"Oh yeah, that's right." Alexi leaped to his feet and stripped off his shirt. He tossed it onto the chair in the corner and had his pants unbuttoned before he turned and gave her a shaky grin. "Um--"
"Sorry." Megan retreated, pulling the door closed behind her. She gladly escaped into her dressing room and sat before her wobbly knees collapsed. What was wrong with her? It wasn't like there was any deep, meaningful bond between them, right? Just friendship, right? She saw Alexi's abs on a daily basis. Why did he affect her so intensely now?
Maybe because if he hadn't caught himself, she would have stood there, dazed and goggle-eyed, while he stripped down to his briefs? Not that she was a voyeur. Her sense of decency was absolutely prissy. But there was something about Alexi that made her want to throw caution to the winds and change her entire viewpoint on life.
"I am not in Need," she muttered. "Halflings don't suffer Need. Besides, I am way too young for that kind of thing, anyway, even if I was a full-blood. Which I'm not. So I don't have anything to worry about."
"Yo, babe." Carman rapped hard on the door. "Curtain in five minutes. Whoever you got in there, he better be dressed and out before then, if you know what I mean." He snickered, and Megan heard him stomp down the tile hallway.
If only there was someone in the dressing room with her. Megan suspected that was the problem. Alexi certainly hadn't shown any interest in her, so why ruin things by making a move on him? If he rejected her, everything would be ruined. She didn't want to risk losing him.
* * * *
"You know what your problem is?" Megan bit her lip to hold back the scorching flow of words as she and Alexi walked through the doors of the Aurora Borealis. There were too many security guards present, too many witnesses if she had a hissy-fit and decked her assistant. Despite working for second-raters like Carmen, she did have a reputation in this town, and she wanted it to stay a good one.
"Ambition?" Alexi gave her an innocent grin, then for good measure, fluttered his eyelashes at her.
Why did guys always have such gorgeous eyelashes?
"Arrogance," she spat, to keep from bursting out laughing. Megan wanted to enjoy her snit for a few more minutes. It would help fight off the raging nerves doing battle in her stomach, and help her face Albert with a semblance of calm.
"Nah, ambition is better. And what's wrong with talking with the owner of another casino, anyway? It's not like you have an exclusive contract with Carmen." He nodded to the man guarding the elevator and flashed the card Albert had given him.
Megan was impressed, despite herself. She had enjoyed Alexi's tale of collaring the pickpocket, but finding out she had an interview with Carmen's biggest object of envy and loathing ruined the fun of the story.
"You didn't bother asking if we did," she spat as they stepped into the elevator. The doors hissed closed in counterpoint. Then she sighed. "You're right, it's not exclusive. And it's up for review in two weeks."
"Perfect timing."
"Perfect for Carmen, if he wants to can us for even stepping foot in this place. What if we don't get the job with your good buddy Albert?"
"We will." Alexi closed his eyes and leaned back against the elevator wall, as if he had all the time in the world.
"What are you going to do? Put a whammy on him to make sure we get it?" The moment those words slipped past her lips, Megan wished she had Great-Aunt Silvestrina's time-skip ability, so she could re-do the last ten seconds.
She didn't really fear Alexi figuring out she was a Halfling. Megan wanted to avoid talk of magic because she didn't want to hurt him. His magic field was in bad shape today. It fizzed and shifted from Brownie-toned umber to a yellow no self-respecting lemon would accept. He would be embarrassed if he knew she could see the condition of his magic.
His friendship meant more to her than their partnership and his growing adeptness at sleight-of-hand.
"No whammy," he said, eyes still closed. "The truth is an amazing thing."
The elevator doors slid open before she could respond. Megan mulled over all the possible meanings of those simple words while Alexi handled the receptionist and four levels of underlings they had to face before standing before Albert.
The truth: she was good, and she deserved better than Carmen's grungy dive and the half-sloshed audiences he spilled into the cracker box-sized auditorium.
The truth: she had earned her big break. Alexi was looking out for her when he decided to schmooze and snag her a new gig.
