picking up hunky blond surfers on the beach and fucking their brains out, huh?” Cecelia asked, living up to her reputation as the bawdy broad.

  “Afraid not.”

  “It seems like you’ve been gone forever,” Juliette, a beautiful woman from Jamaica, said.

  I thought about it. “It has been a month and a half. God help me.”

  “Any sign it’s going to end soon?” Delia asked.

  “Not really.”

  “Can we all go to lunch?” Nancy asked as my flying scrum of friends escorted me to my office.

  “Sorry, no. I’m joining in the arbitration via video conference, and the time difference means I’m going to be sneaking bites of sandwich during the testimony.”

  My assistant, Norma, rose from behind her desk like an iceberg calving off a glacier and stared down at me. Her teased, silver-white hair was like a helmet. “Well, I’m surprised to see you.”

  From her tone it was clear it wasn’t a pleasure, and as usual there was no evidence her computer had been turned on once since I had been gone. I had to assume she used it. Just never when I was watching. I had inherited Norma along with my office from my deceased boss, and I didn’t have the nerve to suggest a change. The fact that she was tech-phobic wasn’t that big of a drawback in a white-fang law firm; most of the vampire partners felt the same way, and she did defend me behind my back while insulting me to my face. It was a little like having my mother working for me.