To Catch a Queen (2 page)

He didn’t hold out much hope, unless he’d piqued her curiosity enough to get her to stop dodging his calls. Maybe her sister would be able to reach her, he thought. Just then, his phone rang, with Emily Drake’s name on the caller ID. He shook his head as he took the call. Those Drake girls really were uncanny.

“Hey, Emily, what’s up?” he asked.

“I was wondering if you could look after Beau for me. I probably won’t make it home between the matinee and the evening show, and I might go out tonight. I don’t want to leave him there alone all that time.”

“No problem. I’ll stop by and get him when I get off work.”

“Thanks, you’re a lifesaver.”

“It’s funny, but I was just about to call you. Have you talked to Sophie lately?”

“We mostly exchange voice mails. But she hasn’t forgotten you. She
is
working on it.”

“I know.” He’d found the baked goods left on his kitchen table several times a week, noticed the missing wedding photo with a note left in its place. He had evidence that Sophie was still around. He just never saw or spoke to her. “But that’s not why I wanted to talk to her. I’m working on a case that falls into her area of expertise, and I wanted to pick her brain.”

“Homicidal ballerina?”

“No, her other area of expertise.”

“Huh. But I wouldn’t be surprised if one of those bunheads went postal. They’re pretty highly strung. If you can’t reach Sophie, maybe you could talk to Amelia and Athena. They probably know as much as Sophie does in that area.”

“Good idea. Thanks. And how are you doing? I hardly see you anymore, and you live right below me.”

“Well, you know, being a superstar keeps me busy.” He’d have bought that, considering that she was Broadway’s latest sensation, but her tone was a little too bright. She sounded like someone working hard to fake a normal good mood and overshooting the mark by a mile. That worried him. He’d promised Sophie to keep an eye on Emily after her sojourn in the fairy realm, and he didn’t think one could break a promise to Sophie Drake and escape lightly. He’d just recovered from one critical injury. He didn’t want to sustain another.

“Okay then, but take care of yourself, and let me know if you need anything other than dogsitting. If you talk to Sophie, ask her to call me.”

“Will do!” As he ended the call, he made a mental note to leave Sophie a message suggesting she check on her sister.

“You okay, Rev?” Mari asked, startling him out of his thoughts.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You look a little pale.”

“And you sound like your mother.”

“Ouch, that’s mean. But seriously, are you okay? Do you need to sit down and take a break?”

“I’m fine. Back to one hundred percent, cleared by the doctors and all. You don’t have to worry about me.”

They started heading toward the car. “Oh, but now that I’ve seen you bleeding and gasping for breath, the light fading from your eyes, there’s no going back. You’ll always be helpless and vulnerable to me.”

“Helpless, vulnerable, and armed,” he warned. “You know, if you went through the same thing I did, it would be a real bonding experience for us as partners. I could arrange that if you keep this up.”

“Yeah, but you’d try to counsel me and save my soul before you pulled the trigger,” she said, opening the passenger door of their sedan for him.

“I did that
once
. And it worked,” he shouted while leaning across to open the driver’s side door as she came around the car.

“And that’s why you’ll always be the Right Reverend Saint Michael,” she said, sliding into the driver’s seat. He braced himself as she took off and joined the flow of traffic. She was a native New Yorker who navigated the city streets like a veteran cabbie, so he never bothered asking to drive.

“So, whattaya think about this case, Rev?” she asked, expertly steering around a stopped bus and ignoring the symphony of car horns that followed her maneuver. “Murder or natural causes?”

“I suspect this is going to turn out to be a case for the fashion police, not us.” At least, that’s what it would look like to normal people if it turned out to be what he thought it was.

“Still, you’ve gotta love finding a geezer in disco gear in Central Park. I wonder if any clubs are doing a seventies night tonight. I’m suddenly in the mood for that. Want to join me?”

“No thanks. Not really my scene.”

“You know, it wouldn’t hurt you to get out. You’re only an old married man on paper.”

“It wasn’t my scene when I was single. And I do have plans. I won’t be sitting at home alone.”

“Yeah, I bet you’ve got a really rocking Bible study going on.”

