Damsel Under Stress (Enchanted Inc #3)

by Shanna Swendson

  We stood near the back of the cluster of shoppers that had formed around the demonstration table, then as the employee finished a trick, that group trickled away and we moved to the front. The next volunteer was a little boy, who could never properly guess which card would be drawn, while the demonstrator got it right every time. The demonstrator then turned to Owen, who guessed correctly. That took the demonstrator aback. He turned to get another trick from his case, and Owen bent to whisper to me, “I’ve got the same set.”

  From there, it turned into a game of magical one-upmanship, each of them trying to stump the other. As far as I could tell, Owen wasn’t using real magic. I could usually sense the tingle of power in use if I was paying attention. A larger and larger crowd formed as the show grew more and more spectacular. The demonstrator finally pulled out a silk top hat, showed everyone that it was empty, then pulled a plume of feathers out of it. He handed the hat to Owen, who shrugged and reached inside. That time, I felt a tingle. Owen pulled a live rabbit out of the hat, to much applause. While everyone was applauding, the rabbit turned into a stuffed toy, which Owen handed to the little girl next to him.

  We slipped away in the commotion as the shoppers surged forward to buy magic kits. The still-baffled employee kept shouting that the rabbit trick wasn’t included in the kit. On the way down the escalator, I elbowed Owen. “You cheated.”

  “I couldn’t let a college student beat a real wizard,” he said with a grin and a blush. “It would be bad for my reputation. And he’s going to sell a lot of magic kits.”

  “Nice justification. But don’t you feel bad that he’ll be spending months trying to figure out how you got a rabbit out of that hat?”

  “He’d be better off working on his technique so he can fool your average ten-year-old. Ready for lunch?”

  I was hungry enough in spite of the big breakfast that I didn’t mind him changing the subject that way. We found a deli nearby, and it felt incredibly good to sit down after all the walking we’d done. “How have you enjoyed the day so far?” he asked.

  “It’s been wonderful. I saw some of these places before when I was with Mom at Thanksgiving, but at the time I was so worried about what else we might run into that I barely noticed them. It was nice to be able to take our time and enjoy it all.”

  “I’m glad it hasn’t been a total waste of time.”

  “Oh no! It’s been great.”

  “It’s not over yet,” he said with one of those sly grins of his that woke up the butterflies in my stomach.

  After we finished our meal and were leaving the restaurant, he said, “And now, our final adventure of the day.”

  “What is it?” I asked, feeling like an eager, excited child.

  “Haven’t you learned by now that I’m not going to tell you?”

  I soon figured out that we were heading toward Central Park. He led me down the path alongside the pond, where I’d once kissed frogs with some co-workers on a very wild girls’ night out. And then we were at the plaza overlooking Wollman Rink. Skaters twirled beneath us on the ice. We watched for a moment, then he said, “Come on.”

  I followed, then realized that he intended for us to go onto the ice. “Whoa, wait a second,” I said. “I’ve never been ice-skating.”

  “All the more reason for you to give it a try.”

  “But I don’t know how.”

  “You’ve roller-skated, haven’t you?”

  “Yeah, when I was in third grade and had Barbie skates.”

  “Don’t worry, I won’t let you fall.”

  I knew he wouldn’t, and that he had more than just brute strength to rely upon for keeping me upright. That still didn’t make me feel much better. “I’ll make a fool out of myself in front of all these people.”

  “You won’t be the only one.” As if to prove him right, a girl fell straight onto her behind not too far from where we stood. I knew he was too nice to have done that to her just to prove a point.

  “I take it you know what you’re doing on the ice.”

  “Yeah, Rod and I used to play hockey when we were kids on the pond in the village park.”

  “See, that’s where I’m at a disadvantage. Where I’m from it doesn’t get cold enough or stay cold long enough to freeze any body of water thoroughly enough for it to support a person’s weight, unless it’s a really freaky weather year.”

