Must Be Magic (9 page)

Kerry
plopped down in her chair—a place that conjured up more images to distract
her—and pulled the ledger toward her. She straightened up the stack of receipts
and started going through them one at a time. Glancing up from time to time,
she always saw the brunette hovering close to Myghal. Her mouth moved, but
Kerry had no idea what she might be saying. Well, she had an idea, but she
didn’t
know
. That woman had been out there all afternoon. What else
could she want except Myghal?

Kerry
became absorbed in making columns of numbers balance, quite a while passed
until she looked up for the last time before snapping the book shut. She rubbed
her neck and stared out the window.

Shadows had lengthened
considerably as the sun moved lower in the sky. She’d spent more time on the
books than she meant to, but at least she’d done most of her work. She rested
her elbows on the desk and rubbed her neck while gazing out across the rows and
rows of potted shrubs.

She couldn’t see anyone, not even
Myghal. Perhaps she could close early and make up to him what she’d denied them
earlier. Turning him down hadn’t been easy for her, but he’d seemed really
disappointed.

Kerry stood and walked outside
her office area. Pushing leafy plants aside, she looked outside. From here, she
had a good view of the parking area. No vehicles of any kind. So, the leggy
brunette had finally given up. Kerry smiled triumphantly and turned away. She
spent the better part of an hour straightening up the greenhouse.

When everything was put away, she
wondered why Myghal hadn’t come in. Surely he’d finished rearranging all the
outside plants by now. She left the greenhouse and stood on the path to the
toolshed, looking over her grounds, but Myghal was nowhere to be seen.

Kerry wondered if he could have
possibly been hurt or sick and lying among the plants or statuary. She ran back
inside for a flashlight and jacket. It was almost twilight and the air had
cooled considerably.

By the time she’d searched
between every row of shrubs and behind every stack of bags of mulch and
fertilizer and even every corner of the front building and toolshed, night had
fallen. Where could Myghal have gone?

The
image of the leggy brunette with the seductive smile exploded in her mind.

Just a
few hours ago, she would have sworn that Myghal was not the kind of man who
would just walk out on her without a word. She hadn’t thought he would walk out
at all because there was a connection between them. She didn’t understand it,
but it was real. Even Myghal said he felt it.

But
she’d looked everywhere on her property and hadn’t found an injured or ill
Myghal. He said he didn’t know anybody else here. Where else could he have
gone?

The only answer was with the
brunette.

Kerry closed her eyes against the
burn of unshed tears. She felt like an idiot, a gullible fool. Myghal had just
appeared out of nowhere into her life. Why wouldn’t he disappear just as
easily? He’d never made her any promises. They’d known each other a little over
twenty-four hours.

So why
did it hurt so much?

With
tears scalding her cheeks, Kerry ran inside long enough to grab her purse. She
ran through the gates and locked them behind her. Behind the wheel of her car,
she swiped tears away as she stabbed at the ignition.

Myghal
was gone.

Chapter Thirteen

“Lady Kerry,” the Gnome said with
bowed head as he removed his cap. “I am Gomit, your humble servant.”

Kerry stumbled back in surprise.
She bumped into the side of the small front building. She blinked at the little
man who was dressed just like the taller garden Gnome statues she had for sale.

Myghal leaving her must have
cracked her mind. She’d spent a sleepless, restless night, her body enflamed
with need and aching for Myghal. She’d come to work, hoping to find him here,
that he’d wandered away for some reason and got lost but somehow found his way
back again. But he hadn’t been here when she arrived, her eyes red and swollen
from weeping, and he didn’t show up all day. She’d resigned herself to the fact
that Myghal had gotten what he wanted until a better offer came along. Namely,
the leggy brunette.

The day had dragged by. She’d
been about to go home when the garden Gnome introduced himself to her. Kerry
didn’t know whether to scream or run. All she could manage was a whimper. The
Gnome continued talking.

“’Tis regretful I am to inform
you that his royal highness, Prince Myghal, has been captured by a despicable
Troll.”

