Once Upon Stilettos

by Shanna Swendson

  She knew exactly how to work my mom, who instantly looked better. If she could pay off a debt, she was much happier. After we’d given our drink orders to the waiter, Mom beamed at Gemma and Marcia. “You girls look so glamorous! You really fit into the big city.” She then put an arm around my shoulders. “But I’m glad our Katie is still just the same. You haven’t changed a bit.”

  “Mom!” I protested, but it didn’t do any good. She was on a roll.

  “You know, it wouldn’t hurt you to wear a little more makeup so you don’t look so bland. Maybe you should wear more lipstick, or a darker shade. I brought a few samples with me that might look good on you.”

  By that time of day, I was lucky if I had any lipstick on at all other than on my teeth. “Mom, New York women don’t wear that much makeup,” I said.

  “It’s true,” Gemma agreed. “The natural look is the goal.”

  My mom, who never left the house without doing her face in the full Mary Kay lineup, looked horrified. “Really? Well, then, Katie, who knew? You’ve always been in style.”

  “Katie looks fine,” Dad said from behind his menu.

  “Of course she does. But it wouldn’t hurt her to liven up her look. We don’t want our little country mouse to fade into the background in the big city.”

  “Mom, I have a boyfriend. I think I’m doing okay,” I said, trying not to cringe visibly. I felt mousy enough most of the time without any help. Then I realized how easily I’d let the word “boyfriend” roll off my tongue and hoped I wasn’t overselling the relationship.

  Gemma, bless her heart, came to my rescue. “So anyway, here’s the plan for the week,” she said. “I’m getting off work early tomorrow, so I’ll show you around in the afternoon. That might be a good day to go to the Empire State Building. I know someone who works there who can get us past the usual lines.”

  “My boss gave me Wednesday off, so I’m all yours then,” I said. “Then Thursday and Friday are holidays, and we’ll have the weekend.” With any luck, I wouldn’t have killed anyone or died of embarrassment by Sunday night.

  Then again, embarrassment was a pretty minor consequence compared with everything else that might happen, I realized as I looked up and noticed a man walking across the restaurant toward our table. It was none other than Phelan Idris. I’d never faced him without Owen by my side, and while I knew he couldn’t hurt me magically and I suspected I could hold my own against him physically—especially with my friends and parents close at hand—I didn’t want to have to deal with him at all. I glanced around the restaurant, for once hoping for a glimpse of gargoyle or fairy, but there was nothing out of the ordinary. All I could hope was that an incognito human wizard was nearby.

  I held my breath and willed him not to recognize me, to keep walking right out of the restaurant, but no such luck. With a smile that could only be described as evil, he came straight to our table, put a hand on the back of my chair, and leaned over me. “Well, now, if it isn’t Katie Chandler,” he said. “I almost didn’t recognize you without your boyfriend nearby.”

  I should have come up with a witty remark while I watched him approaching us, but I was drawing a complete blank. All my snappy comebacks to him involved referring to magic, which left me with nothing to say in front of my friends and family.

  And he knew it, I could tell. He smirked and said, “Boy, does he know how to show a girl a good time, walking her to and from work every day. I always knew he was dull, but I had no idea it was that bad.” He patted me on top of my head. “Let me know if you ever want to try something a little more interesting. I did set you up with some friends of mine at that party on Friday.”

  Every head at my table swiveled to look at me. “Sorry, they weren’t my type,” I said. “But you know what they say about birds of a feather.”

  He laughed. “Good one. And speaking of birds, you know some of my feathered friends seem to have a thing for that boyfriend of yours.”

  I shivered at the memory of the harpy tearing into Owen’s shoulder and at the thought of the other one that had attacked us on the street last week. I dared a glance at my family and friends and saw that they looked utterly baffled. So far, he hadn’t said anything that was outright about magic, but he’d said enough strange stuff that I was sure I was going to have to come up with an explanation.

  “Well, considering the other options, I can hardly blame them,” I managed to quip. When he didn’t respond, I turned to look at him. He was staring at Gemma.

