Kiss and Spell (Enchanted, Inc.)

by Swendson, Shanna

  “What is?” I asked.

  “This whole romantic autumn in New York thing. It’s like there’s an entire industry devoted to selling us this story, and then does it really happen? No! If you try to suggest any of this stuff to a guy, he accuses you of having seen too many movies. Apparently, no one but tourists goes boating on the lake in Central Park. Or is that just what they say when they don’t want to pay for it?”

  “You have seen too many movies.”

  “Well, yeah, but that doesn’t mean it can’t be at all true. Have you ever done any of this romantic New York stuff?”

  “We went ice skating in Central Park last Christmas,” I said. And I fell through the ice, which was supposed to be impossible since the rink wasn’t a frozen pond. “Otherwise, no, not really. Work’s been crazy, so most of our dates are lunches at the office.”

  “I think that’s the way most people date in this city.” She sighed. “They’re so doing it wrong.” I couldn’t help but agree as we watched the rest of the movie together. I had an amazing, gorgeous guy, so where was my romantic comedy life?

  *

  When Owen and I got to the office the next morning, I was eager to interrogate Sam about the previous evening’s events, but he wasn’t at his usual place on the building’s awning. “He’s avoiding us,” I accused.

  “You know he had to be under orders, and he obviously did try to warn us as well as he could.”

  “Then I guess we can’t go demand that the boss tell us what’s up.”

  “I’m sure he’ll tell us soon enough.”

  “I hope he lets us know before we get attacked by elves with knives again.”

  “Elven blades are dangerous,” he agreed. Then we reached my hallway and he said, “I’ll see you for our afternoon training session.”

  As I approached my office, I hoped Perdita had gotten over whatever had been bugging her the day before. I wasn’t in the mood to tiptoe around sensitive feelings. I felt a lot more like stomping on things.

  She was already at her desk, which was unusual for her, but she merely glanced up at me, then looked down again. Normally, she’d offer me coffee, at the very least. Often, she’d bombard me with gossip and questions before I made it all the way through the door. “Good morning,” I called out more cheerfully than I felt, but she just nodded and continued pretending to work. I hadn’t given her a project to work on, so I knew her busyness was fake. Giving it up as a lost cause, I went on into my office.

  I’d almost made it to my desk when she called out, “Um, Katie, could I talk to you about something?” She sounded troubled and more serious than normal.

  I turned back and went to the office doorway. “Sure. What is it?”

  She took a deep breath, as though steeling herself for something unpleasant. She wasn’t going to resign, was she? Sure, she was a ditz and a klutz, but I was getting used to her, and she often had good ideas. I’d hate to think that I’d driven her away. I hoped I was a good boss. I’d had enough horrible bosses for me to make a conscious effort to not repeat those mistakes. “There’s something I think I should show you,” she said, not meeting my eyes.

  I went over to her desk and sat in the guest chair beside it. “Okay,” I said, as reassuringly as I could. “What do you have to show me?”

  She glanced around, like she was making sure no one was nearby to eavesdrop, then leaned forward and opened her lower desk drawer. With another glance around and then a big gulp, she pulled a piece of paper out from under a stack of manila envelopes. “This,” she said, shoving the paper at me like it was on fire. Then she screwed her eyes shut, as though she expected me to hit her once I saw it.

  It was a flyer photocopied onto colored paper, the kind of thing political groups hand out around Union Square. “ARE WIZARDS OPPRESSING ELVES?” the flyer asked in huge block capitals. Underneath, it listed the evidence in bullet points, with each line in a different font. I cringed at the first one, which claimed that wizards had stolen and then destroyed the Knot of Arnhold, the ancient magical brooch treasured by the elves.

