He raised his hands in surrender. “If you insist. You can have the bathroom first while I get the sofa set up.”
Her dance bag would likely sustain her for a week away from home, so she was able to remove her makeup, wash her face, and brush her teeth. She put on the yoga pants and sweatshirt she’d worn to the theater and put her evening gown back in its plastic garment bag. When she came out of the bathroom, Michael had also changed into sweats and had the sofa made up with sheets, pillow, and blanket.
“There you are,” he said. “Let me know if you need anything else.”
“I’m sure I’ll be fine. Thank you for putting me up for the night.”
“No problem.”
As he headed into the bedroom, she called out, “Sweet dreams!”
He turned back. “You, too.”
She was so wound up she was afraid she’d never get to sleep, but the next thing she knew, morning sunlight was streaming in. She sat up, stretching, and saw that the clock said it was nearly ten. A note lay on the coffee table, written in a quick scrawl, but still legible. “Stay as long as you need. I know you can lock up when you go. Take whatever you can find for breakfast. Sorry there’s not much.” It was signed simply “M.”
She got up and made herself a cup of tea and a slice of toast, doing some pliés and relevés while the toast cooked and the tea steeped. Her feet had quit throbbing, but her muscles were a little stiff. Once she was properly fortified, she checked her phone and found messages from both Amelia and Athena. She felt a bit childish about ignoring them, but she just didn’t want to deal with them right now. The occasional silent treatment wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. She’d talk to them eventually, but she wanted to have her head together first.
After writing a quick thank-you on the bottom of Michael’s note and leaving it on the coffee table, she put on a pair of sneakers from her bag, gathered her belongings, and headed down to Emily’s apartment. This time, she knocked rather than barging in. Emily opened the door within seconds, so she must have been up already. She took one look at Sophie in sweats, her dance bag over her shoulder and her garment bag over her arm, and her eyebrows rose.
“I slept on the sofa, okay?” Sophie said, brushing past her sister to enter the apartment.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Oh, but you were thinking it. I could tell.”
“You can’t read minds, can you?” Emily’s alarm was almost funny.
Sophie was tempted to leave it vague, but honesty won out. “No. I just know you well. It was late and he didn’t want me going out, so he insisted.”
“I bet he did,” Emily said with a smirk.
“And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well, you two looked pretty cozy last night when he was holding you in his arms.”
Sophie hung her garment bag on the back of the closet door. “Mind if I stash this here for now? I’ve got to run to class, and I don’t have time to go home first.”
“You have class today?”
“I suspect it will be as much a company meeting as class, probably mostly stretching. Which I need.”
“Do you have time for a cup of tea?”
Sophie wanted to say no, even though she could probably spare at least twenty minutes, but the look on her sister’s face made her say, “Sure. What’s up?” Besides, if Emily remembered that she didn’t drink coffee and offered her tea, that meant this was likely a big deal.
Emily got up and put on a kettle. Without looking directly at Sophie, she said, “What is it like when one of those leanan things has her hooks in someone?”
“You’re still worried about Olivia?”
“No, Olivia’s fine. She’s still awesome, and she seems to be in great shape. Charles, on the other hand … He looks awful, but onstage he’s amazing. You’d think he was about to collapse, then he goes out there and is some kind of cross between Olivier and Caruso. I mean, he made me cry, he was so real last night. I almost forgot what a jerk he was. And his voice, wow.”
“That does sound like it could be a leanan sidhe.”
Nodding, Emily said, “Yeah, thought so. And here’s the weird thing—after the show last night he gave me this intense look and said something like, ‘it’s you.’ What’s that about?”
“Some of the accounts say that the leanan sidhe appears as a redhaired woman. So maybe he thinks he’s been dreaming about you. Are there any signs that he has a new girlfriend?”
Emily turned around to face her, frowning. “These things could actually appear in real life?”
“I don’t know. I’ve only read stories, and I don’t know how true any of them are. I’ve seen stories in which the leanan sidhe manifests as a woman in reality—the new lover who inspires an artist to greater heights until he wastes away. Other stories have it being more of a dream lover.”
“Like what happened to me, being taken away into fairy dreamland?”
“Maybe.”
“What do we do about it? I’m not crazy about the guy, and I’m good with him turning in great performances, but him conking out would be bad for the show, and isn’t this sort of thing fatal? You said it was why a lot of artists and poets die young.”
“That was what Yeats thought. Then again, he lived into his sixties, so he may not have had personal experience.” Sophie thought for a long while before saying, “I may have to do some research. I can’t think of anything off the top of my head, other than getting the leanan sidhe to transfer her attentions to someone else, and that hardly seems fair.”
“Can’t you or Nana order her to stop it?”
Sophie pondered that. “I don’t know. Maybe. We’d have to find her, though.”
Emily brought her a mug of tea, and they both sat at the table. “So there’s nothing you can do?”