“Something like that.” He couldn’t help but smile at the thought of how she’d react if she knew what he did have planned.

Maybelle, Louisiana

12:20 p.m. (Central Time)

Sophie Drake was on her way down the stairs when her phone rang. She paused to look at it, saw Michael Murray’s name on the display, winced, declined the call, and dropped the phone in her purse. “I’m working on it,” she muttered as she continued downstairs.

The coast seemed to be clear. She stuck her head into her grandmother’s room, saw that she was asleep, and nodded silently to the nurse before heading toward the kitchen. She had to suppress a groan when she saw her mother there, between her and the back door.

“And where are you off to?” her mother asked.

“I have some errands to run on the way to work.” Before her mother could come up with any questions, Sophie kissed her on the cheek and made for the door. It was true, technically. She’d just neglected to mention where the errands were. She was far past the age when she should be expected to account for her comings and goings to her mother, but it was easier than the scene that would result if she refused to explain.

She threw her dance bag into the front seat of her car, drove a mile down the road, and pulled off onto a dirt trail into the forest. She parked in a small clearing, took her bag, veiled the car with a glamour, and opened a gateway into the fairy realm—her Realm.

Sophie was still getting used to the idea that she was queen of the fairies, thanks to a distant ancestor who left the throne to become mortal. When the Realm needed a queen again, Sophie found herself on the throne, due to her blood and the knowledge passed down through generations. Until a couple of months ago, she’d been little more than a frustrated ballet teacher and a small-town society queen bee. Now she was the fairy queen and an enchantress on top of it. That was why she gave her mother excuses. This wasn’t the sort of thing that was easy to explain.

Her gateway took her to the gardens of a palace—her palace, she supposed, since that was where her throne and crown were. But she didn’t live there and had no desire to do so. In fact, once she’d fulfilled a promise, she doubted she’d come back, other than to make enough of an appearance to remind the fairies who she was.

Not that it was a bad palace. It was luxurious beyond imagination, as long as she didn’t look too closely. The throne room doors opened for her and she entered the vast space. The ceiling soared above her, the tall, narrow windows cast light on the marble floors, and far ahead stood the silver throne she’d won with her blood.

She spared a passing glance for the servant scrubbing the floors. Maeve’s golden beauty had dimmed somewhat, and Sophie would have felt at least a little bit bad for her if Maeve hadn’t been the reason for all this trouble. Maeve didn’t even look up from her work, but the other courtiers and servants all stopped at Sophie’s approach and bowed. There seemed to be fewer of them than on her last visit. She wasn’t sure how many of them were bound to the palace because of consuming enchanted food or drink there, since Maeve was the only one she’d seen drink, but it made sense that those who weren’t bound would drift away once they realized the palace wasn’t going to become the hub of power and social life in the Realm.

Most of the courtiers went back to what they were doing after she acknowledged them, but Sophie was gratified to see that one remained, smiling eagerly, like she was truly glad to see Sophie. She appeared to be a couple of years younger than Sophie and was much taller, but she still looked like she could be a distant relative. They had similar coloring, with reddish hair, fair skin, and blue eyes (half blue in Sophie’s case). That was what had got Jennifer Murray into this situation, when she’d been mistaken for Sophie’s sister and kidnapped to bait a trap for Sophie. “Your majesty, you’ve come back to us!” she said.

“Sophie,” Sophie corrected automatically. “And, yes, I want to have another of our chats.” She waved away the fairy man who hovered at the woman’s side and hooked her arm firmly through her elbow to lead her out of the throne room and down a hallway to a modest bedchamber. “Now, Jennifer, let’s have tea,” she said, once they were inside with the door closed.

“Emma. My name is Emma,” the woman corrected stubbornly.

“No, it’s not, and you haven’t even been using that name very long. Before you met my sister, you’d forgotten your name entirely. Your name is Jennifer, but people close to you called you Jen.” Ignoring Jen’s pout, Sophie took a thermos from her bag and poured cups of tea, then opened a small tin of cookies. “Here, drink your tea,” she said, her tone turning the invitation into an order.