The truth: she liked having someone looking out for her, for a change. Especially when it occurred to her, just before they walked into Albert's office, that she was especially glad it was Alexi doing the looking.
"Marga..." Albert stood slowly, looking her over from head to foot.
Megan didn't have that sensation that something slimy had climbed into her shirt. Albert was simply looking her over, not mentally undressing her. That was a point in his favor.
"I've heard good things about you. Except for you letting that shyster Carmen work you to death for half the pay you deserve." Albert winked and held out his hand to shake hers.
His hand was big, warm, dry and callused. A man who still did his own work. A point in his favor. No slime, no sensation that he had died long ago and didn't have the good grace to lie down. Another point in his favor.
Come to think of it, the fact that Alexi trusted him enough to finagle an interview had to say something for the man. Megan had come to rely on Alexi's sense of people. He had a knack for handling troublesome members of the audience before they actually became a problem for her, without magic.
"I'm trying to remedy that. My first step was hiring Alexi to look out for me." She let Albert guide her into a seat in the beige leather U-shaped sofa in the middle of his office.
Albert had a nice laugh. "I sent a few of my people to check on you the last few days. They liked what they saw. I like what I've heard about you." His gaze didn't flicker, meaning his thorough search of her reputation and background hadn't revealed that she had bought a new identity twenty years ago.
There were some disadvantages to being a Halfling and almost two centuries old, after all.
Megan consciously relaxed and settled back into the sofa. She had a good feeling about this.
All because of Alexi.
What was she going to do when he got bored and decided to move on?
She almost leaped out of the sofa, jolted by the panic that came with that thought.
No, Alexi couldn't leave. Never. She needed him. As a friend and bodyguard and sounding board and PR man and... Well, he was pretty good decoration, too. Maybe he wouldn't mind a little harmless necking once in a while? Snuggling on the couch after a long, hard day and night on stage, watching an old movie, falling asleep in each other's arms? Would that be so bad? She didn't have to tell him she was a Halfling after all.
Did she?
* * * *
That night, Megan dreamed that Alexi dragged her into the vanishing act cabinet with him and kissed her until smoke came out of her ears. When she woke, she was dripping sweat, her skin was scorching hot, and she hovered nearly a foot above her sheets. She hadn't lost control like that in her dreams since she had a killer crush on Jack London.
"Please, no," she whispered, and concentrated until she lowered back down to her cold, damp sheets. There was no way in the world she was going to go through another decade of puberty. Not even if Alexi was the target.
* * * *
Alexi rode on a wave of euphoria for the next three days, slowly growing aware that the emotions came from Megan. Who really cared if his powers were fading and flickering, with power surges and sudden drops into magical black holes? He had Megan, and her friendship was more potent than any drug the Human and Fae worlds could ever devise.
That realization came to him just before showtime on the third day and dropped him back to the basement level of reality with an almost physically painful jolt. How in the world had he become so attuned to her, to
know how excited she felt about their upcoming new gig? More important, why did it mean so much to him to know he had contributed to her giddy delight?
When had she become so important to him? All right, so he needed her for job security, and he liked having her for a friend, but when had their relationship changed so he felt utterly deprived if he went for six hours without seeing her? Why did her happiness mean so much to him all of a sudden? Why did he suddenly know that she liked coffee ice cream with dark chocolate crackles and hot fudge, when he had never seen her eat it? Why did he know that she preferred cold feta cheese and tomato pizza for breakfast? Why did he know she used diet cherry cola to calm her nerves and give her energy on days when she hadn't slept well the night before?
What really frightened him that afternoon was that he had stopped to buy a six-pack of cherry cola on his way to work, sensing that Megan would need it. When he approached her dressing room and heard her talking on the phone, he suddenly knew she was talking to Desdemona. Then he knew, as if he had read the transcript, that Megan had been up from 3:00 a.m. until nine, talking Desdemona out of a fit of depression. Alexi stood there in the hall, listening to her get reassurances from her roommate that she wouldn't do anything stupid and dramatic that evening. He shivered, wanting to help Megan, unsure how, but knowing he needed to do something to raise her spirits.