“One of the tricks with a leanan sidhe is that the victim has to want to get rid of her, and quite often they don’t because they enjoy the success she brings. You didn’t tell me you were having problems after your visit to the Realm because you were afraid of losing your performance edge. Imagine if you really had been getting a magical boost.”
Emily cringed at the memory. “Don’t remind me.”
“And for him to consciously reject her, he has to know such a thing exists and believe in it,” Sophie continued.
“Yeah, I can imagine how that would go over. With his ego, he’d never admit he was getting help.” She sighed. “So we’re stuck with maybe tracking down whoever’s going after him and stopping it. Or maybe finding a way to run interference. If we can’t deflect the fairy to some other person, maybe we could distract him from the fairy. The right human redhead could do the trick.”
“I suppose so, but I don’t recall any stories about that. There’s also the chance that getting the barriers working properly again will help. At least I hope so. From what I can tell, this is happening all over the place. There’s been a massive upsurge in creativity. It’s wonderful for the rest of us, but it could cost these people their lives.”
“And all this because Josephine wants to be queen of the enchantresses.”
“Which is why we have to stop her.” Sophie finished her tea and said, “Now, I really have to go. I’ll stop by on my way home and pick up the dress. Maybe I can sneak in this afternoon while they’re at the shop, and then I should get home tonight after they’re asleep.”
“You could stay here. I have a trundle.”
“You tell me this now, after I spent last night on Michael’s sofa?”
“You’re the only person who thinks that’s at all scandalous, Soph.”
It really wasn’t the scandal she was worried about.
Thirty-five
The Precinct
Noon
Michael blinked as something snapped in his face. He blinked again, trying to bring things into focus and finally saw Mari leaning over and staring into his eyes while snapping her fingers at him. “Earth to Rev,” she said.
“What?” he grumble
d.
“I was just saying—for the third time—that I’m going for lunch. Want to come with? Or maybe you need the rest and need me to bring you something?”
“Lunch?”
“Yeah, you know, that meal we eat in the middle of the day.”
“The operative phrase there would be ‘middle of the day.’”
“What else do you call noon?”
“It can’t be.” He checked his watch and saw that it was.
“I know they say time flies when you’re having fun, but you must have a strange definition of fun.”
“I’ve been busy.”
“On some enthralling paperwork.” Mari rested her hip on the edge of his desk and frowned at him. “Are you okay?”
“I was just up later than usual for a school night.” And then he’d had weird dreams, but he wasn’t going to open that can of worms with Mari. “I’m surprised you’re even able to walk this morning.”
“Nah, we just went for drinks.” She grinned lustily. “Tomorrow, however, don’t worry if I’m a little late for work. Now, did you want me to bring you anything?”
“Nah, I’m not all that hungry.”
“Suit yourself. Back in a bit.”
Michael rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, then ran his hands through his hair and blinked rapidly, trying to wake himself up. He had been up late, but he’d also been awake earlier than normal, even before his alarm went off, and he didn’t feel like he’d slept much during the night.
Part of it had been the uncomfortable awareness of Sophie in the next room. It wasn’t as though he’d been tempted to do anything. He’d just been so aware. Then when he’d fallen asleep, he’d dreamed about her. Or maybe it was Jen. It was possible that the dream had merged the two or had switched them back and forth. It might even have been some other redhead whispering in his ear throughout the night.
But the real issue had been the music, a haunting melody that had taken root in his mind and grown. Even now it was playing nonstop, worse than any earworm he’d ever heard. His fingers itched for a piano keyboard so he could play it, and he caught his fingers twitching in air piano every so often. He finally grabbed a notebook and wrote down the notes as they came to him. Instead of that getting it out of his head, it just made it more audible, and every so often he found himself staring into space as he imagined Sophie dancing to this music.
The smell of French fries invaded his consciousness, and he blinked to find Mari waving a grease-splotched paper bag back and forth under his nose. “You’re already back?” he asked.
“Already? I was about to apologize for being gone nearly an hour. I guess I can assume no massive crime spree hit while I was out.” She raised an eyebrow and took a fry out of the bag. “Or maybe it did and you just didn’t notice.” After eating the fry, she reached over and placed her hand on his forehead. “You don’t seem to have a fever. Are you feeling okay?”
“I’m fine. This is what happens when I shake things up and go out at night. Now will you stop nagging me to get a life?”
“Does this have anything to do with your ballerina friend? What did you guys do after I left?”
“I went straight home.”
“Alone?”
He could feel his face flushing, so he knew he wouldn’t be able to get away with a lie. “She came by for some cocoa, and then we visited with her sister. Nothing happened to get excited about.”
She pressed her hand against her heart and fluttered her eyelashes. “Except in your dreams, where she danced the night away.”
“Go eat your lunch, Lopez.”
She’d barely wolfed down her burger when they got called out for an incident in the park. Officer Mitchell waited for them at the scene, looking very confused. “Normally I might have handled this myself, but this seemed like a detective sort of thing.”
