Much Ado About Magic (32 page)

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Authors: Shanna Swendson

Tags: #Romance, #Paranormal

BOOK: Much Ado About Magic
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He held my hands a moment longer, then said, “Are you ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” On impulse, I stood on my toes and threw my arms around his neck to give him a tight hug. “You will be careful,” I whispered into his ear, making it an order.

He hugged me in response. “I will. Trust me, I have no desire to end up back in one of those cells.”

“I’d better go down first and scope out the situation,” I said. “I’m pretty sure I wasn’t followed, but they saw me come here yesterday and may be on the lookout. You sit tight, and I’ll call the room when the coast is clear.”

I was glad I’d thought of checking out the situation because there were black-clad men at every exit in the lobby, and I didn’t think they were doormen. Before I could sneak out of the lobby, one looked directly at me.
Oh, crap
, I thought. We were trapped. I couldn’t even act like this was just another visit to Nita because they’d seen me leaving the elevators. They had to know Owen was hiding somewhere in the hotel.

Nita was my only hope. Maybe she knew another way out of the hotel. Pasting on a carefree smile, I went up to Nita’s station at the registration desk and said, “Surprise!”

“Hey, you!” she said with a grin, then she looked at me and frowned. “What’s with the look? Surely you know better than to go out in public looking like that. We have got to go shopping. I’m off Saturday afternoon. Put it in your calendar, in ink. Don’t argue with me, Katie. This is an intervention for your own good.”

I glanced down at my tourist gear. “This is actually for that event I was telling you about.”

“Oh, the secret celebrity thing?” She made a face like she was smelling something nasty. “You poor thing, having to dress like that around a big star.”

“He’s dressed like this, too. Speaking of which, he’s got a thing about crowded hotel lobbies, and I have to get him to this event, but he doesn’t want to come down with all these people here, and the event’s going to start soon, so I’m desperate.” I dropped my voice to just above a whisper and leaned forward. “Plus, there are a couple of people in this lobby who are on my list of people to look out for. One’s a tabloid reporter and the other is a known industrial spy who works for our competition. Can you think of a way to get us out of here without being seen?”

You’d have thought I’d offered her an audience with Sarah Jessica Parker from the way she reacted. “You need me to help sneak a celebrity out of the hotel?” she gasped. “Oh, wow! I’ve always dreamed of something like this. I started coming up with plans as soon as I came to work here. Just go back up to the room and leave this to me.”

I glanced over my shoulder and noticed that the men were still watching me. “Can you think of a way I could get up there without them following me?”

“Which guys are you worried about?” I pointed them out by location, since I didn’t know what they might be doing magically to change their appearance. She nodded. “Okay, got it.” Then she picked up the phone and punched a button. “Hi, Javier, it’s Nita at the front desk. We’ve got an Operation Smile in progress. Phase one, you know what to do.”

It was like watching a room full of undercover CIA operatives spring into action. An overburdened bellboy hurrying across the lobby tripped and dropped several suitcases—including one that fell open and spilled a cascade of lacy lingerie—right at the feet of one of the men. Meanwhile, one of the front desk clerks coming back from a coffee break bumped into the other guy and spilled his drink. I took advantage of the diversions and ran for the elevators.

I found an anxious Owen pacing in the room. “What took you so long?” he asked.

“They’re here in the lobby. Nita’s coming up with a way to sneak us out.”

“You got Nita into this?”

“Remember, she thinks you’re a celebrity traveling incognito.” I chewed on my lower lip and looked at him. “I don’t suppose you could do a Bruce Springsteen illusion.”

“I’m not sure what he looks like.”

“You don’t know what Bruce Springsteen looks like?”

“I’m not really into music. I could probably pick him out of a lineup if you showed me pictures, but I couldn’t begin to describe him, and I can’t do an illusion without having a specific mental picture of what I want to look like.”

Now that I thought about it, I wasn’t sure I could describe Bruce Springsteen well enough to create an illusion. “Well, then, just do something that makes you not obviously Owen, in case Nita gets involved personally. You don’t need to fool the enforcers, just Nita.”

“What is she doing?”

“I have no idea, but apparently she had contingency plans.”

