Hidden Magic

by Amy Patrick

  “Whoa,” Anders said on a long exhale. “So the legends are true, then. Nymph blood heals.”

  “Yes,” Estelle said. “And not only that… I have learned today it may also prevent disease—as in the Plague. That’s the reason Alessia is so determined to find Macy. Dr. Schmitt was terrified her blood could be used to make a vaccine or an antidote against his terrible creation. That’s why we had to make contact with you.”

  Had to. She’d said, “… had to make contact.”

  I looked away from Estelle and back to Nic’s sorrowful eyes, trying to make sense of it all. “That’s the… only… reason?” I asked.

  Had he not wanted to see me again, then? Had he not even planned to tell me he was still alive until Estelle had gotten this information?

  He didn’t answer, just stared at me with that haunted look.

  “Were you… were you there last night, outside the elevator?” I asked him, barely able to breathe. “Did I see you? Did you see me… and then leave?”

  The thought was crushing. If he could see me after all this time, after all we’d shared, and walk away without even speaking to me, then perhaps I’d been wrong about him. Maybe he hadn’t felt the same way about me as I’d felt about him. Or maybe the knowledge that I was a nymph—not a human—had changed his feelings for me. Were nymphs disgusting to Elves? I didn’t know anything about the Fae lore on this subject, if there even was any.

  His face contracted in a pained-looking scowl that answered my question. The bearded man had been him. We’d been that close to each other, and he’d left without a word.

  Estelle came to stand close to us, laying one hand on her brother’s shoulder and one on mine. “I am sorry to rush this. I know all of this comes as a shock to you, to say the least, Macy. But we must hurry if we are to prevent a catastrophic loss of human life. Dr. Schmitt infected all of the fan pod girls with the Plague before releasing them to go back to their homes around the world. Alessia has the power to trigger the virus at any time. I believe all she is waiting for is your capture and return, but she may grow weary of waiting and do it even without having you in hand. She is highly unstable.”

  My head whipped around to face her. “All the fan pod girls are infected? So they’re not… or did they already have the babies?”

  Now Nic’s hand reached to cover mine. It was the first time he’d touched me since our initial contact. “No. No, it didn’t work. I have no offspring. Dr. Schmitt did perform the procedures—against my will—but none of the girls were impregnated.”

  Relief rushed through me like a sudden rain shower. “Oh thank God. So, your glamour isn’t what he thought it was then. Or…” I was confused. Dr. Schmitt was supposed to be infallible at detecting physical gifts and maladies in others. How could he have been so wrong about Nic’s fertility?

  “No,” Estelle corrected. “Dr. Schmitt was right—about both of us. Nic’s genetic matter was ineffective with the fan pod girls because—”

  “Estelle.” Nic grabbed his sister’s hand, cutting off her explanation. “We will discuss this later. Right now we need to help Macy and Anders pack. We must move quickly if we are to beat Alessia to the punch.”

  He stood and began searching the room. “Where is your backpack? Anders—do you have luggage?”

  Anders blinked at Nic’s question. He seemed to be emerging from a fugue state that had swallowed him the minute Nic and Estelle had entered the room. “This is all going a little fast for me. Where exactly are we going? I’m supposed to perform at the Grammy awards in two days. Macy and I were planning to leave for L.A. tomorrow.”

  “Macy is not going to L.A.,” Nic informed him. “She’s going to Mississippi—with me.”

  “Mississippi? What the hell is in Mississippi?” Anders stared at Nic like he’d lost his mind. I was also puzzled. I’d never even visited the state. I was as eager to hear the answer as Anders was.

  “Altum. And its healers,” Nic said. “Nox says they need to study her to find out the full extent of her powers. They may even be able to use Macy’s blood to make an antidote for the Plague—possibly even replicate its makeup and create a vaccine to prevent new infections.”

  “I’m surprised the Light Elves are getting this involved,” Anders said. “They’re not usually interested in the humans.”

