Kiss and Spell (Enchanted, Inc.)

by Swendson, Shanna

  She reached the kitchen, where she dug around in the cabinets, clicking her tongue in disapproval. “No, I’ll have to give him a list to fetch me from work, or I’ll have to go to the market next time it’s open.”

  “Granny, what are you doing?” I finally asked when I could get a word in edgewise.

  “Why, making you a potion, of course. I know some things that’ll help restore your strength, give you a little more energy. It won’t stop the decline, but it should slow it.”

  “But why bother?” I said wearily, leaning against the edge of the countertop. “Why drag this out? I’m pretty much useless as a wizard. I may as well go back to normal. I’m good at that.”

  She whirled on me and shook a finger in my face. “Now, how do you know you didn’t get this gift for some purpose, hm? The good Lord knows what He’s doing and has a plan, and that plan bestowed magical powers on you. For all you know, it’s just in time to do something no one else could do, so you’d best be ready to make the most of it, whenever that comes. You are not useless. I don’t know what got into your head to make you think that about yourself. It’s probably your mother’s fault.”

  “But I—” I started to protest.

  She waved me off. “Oh, I know what you think, that you’re so boring and ordinary that no one would notice you. Well, whose fault is that? And it has nothing to do with how much lipstick you wear, contrary to what that silly daughter of mine tells you. I know that no boring, ordinary girl could have caught that boy’s eye the way you did. He’s no dummy, and he’s certainly not boring. I suggest you start seeing yourself the way he sees you and work on being the best you instead of worrying about what you’re not. At the moment, you’re a wizard with enough resources to make a difference when the time comes. Now, go cut yourself another slice of cake while I make out a shopping list.”

  Chastened, I sat at the tiny kitchen table and cut a slab of chocolate cake. Granny’s lecture had cheered me up, but I couldn’t help but worry about what might happen that would require my limited magical powers.

  Chapter Four

  Perdita wasn’t there the next morning, and my call to her went straight to voice mail again, so I sent Rod an e-mail about it. Did she have a change of heart about siding with the wizards or did something happen to her because of her association with us?

  It was difficult to focus on work when I was so worried, but I still jumped, startled, when someone knocked on the frame of my office door. I looked up to see a young man with slightly shaggy blondish-brown hair. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you, but your assistant isn’t here, and that’s why I’m here. I’m from Security. We’re investigating the employee disappearances.”

  I knew that there were non-gargoyles in the security team, but I hadn’t worked with any of them. This guy looked vaguely familiar, and then I recognized him as the bicycle messenger who’d been part of the attempted sting the other night. “Oh, yes, come in and have a seat,” I said. “I’d offer you coffee, but that’s something my assistant has to do for me.”

  He waved his hand, and two cups appeared on my desk. “How’s that?” he asked as he settled himself in my guest chair. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Dan, one of Sam’s undercover experts.”

  “Yes, I recognized you from the other night. Thanks for coming to our assistance.”

  He grinned. “Your grandmother had it under control. Not that you were ever in real danger. We had your back.” His grin faded, and he said, “Now, about Perdita. How long has it been since you’ve heard from her?”

  “She didn’t show up yesterday, so I guess it was at the end of the day before yesterday. There’s been no answer when I’ve called.”

  “Do you have any idea of her politics?”

  “I’m not sure she has any. She’s not that serious about much of anything. She did keep working here even after the anti-wizard propaganda among elves began.” I hesitated, not sure I should tell him that she was my source, then figured there was no additional harm done at this point. “She shared the flyer about the wizards with me. I know she was nervous about doing that. I didn’t tell anyone, and no one was here to see it.” I hesitated one more time, then figured that the more the security team knew, the better. “I do know she can be gullible. She fell for some of the Spellworks advertising and rumors last summer, and it took some work to convince her that Owen wasn’t evil—even before the word about his parents got out. Just the earlier rumors made her doubt. So it’s not outside the realm of possibility that someone told her something that she ended up believing and she’s staying away willingly.”

  He made a note in his notebook. “Do you think that’s likely?”

  “I’d hope she’d at least ask me about it. She has before, and we’ve been through a lot since then. My gut says that’s not what’s happened.”

  “And I’ve heard good things about your gut,” he said with a grin. “Sam is very complimentary.”

  “You don’t think these missing people are in danger, do you?”

  “We have no idea. It’s not like we’re finding elf bodies in Dumpsters or washing up in the river. We have a few leads, and the more info we get, the better our leads are.”

  “Thanks.”

  He flipped his notebook closed and stood. “Thank you for your time, and please let me know if you think of anything or hear anything.”

  I promised him I would and returned to my fretting. I’d often longed for a break when in the thick of magical battles, but sitting on the sidelines was worse. I couldn’t do anything useful, and it wasn’t as though I was making use of the time to live a normal life and do all those things I said I’d do if I got the time.

  Now that I was on the theoretical training track, Rod had left me to Owen. He was the expert on magical theory and was better at breaking down the theory in a way that made sense even if I couldn’t try it out. Because of the time he’d spent without powers, he also had a better understanding of what it was like to study magic without being able to do it.