When her conversation ended, he tapped on the door and held out the six-pack. Megan nearly fell on his shoulder and wept.
Then Alexi realized what he had done, and it made him feel as if the floor had fallen out from underneath him. He retreated to his dressing room, shaken, and closed the door.
In the Enclaves, giving a woman an entire six-pack of diet cherry cola was tantamount to either a declaration of love or an attempt to get her sloshed and seduce her, depending on whether she was in Need or not.
"Can't be either," Alexi muttered, and stared at his stricken expression in the mirror.
Maybe the menopause-like fluctuations in his magic brought on dementia? After all, what intelligent, mature Fae male gave up an entire six-pack?
One who cares a lot about his boss, who is also his friend and teacher.
Or one who has become Fixated, a quiet little voice at the back of his mind answered. And chuckled evilly.
"No," he muttered, and snatched his costume down off its peg, hoping activity would occupy his mind. "It's impossible. Fixation isn't real."
Of course, he knew he couldn't prove that. If the Ether Lexicon mentioned Fixation, then it was real, or at least had been real at some time in history. And Alexi knew the Lexicon did mention it. Despite how good he felt lately, he knew better than to try to summon it.
And that just added to his confusion. The last few days, he hadn't felt any discomfort. All his attention had focused on the sensations he had been receiving from Megan. No headaches, no symptoms of something big, scaled, and clawed having temper tantrums in his stomach and inside his skull.
"Fixation only happens between Fae, not Fae and Humans," he said, trying to convince himself.
The entry on Fixation was prefaced by an entry written by one of his cynical relatives perhaps eight centuries ago. Fixation is a phenomenon that does not exist. It is a fable created by the Fae Emotional-Mental Health Authority to calm the terrors of males being pursued by females in the throes of Need. FEMHA has a history of fabricating fictions to temporarily soothe problems without consideration for the long-term effect.
Quite a few Fae authorities through the centuries had tried to stamp out the belief in Fixation. Alexi suspected they were all people who had hoped for Fixation and had to settle for courtship and getting to know their intended mate the old-fashioned way. He closed his eyes, and the actual entry in the Lexicon came into his mind's eye.
Fixation occurs when a man and woman bond at several levels, none of them physical. Depending on the strength of their individual magical quotient, the bonding can be one-way, the stronger accessing the thoughts, emotions and physical sensations of the weaker magical individual. Or it can be two-way, if they are equals or one partner is blessed/cursed with Eclipse-level talent.* As the two partners work to combine their lives on the spiritual, emotional, mental, and finally physical level, their powers will combine and emerge stronger and more disciplined than the sum of their powers individually.
Alexi frowned, remembering the footnote, that he had needed to search almost an hour to find. *Eclipse-level talent is nearly as rare as Fixation, and considered by some to be even more mythical. Unless carefully disciplined and constrained, Eclipse-level talent can destroy its possessor and every Fae and Human within the reach of his or her mental voice. It is commonly believed that only Fixation can reliably tame a Fae with Eclipse-level talent.
"Yeah, and you thought you had problems, buddy?" Alexi muttered.
He opened his eyes, and got to work changing into his costume. He had a show to do in fifteen minutes. Megan needed him. He refused to let her down. Her disappointment, he suspected, would hurt worse than if she shot him and then poured salt into the wound.
Whatever was happening between him and Megan, it wasn't Fixation. That could only happen between two Fae, not Fae and Human. Alexi sighed at that stupid little qualifying rule. Fixation with Megan would be wonderful, but it came with a price. She would be happy to be bound to him--Fixation guaranteed that--but he would want to die when she grew old and feeble and died in another fifty or sixty years.
The scent of roses interrupted his fuming and overpowered Alexi to the point of gagging. He felt a little dizzy when he realized he caught the scent through his own nose as well as the link with Megan. He tugged his vest into place and snatched at the doorknob. His knees nearly buckled at the sudden flash of surprise and then disgust that shot through the link between them.