  “Yes, well, apparently the Light King has his reasons. But we need to give the healers there time to work, which means there is no time to waste. Alessia could choose at any time to visit any one of the fan pod girls and use her glamour.”

  “You mean her musical glamour?” I asked, truly baffled now. “What harm would that do?”

  “It’s not her only glamour,” Nic said. “Not many people know about it, even within the Ancient Court. She has another one. She can make people sick. In fact, it’s not even a choice. Unless she avoids physical contact with them, people—and Elves—become ill around her. Whatever damaged or genetically pre-disposed cells are already present in their bodies become activated when she is near. I used to think she was just a cold, standoffish person—until I read her deepest desire—to be rid of her glamour.”

  “Wow.” Anders let out a low whistle. “That sucks. Can you imagine? You could never even kiss someone, or hold hands for very long. It’s so lonely.”

  “It’s also very dangerous,” Estelle said. “Nox asked me to bring some blood samples to L.A. as well, so his healer there can work on a cure from a different angle. Would you be willing, Macy, to let me draw some here—this morning before you leave?”

  “Wait a minute now.” Anders stepped forward, finally acting like himself again, being the friend and protector he was. “I’m not sure about letting people ‘study’ Macy and take her blood.”

  Nic bristled at his tone, his body going rigid and his eyes hard. “I would never let anyone harm Macy in any way. Your king assures me we can trust these healers. He knows them well and has given me his vow that Macy will not only be unharmed, she’ll experience no pain. And in Altum she’ll be completely safe from any Ancient Court agents who may still be in this country hunting her. ”

  The creases of concern on Anders’ forehead softened a bit. “Well, all right then, if Nox vouches for them. I guess I’ll… I guess I can tell him to find another keyboard player to fill in for me at the Grammys.”

  Now it was my turn to speak. I slid from the bed and went to stand in front of Anders. “No. You have to go to L.A. You guys are nominated. You have to perform at the awards, and what if you win? You wrote most of the songs on that album. You're up for Song of the Year. I will not let you miss that moment, the experience of being there and being honored in front of all your peers—in front of your father.” I gave him a significant glance.

  During our time together, we’d discussed our families, our pasts, our disappointments, and hopes and dreams. I knew it was Anders’ ultimate dream to win a Grammy and an Oscar, something even his multi-awarded father had not achieved. He sometimes still wrangled with feelings of inadequacy, though I’d reassured him repeatedly his musical gifts were as good as—if not better than—musical glamour. In my opinion this awards ceremony was critical for him. That was why I’d agreed to woman-up and drag my country mouse self there to support him. Now I had no choice but to miss the event, but there was no way I’d let him pass it up.

  “I know. But… how can I go without you?” he asked, looking torn.

  “Estelle can go with you. Right?” I turned to her. “Didn’t you say you have to go to L.A. anyway? You guys can travel together, and she can be your date and your cheering section in my place. I’ll bet she actually even has something appropriate to wear for that kind of thing. I was going to have to go shopping—which you know I hate.”

  His eyes went from mine to Estelle’s, giving her a questioning look. Her surprised face morphed into a smile.

  “I do, actually. I always pack too much, because, you never know. And well, with modeling and everything, I’m given a lot of designer samples.” She s
hrugged.

  Now Anders’ eyes glinted with something that resembled satisfaction. “I thought that was you.”

  Her eyes went wide, and her smile even wider. “You recognized me?”

  He gave a wry chuckle and looked away, clearly abashed. “Yeah. But don’t ask me how—please.”

  16

  Anders

  It took me a full ten minutes to recover from the staggering vision that greeted me when I’d opened the hotel room door. Not Nic-back-from-the-dead. I hadn’t even seen him at first.

  No, what had me reeling was coming face to face with the real-life version of the girl whose photos I collected like a middle-school fanboy.