“I’d think an attempted kidnapping would always be a detective sort of thing,” Mari said.
“Except all I’ve got is her report.” He gestured toward a woman wearing a very unseasonal white dress—Michael’s cat friend.
“Ohhhh,” Mari breathed, nodding. Michael knew what she was thinking, that a woman dressed like that, out in the park in this weather, might not necessarily be reporting on reality.
The cat woman hurled herself at Michael and clung desperately to his arm. He could tell that she was trembling, so he didn’t think she was just playing, and he had seen someone attempt to kidnap her just the other day. “You’ll save me, won’t you?” she asked, looking up at him with wide green eyes.
“I’ve got this,” he told the others. “I’m acquainted with this lady. Mari, you can go back to the office.”
“So no kidnapping?”
“Let’s just say I’m familiar with the case and I’ll make sure she’s okay.”
“Sounds good to me. Catch you later, Rev. I’m taking the car.”
“No paperwork, huh, Detective?” Mitchell asked.
“If you don’t mind.”
Once the others were gone, he said to the woman, “Was it the same thing as before?”
“They’re trying to round us up.”
“Who is? The courts? Someone from this world?”
“There are those who want control over all fae, no matter where they live. I was banished to this world. I can’t go back.”
“Do you want to?”
The question seemed to surprise her. “Does it matter? It cannot be.”
“The new queen might allow it.”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so. My offense was great.”
“What was it?”
“Treason. I sided with one who tried to overthrow the last queen. All of us were banished to this world.”
The last queen—Sophie’s ancestor—had left the Realm about five hundred years ago, long before there had been a park or even a city here. Had this woman been stranded here all that time? “Are the fairies still trying to punish you for that?”
She shook her head and shuddered. “They want my help. But I’ve learned. I won’t support them this time.”
He wished he could clear his head, but that infernal melody was still running through it, making it hard to concentrate and understand what she was saying. “Are you saying that the same people are trying to take over again?”
“Not all the same, but the same reason.”
There was a shout from farther down the path, and she flinched. In an instant, she’d reverted to her cat form and was streaking away. He wouldn’t have known that the people who came around the corner were fae if it hadn’t been for his enhanced senses. Their human glamours were perfect, not even the slight offness that he saw in Eamon. Only their auras showed as fae, and even there it was in a weakened sense, not the full aura he was used to. They didn’t register as much more fae than Emily did.
“Is there a problem, gentlemen?” he asked mildly, placing himself on the path between the fae men and the direction the woman had gone.
They didn’t seem to have heard of him or recognized him for what he was. One said, “We’re looking for our sister. She’s a little off”—he twirled his finger by his temple—“and something spooked her, so she ran away. She’s not really dressed for this weather.”
“Sorry, I don’t think I’ve seen anyone like that. Would you like to file a report?”
They looked at each other, and the speaker said, “That won’t be necessary. I’m sure we’ll find her.”
“Okay then, have a nice day.”
Michael let them pass and watched until they’d rounded another bend and were out of sight. Shoving his hands deep in his coat pockets, he began walking. He should have headed back to the precinct, but he needed to think, and that would be easier to do without Mari making a federal case of it every time he went thirty seconds without responding to her.
At least, that’s what he told himself. He tried to think about what he’d just learned from the cat woman. He had a feeling it was significant. But the thoughts wouldn�
��t solidify in his head because that music kept swelling, getting in the way. He caught himself humming the melody, and the image of Sophie dancing to it came into his mind again.
“That’s pretty. What is it?” The voice startled him back to reality, and he saw Mrs. Smith in her park employee guise, pushing a trash cart.
“Just something that popped into my head. Is something up?”
“You mean other than the looming war between fae and enchantresses?”
“Is something new up with that?”
“Not that I’ve heard tell of. That woman’s a real piece of work, isn’t she?”
“Yeah.” There was something about Josephine he’d been wanting to discuss with Mrs. Smith, but he couldn’t quite recall what it was. He’d mentioned it to Sophie the night before. What was it?”
“You okay, son?”
“I’m just not used to being out that late. And that little showdown at the theater wasn’t the end of my evening. We had to go rescue Emily again. Some fae tried to drag her into some dream space that still makes no sense to me.”
She shook her head and made soft clucking noises. “That child. You might want to put a full-time guard on her.”
“That would only encourage her to sneak out. I think this time, though, they were trying to get at her sister.”
“Her sister has made her share of enemies, and she’s proving hard to attack directly. Those she cares about are the next best target. You’d better watch yourself. I’d think you’d be high on their list.”
“I’ll be careful.” He remembered that there was something else he should probably discuss with her, but it was gone, drowned out by the music in his head, which he now heard as being played by a full orchestra. He needed to get back to the office so he could write out the various instrument parts before he forgot them.
Thirty-six
Central Park
1:30 p.m.
A Kind of Magic Page 21