  “Well, aren’t you pretty?” he said, his eyeballs practically popping out of their sockets. “Are you a model?” She got that a lot, considering she was tall, thin, elegant, and worked in fashion. Still, I wondered what it said about me that even my mortal enemy couldn’t stay focused on me for long. Maybe I did need brighter lipstick. Or a brighter personality.

  Gemma rolled her eyes. “No,” she said with the slightest of sneers. That was a pretty good sign she saw him as I did. He wasn’t pulling a Rod and making himself look gorgeous.

  “You could be, you know,” he said, now sounding more like an overeager geek than a crafty, evil wizard.

  “Thanks,” she said flatly, picking up her menu and burying her face in it.

  I was on the verge of reminding him that he was supposed to be threatening me, not hitting on my roommate, when I remembered that I didn’t want him threatening me. I didn’t want him hitting on my roommate, either, but Gemma was more than capable of dealing with guys like that.

  “I know some people,” he said. “I could pull a few strings, open a few doors.”

  “No thanks,” she said, not looking up from her menu.

  He looked more like the president of the AV club who had just been turned down after asking the prom queen to dance than like an evil wizard out to take over the world. I worried that he’d do something evil to make Gemma notice him, but apparently he found someone else much more interesting, for he crossed the room abruptly and began bothering that person. I wasn’t sure what was more annoying, a nemesis who focused all his attention on me or a nemesis who couldn’t seem to be bothered with me for more than a minute at a stretch.

  “Okay, that was weird,” Marcia said.

  I chanced a glance around the table. Everyone was giving me funny looks. Mom looked like she was ready to go right back to the airport. “Friend of yours?” Gemma asked, looking up from her menu now that the coast was clear.

  “Not really. He’s just someone who knows someone I know, and I seem to have been caught in the middle. He pops up every so often to be a pest,” I explained, trying to act like it was no big deal. But it was a big deal. If he was shadowing me, he had to be up to something, and I couldn’t help but suspect that some of his scarier friends might also be around. And worse, he now knew what my friends and my parents looked like.

  The next morning when Owen and I got to work, I let him go ahead while I stayed at the building entrance to talk to Sam. “Can you do me a favor?” I asked him.

  “Sure, doll. What’s up?”

  “Well, Idris paid me a visit last night—when I was at dinner with my roommates and my parents.”

  His stone face looked astonished. “That shouldn’t have happened. I wonder how he got past my people. What did he want?”

  “It was just the usual bad movie-villain taunting. And hitting on my roommate. But I really don’t want it to happen again. I’m trying to convince my parents that I’m safe and happy here, and I can’t do that if I have evil geek wizards stalking me.”

  “I’ve got it under control,” he said with a salute.

  “Thanks, Sam.” I glanced up at the doorway where Owen had disappeared into the building, then turned back to Sam. “You might want to have a detail follow Owen over the holiday, too. I think he’s visiting his foster family, and if Idris is doing this to me, I can only imagine what he’s got in store for Owen.”

  “Good idea. I’m glad you brought it up. The kid himself never would have asked for help.”

 
“Of course, you didn’t hear it from me,” I said as I opened the door.

  “Hear what?” he asked with a wink.

  I was halfway up the main lobby stairs on my way up to my office when Trix flew toward me. “Oh, good, Katie! There you are! Come quick!” She turned and flew back the way she’d come without waiting for me to respond.

  “What is it?” I asked as I ran to keep up with her.

  “It’s Ari. That girl in Sales she hates said something about her probably being the spy, and things went downhill from there. They’re shooting magic at each other, so you’re the only one who can get in there safely and break it up.”

  Well, actually there were a number of other magical immunes in the company who could do the job, but I knew what she meant. This was the kind of thing that was probably best left among friends instead of getting anyone more official involved.

  The feeling of power in use became so intense it gave me goose bumps when Trix slowed to a halt. “There they are,” she whispered.