  Known simply as “Estelle” in her modeling career, her last name was not available in any of her online profiles—I knew because I’d looked. Before this assignment to protect Macy had come up, I’d been entertaining the idea of having my agent contact hers and trying to set up a meeting or something. Yeah, I was that pathetic when it came to my cyberstalking of this woman.

  But of course I’d put that aside, and rightly so, when I’d started traveling with Macy. It had been a silly idea anyway. Nothing ever came of those celebrity setups. And Macy was a real girl—someone I could relate to and be friends with—not some goddess who was drooled over by men around the world and who probably wouldn’t give me the time of day or even recognize my name when my agent called.

  Even more shocking than the flesh-and-blood sight of her—which far exceeded her photographs, by the way—was what I’d heard when she’d stepped into the room.

  Music.

  Not a few notes.

  Not a riff of melody or a jingle or even a song.

  A symphony.

  I’d heard a freaking symphony—full-blown, note-by-note, completely composed in my head as if an angel had unzipped the top of my skull and dropped the whole thing in there.

  It’s real.

  That was the only coherent thought I’d been able to form. That whole cockamamie story my father had told me about the moment he’d met Mom had not been a crock after all.

  And now, apparently, we were traveling to L.A. together today, and she was going to be my date for the Grammys. I wasn’t sure whether to pinch myself or run around giving everyone hi-fives. Probably neither if I didn’t want to look like a complete idiot.

  Estelle saved me from having to react by laughing. Oh God, she even had a great laugh. Inside my head, the symphony played louder. I was going to have to get out my music writing pad and get this down soon, or I wouldn’t be able to hear anyone over the masterpiece playing between my ears.

  Estelle laughed again. “It’s so funny that you recognize me from my modeling work, because I am one of your biggest fans.”

  “What?” My voice sounded choked, like I barely had enough air in my lungs to respond. Because I didn’t.

  “I love your music. I have been to some of your shows—when you played in L.A. while I was working there, and in Paris as well. I have your Hidden albums and your jazz one as well.”

  I did a double-take, feeling my eyes bulge from my head. Either I was suffering from shock, or someone had slipped me a roofie downstairs in the casino in order to steal all my chips and I was in a deep hallucinatory state, because this was not actually happening. No one knew about that solo album. Well, not many people, anyway.

  I’d done it on the side, produced and released it myself, and not even bothered to promote it because it was such a departure from my work with The Hidden. And here my dream girl was telling me she had heard it—that she owned it?

  “I love that song, ‘Midnight Masquerade,’” she continued. “Oh, and ‘Last Night is This Morning’—that one gives me the feels like you would not believe.”

  Oh. My. God.

  I was starting to think I was going to have to excuse myself and go to another room or maybe jump in the rooftop pool to regain control of myself. Something I did had given this goddess the “feels.”

  “Oh,” I managed to force words from a throat that seemed to have shrunk to the diameter of a toothpick. “That’s… good to hear.”

  She blushed. Even prettier now. Great, I really am going to have to excuse myself.

  “Forgive me for gushing. I know I am embarrassing myself, but I am such a fan. I even subscribed to your You Tube channel so I’d never miss any of the acoustic versions you post there.”

  Okay, that does it.

  “Um… could you excuse me? I need to… I’ll be right back.” I spun and fled from the room, speed-walking down the hall until I reached the door to the stairwell. Once inside it, I ran up and down several flights of stairs and then I let it all out in a stream-of-consciousness rant that exploded from my lungs.

  “Oh my God Oh my God Oh my God this is happening—freaking Estelle knows who I am and likes my music—no—loves my music—and I gave her the feels—and she’s watched my acoustic videos—and she’s going with me to the Grammy awards—and I am not dreaming or on mind-altering drugs—and I heard a freaking symphony.”

  Running out of breath, I bent forward and rested my hands on my knees, hanging my head as my pounding pulse finally began to slow.