  Actually, I’d been the one to destroy it, though I hadn’t been a wizard at the time. And, technically, we hadn’t stolen it from the elves. Their own leader had stolen it to use it in a scheme, then it was stolen from him and sold, and then we’d stolen it. It was a complicated story, but it had been necessary for saving the world because the Knot had been united with a nasty gem that probably would have led to World War III if I hadn’t thrown it on the electric third rail of a train track during a massive scuffle. The fact that I got magical powers out of the bargain was beside the point. I wasn’t named in the flyer, but Owen was, I noted, and his heritage was highlighted. I wondered if that explained the attack on us.

  There were other gripes, including an accusation that wizards were abducting elves who dared to speak out. The flyer concluded with a call for elves to disassociate themselves from wizards, stand up for themselves, and fight back. It looked like Sylvester, the Elf Lord, was still up to his old tricks and using propaganda to do what he hadn’t been able to do with enchanted jewelry. “Thanks for showing me this, Perdita,” I said.

  She cautiously opened one eye. “It’s not true, is it?”

  “Parts of it are,” I admitted, “but they rather severely missed the point. There’s a lot more to it than that.” She opened her other eye, but she didn’t seem to relax much. I asked, “Are the elves taking this seriously?”

  “Some are. A couple of my friends quit this week. My mom is griping at me about finding a new job.” Then she gasped and hurried to add, “Not that I would. I like it here. But, yeah, even some of those who didn’t like the Elf Lord before are starting to listen.” She twirled a red ringlet around her finger before whispering, “To be honest, I feel kind of like a rat for showing that to you. I mean, I’m turning against my own people.”

  “Not all your own people,” I reassured her. “There are free elves who don’t want you to be ruled by a lord of any kind, and they’re the ones working with us to keep your people from being even more under Sylvester’s control.”

  “I’m not sure my family would see it that way.”

  “Don’t worry, they won’t know where we got this. There are a lot of elves working here.” At least, there had been. If this flyer represented elven sentiment, that might change soon. I stood. “Mind if I take this?”

  “Please do.”

  “Thank you again for trusting me.” I started to leave the office, then turned back. “Could you hand me an envelope?” She did, and I sealed the flyer up in it. There were a number of elves working in the sales department, where my office was. It was safest not to let anyone see me carrying it from my office, lest they suspect Perdita of bringing it to me.

  I headed straight up to the boss’s office, where, as usual, he was waiting for me. It’s a little disconcerting to have a boss who manages to anticipate your every move, but when your boss is Merlin—yeah, that one—it comes with the territory. You even get used to it. On the upside, I never have to wait for him to see me.

  “I take it you have a concern, Miss Chandler?” he said by way of greeting as he gestured me to a seat in front of his desk.

  I handed him the envelope. “Apparently, this sort of thing is going around the elven community,” I told him.

  I watched his face as he removed the flyer from the envelope and read it, but his expression gave nothing away. He murmured a soft, “Hmmm,” as he laid it on his desk.

  “Is that what last night was about?” I asked.

  Instead of answering me, Merlin picked up his phone and called Sam, Owen, and Rod to come to his office. He made one more call to Earl, the young elf who’d been instrumental in letting us know what Sylvester had been up to with the Knot.

  Once the gang was gathered, Merlin threw the flyer in the middle of the conference table without comment. They all leaned forward to get a good look.

  When Owen read it, he paled. “I suppose this explains last night,” h
e said dryly. Then he looked up at Merlin. “Did you already know about this?”

  “There have been rumblings,” Merlin admitted, “but we didn’t know anything concrete.”

  “It was apparently enough for you to use us as bait,” I said, not even trying to mask the irritation in my voice.

  “We had our eyes on you the whole time, doll,” Sam assured me. “We were hopin’ the elves would show themselves.”

  “And now we know why they were after me,” Owen said with a weary sigh. Poor guy, I thought. He already had people from the magical world watching his every move to make sure he wasn’t evil. Now he was on the elves’ Most Wanted list.

  “Have you heard anything about this?” Merlin asked Earl.