  “Skating here at Christmastime is one of the most romantic things to do in the city. It shows up in movies all the time.” I had to give him that point. How many times had I watched a romantic scene of a couple on this ice rink and sighed, wishing that could be me one day? Here I was a couple of days before Christmas with an amazing guy. It was a scenario right out of a movie. Then he moved in for the final argument. “Who knows, if we’re lucky, it might even start snowing.”

  I knew when I was beat, and besides, I secretly really wanted to do this. “Okay, but if I break my leg, you’re carrying me up and down the stairs to my apartment.”

  “Deal.” He paid the admission and skate rental, then we took our skates to a bench to put them on and stowed our shoes in a locker. I felt wobbly getting to the rink, so I could only dread how bad it would be when I stepped onto the ice. Ice was slippery and cold, and that wasn’t a great combination in my book.

  True to his word, Owen kept an arm tight around my waist as he eased me onto the ice. I was glad he didn’t feel the need to show off, but he did seem good enough at what he was doing to keep his balance and support me at the same time.

  I was sure I looked a lot like a newborn foal whose legs aren’t quite steady and tend to try to move in different directions, but I didn’t feel like I was going to fall. Soon I felt confident enough to let myself glide a little, and before long I was actually enjoying myself. A lot of that was probably because of Owen’s arm tight around my waist and the way he smiled patiently down at me.

  After a full lap around the rink, he eased up on the death grip around my waist, keeping his arm there but not squeezing quite so hard. I was finally able to notice my surroundings—the trees in the park, the tall buildings overlooking us, the other skaters. Christmas music played on the sound system. All we needed to make it perfect was a little snow.

  No sooner had I thought it than a scattering of light flakes began to fall. I laughed out loud. “Okay, you’re right, this is perfect.”

  “Isn’t it, though?” he said mildly, a glint in his eye.

  “You’re doing this, aren’t you?”

  He tried to look innocent and failed. “Maybe. But look how much everyone is enjoying it.” He was right. The kids were squealing in delight and the adults were all beaming.

  “Thank you,” I whispered, smiling up at him. And then I was suddenly falling into something very wet and cold.

  Seven

  I wasn’t surprised to be falling; I’d actually been anticipating a big fall from before the moment I stepped onto the ice. However, I’d expected the ice to be cold and hard. Instead, I was cold and wet, all the way up to my shoulders. If I hadn’t known better, I’d have thought I’d fallen through the ice on that frozen pond Owen had mentioned. The only thing keeping me from going under entirely was Owen’s firm grasp on my arm.

  “Katie!” he yelled. I blinked to see him stretched out on the ice, facedown, as he tried to get his free arm under my shoulders. I vaguely recalled having read somewhere that when you were on cracking ice, you should lie down to spread out your body weight. I wondered if he was doing that instinctively. But then I remembered that this rink was on top of a cement slab, and the ice couldn’t have been more than a few inches thick, even if I couldn’t seem to feel the bottom of whatever I’d fallen into.

  I got my wits about me enough to reach my other arm up and try to get a grasp on something, but my fingers were numb from cold, and the ice kept breaking off around me. Owen grabbed that wrist and managed to pull me a little farther out of the hole. The whole time, he mumbled under his breath, and I could feel the tingle of magic
near me. A crowd gathered around us, and soon a couple of men helped Owen pull me up onto the ice. I turned around to see the hole where I’d fallen and caught only a glimpse of the hole freezing over again.

  A muddle of voices asked variations on the “what just happened here?” question, only with lots more profanity, this being New York. My teeth were chattering so hard I could only hear bits and pieces. Next thing I knew, something heavy was being wrapped around me and I was being pulled to my feet. Then I felt my feet leaving the ground. My legs were still pretty numb, but I got the feeling they were draped over someone’s arm, and I was cradled against something warm and solid. The wind stirred around me, making me shiver even more, and I realized that whoever was carrying me was moving.