“Wh-Wh—” Kerry clamped her lips
together and swallowed hard. The little man dressed like a Gnome spoke English,
and she heard every word he said, but none of it made sense. Servant, royalty,
captured… Prince Myghal? “Wh-What are you t-talking about?” she was finally
able to sputter. “Wh-Who are you?”

“Gomit,
at your service. ‘Tis a shock, I understand. Prince Myghal hadn’t a chance to
tell you everything, indeed. I—”

“Why
are you calling him
prince
?” Kerry was surprised she was able to speak a
whole sentence without stopping to catch her breath. “What is he prince of? And
by captured, do you mean he’s been kidnapped?”

“Aye,
Lady Kerry.”

“Oh.”
She breathed easy for the first time since she’d found Myghal gone. But she
immediately tightened up again. She shouldn’t feel relief. He hadn’t left her,
but had been kidnapped.

“’Tis sorry I am to admit my part
in the deed, but my liege, General Gorgicz, instructed this worthless servant
to play along with the Troll but to thwart him at the first opportunity.”

“General Gorg—And a Troll.” Kerry
pressed against the brick.

The
Gnome seemed harmless enough and subservient enough, but she had yet to wrap
her mind around the fact that one of her Gnome statues had come to life. No,
that was impossible. The Gnome just happened to look like the statues
because…well, because he was a Gnome. And he was telling a wild tale about a
man who might be a prince that she had just met and fallen head over heels in
lust with two days ago.

What
was she supposed to do? Stand here and listen to a Gnome? Yes, because he said
Myghal had been kidnapped.

“’Tis a
long story, Lady, and time is of the essence, if I understand the Prince’s
situation correctly. If you please, I’ll tell you what I know.”

Kerry
drew in a deep, shaky breath. “It would please me greatly. If you’ll come in
the greenhouse, you can tell me all about it.”

Gomit
followed behind her, cap still in hand. She glanced back at him while she led
the way, but he was doing nothing more than pumping his short legs to keep up
with her. She slowed her walk the rest of the way.

Inside,
she flipped on the lights. She went to her desk and fell into her chair. She
hadn’t realized how weak her legs were until that moment. She offered him the
extra chair and he climbed into the seat.

“Maybe
you should start at the beginning,” Kerry suggested.

“’Twould
take all night, I fear. Besides, some of it’s not my place to tell. I’ll be
brief as I can. The Troll, Tredje, and I were sent to prevent Prince Myghal
from taking y—”

“Prince?”
Kerry interrupted. “Myghal never told me he was a prince. Prince of what?”

“Prince of Pixieland, a part of
the Faerie Realm.”

“Pixieland?”
Kerry’s tone rose in disbelief. “Myghal has to be over six feet tall. Trust me,
there’s nothing pixie about him.”

Gomit’s
gnarled face split into a grin. “Aye, but his royal highness is indeed Prince
of the Pixies. The old Prince, Myghal’s father, died over three months ago.
Myghal, being his only child, inherited the title. And the responsibilities.
Unlike most royalty in your human realm, rulers actually rule their domains in
the Faerie Realm.”

“I
see.” Then Kerry shook her head. “No, I don’t really see at all. I’m supposed
to believe this, but if it were coming from someone other than one of my garden
Gnomes, I’d have called the police already.”

“Nay,
Lady. Your humble servant isn’t one of your statues come to life. My home is
far away from here.”

“Right.
Okay. Let’s get back to Myghal. You say he’s been kidnapped. By a Troll.” Kerry
couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of her mouth.

“Aye. The Faerie King sent word
that Prince Myghal was to be stopped from bringing you to the Faerie Realm
before the Equinox at all cost. Tredje tried once to kidnap you, but—”

“Tredje?”

“Aye.
Tredje the Troll.”

“Of
course. And the Equinox is…” Kerry pulled her desk calendar closer. “Tomorrow.
Why would Myghal need to take me to the Faerie Realm before the Equinox?”

Gomit squirmed in his seat and
ducked his head. “I couldn’t say, Lady. But the Gnomes and Trolls and some
other Faerie Realm folk who live in your world are expected to do King Norfe’s
bidding even though we consider ourselves independent from the Faerie Realm.”

