“Mari ditched me for the guy who did the Arabian dance, and I didn’t think it was a great idea for you to head out on your own, under the circumstances.”
Her weary sigh was audible. “I’d hope she’d give it a rest after round one tonight, but I guess it’s not to be. Let me get my coat, and I’ll let you escort me to a cab.” While she headed off to the dressing rooms, he retrieved his own coat from the coat check. He noticed when she returned that she was limping slightly.
“Are you okay?” he asked as he took the huge bag she had slung over her shoulder. He knew she was utterly beat when she didn’t protest even the slightest. She merely nodded an acknowledgment when he held the front door open for her.
“My feet are killing me. Pointe really does a number on them, and then the heels add insult to injury. It’s cruel to make us do this kind of event after dancing.”
Impulsively, he bent and swept her up in his arms. “Let’s give your feet a rest, then,” he said. “You did promise that you’d let me return the favor when I was well, after all those times you had to help me.”
For a moment, he wasn’t sure how she’d react. It probably wasn’t the smartest thing he’d ever done, now that he thought about it, but after a moment of shock, she smiled and put her arm around his neck, settling herself more comfortably in his arms. “Yes, I suppose I did promise. Then you may carry me to a cab. My feet are eternally grateful.”
She weighed a bit more than he would have expected of someone who was so tiny, but she was mostly muscle. Even so, she wasn’t much of a burden. In fact, it was rather nice having her curled up against his chest, and she held herself in a way that made her easy to carry, her weight perfectly balanced. When he dared to glance down at her, he saw that she was smiling up at him. The moment their eyes met, she quickly looked away. He wondered if they should have talked about that kiss, if it had meant anything more than being a ruse to either of them, if something was happening between them. Or was it too soon? If she was settling so comfortably into his arms, should he just put her in a cab and then head home, or did he go with her? It had been way too long since he’d been in the dating pool, and Sophie Drake was hardly an ordinary date. Not that this was a date.
He was still pondering this, dreading the moment when they reached the line of cabs by the curb and he’d have to make a move, one way or another, when he noticed Amelia and Athena heading toward them. That made the decision for him. He’d have to put Sophie in a cab with them to head home, unless Sophie specifically requested otherwise. He supposed it wasn’t meant to be.
And then he noticed Josephine also coming toward them. Meanwhile, there was Mrs. Smith, and he also spotted a silver head moving across the plaza.
“I think you’d probably better put me down now,” Sophie whispered.
Twenty-nine
The Theater
11:00 p.m.
The applause was loud and long, and Emily couldn’t blame the audience. It had been a particularly good performance. Not only had all the dancers been on their toes, but Olivia had continued to raise the bar and Charles had found a flicker of humanity. He plumbed unprecedented depths of emotion in the songs, actually bringing tears to Emily’s eyes in the “Badly done, Emma” scene when she thought she’d lost his friendship. She had a feeling there wasn’t a dry eye in the house when he finally confessed his love for her, and every woman in that theater—and some of the men—was madly in love with him.
She was particularly surprised when Charles hugged her after the curtain finally went down for good. It was a remarkably spontaneous gesture.
“Good show,” she said, patting him on the back. He didn’t fully release her after the hug, keeping his arm around her as they walked offstage. Was he expecting her to go home with him, as though the connection they’d found tonight was real? She supposed he’d already worked his way through most of the other female cast members, so it was probably her turn. Not that she had any intention of going there.
But the arm around her didn’t feel like a come-on. In fact, he was leaning heavily on her, like he was using her as a crutch. “Whew, that kind of performance really takes a lot out of you,” he said, and she noticed that his forehead was beaded with sweat. She fought not to roll her eyes. The only dancing he did was in the party scene, when he took pity on Olivia’s character and asked her to dance so she wouldn’t be a wallflower. He didn’t do any real dance numbers. He mostly just stood around and sang. That could be tiring, but if he was wilting while the other cast members who were a lot more physically active were still peppy, something had to be wrong.
