3. Let the Ice Skating Commence
1198 Words
3
Let the Ice Skating Commence
Ms. Andrews, this is no small matter.” Cornelius stared at me across the vast expanse of his stodgy wooden desk. “However benevolent their name may appear to make them, FGs are a relatively unknown quantity and therefore dangerous. They don’t mingle with enhanced communities, so we have very little intel on them.”
I frowned. “But—”
“There was magical interference with the Society headquarters’ security. Of FG origin. This is a fact.” Cornelius continued to stare at me.
“But—”
“No, Ms. Andrews.”
I jiggled my foot and nodded like I was in agreement with the crazy words coming out of Cornelius’s mouth. When I was fairly certain I’d lulled him with my fakery, I blurted out, “But fairy godmothers!”
Cornelius turned to Alex. “You said you’d take care of this.” And then he made the same all-encompassing gesture that Alex had made in the car, I supposed indicating my general state of excitement.
Puh-lease. As if anyone—everyone, the entire world!—wouldn’t be excited.
Except for Cornelius and Alex.
But everyone else would be excited. So excited.
Because fairy godmothers.
I grew up in the age of romanticized fairy tales. It wasn’t like I’d read the Brothers Grimm versions—or worse, the French varieties—as a kid. My childhood fairy tales had been all Disney-glossed and shiny.
I wanted to believe in the sparkly, happy kind of magic. The kind that didn’t make vampires sociopaths (with some exceptions, naturally), or golems creatures made from bits and pieces of human corpses, or wizards susceptible to possession by evil spirits, or…well, the list of less-than-sparkly magic was long.
Was it so terrible that I wanted the magic of my childhood to be real?
Why couldn’t they let me have this one shiny, happy thing?
Oh, right. Because this was an active case.
Nuts. I hated when reality conflicted with the way I preferred to view the world. It was seriously annoying.
“Fine. I get it. Fairy godmothers—FGs—aren’t necessarily the good guys. But you know, we can’t be sure they’re the bad guys, either.” If I was going to think about real fairy godmothers as anything other than wondrous, wish-granting creatures, then FGs they would be.
Alex placed a hand on the back of my neck. “Which is why we’ll be investigating with an open mind.”
“Not too open,” Cornelius replied. “Star and two other witches spent half a day resetting the headquarters’ security system. Witch protections are not cheap.”
Not cheap, but the witch protection work had also been unplanned. Cornelius disliked spending money, but he abhorred unplanned expenses.
“Was there any evidence of unauthorized access while security was down?” Alex asked. “On the video feeds or otherwise?”
“None that we’ve discovered, but until we’ve apprehended and questioned the perpetrator, we can’t be certain what happened during the few hours headquarters was vulnerable.”
Umm, questioned? Cornelius wanted to interrogate a fairy godmother? Images of sweet-faced fairies decked out in glittery finery danced in my head.
That really didn’t sound good. As in, was a terrible idea. What if he was mean to her? Who was I kidding? Of course he would be mean to her. This was Cornelius. The man had next-level interrogation skills.
The slight pressure on the back of my neck—more of a massage than a warning squeeze, but with the same result—reminded me that I was keeping a (sort of) open mind. That I wasn’t assuming fairy godmothers were all benevolence and sugar cookies. Because I was a grown-up assigned to an official Society case.
Cornelius pointed a finger at Alex. “Usual rates apply.” He looked at me. “You, however, Ms. Andrews, are taking the case for free.”
This time, Alex’s fingers were definitely squeezing a warning. Like I’d negotiate with Cornelius when an expert was in the room.
Though I’d totally meet a fairy godmother for free. Uh, I mean take this case for free.
But experience sealed my mouth shut. I’d come out the loser when dealing with Cornelius five times over, at least, including the time I’d accidentally-on-purpose drawn Tangwystl against him. Yep, Alex could definitely handle my fee negotiation.
“You’ll cover her expenses in addition to mine, and you’ll pay her half the going rate.”
Cornelius grunted. “A quarter.”
“A third, but expenses are covered.”
With a frown that was at odds with the amused twinkle in his eye, Cornelius said, “Agreed, assuming you’re amenable to those terms, Ms. Andrews?”
Sheesh, he really was annoyed, holding firm with the Ms. Andrews schtick. Although, was he? There was that twinkle…
“I agree to the terms.” And just to mess with him, I extended my hand. A big no-no in the enhanced community and an extra-special bad idea for me, since I’d accidentally bound myself and my handshaker (Alfred) and pinky-swearer (Alex) to magical contracts in the past.
Cornelius snorted, and he did not shake my hand.
He stood, clearly dismissing us lesser beings from his exalted presence.
Before we exited his office, Cornelius said, “Ah. One additional matter. Reimbursement for the protections that were reset. Ten percent commission if you collect the total from the perpetrator.”
He named a terrifyingly large sum of money, and Alex agreed.
Once we were in the hallway, I whistled. “I keep telling you, Alex, witches have the best magic.”
He arched an eyebrow but didn’t comment.
Well, then. Someone was in a mood. He always defended the superiority of wizardly magic when I brought up my love of the witchy variety.
He ducked into a small office a few feet further down the hall, tugging me with him.
Following behind, I glanced around the room just long enough to see we were alone. I didn’t have time for more, because…
Alex kissed me.
And not a peck. He kissed me like he hadn’t seen me in a week—in other words, very, very thoroughly. Very.
Just a hint, there was a tiny bit more than kissing. There was a little, um, ah, we’ll call it cuddling.
And then?
Then he told me he loved me.
For the first time.
The man tells me he loves me, for the first time, in a random office in the Society’s headquarters, the least romantic location in all the locations ever.
Except, no, that’s not quite right. Because this wasn’t some random office. Nope. This was mean Mr. Clean’s office.
And how would I know that?
Because Anton, aka mean Mr. Clean, walked in on us canoodling. Mind out of the gutter; our clothes were still on.
But there was Anton, one of my top ten least favorite people, up close and in vivid detail, right after I’d been canoodled by Alex. Right after the man I believed was the love of my afterlife had revealed his deepest feelings.
Can you blame me for not baring my innermost truth? For not uttering those three little words that I felt with each beat of my vampire-virus-filled heart?
There’d been a moment, between his words and Anton’s entrance—maybe three or four seconds—where I’d reveled in the glorious words that had left his lips.
My feelings for him swelled, starting in the depths of my soul and spreading, spreading until those great big feelings almost reached my mouth. Almost coalesced into speech.
But then there was Anton, with his shaved head, big muscles, and bad attitude.
Wait a second.
I squinted at Anton, but the image before me remained unchanged. Mean Mr. Clean looked…
Not so mean.
Maybe even…happy?
The devil just bought a pair of ice skates.
- Writer