"What do you want?" Megan snapped.
Alexi yanked the door open and leaped out into the hall. He ran into a wall of roses cradled in tanned, buff arms. He couldn't see the face right away, with white and red and pink roses filling his eyes.
"My job, sweetheart," a husky tenor voice crooned.
Get out of here, Alexi commanded and snapped his fingers. To his disgust, the roses only drooped and petals fell like rain instead of vanishing. Now, however, he could see the intruder. He recognized him from a few publicity photos in Megan's scrapbooks.
"Hey, Menace," he said, baring his teeth in what he prayed was a threatening grin.
"The name's Dennis," the black-haired, blue-eyes Adonis snarled. Then his gaze traveled down Alexi and those eyes widened. "What's he doing in my costume? Sheeesh, I go away for a few days and you give away all my stuff!"
"My costume, my job to give away, and I fired you more than a month ago!" Megan finally appeared in her dressing room door, buttoning her tuxedo shirt.
Alexi had a vision of Megan half-naked when Dennis walked through the door with his armful of roses. Something primal and fanged growled deep inside him. Yet strangely, laughter bubbled up inside him.
No, the laughter wasn't coming from inside. He met Megan's gaze, and she grinned at him, sharing some delightful joke he hadn't quite heard yet. All that mattered was that she didn't grin at Dennis.
"I'm not hiring you back, so don't even ask," she continued. Her lips curved up even more as she surveyed the wilted roses.
"I didn't come for a job. We're going to be partners." Dennis turned his back on Alexi and took a step forward to crowd Megan back into her dressing room.
Lava bubbled up inside Alexi's gut. Red clouded his vision.
What a clown. He can't even walk across a room without tripping over the cracks in the tile. The scorn in Megan's thoughts cooled that heat before he reached out with hands and magic to throttle the muscle-bound baboon.
Want him to? Alexi asked.
A tiny giggle burst from Megan's lips, instantly muffled. He was sure she was only laughing at her own thoughts, and hadn't heard him. Still, that gave him an idea.
An image of Dennis' fa
ncy Italian shoes tying themselves together flicked from her mind to Alexi's. He felt a jolt of well-being through his magic field as he leaped to make her vision reality. His magic was instantly so strong, he didn't even need to snap his fingers. Snickering, he stepped back and leaned against the doorframe of his dressing room.
Dennis cursed and tossed aside the roses, which now exuded a decidedly rotten smell. He tried to catch himself against the wall, but he missed and slammed his forehead against the doorframe. Alexi gave a good yank with his magic, making Dennis twist around and land on his tush in the hallway instead of in Megan's dressing room.
"Denny, baby!" Carmen yelped, appearing suddenly in the badly lit hallway. "What happened, partner?"
"Partner?" Megan squeaked. She gave Dennis a look full of loathing that Alexi normally reserved for particularly foul, slimy, dripping, wart-encrusted creatures from the Nightmare Dimensions. "How the heck did he get to be your partner?"
"Bought his way in," Carmen grunted as he helped Dennis get back to his feet.
"Won big over at the Luxor," Dennis said. He cursed and bent to untie his shoelaces. "How'd that happen?" He glared at Alexi, then shook his head. "There's no way ..."
"He's a very good magician," Megan said with a chortle. "Ten times better than you ever were on a good day."
"Hey, baby, watch how you talk to your new boss," Carmen snapped. "He asks, you're out of here, contract or no contract." An evil gleam entered his eyes. "And considering you only have a week left on the contract and we need to re-negotiate... Well, just don't push your luck."
"Don't push yours," she retorted. "Alexi, you ready? We have to be on stage in, like, two minutes."
"Always ready." Alexi bowed and offered her his bent arm. She beamed at him, took two high steps over the blackened, rotting roses, and hooked her arm through his. A purely pleasurable jolt went through him at the contact. The euphoria of only an hour ago returned, rushing through him, soothing away the ache that usually came nowadays with the performance of any sizable magic.
Smoke and Mirrors Page 3