  Ahead of us, Ari and Melisande Rogers were slugging it out magically. It looked a lot like the last big fight between our guys and the Idris team, only with fewer people. They kept throwing power at each other in an attempt to knock each other out. “Watch what you say about me, bitch,” Ari snarled, hurling something glowing at Melisande.

  Melisande ducked it without mussing a hair on her perfectly coiffed head. “I must have hit close to home to get you this upset,” she shot back, punctuating her words with a glowing snake of light that Ari easily sidestepped.

  “Or I just don’t like you,” Ari replied.

  I took a deep breath and threw myself into the fray, feeling like I was getting myself into a dogfight and wishing there was a water hose handy to use to break it up. My hair seemed to stand on end from all the power being tossed around. “Enough!” I shouted. “Do you two want to get in real trouble? Do you know what the boss would say if he knew what you were up to?”

  The level of power in the air declined. They glared at me, but they seemed to have quit trying to kill each other. There was a tense moment as I waited to see what would happen next; then Melisande turned wordlessly and headed toward her office. Ari made as if to go after her, but Trix caught her arm. I hurried to grab the other arm, and the two of us marched her toward R&D.

  “So, do you have any plans for the holiday?” I asked, forcing my voice to be bright and cheerful in an attempt to defuse the situation. “I’ve got the day off tomorrow, so I’m taking my parents sightseeing. And then on Friday, my mom and I are going shopping. She’s always wanted to go to Bloomingdale’s.”

  Trix caught on quickly to what I was trying to do. “Oh, you have to show your mom those red shoes.”

  “I should,” I agreed, as chipper as a morning news anchorwoman.

  “Do you think you’ll buy them?”

  “What would I do with shoes like that? But they probably wouldn’t even have my size. They always seem to run out of the sevens first. You can find fives and tens on the sale rack, but the sevens are usually gone as soon as they come into the store.”

  “Guys, I know what you’re doing,” Ari said. “And thanks, but you don’t have to babysit me anymore. I’ve calmed down. I’m not going to kill anyone anytime soon.”

  Trix winked at me from the other side of Ari. “I knew it. Shoes always work. And they say music has soothing power.” I knew everything was going to be okay when Ari joined in the laughter.

  The apartment was empty when I got home that evening, but not for long. I’d barely changed out of my work clothes when the front door opened and my parents came in with Gemma. Their arms were loaded with shopping bags. “Did you have a good time?” I asked, then did a double take when I realized my dad had one of those foam Statue of Liberty crowns on his head.

  “We had a wonderful time,” Mom said. “I found the cutest snow globes at the Empire State Building. Now, where’s your kitchen? I’ve already started shopping for Thanksgiving, so we stopped by the hotel on our way here to pick up the food I bought at the market this morning while your dad took a nap.”

  “Here, let me take these,” I said, stepping forward and taking the shopping bags from her. “The kitchen’s around the corner.” As I led her to the alcove that passed for a kitchen in our apartment, I glanced into the bags. “These are gorgeous pumpkins. Which market did you go to?”

  “The one Gemma told me about last night. While we were waiting for her to get off work, I wandered over there. You were right, they had the nicest vendors.”

  I hesitated, that far-too-familiar sick feeling forming in my stomach again. The Union Square market wasn’t open on Tuesdays and Thursdays, as I’d learned not so long ago. On those days, there was only a magical market that most people couldn’t see. No, she couldn’t have been shopping there. Maybe she’d been turned around and had found the market in front of St. Mark’s Church. That one was open on Tuesdays.

  “Was it the market in front of the church?” I asked.

  “No, the one in front of the big bookstore. And you call this a kitchen? How do you cook in here?”

  I felt dizzy. My mother could not have gone shopping at a magical market. Then again, this was Thanksgiving week. Maybe the schedule was different. The early part of the week would be prime food shopping time. That had to be it.

  Fortunately, my mom didn’t notice my confusion. She was too busy complaining about the lack of counter space. “And is this even a full-size oven? Can you cook a turkey in this?”

  “I did last year,” I said, putting the bag of pumpkins on the dining table. “The one I bought this year is the same size, so it should fit.”

