“I thought some fresh air would be good for me,” he said with a wry smile. More seriously, he added, “It may help if we can find out who saw Emily last, and where.”
She had to admit that he was right—more right than he realized. Knowing approximately where Emily disappeared might give her an idea of where to look for a gateway, but she couldn’t do that properly with him in tow. “I can go to the theater,” she said. “You don’t have to come with me. I studied dance in New York, so I can cope with the city.”
“I have no doubts whatsoever about that. But I’d like to come. It would make me feel a lot better to actually do something.”
Looking into his eyes, she could see that he needed this. It would be heartless to deny him. Maybe they could get it over with in time for her to get back and find a gateway. “Okay, but don’t look at me if your recovery is set back. I can’t go like this, though.” She indicated her muddy skirt. “Give me fifteen minutes to change.” She picked up the end of Beau’s leash and handed it to Michael. “Take Beau for a walk before we leave him alone.”
As soon as he was gone, she jumped in the shower and scrubbed the mud off her legs. After putting on a blue jersey dress, she coiled her damp hair into a loose knot at the nape of her neck, put on enough mascara to make her eyelashes visible, and finished her rapid makeover with a bit of tinted lip gloss. She’d just put on a pair of black ballet flats and was pouring fresh water into Beau’s dish when Michael returned. The flurry of activity had restored her equilibrium, so she was back in total control of herself.
“We may have to walk over to Columbus to hail a cab,” he said as they went down the front steps. “But at least it’s stopped raining, so we might be able to find one.”
She noticed someone halfway down the block getting out of a cab, so she stepped forward and waved. The cab came down the street and stopped for them. “How did you do that?” Michael asked as he opened the door for her with his good hand.
She slid across the seat and told the driver the address of the theater while Michael got in and closed the door. As the cab took off she said to Michael, “I waved my hand. It’s not hard. I’ll show you sometime. Or can you not do that left-handed?”
“I never see cabs on my street.”
“Well, it’s not like I brought it here with my magic powers.” He didn’t look like he was convinced, and she wished she’d invented a good reason for being in New York so quickly, so she wouldn’t have had to tell how she’d known Emily was in trouble. Now he’d assume everything she did was uncanny. On the other hand, she thought while fighting back a smile, she might be able to make use of that. As long as he didn’t burn her at the stake, it would be easier to keep him in line if he thought she was a witch.
When they got out of the cab near the theater, she said, “Oh dear,” with a deep, groaning sigh. The place was a shrine to Emily, with candles, stuffed animals, flowers, hand-drawn posters pledging support, and enlarged photos of Emily. People wearing T-shirts from the show stood near the shrine, handing out fliers to passersby.
Michael took her elbow and guided her through the crowd to the shrine. He dropped her arm and put his hand in his jacket pocket, then brought out and displayed a police badge. “Are you Emily Drake’s friends?” he asked brusquely.
With a sidelong glare at him, Sophie said, “I’m Emily’s sister, Sophie. She told me she was going out with some friends last night. Do you know who that would have been?”
A tall woman with skin the color of chicory coffee handed her stack of fliers to someone else and came over to Sophie. “I was one of them,” she said. “I’m Olivia Washington.”
Michael took a notebook out of his breast pocket, then fumbled one-handed for a pen while trying to hold onto the notebook. Sophie reached over and took the notebook from him, found a pen in her purse, and wrote down Olivia’s name.
“Where did you last see her?” Sophie asked.
Olivia frowned in thought, looking confused by the straightforward question. “In the cab, I think. We went to a diner—Fay’s, over on Eighth—then we couldn’t get a cab, so we started walking. A cab came along when we were about halfway there. Emily was the last stop, so she was still in the cab when I left.”
“Who else was with you?” Michael asked while Sophie wrote down what Olivia had said.
“Will Carter. He’s handing out fliers at the TKTS booth in Times Square, but he should be here soon because it’s almost cast call time. He was the first one we dropped off, though, so I was the last to see Emily.”
