No Quest For The Wicked
Page 60

“I still don’t work for you,” I said with a shrug. “I never said I worked for any of the event companies. I’m here for another purpose.”
“I knew it!” she shrieked. “That crazy gossip blogger is trying to ruin me! He sent you here to infiltrate the place, didn’t he?” She dove at me, grabbing my shirt collar and getting right in my face. “Tell me, you little bitch!”
“Takes one to know one,” I said, locking my eyes onto hers, which was easy because they were only a few inches away. It would have been difficult to focus on anything else.
She straightened, released my collar, and drew back a hand as though to slap me, and that was exactly the wrong thing to do. For one thing, all the event staff had stopped what they were doing to watch the show, and I got the feeling that if she actually went through with the slap, she’d never be able to put on an event in this city, ever again. For another, my boyfriend was standing right behind her, watching her sternly after he’d ended his call to Rod, and he was immune to magic, so the protection of the Knot didn’t affect him as long as he didn’t use a weapon. She’d barely raised her hand before he jumped forward and grabbed her wrist.
But most important, she’d threatened me in the presence of my grandmother, and Granny did not take kindly to people messing with her grandbabies. I’d known that Granny wasn’t as feeble as she sometimes pretended to be, but I had no idea how fast she could move. She’d have made a reasonable showing in the hundred-meter dash at the Olympics. Almost before Owen grabbed Mimi’s wrist, Granny had managed to cross the room to insert herself between us.
I would have liked to fight my own battle instead of letting my grandmother come to my defense, but there was no stopping Granny when she got her dander up. This would be a world championship-level bitch-off, the wily old battleaxe squaring off against the entitled control freak. Mimi didn’t stand a chance.
“You keep your cotton-picking hands to yourself, missy,” Granny snapped, waving her cane for emphasis. “This is no way to treat people. Don’t you know you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar? Besides, people with real power don’t have to act like bullies. If you really were as powerful as you think you are, you wouldn’t have to say anything. They’d just do things for you because they’d want to please you. You’re only showing off your weakness.”
Muffled laughter spread throughout the courtyard as the bullied staff got their vicarious revenge. I gave myself a moment to enjoy the epic battle, then returned my focus to the mission. Owen still had Mimi’s right hand in his grasp, so her pocket was unprotected. I darted around Granny and reached for the pocket.
I wasn’t the only one who’d had that thought. Sylvester and Lyle simultaneously lunged toward Mimi, deflecting my attempt. Meanwhile, the puritan minion knocked Owen aside. Owen refused to let go of Mimi’s wrist, so he took her down with him when he fell. The minion brought the side of his hand down on Owen’s wrist, forcing him to release Mimi. Mimi straightened, rubbing her wrist, then put her hand back in her pocket. I’d lost yet another chance at the brooch.
Owen was still on the floor. He pulled the tranquilizer dart from his shirt pocket, made eye contact with me to warn me he was about to act, then raised the dart and aimed it at the back of the minion’s leg.
But Sylvester got in the way, making yet another go at the brooch. He didn’t seem to be acting rationally anymore. There was no thought or plan, only raw need. His eyes blazed feverishly, and sweat dripped down his face as he clawed at Mimi’s pocket, his fingers brushing against thin air an inch away—before he toppled over to lie face-down on the ground. He’d moved so quickly that Owen hadn’t had a chance to pull the dart back. That meant we had only one dart left, but at least we’d learned that they worked on elves.
Mimi scrambled backward as Sylvester fell at her feet. If she’d seen past my disguise illusion, that meant she’d also seen the elves as they really were. No wonder she’d assumed they were the band. If she didn’t know that magical races existed, then that was probably the only explanation she could think of for people with pointy ears and slanted eyebrows. The notorious oddness of musicians covered a lot of quirks.
“What is going on here?” Mimi screamed. “Why is everyone attacking me? It’s sabotage, isn’t it? They’re trying to ruin my event.”
“You can expect that sort of thing when you treat people the way you do,” Granny said. “You make enemies, and eventually they’ll find each other and team up against you. Happens all the time.”