“Are you okay?” she asked, wishing she could shrug his arm off her without looking bitchy.
“I just put my all into it tonight,” he said, gazing deep into her eyes.
“Then you should probably go home and get some rest because we have to do it again tomorrow. I know I’m dead on my feet after two shows today.”
He didn’t respond, just stared at her like he was seeing her for the first time. “You?” he said in a hoarse whisper. “It’s you, isn’t it?”
“It’s me, what?” she asked.
He reached out for her. “You’re the one doing this to me, aren’t you? You won’t let me rest.”
“I’m not doing anything to you, trust me.”
She slipped out of his grasp and hurried away from him. Olivia, who’d been watching the whole scene, met her with a giggle. “So he finally tried it with you.”
“Tried, and failed.”
“Aw, come on, you didn’t want your own notch on his bedpost?”
“I’m nobody’s notch.”
“I hear you. I’m not sure how you’d look at yourself in the mirror after going there. But you have to admit, he was good tonight.”
“Yeah. You almost have to wonder what got into him. Were there any rumors about movie producers being in the audience?”
“Not that I heard. But it would explain a lot.”
“Are we sure he’s not drinking?”
“You’re the one who has to kiss him onstage. Did you smell anything?”
Emily frowned, trying to remember. “Not that I can think of.”
“Well, one thing we can’t argue with: he did an amazing job. Maybe he’s been spending his nights with that scarred guy in the basement.”
“Yeah, that would explain a lot. Or you forced him to raise his game, so he’s devoting every waking hour to working.”
Olivia smirked. “Yeah, but that doesn’t explain why he was giving you that ‘it’s you’ routine.” She elbowed Emily in the side. “Maybe he’s really fallen in love with you, and that’s showing in his performance, even as he pines away with longing.”
“Yeah, right,” Emily said with a snort. Olivia’s joke had triggered a memory, but she couldn’t quite grasp where the thought was taking her. Ah well, she was sure it would come to her later, probably in the shower. On the bright side, Olivia still seemed to be in great health, even while turning in consistently outstanding performances. She really did seem to be doing this on pure talent because there was nothing in the folklore about fairy muses who made people happy and healthy.
She froze. That was it. Was Charles affected by one of those leanan sidhe things? It would explain his improved performance, but would that have anything to do with his sudden attention to Emily? She added that to her mental list of things to ask Sophie.
Speaking of Sophie, Emily checked her phone as soon as she reached her dressing room, but there were no messages. She supposed no news was good news. Just in case, she scrolled through local news headlines and saw nothing about a disaster at Lincoln Center. There was one positive review of the ballet, though, saying it was a more exciting Nutcracker than had been seen in years. Sophie even got a shout-out for her “bravura” turn as the Snow Queen.
It was snowing lightly when Emily left the theater. New York never really got quiet, especially not in this part of town, but there seemed to be a bit of a hush in the air. A tingle went down
her spine. It was times like this when she got the sense that anything could happen. Normally that got her excited, but now she was worried.
She wasn’t expecting to find Eamon, since she’d sent him to the ballet, but she couldn’t help but glance around for him, just in case. She’d probably overly romanticized him. They’d gone through a lot together, and certain things had happened between them, but that didn’t mean it meant anything, and he really was a sort of alien being, so she couldn’t expect him to feel quite the same way. What she needed was to move on and find a nice human guy who’d age the same way she did—and not Charles. She wasn’t that desperate.
For a moment, she considered finding a bar and having a drink or two, but she was tired and didn’t feel particularly social. Instead, she hailed a cab and headed home. Beau greeted her about as enthusiastically as he was capable of, which she interpreted as him desperately needing a walk, so she took him out. For a moment, she let herself hope that this was one of those times when his instincts told him they needed to be somewhere. How many times had he dragged Michael to exactly the place he needed to be?
