Damsel Under Stress
Page 54

Rod and I nearly reached Idris, but just before we got to him, a clump of tourists moving in an eerie zombie lockstep got in our way. I wormed my way through them, but when I got to the other side, Idris was gone. I made a full circle turn to see if I could spot him, but all I saw was Rod fending off a couple of women. It seemed Idris knew just how to target him. It must have been the first time in a very long while that Rod had actually fought to get away from women. Even the ugly magical creatures were gone. On the bright side, the worst of the panic had been quelled, as Owen and Merlin had apparently reveiled all the magical stuff.
“He got away,” I reported when I got back to them and Rod had escaped from his female admirers with a couple of phone numbers. “He must have used that influence spell of his to get the crowd to block us. Is everything okay here?”
“I think so,” Owen said wearily. “Next time, I won’t be so impatient and I’ll try targeting the unveiling a little better. It shouldn’t have hit the whole square like that, though. I thought it would only cover a short distance.”
“There aren’t many with the power to forcibly remove veiling spells from that many beings at once,” Merlin said. “It was an impressive display, and there seems to have been little harm done. We put things right soon enough that most of these people will likely assume they just imagined it all. Not that you shouldn’t be more prudent in the future, with that kind of power at your disposal.” I remembered then what I’d overheard from James and Gloria. Merlin had a similar tone to his voice, a mixture of pride and concern.
“I guess that spell needs more work,” Owen said with a shrug. His face was flushed, and he didn’t look Merlin in the eye.
“I doubt Mr. Idris will make another appearance tonight,” Merlin said. “Now, I’ve taken away enough of your holiday. Please enjoy the rest of the evening, but I would like to meet in the morning. Say ten at my office?”
Owen and I exchanged a look, then he said, “We’ll be there.”
“Rocky and Rollo will get you the rest of the way home,” Sam told us. He then addressed the two goofy gargoyles, emphasizing each word. “In. One. Piece.”
They saluted him. “Yes, sir, Sam, sir.”
“Oh, off with you,” Sam grumbled.
The drive from Times Square to my apartment near Union Square managed to be even more bizarre than the drive from the Eatons’ house into Manhattan. Owen gave Rocky directions for each turn, and then Rocky told Rollo when to drive or brake, so the entire drive was a flurry of, “Turn left at the next intersection. Ease up on the gas. BRAAAAAKE. Okay, now you can go. Then make another left. Stop, stop, stop! Go!” and so forth.
When we finally stopped in front of my building—one tire up on the curb and the fender inches from a tree—Owen said, “I’m close enough to home. I can walk from here, and you guys can take the rest of the night off.” He looked about as pale and shaky as I felt. Once we were safely on the sidewalk with our bags, I vowed never again to complain about New York taxi drivers. After the Town Car peeled out into traffic, to much honking of horns, and took the next corner on two wheels, Owen turned to me and said, “Do you want some help getting your bag upstairs?”
I was sorely tempted to say yes so I could then invite him in and try to salvage a little of what remained of Christmas, but my roommates would be getting home at any time now, and I knew he’d want to get home and study our latest problem. “No thanks,” I said reluctantly, “I’ve got it. I guess I’ll see you in the morning?”
“Yeah. I’ll come by around nine-twenty.”
“Okay.” I unlocked the front door, then turned back to face him. “Merry Christmas. And thanks for inviting me to go with you. Aside from the last hour or so, I really enjoyed it.”
“And I enjoyed having you there. It made things a lot easier.”
I would have hoped for a kiss, but I could tell he was distracted again, brooding over whatever had happened with that unveiling spell. After seeing James and Gloria, I understood better why physical affection wasn’t exactly second nature to him. I waved good-bye as he walked away, then picked up my bag and trudged up the stairs. The more time I spent around Owen and now his family, the dingier this stairwell seemed to me. I felt like I was entering a different world, or maybe going down to steerage on the Titanic after having been up on the first-class deck—and we know the steerage folks didn’t come out of that situation too well.
It was hard to believe I’d only been gone a little more than a day, the apartment felt so foreign to me. It was stiflingly hot, which meant my downstairs neighbor must have spent the day complaining to the super about being cold, and he didn’t want to be called again on a holiday. I opened every window in the apartment and traded Gemma’s cashmere for a T-shirt before I unpacked. As much as I’d joked about enjoying the time alone and changing the lock before they got back, the apartment felt empty without my roommates.