  Since learning about magic without using it couldn’t give me away, we met in his office instead of in the secret classroom. He said that way he’d have access to all his reference books, but I figured it also meant he could multitask. I hoped if he got other work done while I was studying, my chances of spending time with him away from work would improve.

  Waiting for me was a stack of books with colorful sticky notes emerging from the margins. “I’ve sorted through some of the more useful theories that underlie most spells,” he said. “And here are some spells to learn. You’ll have to memorize them without vocalizing them or writing them down. Practice the words and the hand gestures separately and you should be okay.” He grinned. “And no, you won’t turn yourself or anyone else into a frog if you slip. The only harm done is that you accidentally use up a bit of magic. Let me know if you have any questions.”

  Learning about magic by sending things flying around the room had been tons of fun. Learning by reading a bunch of old books? Not so much. I forced my way through the theory articles he’d flagged, though it was difficult to pay attention when my mind kept wandering to thoughts of my lost assistant, my vanishing magical powers, and my hopes for weekend plans.

  It was with some amusement that I saw the next book in the stack was the Junior Magic Scouts Handbook. It looked a lot like my brothers’ Cub Scouts handbook, but instead of learning to tie knots and start campfires, the Junior Magic Scouts learned to do basic spells that tied and untied knots and started or quenched fires. “Magic Scouts?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “Magical education is purely extracurricular. Some wizards teach their own kids, but most of us go through this kind of program. I should have thought of this earlier. It’s one of the best ways to learn remedial spells, and their spells are sound on a theoretical basis.”

  I noticed that there were notes scribbled in the margins in a childish version of Owen’s textbook-perfect handwriting. Even as a little kid he’d been modifying and cor
recting the text. “Should I learn it as printed or with your version?” I asked, unable to hold back a smile at the thought of little Owen learning magic. I’d seen the pictures at his foster parents’ home of a tiny boy whose eyes were owlishly large behind thick glasses.

  He blushed and started to answer, but his cell phone rang. He looked at the caller ID readout, frowned, and flipped it open to answer. “Hi, Earl,” he said, then he paused, frowning more deeply. “Earl? Hello? Hello?” He moved the phone away from his ear to look at it before flipping it closed. “Strange.”

  “He may have just pocket dialed you,” I suggested.

  “But he hasn’t called me today, so I doubt he accidentally redialed.”

  “Does Earl call you often?”

  “He’s been consulting me some on this case. He’s been running into some unusual magic.”

  A “ding” came from his computer, and he turned to check his e-mail. I took that as my cue to return to my studies. “That’s weird,” he murmured.

  “What is?”

  “Earl sent me an e-mail from his phone.”

  “Does it explain the call?”

  “I don’t know. There’s no text to it, just a photo.”

  “Of what?” I said, putting down the book and going around his desk so I could look over his shoulder. The photo showed a building—the kind of late-Victorian brick industrial-type buildings that were all over the city. “Why did Earl send you a photo of a building?” I asked.

  “I don’t know, but let’s find out.” He picked up his phone and dialed, listened for a while then shook his head. “No answer.”

  “That’s not good,” I concluded. “Do you think he disappeared like those others? He must have found something.”

  “Or he could be in a dead zone.” He dialed again and left Earl a message to call him. I got the feeling he didn’t believe the dead zone theory because he then called Sam to update him.

  Both of us went back to our respective tasks, but I doubted either of us was really getting anything done. Our heads popped up in unison when Owen’s desk phone rang. He answered it and said, “Yes, sir. I’ll be there in a moment.” He hung up, leaned over his computer keyboard for a moment and clicked a few keys, then said as he rose from his chair, “The photo must be something because the boss wants to talk about it.”

  I jumped up to tag along with him because while I hadn’t exactly been invited, I hadn’t specifically been excluded, as far as I knew. At least, Owen made no move to tell me not to come with him.

  When we reached Merlin’s office, he was studying his computer monitor. “Does this photograph mean anything to you?” he asked Owen, as though he’d been there all along instead of just having arrived.

  “I don’t recognize it,” Owen said.

  “And he attempted to call you at approximately the same time he sent this?”

  “From what I can tell, yes.”

  Merlin stroked his beard. “Interesting. I suppose this is a clue, but I can’t imagine what it’s meant to tell us.”

  Sam flew in then and alit on the back of a chair. “Still no word from Earl.”

  “We need to look into this,” I said. “Something must have happened if he sent us a clue.”

  Sam shook his head. “There’s no ‘us’ about it, doll. You’re not a part of this one. Neither of you is.”

  I would have argued, but Merlin’s stern glare shut me up immediately. “Sam is correct,” he said. “You two have done more than enough this year, and this particular business doesn’t concern you.”

  “But Perdita’s my assistant, and Earl wouldn’t have been working with MSI if it weren’t for us. It’s partly our fault if they’re in danger.”

  “Earl was an undercover agent in the court of the Elf Lord, so he was hardly out of danger,” Merlin said dryly. “In fact, his association with us may have kept him safer until today.”

  I didn’t have a good argument as to why I should be involved. Even at my most creative stretching of my job description, I couldn’t rationalize it. Still, I felt like I ought to be doing something.