  Earl squinted at it, then shook his head. “Not in my circles, but I’m kind of persona non grata around Sylvester’s people these days. This looks like his style, though. He’s trying to create a common enemy and deflect the blame so people will forget that he was secretly hiding the Knot all along and was planning to use it to solidify his power.”

  Rod picked up the flyer and studied it. “This explains a lot,” he said with a grim nod. “I’ve had more resignations in the past week than in the previous two months, and they were all elves. I was starting to research whether I had some toxic supervisors to deal with.”

  “More like a toxic Elf Lord,” Earl said with a disgusted grunt.

  “They’re leaving MSI like rats leaving a sinking ship,” Rod said with a shrug. “I don’t know if that means they don’t want to associate with us or if they want to be well out of the danger zone when something happens.”

  “Do you see this as a real threat?” Merlin asked. “Are we going to see more than mischief from this?”

  Earl cleared his throat to speak, then glanced around before saying tentatively, “I’ve heard …” He trailed off, realized we weren’t going to interrupt or disregard him the way his previous boss had, and started again. “I’ve heard rumors of people disappearing. Elves, I mean. Those who speak out against Sylvester. I don’t know anyone personally who’s gone missing, but people talk.”

  “Has Sylvester got some kind of elf Siberia going on?” I asked.

  Earl glanced around nervously, then winced as he said, “Actually, they’re blaming the wizards for the disappearances, and your people arresting those guys last night just played into that rumor.”

  “It wasn’t our people,” Sam grumbled. “Those Council goons pulled rank.”

  “They played us,” I said. “I wonder if that’s what it was really all about, staging an attack they knew we’d anticipate to goad us into arresting their people, and then there’s proof that the disappearances are our fault.”

  Merlin sat lost in thought for a moment, then nodded as though he’d come to a decision. “Sam, I’d like you to put together a team to investigate any disappearances that might be related to the company. Earl, please use your underground connections to learn as much as possible. Mr. Gwaltney, provide the names of missing elf employees to Sam, and check in with our remaining elven employees. Please keep me informed of your progress.”

  I cleared my throat. “Is there something you need me to do?”

  He gave me a fond smile. “I think you deserve a break after all you’ve done recently. Please focus on your magical training.” In other words, I was a lot less valuable to the company when I couldn’t spot disguised elves or hidden activities.

  “Maybe I’ll see if I can come up with a way to get out the message that we aren’t out to get the elves—of course, without admitting to destroying the Knot or outright saying that Sylvester’s the really evil one. Unless, that is, we get some concrete proof.”

  “Yes, that would be good,” Merlin agreed.

  That would probably mean having Perdita tell her friends the rumors were false. I wondered if maybe we should throw a big “elf day” party, but then I remembered that our track record for marketing events was iffy. Our enemies tended to use them against us.

  Since Owen didn’t have an assignment either, I hoped we could try to have a normal, romantic date, after all. For once, we weren’t the ones in charge of saving the world.

  *

  When it was time for my afternoon magic lesson, I bounced into the schoolroom, as myself this time. “What do you have for me today, teacher?”

  “Well, you’ve mastered illusion, shielding, physical manipulation, and you’re getting the hang of food and beverages,” Rod said.

  “Maybe we should do some introductory communication,” Owen said. “We don’t want to blow out anyone’s synapses the next time she’s in danger, and that’s one thing she can do without revealing that she can do magic.” I caught his eye, and he blushed slightly. I suspected he was thinking the same thing I was, that psychic communication between us could be a lot of fun.

  Rod glanced back and forth between us. “Something happened?”

  “Granny said it was too loud when I called for help last night,” I explained.

  “Okay, then, magical communication, it is,” Rod said. On the room’s whiteboard, he outlined the steps, which weren’t too different from what I’d done instinctively, though I could see where I’d gone wrong. Then he had me send him a message.

  He squinted in concentration, then shook his head. “I could tell you were there, but I couldn’t decipher it. Maybe you were trying too hard not to be as loud as you were last night. Just relax and let it flow.”