“Where did you catch the cab?” Sophie asked.
“Near Tavern on the Green, on Central Park West.”
“Was there anyone else?” Michael asked.
Olivia looked confused again, then she shook her head. “No, it was just the three of us.”
Sophie jumped in before he could ask a follow-up question. “Were you in the driveway, near a park entrance, or inside the park itself?”
Olivia shrugged. “I don’t know. I wasn’t looking at the scenery. I was watching to see if the cab would stop for us.”
“And all of you got in the cab?”
That should have been another easy question, but Olivia wavered before saying, “Of course.”
With a glare at Sophie, Michael asked, “What time did you last see Emily?”
“I think it was sometime around two thirty.” He cast a glance down at Sophie at that, which she made a point of ignoring. Why did people always make a fuss about her little bursts of insight? They probably got them, too. They just didn’t listen to them.
Michael got Olivia’s contact information, which Sophie wrote down. “The detective who’s in charge of this case will be in touch with you,” he said.
“Thank you so much for your help,” Sophie added.
“We’re having a vigil tomorrow before the show—that is, if she hasn’t been found by then,” Olivia said. “We’d love to have you speak.” Before Sophie could demur—since she hoped the vigil would be unnecessary—Olivia said, “Oh, here comes Will. Will! Over here!” A young man with fair hair that flopped rakishly over his forehead came to stand by Olivia. “Will, this is Sophie, Emily’s sister. And …” She trailed off with a glance at Michael.
“This is Detective Murray,” Sophie said. “He’s Emily’s neighbor, and he’s been so kind to help me.”
Will’s eyes widened for a moment, and then he grinned and whispered out of the side of his mouth to Olivia, “It’s Officer Friendly.” Her eyes widened, too, and she shot a grin at Will. Michael made a valiant effort of pretending to ignore it. He hadn’t shown any signs that his relationship with Emily was anything more than platonic, but Sophie could see how Emily’s friends might wonder about the handsome detective upstairs.
Sophie took Will’s contact information, and he repeated the story Olivia told, with the same occasional look of confusion as he described the evening’s events. Then the two dancers said their farewells and headed for the stage door.
“They’re lying about something,” Michael said when they were gone. Sophie thought it looked more like they’d been magically befuddled, but of course she couldn’t tell him that. “We should go check out that diner,” he continued. “Maybe we can talk to someone who was working last night, and they’ll know if anyone followed them from there.”
Sophie heard him, but her attention was focused on her surroundings. She had the oddest feeling that she was being watched, and not merely in the sense that she was being observed at the center of a minor public spectacle. Moving in the direction of the feeling through the encroaching crowd of theatergoers, tourists, and arriving musicians and actors, she looked for the watcher. To give her that strong a tingle between the shoulder blades, someone would have to stare hard, and someone staring that hard should be noticeable.
The feeling grew more intense as she moved away from the theater, and then a hand brushed her arm, near her purse strap. She doubted a mere pickpocket would give her this degree of unease. She kick
ed out one leg and wrapped it around the interloper’s leg while she whipped her body around and grabbed his wrist. Then she was glad that she’d caught him with her leg before she saw him because her grip faltered. She’d caught herself a fairy, right there on Forty-fifth Street. She wouldn’t have thought they’d get that deep into a city.
He was taller than Michael, and he had silver hair and quicksilver eyes with a young/ancient face. The funny thing was, he looked just as shocked as she felt, even a little scared. He’d been watching her, but either he hadn’t expected her to fight back or she wasn’t what he expected.
“Are you Sophie?” he asked.
“Where’s Emily?” she demanded, wondering if she could reach the miniature iron horseshoe on her keychain.
She didn’t really expect the fairy to tell her, but he didn’t get a chance. Michael’s voice boomed behind her, shouting “Hey!” The fairy froze.