Sophie made sure Jen drank at least one full cup of tea and ate several cookies. She thought while observing the other woman that it seemed to be working. Jen looked more human, more substantial after consuming the human food. If only her mind were changing, as well. Sophie noticed Jen’s gaze straying to the photo sitting on the table. It showed Jen in a bridal gown and veil next to a tall, dark-haired man in a police dress uniform. “Do you remember him now?” Sophie asked gently.

“I remember he was in the market, and he came to help take Emily home,” Jen said, but Sophie was sure she was lying. Jen had a touch of fondness in her eyes when she looked at the photo.

“He’s your husband. He misses you. Don’t you remember marrying him?”

Jen’s face softened further. “I–I don’t know,” she whispered, her voice distant. Almost as though she was channeling a spirit from the ether, she said dreamily, “It took him three tries to get the wedding ring on my finger, his hands were shaking so badly. I thought he’d drop it.” The faintest trace of a smile crossed her lips. “He’s so brave about things like murderers and criminals, but a wedding terrified him. His brothers teased him about being afraid of commitment, but I think he was scared because he takes commitment so very seriously.”

That he does,
Sophie thought to herself. It was a rare man who’d remain faithful and keep wearing a wedding band nearly seven years after his wife’s disappearance. But she didn’t dare speak out loud. She didn’t want to break the spell. This was what she’d been working toward for the past two months. She’d never be able to get Jen out of the Realm if she didn’t want to go, and Michael was the one thing that might make her want to leave.

“I wonder what he thinks of me,” Jen asked, her voice cracking.

“He wants you back home with him,” Sophie said. “I could take you to him.” She held her breath, waiting for the response. Was this the moment of truth?

“I—I don’t know,” Jen stammered, looking away. “I don’t think I can go.”

“I could help,” Sophie said gently, leaning forward and placing a hand on Jen’s wrist. Jen seemed so close that it wouldn’t take much to push her in the right direction, just a little mental nudge. It was so tempting. A few months ago, she wouldn’t have thought twice about it—wouldn’t even have realized she was doing it. She just took it for granted that people did what she wanted. Then she’d learned that her other notable ancestor had been the enchanter for whom the fairy queen left her throne, and that one of his legacies was the ability to bend things to her will. Now she felt acutely conscious of the effect she had on people.

No, it wouldn’t be right, she decided. The only way this would work was if Jen decided of her own free will. How much free will she actually had while in the fairy realm was another question entirely, but Sophie was fairly certain that the magic that might allow her to return to the real world wouldn’t work if she hadn’t truly made the decision on her own. It might be worth looking into, just in case. She was running out of time and needed to cover all possible angles.

“You don’t have to worry about that today,” she said lightly, lifting her hand from Jen’s and pulling away. “Think about it, though. Try to remember Michael. I could bring you more pictures.” Unfortunately, that would mean talking to him in person. She didn’t feel bad about taking something that was in plain view on a bookcase, but she drew the line at rummaging through his apartment when he wasn’t there.

“No, this is enough,” Jen said, her eyes straying to the wedding photo. “I remember this.”

“You could remember more.” The urgency in Sophie’s voice surprised her and seemed to startle Jen, and Sophie forced herself to dial it down a notch. She was so close that it would be a shame to sabotage her own efforts by scaring the poor woman. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly before nudging the tin of cookies across the table. “I’ve got to go now, but you can keep these. Have one whenever you like, and if you want more, I can bring some.” They were her very best recipe, and she’d never met anyone who could stop at just one. She hoped they’d be enough to tempt someone accustomed to fairy food. Maybe if Jen ate them regularly instead of just during Sophie’s visits, it would help.

Jen looked up at her like she knew there was something she was supposed to say, but then her eyes clouded. “You’re welcome,” Sophie prodded, adding, “It’s okay to thank me. I’m human, so I don’t have issues with that.” She gave a little laugh that she hoped didn’t sound as fake as it felt. “In fact, I’m from the South, so I
expect
to be thanked. A written note wouldn’t be entirely out of place. Now, I’ll drop in on you tomorrow, if I can.”

“Th–thank you,” Jen whispered, choking out the unfamiliar words.