But it seemed that Beau’s needs were a lot more mundane tonight. He finished his business at the nearest tree and immediately headed up the front steps. He flopped onto his bed and started snoring as soon as she removed his leash, and she wearily got ready for bed.
As she drifted off to sleep, she found herself thinking about Eamon and about fairies in general. Jen Murray had chosen to stay in the Realm forever. Was she that happy there? Was it worth giving up her acting career and her husband? Emily didn’t even have a husband to give up. Would she feel that great a loss if she got to stay young forever in the Realm with Eamon? There was singing and dancing there. Her grandmother lived there, and Sophie could visit anytime she wanted.
It wasn’t a decision to make lightly, and she’d have to know more about where she stood with Eamon, how she felt and how he felt. But she didn’t think he’d let on what he felt or maybe even let himself feel until and unless she’d already made that commitment.
Or was she using the idea of Eamon to avoid dealing with anyone in the real world? She liked him. She wanted him. But were her feelings really that strong, or was it merely a fantasy fueled by the fact that it didn’t seem like she could have him?
She rolled over and punched her pillow back into shape, forcing her mind to drift. Instead of counting sheep, she imagined the falling snow and counted snowflakes. But the snowflakes turned into dancers, and next thing she knew, she was dancing with them in the ballroom she’d visited before.
But the man who danced with her wasn’t Eamon.
Thirty
Lincoln Center
11:15 p.m.
Michael lowered Sophie gently to the ground, and she winced as her feet took her weight again. It had felt so very nice being off her feet for a moment, and now it was like she was standing on broken glass. She kept close by Michael, drawing some reassurance from his solid presence, as Josephine approached her. She was alone, without her cronies, which meant the gloves were off, none of them having any obligation to play nice. Fortunately, Amelia and Athena were there, as was Michael’s Mrs. Smith. The bag lady was surprisingly elegant tonight, proving that one couldn’t judge on appearances. To make things even more fun, Eamon was there, as well, with at least one other fairy. There were some people milling nearby, but Sophie couldn’t tell if they were civilians or part of this conflict.
The snow intensified, oddly falling around them rather than on them. It formed a curtain, veiling them from the rest of the world. Anyone on the outside might just see snow rather than whatever was about to happen here. Meanwhile, the snowy barrier muffled the noise of the city, leaving the world eerily quiet. Sophie didn’t know who had triggered the snowfall. Like the snow monster, she couldn’t tell what kind of magic had formed it. In some respects it felt fae in origin, but there was something different. And yet it didn’t seem to be enchantress magic. She hoped there wasn’t yet another faction involved. She also hoped the screen didn’t mean that something awful was about to happen.
Bracing herself for a confrontation, Sophie gave Josephine her best fake smile. “I hope you’re free every evening and weekend afternoon until Christmas. They’re going to want that snow monster at every performance. It was a big hit.”
“You had little enough trouble vanquishing it.” Apparently, Josephine wasn’t going to bother denying it. “I’m impressed that such a new enchantress was able to do so.”
“I’m sorry your plan to force me to reveal myself as fae didn’t work.”
Josephine almost managed to hide her reaction. “What makes you think that was my plan?”
“Why else would a snow monster attack me in public? I know you know what I am. You must have learned it from your fae friends.”
“Fae friends?”
“I saw your meeting in the park the other night. You might be rallying the troops to fight the fae, but you’re involved with them, yourself.” With a barely restrained sigh, she added, “I don’t even know why you’re bothering with me. I’m not standing in the way of your ambition to take over the enchantresses, or whatever it is you’re trying to do. In this world, I’m a nobody. All I care about is that you don’t damage people or fairies along the way.”
Sophie thought she was being conciliatory, but this enraged Josephine. Her eyes flashed, and her aura flared so brightly with rage that Sophie could see it without relying on magical senses. “You know nothing of my ambitions, fairy princess,” she spat, injecting venom into her words so that they became an insult.