  I waited for Owen to protest, but he just nodded in acquiescence. On our way out of the office, leaving Merlin and Sam to strategize, Owen said, “Do you want to have dinner tonight?”

  “We have dinner every night.”

  “I meant dinner out.”

  I put my hands on my hips and looked up at him in mock reproach. “Owen Palmer, are you asking me out on a date?”

  “I believe that’s what it’s called when two people spend time together in a romantic fashion. And do you want to?”

  I hooked my arm through his. “You had me at ‘romantic.’ But you have to let Granny know we won’t be home for dinner.” Then I frowned at him in suspicion. “What brought this on?”

  “We’ve been seeing each other for a while. Is this really so odd?”

  “Seeing each other, yes. Going out, no, unless you count crazy quests or going on the lam.”

  He turned a delightful shade of pink. “Let’s try normal life, for a change. Shall I pick you up around seven at your place? Wear something reasonably nice but with fairly comfortable shoes. There may be walking involved.”

  “Dare I ask what you have planned?”

  His grin was borderline wicked. “It’ll be a surprise.”

  *

  When he picked me up, I was pretty sure he was wearing the same suit he’d worn to work, just without the tie. Though it was hard to tell with men’s suits. As far as I knew, he could have put on a totally different suit with a fresh white shirt. Then again, this was Owen. He’d probably come straight from work.

  “How did Granny take it when you told her about dinner?” I asked him as he helped me with my coat.

  “She said she had work to do and getting me out of her hair would make it easier.”

  “I take it you got her those potion ingredients.”

  “She may be on to something. I know the stuff she gave me back in Texas helped my energy levels. Though I’ll warn you, it tasted awful.”

  “I have no doubt. And it’s weird, because she’s such a good cook otherwise.”

  We took a cab to the West Village and went to a cozy, romantic little Italian restaurant with candles on the tables and Sinatra on the sound system. It reminded me of our first real date, though I hoped it didn’t end up the same way—with a magical fire in the restaurant that led to a stampede among the customers.

  “So, what brought this on?” I asked after the waiter brought us wine and a basket of bread. “I mean, we’ve been talking about a real date for ages, but it hasn’t quite happened.”

  “I’m not going to jinx us by talking about our track record and hoping our luck has turned, but why shouldn’t we go out like normal people, especially when we have a free evening?”

  It sounded nice, but the look in his eyes was way too familiar, and it didn’t bode well for romance. When he got that look, he was usually about to try something crazy, dangerous, stupid, or all of the above, in order to save the world. He wasn’t really a thrill seeker, but he couldn’t bear to leave a job undone.

  “What are you up to?” I asked.

  “Nothing!” he insisted. “Just going out on a date with my girlfriend.” For a moment he looked truly contrite. “Am I that bad, that you assume something is wrong when I do the sort of thing that most guys probably do every weekend?”

  “I don’t know if ‘bad’ is the word I would use, and we have good reason for not going out much.” Namely, the two men in black seated at the adjacent table. The hot celebrity couple of the moment got more privacy out on the town than we did.

  He gave me a smile that made my stomach do backflips. “Maybe we could embarrass them into leaving us alone.”

  “Do you really think that would work?”

  He sighed. “I doubt it. But thank you for putting up with me. A lot of women would have bailed on me. I’ve got a lot of baggage to deal with.”

  “If I can’t stand by you, t
hen who will? And I know who you really are, no matter what anyone else thinks.”

  He reached under the table to take my hand and clutch it earnestly. “I am so glad I met you.”

  I squeezed his hand in response. “Me, too. I can truly say that meeting you changed my life.”

  “For the better?” He sounded like he wasn’t sure.

  “Most definitely. Yeah, my life has been under constant threat and things have been absolutely insane, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

  He nodded, worrying his lower lip with his teeth like this had given him something serious to think about. “Good, that’s good to hear,” he said absently. The moment passed when the waiter arrived with our meals.

  We actually made it through the entire meal without any crazy disasters or magical attacks, then headed out into the crisp autumn evening. “There’s a bakery not too far from here. I thought we could walk off dinner and head up there for dessert,” he said.

  “Sounds good to me. Lead on.”

  We walked uptown, got some cupcakes and cocoa at the bakery, and continued strolling. When we crossed Fourteenth, he pulled a small sheaf of folded papers out of his jacket pocket and studied the top page, which was a map. He shoved it back into his pocket and steered us around the next corner.

  “Owen, what is this about?” I asked when we’d walked up and down several remarkably non-scenic blocks.

  He looked sheepish and said, “I think that photo from Earl came from somewhere around here.”

  “Oh, you do know the way to a girl’s heart,” I said, standing on my tiptoes to give him a kiss. “I didn’t think you’d be willing to just sit by.”

  He smiled and blushed as he said, “The cell tower that handled that call is in this area. That may or may not mean anything. Any tower within range may have picked up the call. But I did some online photo searches, and the kind of building in the photo is really common in this neighborhood. So, I figured there was no harm in wandering the neighborhood and seeing if anything looks familiar.”