  Soon I was deposited onto a bench, and I heard Owen’s voice barking out orders. “I need someone to bring a blanket and something hot to drink.” Then his face was very close to mine. “Katie?” he asked, looking tense and worried.

  I tried to tell him I’d be fine, but my teeth were still chattering. He pulled something from around me—his coat, it turned out—then peeled my own wet coat off me. I tried to fight him because if I was this cold already, how would I feel without a coat on at all? He shushed me, though, murmuring so only I could hear, “I’ll take care of it, but the last thing you need is to be wrapped in a wet coat.” Sure enough, soon my clothes were dry and warm, and I felt much better. He put his dry coat back around me and set my soaking coat, which had ice crystals forming on it, aside on the bench. As the cold seeped away from my brain, I realized what he’d done. He’d managed to dry my clothes magically while still keeping my coat wet, and with his coat around me, nobody would notice that my clothes were dry. They’d only see the wet coat and assume I was still wet, so they’d never suspect anything funny—well, anything funnier than falling through ice that had a concrete slab under it. My Owen was really good at thinking logically in a crisis.

  A moment later, someone draped a blanket around me, and Owen held a steaming paper cup to my lips. “Come on, drink,” he urged. It turned out to be hot cocoa, and that warmth going into me just about did the trick. Soon my hands had thawed enough for me to hold the cup myself. While I drank, Owen disappeared for a moment, then returned and knelt in front of me. It took me a second to realize he was pulling off my skates and putting my shoes on. My feet seemed to be the last parts of me that remained numb from the cold.

  The people around us were still talking. “Must’ve been a sinkhole,” one voice said. “No way,” another replied. “Not that deep.” “Strangest thing I ever saw, and I seen a lot.” I felt the air around me stir, then turned to see Sam perched beside me on the back of the bench. He winked at me, then faced Owen, who gave him a quizzical look. Sam shook his head grimly, then took off again. He coasted in a spiraling pattern above the rink, looking for all the world like a buzzard circling a dead animal out in the country.

  Someone wearing a park employee uniform joined us. Owen dealt with him, saying something about how I’d be okay, there must have just been a melted spot. The employee went out on the ice, others leading him to the place where not too long ago there had been a gaping hole full of icy water, but it was impossible to tell that anything had happened there. I almost felt sorry for the guy, who was probably going to have a hard time writing the report on this incident.

  He returned and had more words with Owen. There were raised voices, and I wished I could concentrate enough to pay attention to what they were saying because Owen never raised his voice, not even when he was angry. He was one of those people who got quieter and calmer when he got mad, so this was unusual and probably well worth listening to. I did manage to hear him say quite firmly, “I need to get her home and warm. I don’t know what happened, but you don’t have to worry about us filing a complaint or suing. I don’t care about your paperwork. I just need to get her warm.”

  Then he came back to me, sitting beside me on the bench. “Do you think you can walk?” he asked, his voice soft and gentle, more like his normal self.

  “Yeah,” I managed to croak.

  “Okay, then. Let’s go get a cab.”

  He picked up my ice-covered coat, then helped me to my feet and walked with his arm around me toward the Fifth Avenue side of the park. Once we were away from the crowds, he said, “I’d try the magical teleportation thing again, but at this distance and with your magical immunity intact this time, I’m not sure I could do it, and even if I could, it would drain me completely. I’d rather be ready to face anything else that comes at us.”

  “That sounds like a good idea. A cab will be fine. They usually have their heaters up to eleven this time of year.”

  When we got to the street, he did his taxi-summoning trick, and soon I was safe in the back of an overheated cab that smelled faintly of curry and incense. “We’re going downtown,” Owen told the driver, then he turned to me. “Would you rather go to your place or to mine?”

  “Yours,” I said without hesitation. “You’ve got a fireplace and a cat, and I recall that you have at least one sweat suit that fits me.”