The little Gnome’s tale was
getting more and more complicated, and Kerry’s suspension of disbelief was
wearing thin. This had to be some trick? But who would be playing it on her?
And why? April Fool’s was another two weeks away.

“I don’t mean to be rude, but
could you please not get into Mother Goose’s political agendas.” She said it
with a smile, but she felt as if she was being had. Possibly by Myghal himself.
He’d been dressed like a Leprechaun, after all. Strike that. In light of what
Myghal had told her and Gomit had just confirmed, Myghal had been dressed like
a Pixie. No wonder he’d had no interest in the contest across the street.

“Aye, Lady Kerry. As I said, instructions
came from King Norfe to stop Prince Myghal from taking you into the Faerie
Realm at all cost. The Trolls sent Tredje, and our leader, General Gorgicz,
sent me. What the Trolls don’t know is that we Gnomes have been in service to
the Pixies since longer than any of us can remember. We are bound by honor to
serve the Pixies before the Faeries. The allegiance goes back so far that even
our Elders don’t remember why, but we believe the Pixie Prince at that time did
a great deed for the Gnomes, and we are obligated to repay the kindness until
the end of time.”

“I understand,” Kerry said. The
quiet dignity of the homely little Gnome touched her deeply.

“Then
you understand why I joined with Tredje, just to upset his plans and help in my
small way. I’ve managed to convince Tredje that I’m dim-witted and clumsy so he
hasn’t relied on me too much.” Gomit sighed heavily. “I daresay a Pixie Prince
has helped them out a time or two, but Trolls have no honor.”

While
part of her found his tale ludicrous, another part of her was beginning to
believe. The little man sitting in a chair in front of her was not merely a
midget in a Gnome costume. His features were unlike anything she’d ever seen on
a human being. Yellow eyes, nose, mouth, and jaw were smashed or out of alignment.
And everything he said meshed with what she knew about Myghal—little as it was.

Now, she started to worry about
Myghal. If the Faerie King commanded they stop Myghal at all cost, and if the
Troll had no honor, this Tredje might kill Myghal.

He must have read the concern on
her face because he smiled a little. “Tredje is too lazy to expend the energy
to hurt the Prince and too vain to think his plan of holding him captive will
fail. I can distract Tredje, but you’ll have to free the Prince. The Troll
mustn’t know I’ve helped the Prince or I would do it myself. The Gnomes’
honor-bound liege to the Pixies has to remain a secret in case another occasion
should arise when our help is needed.”

Kerry ran a hand through her
hair. The surreal quality of the past few days since meeting Myghal had
increased tenfold. “I thought all you fairy-tale type people had powers. Why
couldn’t Myghal just zap the Troll or something?”

Gomit
shook his head. “It’s not that easy in this realm. We Gnomes have never had any
special powers. And here, the Pixies have almost no magic. The Prince is as
vulnerable as any human. The Troll has a bit of limited magic. When he uses it,
he has to take the time to recover his energy before he can use it again.”

“All
right.” Obviously, there were rules that had never made it into any book of
fairy-tales Kerry had ever read. “Where is the Troll holding him?”

“In
Tredje’s dwelling beneath the bridge across the street.”

“At Sir Plantsalot? You mean,
Trolls really do live under bridges?”

Gomit’s
eyes widened, showing how startlingly yellow the irises were. Not golden-yellow
or amber-yellow, but bright buttercup-yellow. And now, Kerry realized, it was
more than the unusual color. The pupils were vertically slitted, like the eyes
of a reptile.

“Of
course. Where else would Trolls live? Most are too lazy to do more than sleep
in the rushes underneath. But Tredje has been uncommonly industrious in this
case. He has excavated an extensive series of tunnels and chambers in the
embankment between the two bridges. He says you must always go into his
dwelling beneath the bridge marked ‘enter’ and leave beneath the bridge marked
‘exit’. He’s quite proud to have two bridges to himself, especially near a
castle, even if it isn’t real. Castles are quite a rarity in this country.”