There was a knock at the door, then a voice called, “Housekeeping. Nita at the front desk sent me.” I opened the door to find a hotel maid and a large laundry cart. She gestured at the cart. “Hop in and cover yourselves.”

Owen and I exchanged glances, then he shrugged. “After you.” He gave me a boost into the cart and then swung himself over the side. We pulled a layer of sheets on top of ourselves as the maid got the cart rolling.

I heard elevator doors open and close, and then had a sinking feeling as we went down. The cart was a bit cramped with the two of us in there, but there were enough towels at the bottom to cushion us. “I had no idea celebrity life was so glamorous,” I whispered to Owen.

The elevator came to a stop, then the doors opened and the cart moved again. A moment later, it stopped and the maid’s voice said, “You can come out now.”

We threw off the sheets and climbed out of the cart to find ourselves in the hotel’s laundry room. The laundry staff applauded us, and I hoped Owen had thought to put up some kind of illusion because Nita was there, too. “Yay! It worked!” she said. “Now, we’ll go out through the kitchen. There’s a service entrance there.”

She guided us out of the laundry area and down a dark, narrow hallway. “I don’t think they’re on to us,” she said as we ran. Then we crossed another corridor, and I saw men in black at the other end.

“They’re on to us now,” I said, and we picked up speed.

We hit the swinging doors into the kitchen at a full run, Nita shouting, “Code red!”

The people nearest us immediately threw white chef’s coats over our clothes and bustled us deeper into the kitchen. I eyed a rack of knives and wondered if it would come to that, but Nita’s plan apparently covered this sort of situation. When the men in black entered the kitchen, an angry chef was on them in an instant, berating them for violating his inner sanctum. Meanwhile, the kitchen erupted into chaos, with people running back and forth carrying knives, pans of hot food, and dirty pots. Under cover of this mayhem, Nita hustled us out another door and into a small alley.

“The gate to the service entrance is open, and there’s a car waiting there for you,” she said as we handed her the chef’s coats.

“Thanks so much, Nita,” I said.

“Glad to be of service.” She gave Owen a saucy wink. “I’m a huge fan. Not that I have any idea who you are, of course.” With another wink, she was gone, and we ran to the metal gate at the end of the alley.

A limousine waited there, the driver holding the door for us. We dove inside, he shut the door behind us, and then he went around to the driver’s side and got in. “City Hall,” I called out through the window to the driver’s compartment. “And make sure we’re not followed.”

“In this traffic, that may not be easy, but I’ll see if I can confuse them,” he said. “Now sit back and enjoy the ride.”

I collapsed against the seat back and caught my breath. Owen took off his cap and sunglasses and rubbed his forehead. “I’ll have to be sure to leave a huge tip when I check out,” he said. “That was hotel service above and beyond the call of duty. Do they really have contingency plans for sneaking celebrities out?”

“I don’t know if the hotel does, but Nita’s been living for this, I’m sure. I’m impressed that she’s already got the whole hotel working with her on it. Her dad may be right. She’ll be running the place before long.”

He found a bottle of water in a cooler and handed it to me, then opened one for himself. After a long drink, he said, “You’ve got to admit, this beats taking the subway.”

“And it may be harder to track us this way. How will they know we’re in here?”

The limo wove in and out of traffic on the way downtown, making a few abrupt turns along the way. Finally, the car stopped. “City Hall,” the driver said. “I haven’t noticed anyone following us, and there doesn’t seem to be anyone here waiting for us.”

Owen paid him for the ride while I scoped out the area. The fact that the driver didn’t see anyone didn’t mean anything. I wouldn’t feel safe until
I
knew no one was there. But there was no one to see—no men in black, no Mr. Bones. We might stand a chance.

As the limo drove away, I turned to Owen. “Do you have any idea which monument the stuff is in?”

“None whatsoever, but this is supposed to lead me to it.” He took his mother’s key out of his pocket and drew the tip of it across his thumb, drawing blood, which he then smeared on the key. The key began glowing softly in his palm. “Let’s hope this works,” he said. He closed his hand around the key and paused, like he was listening for something, then said, “This way.”