  I tried again, mentally raising my voice this time, but he shook his head. “No, you’re still whispering.”

  Owen got up from where he was observing and came over to us. “Try me,” he instructed. “As close as we are, that should be easier. I practically get your signals anyway, without you trying.”

  I was tempted to send a risqué message, then decided instead to suggest we go on a picnic that Saturday if the weather was nice. I waited for his shy smile in response, but he just said, “Okay, you can send now.”

  “I was!” I insisted aloud. “What am I doing wrong?”

  “You may not be doing anything wrong,” he said soothingly. “This just may not be where your talents lie. Or you may have exhausted that part of yourself last night. It can be like exercise—if you did something strenuous yesterday, you can’t expect to be at your best today.”

  “Let’s go back to something easy you know you can do,” Rod suggested. “To start with, try erasing the board.”

  I focused on the eraser and thought the spell that put it under my control, then willed it upward to where Rod had written the communication spell. It moved, but not as briskly as it usually did. It seemed a little more sluggish, and it took more effort. I had beads of sweat on my forehead and upper lip by the time the board was clear. I couldn’t tell if the guys noticed how hard I was struggling.

  “See, you can still do that,” Rod said. “We’ll come back to the communication later. How about something fun? Remember that time Owen and I made it snow indoors?”

  I smiled at the fond memory from not long after I’d joined the company. “And that was real, right? Because I could see it.”

  “Yeah, it was real, though you can also get a similar effect with illusion.” He wrote new instructions on the board, then demonstrated by creating his own snowfall. Delicate flakes danced in the air, and now that I knew what to look for, I could sense the way he directed the magic. It was so vivid that I felt cold, even though I knew it wasn’t real snow.

  Then it was my turn. I ran through the spell, then imagined a magical Christmas Eve snowfall and directed it to appear. Instead of dancing flurries, I got more of a Texas snowfall, with big, wet, gloppy clumps of flakes, and even those vanished before they hit the ground. Soon, the whole snowfall petered out, no matter how hard I tried.

  “What is wrong with me?” I cried out in frustration.

  Owen put his arm around me. “Hey, everyone has bad days, and you used more power than you realized last night. You may not have aching muscles to feel, but your
magical muscles are probably stiff and sore today. We should have thought of that and given you the day off.”

  “Yeah, that’s a good idea,” Rod chimed in. His smile was encouraging, but I caught the worried glance he and Owen exchanged. I wondered if my earlier successes were merely beginner’s luck.

  Chapter Three

  I was well rested and a little less cocky when I arrived for my next training session. Maybe I’d been more tired than I realized. I’d created a complex illusion, used magic to call for help, and then survived some extra drills with my grandmother. No wonder I’d struggled.

  But now I was ready to go. “Hit me with your best shot,” I told Rod.

  He shook his head. “No, let’s warm up first.”

  “You can sprain a magical muscle?” I asked.

  “No, but magic is all about confidence. It’s about believing that you can shape the universe to your will, and no matter how powerful you are, that can’t happen if you don’t believe it will. So, it’s best to start with something you know you can do and work up from there.” He looked around the room, then pointed to the mug sitting on the table in front of him. “For starters, could you please reheat my coffee for me?”

  Heat was easy. It was one of the first things I’d learned. It was all about exciting the molecules. I focused my energy and sent a zap into the mug, then for good measure I cloaked the mug in a blanket of warmth. I felt the familiar surge of power go through me, doing exactly what I wanted it to, and I relaxed. The previous day had just been a fluke, after all. I still had it. “Your coffee, sir,” I said with a flourish toward the cup.

  Rod reached to take the mug, then flinched when he touched it. “Yeah, you got it hot, all right,” he said. More cautiously, he curled his fingers around the handle, raised the mug to his lips, and took a tentative sip. Then he frowned.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “The mug’s hot. The coffee, well, not so much. Did you focus on the liquid?”