  Gemma joined us in the kitchen area. “I think Katie’s the only person in New York who actually cooks, so they don’t make very big kitchens here. We usually go out to eat or order in.” She opened the refrigerator, then turned to yell at Marcia, “You forgot to buy water again.”

  She might as well have stuck my mother with a hot poker. “You buy water? Why on earth would you do that? You can get it for free from the tap.” Mom shook her head. “I don’t know what the world is coming to. Buying water.”

  Gemma took a can from the refrigerator. “Can I get you something to drink, Mrs. Chandler?”

  “I don’t suppose you’ve got a Diet Dr Pepper in there?”

  “You’re in luck. We Texas gals have a supply.” She handed a can to Mom.

  I took a glass out of the cabinet and filled it from the tap. My mom smiled approvingly. “See, I knew you wouldn’t lose all your common sense when you moved up here,” she said.

  I took a sip of the water and fought not to make a face. While I agreed with the practicality of not buying water, I could see Marcia and Gemma’s point. There was something off about the taste, probably the result of flowing through the ancient pipes in our building. I didn’t want to think about what we might be drinking in that water. Something must have gone wrong in the system because I didn’t remember it usually being that bad.

  “Dad, can I get you anything?” I called to the living room.

  “Just some coffee. Instant’s fine if nobody else wants any.”

  It would set off a whole new discussion if anyone said that we usually got coffee at Starbucks, but fortunately Marcia, our resident coffee snob, was out. I found a jar of instant in the back of the cabinet—usually reserved only for dire emergencies—put on a kettle, and made him a cup.

  “So what’s on your agenda for tomorrow?” Gemma asked.

  “I want to go to Macy’s and I want to see Times Square,” Mom declared. “That’s the heart of New York.”

  “You’ll want to go in the morning so you’ll miss the worst of the parade preparations,” Gemma said.

  “Then, if it’s nice, I was thinking we could go to Central Park,” I suggested.

  “I was hoping we could visit your office,” Dad said. I knew what he was up to. He wanted to see for himself if my boss was an honest businessman.

  “I don’t
think that’ll be possible,” I said. “We’re in the middle of a big project, so there’s a total security lockdown. I wouldn’t be able to get you in the building.”

  “But we’re your parents,” Mom protested.

  “Yeah, but if I can get you in, then everyone else’s parents have to be allowed in, and then where would we be? I can’t ask them to make an exception.”

  That did the trick. “Oh, well, of course not,” she said. “We wouldn’t want to be any bother.” She was very big on not being a bother and not having anyone make exceptions for her.

  All I could hope was that I could play that card the rest of the week.

  The next morning, I met my parents at their hotel. They were geared up for a day of tourism, with cameras and guidebooks at the ready. “You don’t need the guidebooks,” I told them. “You’ve got me.” While I hadn’t run into much in the way of nonmagical mischief in my time in New York, being with two obvious out-of-towners might alter my odds. Anyone walking around with a guidebook was asking for trouble.

  “You’re probably right,” Mom said. “We don’t want to look like tourists. See, I even dressed like a New Yorker. I hear they wear a lot of black.” She wore black slacks and a black turtleneck sweater under her overcoat. She actually would have fit in if she hadn’t been wearing white sneakers with that outfit. I chose not to say anything. It was better if she was comfortable, and I tried to convince myself that she could pass as a commuter.

  Once they’d put the guidebooks back in their room, I herded my parents toward Union Square. “The market’s a lot bigger today,” Mom remarked when we reached the park. “Let’s see if that nice man who sold me the pumpkins is here again. I told him I had a single daughter he ought to meet.” Before I could stop her, she’d headed off into the market. I hurried to keep up with her. “Funny, I don’t see him here today. You’d think a pumpkin seller would be here on the day before Thanksgiving.”

  That now familiar sick feeling hit my stomach again. She was right. Any normal vendor who sold pumpkins would have been at the market that day. But my mom shouldn’t have been able to see the magical market.