While he followed whatever signals the key was giving him, I kept an eye out for any possible pursuers. “I’m glad your mother thought of sending you a magical divining rod because there are dozens of monuments to everyone and his or her dog in this park. And wasn’t the park renovated not too long ago? Things have probably been moved.”

Instead of answering, he moved faster, and I had to hurry to keep up with him. Soon, he was on his knees in the grass, next to a brass plaque on a stone base. He touched the key to the plaque, then the plaque popped open. In a cavity underneath was a manila envelope. Owen reached in and pulled it out, then the plaque slid back into place. He hurried to open the envelope, and I leaned over his shoulder to see what was in it.

“There you are, Palmer,” a voice said. “Turn around with your hands up.”

Instead of turning, Owen grabbed the hem of my T-shirt and shoved his hands under it, sliding the envelope under there. I instinctively wrapped my arms around my middle to keep it in place. He stuck the key in my pocket, then he hissed, “You know what to do.”

He jumped to his feet and ran toward the man, startling him. That gave me a second to get up and run in the opposite direction, toward the office. There were shouts behind me and the sound of a struggle, but I forced myself not to look back. That was the downfall of women in every horror or action movie ever made, and I’d sworn I wouldn’t ever do the same thing if I were being chased. It grew harder and harder to keep my focus forward when I heard what sounded like blows landing behind me and when I became aware of running footfalls nearby.

I clasped the envelope tighter to me as I felt someone clutch at my shirt. There was a rushing sound from above, zooming over my head, and then I heard something hit the ground behind me. “It’s okay, sweetheart, I got your back. Just keep runnin’,” Sam’s voice said.

I was gasping for breath, and still I had to keep going. Sam and his security gargoyles fought off a few pursuers, and then we neared the street. “Sam, the light!” I panted. I’d be taking my life into my own hands to dart across that street against the light, but I couldn’t stop and wait for a walk signal with people chasing me.

“I got it, doll!” he cried out, flying ahead. The moment I reached the curb, the light changed. There was a squeal of tires and a chorus of honks, but I ignored them and dashed across the street. Then I faced the mob of protesters. If they were all controlled by the charms and amulets, that meant they’d likely try to stop me. I got a firmer grasp on the envelope under my shirt as Sam dive-bombed them, but there were too many for him to fight off. Hands clutched at my clothes, pulled off my hat, tried to grab my arms. Keeping one arm around my waist, I struck out and kicked, fighting in sheer animal desperation.

There was a crack of thunder and a roar of wind, and soon the crowd was being pushed away from me by an invisible force. I looked up to see Merlin standing, staff in hand, in front of the MSI doors. Sobbing with relief, I stumbled toward him. He escorted me into the building with an arm around my shoulders. The sound of those doors shutting behind me was more joyous to my ears than Christmas carols.

I turned to Merlin, words pouring out of me in fits and starts. “Owen, they got him, back in the park.”

Merlin said calmly, “Intervening at this point would endanger my position on the Council, and I need to hold that position to be able to help Owen. I hope he had a good reason for leaving his place of safety.”

I pulled the envelope out from under my shirt. “So do I. It all depends on what’s inside this.”

“Let us go to my office and find out.”

He got me settled on the sofa in his office, where I got a sudden bad case of the shakes. He went to make tea, giving me a moment to pull myself together. I wanted to go to the windows to see what was happening in the park, but I knew Owen would be long gone by now. They’d probably zapped him to wherever the magic jail was the moment they brought him down. The only way I could help him now was to use the information he’d risked his freedom to find—and that his mother had probably lost her life for hiding.

I was a little less shaky by the time Merlin brought tea to me. At least, the cup only rattled slightly against the saucer when I held it. I took a few sips before telling Merlin what the letter had said and why Owen had to go to the park. “He opened the envelope before he gave it to me, I guess in case she’d sealed it magically.”

“That was very good thinking under pressure,” Merlin said with an approving smile. He picked up the envelope and pulled out its contents. It looked like a lot of documents, some on carbon paper, with a few Polaroid photographs, some regular snapshots, and a couple of cassette tapes. I didn’t know enough about the magical world to know exactly what any of it meant, but Merlin whistled softly under his breath as he read.

“So, is it what we need?” I finally asked when I couldn’t stand the suspense any longer.

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