  “And now,” I added, “she thinks I’m a lunatic because I ran out of the room in the middle of a conversation.”

  I hadn’t been able to help it. It was either that or lose my shit right there in front of her, which was probably worse. Maybe. I didn’t know. Running away was pretty freaking bad, too.

  Macy was right.

  Dad had been right, and Mom was right, and Macy was right. What if the two of us had bonded last night, and then I’d met Estelle this morning? Would it have felt the same? I didn’t know, but I had never felt anything close to this with any girl—hadn’t believed it was even possible.

  Now that I’d experienced it, I wanted to feel this way every day for the rest of my life. No drug could ever be as exhilarating and addictive as being in Estelle’s presence. Standing up straight again, I drew in a deep breath and let it out.

  “Okay then. Time to go back and act like a normal, sane person and get packed and ready to head back to Los Angeles. For the Grammys. With Estelle the supermodel.”

  I leapt up and touched the ceiling of the stairwell with my fingertips, letting out one more whoop before jogging back downstairs to our room.

  17

  Macy

  The plane touched down at around two p.m. in a small, private airfield in Oxford, Mississippi, a nice-looking small town near Deep River, where Nox had directed Nic and me to go. Apparently, Altum, the traditional home of the Light Elves in this country, was deep under the earth on the outskirts of the rural main-street community.

  Nic had slept for nearly the entire three-hour flight. I tried not to be hurt by that. Estelle had told me he was exhausted, having slept very little during the past few days. But really? It was the first time we’d been alone together in more than a year. So much had happened, and I really wanted to talk to him about it all.

  It seemed like he should want to talk to me, too. And other than the initial embrace to comfort me when I was crying, he hadn’t touched me, hadn’t even tried to sit close. I got the distinct impression he was trying to keep his distance from me.

  Again, the suspicion that nymphs were somehow distasteful to Elven people crept in. That hurt, too. It wouldn't matter to me if Nic were a troll or a bogeyman or a two-headed cyclops. I’d love him till my dying day no matter what mythical creature he was or wasn’t.

  And no matter what he’d said to me a year ago or what I thought I’d seen in his eyes when we’d first seen each other this morning, now he was acting as if my nearness was some kind of threat to him. Maybe that was it. Were nymphs harmful to his people? Were nymphs and Elves natural enemies?

  “Nic,” I said as we climbed into the back of a waiting car that the Light King had sent to pick us up. “What are nymphs to Elves? Is there some sort of… bad blood between our races?”

  His expression was careful
as he finally looked at me. “You could say that. You see… in ancient days, Elves… hunted nymphs.”

  “Hunted them?”

  “Yes. Nymph blood was highly sought after. It was said to have great healing power—which appears to be true—as well as…” he didn’t finish.

  “As well as what?”

  “It’s been used to… enhance… male virility.” He coughed into his hand and looked away uncomfortably, gazing out the window at the small houses in the neighborhood we passed through as he continued. “As you may know, there is a highly sexual connotation associated with the word ‘nymph,’ even among humans. That’s most likely where it came from. Although you do have a particular… allure about you. That is undeniable.”

  “Oh.” The information caused me to sit back and take a breath. I was starting to figure out what was wrong with him, why he was acting so different. “So… you believe the only reason you were attracted to me, then, was my nymph-ness. You don’t think your feelings for me were real.”

  He jerked back around to face me. “What? Where on earth did you get that idea?”

  “Well… it’s been over a year since we’ve seen each other. The last time we were together you said you loved me. And when you showed up this morning and said you’d been searching for me, I thought it was because… but then you said the only reason you came to find me was so I could help stop the Plague, and you’re acting so distant, and you don’t seem to want me to touch you. I figured that maybe Elves think nymphs are gross or something. But I guess it’s more that you feel like you were tricked into liking me by some nymph blood-chemistry thing.”

  For a long moment he just stared at me. Then his head started shaking slowly back and forth, a small, sad smile bending his lips.