  “Mine it is, then.” He gave the driver the address, then he turned his attention back to me. He tugged my gloves off and wrapped his hands around mine, rubbing them to restore the warmth. Of course, since this was Owen, it had far more than the desired effect on me. Soon my whole body verged on uncomfortably hot. Before I had a complete meltdown, I pulled my hands away from his, but then I leaned my head against his shoulder and let him cuddle me so he wouldn’t think I was rejecting him. The terrifying memory of falling through a hole in the ice that shouldn’t have been there faded rapidly. In retrospect, it was a small price to pay for feeling this cherished.

  We reached Owen’s place, and a concerned Loony met us at the door, meowing loudly. Owen hushed her with a glare, then in short order there was a fire blazing in the living room fireplace and he was holding an armful of clothes that seemed to have appeared out of thin air. “There should be some towels in the bathroom under the stairs, if you want to finish drying off. I’m sorry, but I was only able to affect your clothes. I couldn’t dry your skin very well.” As I took the clothing from him, he added, “If you want to warm up with a hot bath or shower, you could do that, too.”

  I shook my head. “No thanks. I’m not eager to be wet again for a while.”

  It was the same old pair of sweatpants and sweatshirt he’d given me to wear the last time I ended up cold and damp at his place. This was getting to be a very bad habit for me. I stripped off my mostly dry clothes, toweled off, then hurried to put the dry sweat suit on. A pair of thick socks was sheer heaven to my still-chilled feet.

  When I emerged from the bathroom, Owen was waiting for me in the living room with two steaming mugs in his hands. He gave one to me. It proved to be a hot groglike drink, full of spices and probably a bit of something else. It reminded me of a drink my grandmother made when we had colds. I sat on the rug in front of the fireplace, and Owen wrapped an afghan around my legs before sitting beside me.

  With the hot drink inside me, the fire, Loony in my lap, and Owen’s shoulder to lean against, I finally felt like asking, “What exactly happened back there?”

  “I’m really not sure,” he admitted. “One minute we were skating along—and you were doing pretty well—and the next thing I knew, you’d fallen through the ice.”

  “Correct me if I’m wrong, but that really isn’t an iced-over pond, right? I’ve been there in the summer, and that’s a concrete slab they set an ice rink up on in the winter. I shouldn’t have been able to fall more than a few inches, even if the ice melted or broke.”

  “It was definitely magic, but I didn’t recognize the spell. Not that it’s a kind of spell I’d want to spend a lot of time with. Then again, it might be useful if you were in a situation where you needed water, depending on whether it requires ice to make it work…”

  “Owen,” I said, giving him a little nudge to jolt him back to the present.

&nb
sp; The tips of his ears turned red. “Sorry. Anyway, when you fell, it pulled me down, too, but I didn’t go through the ice. I barely managed to hold on to you, but I couldn’t get enough leverage to pull you out. I must have tried every spell I could think of that might have been remotely useful in that situation, but nothing worked. I’m not sure if it was your immunity or something to do with the spell on the ice, or what, but I was getting worried.”

  “I imagine you’re not used to being helpless like that,” I mused.

  “No, not really,” he said softly, staring into the fireplace. I thought I detected the tiniest flicker of a shudder in his shoulders.

  “But you did get me out with some help, and you got me warm and dry, and now I’m okay, so it worked out.” I left out the part about how spending the rest of the day snuggling with him wasn’t such a bad thing. “I guess the usual suspects are behind this, huh?”

  “Very likely. I didn’t notice anything odd, but then, I often don’t when they’re using magic to hide. Did you see anything before you fell?”

  “Not that I can recall, but I wasn’t really looking. I was a little distracted by trying to remain vertical. It does seem like their style, though.”

  “You have been attacked a few times since you joined the company.”

  “I think I’d have to take off my socks to count the times, but my feet are too cold for that right now.”

  “Are you still cold? I could warm the house up a little more or get you another blanket.”