Twelve
The Realm
Soon Afterward
Maeve’s men marched Emily through long hallways that didn’t seem to belong in the same world as Eamon’s library hut. She tried noting each turn, in case she had another chance to escape, but she soon gave that up. The Realm was impossible to map. She got the feeling she could go through the same door twenty times and never wind up in the same place twice. Her next step felt like it spanned an entire continent. When she blinked and cleared her vision, she found herself back in Maeve’s apartment.
Emily braced herself to be berated by Maeve, but the would-be fairy queen was otherwise occupied. She lay on the sofa, dressed in a marabou-trimmed peignoir, and complained to a group of attendants who didn’t fit the décor. “She should be here by now. This is taking far too long.” Emily thought Maeve was talking about her, but then Maeve looked right at her and said, “Oh, good, they found you,” before turning back to her people and saying, “Don’t return unless you’re bringing her to me.”
The attendants scurried away, and another group approached Maeve. One said, “Your majesty, the Gentry are gathering, as you instructed. It will have to begin soon.”
“I’m not ready,” Maeve thundered, and the attendant shrank away. More calmly, Maeve added, “Let them wait. Have the musicians play.”
Maeve made a few more decisions about what sounded like party plans, and when the attendants had all rushed off to do her bidding, Maeve finally turned her attention fully to Emily. “You should know better than to run off like that. The Realm is a very dangerous place. I shall have to reward Eamon for sheltering you until I could send someone to bring you back safely.”
Emily stiffened at the implication that Eamon had been cooperating with Maeve. She’d thought she’d reached an understanding with him. Had he been playing her, or was Maeve deliberately making her doubt her one possible ally in the Realm? “I’m sure he’d love another book,” Emily said with a careless shrug.
The front door opened and Maeve turned to face it, forgetting Emily’s presence. A man dressed like one of the wild fairies out in the park entered and dropped to one knee in front of Maeve. “There has been no sign of her, your majesty,” he said, bowing his head.
“No sign?” Maeve shrieked. “You must not be looking very hard. She’ll be here, I know it. Go, go look for her,” she ordered, pointing at the door. The man scrambled to escape, looking like he knew he’d dodged a bullet. Maeve took a few long, deep breaths through clenched teeth as her hands formed fists, and then she turned back to Emily, a cheerful smile on her perfect face. “What are you wearing?” she asked. “You’ve got to get ready for the celebration.” She glanced down at herself and laughed, adding, “And I’m not much better.” She waved her hand, and in a heartbeat, Maeve wore another fabulous Doris Day gown, this one a metallic gold to match her hair. Emily looked down to find that she now appeared to wear a pale blue dress with a lace overlay, like she was going to the prom in 1959.
“Ah, that’s better, now, isn’t it?” Maeve said with a satisfied smile as she rose gracefully from the sofa. “You’re a pretty girl. You should dress like it.”
More attendants arrived, updating Maeve on the celebration preparations and hinting that time was running out. “I’ll be there,” she insisted. “It’s royal prerogative to keep the court waiting.” When they were gone, she said to Emily. “I’m surprised your sister hasn’t come for you yet. The last time, it was a matter of seconds before she came to whisk you away. She does still love you, doesn’t she?”
“She’s probably operating in stealth mode,” Emily said, even as she couldn’t help but wonder where Sophie was. She’d sent the food, so she was on the case, but why wasn’t she here yet? “You won’t see her coming. You won’t even know she’s been here until you notice that I’m not here anymore.” Not that Emily believed a word of this. Sophie had a particular talent for shock and awe. If she was in the Realm, everyone would know about it. So where was she?
Strangely, Maeve seemed more distressed by Sophie’s absence than Emily was. With a sick lurch of her stomach, Emily realized that Maeve was using her for bait. Sophie wasn’t easy to trap, but she could be counted on to rescue her kid sister. But why would Maeve want Sophie?
The front door opened again and an attendant meekly poked her head through the gap, keeping her body shielded behind the door. “Your majesty, we can’t wait any longer. They’re expecting your announcement.”