Eamon moved into the group, looking surprisingly formidable. Usually he presented himself more like an absent-minded professor, but he was distinctly fae now, with his unearthly coloring, a radiant aura, and a sense of total control. “You are the one who has lowered the barriers between the Realm and the human world?” he asked Josephine, his tone making it an accusation rather than a question. “You have also been plotting against the queen and threatening the princess. Your conspirators have been captured and have confessed. This can not stand.”
Sophie glanced at Michael, and he raised an eyebrow. Was this a bluff, or had Nana finally dug to the bottom of it all?
“I have done no such thing,” Josephine said in a huff.
“Oh, give it a break, Josephine,” Amelia said, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’re not fooling anyone. Do you really want to lead the enchantresses that badly?”
Josephine surprised Sophie by smiling. It seemed like a genuine smile of pure joy, not a bluff at all, and that sent chills down Sophie’s spine. What were they missing?
Eamon and his colleagues moved toward Josephine, getting between her and Sophie. “I think not,” Josephine said, holding up one hand in a “stop” gesture while gesturing with her other hand at that group lurking nearby. Her smug, confident smile slipped when they approached, but instead of coming to her aid, they joined Eamon’s crew. They were fae, Sophie could see now, but had been very well disguised. She now wondered how many fairies had been in the audience tonight.
But why would Josephine have assumed the fae would come to her aid? She was an enchantress, their natural enemy. She might have been scheming with fairies, but would she really have had any reason to believe that they’d stand up for her against other fae?
The fae closed in around Josephine, and Sophie thought for a moment that they’d take care of the problem for her, but then Athena moved to Josephine’s side and threw up a defensive barrier. After a moment’s hesitation, her sister joined her. “You’re helping her?” Sophie blurted in shock.
“She’s enchantress, they’re fae. We’ve sworn an oath,” Amelia said, sounding like she was swallowing cod liver oil. Athena looked like she was in pain. But they both stood their ground against the fae.
“And where do you stand, fairy princess?” Josephine asked, all her smug back again.
“I haven’t sworn any oaths to anyone, so let’s just say I’m stan
ding on the side of sanity and against megalomania.” Turning her ire to her erstwhile allies, she scolded Amelia and Athena. “I thought protecting the world of humans was your mandate. That’s what you’ve sworn an oath to. And you’re going to protect someone who’s endangering the human world by bringing down the barriers protecting us from the Realm, conspiring with rebel fae elements—who you know have already planned to unite the fae against humans and return to the old ways? Is that what you’ve sworn to do? Honestly?” It took all her self-control to not go shrill with rage.
“At least one person has died because of her actions,” Michael said, his voice soft but firm enough to carry in the snow-muffled silence. “And you’re defending her?”
Eamon and his allies moved to join Sophie, which she supposed put her in the fae camp for the moment. They moved to resume their attack, presenting a united front against the enchantresses.
Although Sophie would have loved to throw Josephine to the wolves and let the fae do what they wanted with her, she couldn’t bear for Amelia or Athena to be hurt, no matter how angry she was at them at the moment. “Stop that right now,” she snapped at the fairies, letting some of her royal aura flare to remind them of her authority.
Much to her surprise, they ignored her. “I am sorry, but we are operating on orders of the queen,” Eamon said.
“I’m sure Nana didn’t know what you’d be up against,” Sophie protested. She wondered what would happen if she threw herself in between the fairies and the enchantresses, then realized that would mean putting herself on the line for Josephine, which would likely be counterproductive.
It was Mrs. Smith who put herself in between the two factions. “This doesn’t happen in my territory,” she said. “It’s my job to protect ordinary humans from the lot of you magical types. I ought to kick all of you out.” She might have dressed up like a society dame, but there was enough iron in her voice to make a fairy sweat. She produced something from her handbag that made the fae shy away, but instead of backing down, they circled around behind the enchantresses.
A Kind of Magic Page 18