“I can’t make the announcement because it hasn’t happened!” Maeve screamed, her face momentarily losing its beautiful glamour and becoming terrifyingly ugly. An instant later, she calmed and said, “But it’s only a matter of time. I will be down in a moment.” The attendant nodded and ducked away, closing the door behind her.
Maeve raised her hand and snapped her fingers. The two goons who’d retrieved Emily went to stand on either side of the apartment’s front door, which Maeve opened with a wave. The goons led the way, with Maeve following and the rest of the fairies who’d been in the apartment falling in behind her. Emily got swept up with the procession. She doubted she had a choice, but she went willingly with the hope that she’d finally figure out what was going on.
They trooped through the hallway to a wide staircase that led down to what looked like the lobby of one of the old apartment buildings on Riverside, but bigger and grander than any apartment lobby, more like a ballroom. It was full of fairies dressed in Maeve’s midcentury style, caught up in the party to end all parties. Sophie had always sniffed haughtily that “party” wasn’t a verb—which told Emily that her sister hadn’t been much fun in college—but this gathering proved her wrong. This was definitely partying in verb form. There was music, singing, dancing, and vast quantities of food, with drink flowing freely from a fountain in the middle of the room. In spite of the energy bar and peanuts she’d had not too long ago, Emily’s mouth watered.
The others from the apartment hustled Emily with them down the stairs and into the heart of the party. Maeve remained above, standing with her hands on the railing of a balcony that overlooked the lobby/ballroom. A soft buzz spread through the room, and without any fanfare or announcement, soon everyone was quiet and facing Maeve, who looked like she would burst into “Don’t Cry for Me Argentina” at any moment.
When she was sure every eye was on her, Maeve said, “I have wonderful news, my people! I have it within my power to take the empty throne, and soon, very, very soon, I will rule the entire Realm. Once I unite the Realm under my rule, we will turn our attention to the world above. They no longer pay us tribute. They no longer make offerings to us. Most of them have forgotten us. But we will remind them, and we will rule them!”
Emily’s stomach threatened to rebel at the thought of Maeve leading a fairy attack on humankind. The deafening cheering from Maeve’s people only made it worse. It sounded like they thought attacking humanity was a great idea. Then again, she got the impression that they were a bunch of sycophants who’d have cheered anything Maeve said, and if that was the case, why had Maeve been so worried about her announ
cement?
As the cheering continued, Emily noticed that it wasn’t as unanimous as she’d initially thought. She did a double take when she noticed some of the people who weren’t cheering. She thought she recognized the Nick and Nora couple, dressed to fit into Maeve’s court. Not too far away was another couple that looked totally out of place in Doris Day attire, and Emily was fairly certain they were the scary pair who’d led the procession that sent everyone fleeing in terror.
The two couples noticed each other, and Emily instinctively moved as far away as she could in that crowd because the hatred between them was so powerful it lit up the air around them. Even Maeve noticed it, as she interrupted her Evita moment to stare with horror down at her audience. “What are you doing here?” she hissed, her voice not much above a whisper but ringing over the sounds of the crowd. “Niall and Orla, Fiontan and Niamh, you are far from your courts.”
“You’ve found the ancient palace, have you?” said the white-haired fairy woman—Niamh, the fairy in the park had called her. “But if you have found it, then I must wonder why you do not present yourself as the crowned sovereign rather than merely announcing your intentions.”
And that, Emily realized, explained Maeve’s nerves. Announcing her plan to take the throne must have been plan B, and her original plan had been to present it as a done deal. It sounded like not finding Sophie had something to do with plan A not working, and that meant that Sophie was somehow essential to making it happen.
But what could Sophie possibly have to do with taking the throne of the fairy realm?
Maeve didn’t have a good answer for Niamh, and while she was still struggling to come up with one, Niamh and her consort exchanged a glance, then vanished in a shimmer of light. “You don’t have that throne yet, darling,” the one Emily thought of as Nora, but who must be the one Maeve called Orla, purred, and she and Nick—probably Niall—also vanished.
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