Once Upon Stilettos

by Shanna Swendson

  I must have looked bad enough not to have to explain, for Isabel said, “When Trix comes back we can tell her, and she can tell Ari. I don’t have the stamina to keep up with this pace.”

  “Neither do I.”

  “But you were very popular tonight. You must have been having a good time.”

  Since the other two were gone, I felt like I could get a more honest answer, so I asked once more, “You really didn’t set this up? I’m not going to see a bunch of men pocketing five-dollar bills as I leave, am I?”

  She shook her head. “As far as I can tell, you’re doing it honestly. You’re a lot cuter than you give yourself credit for.”

  I looked around the room at all the glamorous model types and exotic-looking girls showing great expanses of skin, then considered myself. There was no comparison. “Okay, I may be cute, but cute doesn’t seem to be what cuts it in a place like this.”

  “Or maybe it does. You were cutting it very well. You’re different, and they might find that refreshing.”

  I was still pondering that possibility when Trix returned with a pink drink like the one Rick had bought me. “I think I’m going to head out now and make sure Katie gets home okay,” Isabel told her.

  “You’re leaving already? But Katie, I thought you were having a good time. You had all those men after you.”

  “I was having a good time,” I said, “but my feet are killing me, and I think the whole evening has suddenly caught up with me.” Not to mention my enemy—who had apparently tampered with my magical immunity and who thought I somehow figured into whatever his grand scheme was.

  I kept my adventures to myself all weekend, spending more time pondering my unlikely appeal and Idris’s behavior than I did the possible reasons behind that strange attack earlier Friday evening. As a result, it took me a second or two to respond when Owen greeted me Monday morning with a worried, “Are you okay?”

  “Huh? Oh yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I guess Sam must have told you. I’m not sure it was anything serious. They gave up pretty quickly.”

  “You must be close to something to get them to respond like that.”

  I thought about telling him about my immunity being gone. If I was going to be attacked on the streets by people I couldn’t see, that was probably something the people watching me needed to know. Come to think of it, it was strange that nobody had figured it out yet. Magical people often talked about how ordinary people missed so much of what was going on all around them because they saw what they expected to see, but this experience proved that magical people were just as bad. I hadn’t even had to lie all that much, and they still assumed I was seeing through illusions because that was what they expected of me.

  I needed to tell somebody before I got hit by another attack like that. But not yet. I needed to think about it. I wanted to be able to offer a compromise or solution before I dropped that news. I needed to have some sense of what I’d do next, and right now I had no idea.

  Owen interrupted my frightened musings, asking, “You know how I asked you to help me shop for my foster parents?”

  “Yes, of course.” I was relieved to have something else to think about.

  “Well, I was wondering if you had time this evening. Nothing major—maybe hit a few stores in our neighborhood. We could also grab dinner.”

  “Sure. That sounds great,” I said. It would even give me a good nonthreatening environment for me to talk to him about my little problem.

  “Shall we meet in the lobby after work? I’ll give you a call if I’m going to be late.”

  “That’ll be fine.”

  He gave me a businesslike nod. “Okay then. I’ll see you after work.”

  I’d only been waiting a few minutes that evening when he came barreling down the main stairs, out of breath, his necktie askew and his overcoat still over his arm. “Sorry I’m late,” he said when he came to a stop next to me and struggled into his coat.

  “I haven’t been here that long,” I told him, as I helped him untangle a sleeve. “Relax. So, any particular destination in mind?”

  “That’s what I hoped you could help me with,” he said as we headed out of the building together. “I don’t shop all that much, so I wouldn’t begin to know where to look.”

  “Well, maybe we should start with what you have in mind to buy for them.”

  He looked utterly terrified. “I don’t have anything in mind.”

  “What have you bought them in the past?”

  “For a while, I ordered gift baskets from a catalog, and then when they told me I didn’t have to get them anything, I started making contributions to their favorite charities in their honor. I thought I’d go with something a little more personal this year.”

  “You do realize that being a girl doesn’t make me an expert shopper, don’t you? Maybe I should have made an appointment for you with my roommate, Gemma.”

  “Sorry. I guess this was a bad idea.”

  “No, I’m glad to help. But don’t expect miracles. Why don’t you tell me a little about them, and that might help me decide?”

  We entered the subway station, where we were blessedly out of the cold wind. “Well, let’s see, they’re both fairly old, in their eighties, at least. Very traditional, highly educated, quite independent. Gloria is elegant—I’ve never seen her when she wasn’t fully dressed and put together, even first thing in the morning. James is like a lifelong student. Even now, he’s constantly reading. Does that give you enough to go on?”

  “I have some ideas.” A train approached, and as we boarded I said, “We should get off in SoHo. I’m thinking some nice jewelry for Gloria, then a book on a fascinating subject for James.”

  “You are good,” he said, with a smile that did funny things to my insides.

  “And you really must be a lousy shopper if you couldn’t come up with that on your own.” That surprised me, given that he always wore perfectly tailored suits. Either he conjured them up or he had a personal tailor, more for convenience than fashion.

  We left the train at Prince Street. “I seem to recall that there’s an interesting little store a couple of blocks over in Nolita—not that I’ve actually ever bought any jewelry, mind you,” I said.

  “Lead the way. And how do you know all this?”

  “I have a roommate who works in fashion. She sometimes makes me come with her on her research expeditions.”

  “See, I came to the right person.”

  The jewelry store was where I’d remembered it, and it was still open. The saleslady greeted us with a friendly smile. “Hi! Can I help you find something?” she asked. “Let me guess, you’d like to see our selection of engagement rings.”

  Owen clammed up, looked at the floor, and left everything to me. I decided where he really needed my help was in communicating with the salespeople, not in deciding what to buy. In this case, though, even I was embarrassed. I tried to pin the saleslady with a steely glare as I said, “Actually, we’re here to look for a gift for his mother. Maybe a brooch?”

  It was her turn to blush. “Oops, sorry about that. Didn’t mean to embarrass you. Right over here we have a nice selection of brooches. We carry the works of some of the freshest designers around.” She led us over to a display case. “Let me know if you want to get a closer look at something.”

  Only after she’d gone to greet some other new customers did I dare glance over at Owen. His eyes were firmly locked on the display case, but his cheeks were still a bright red that had nothing to do with the cold wind outside. My own face felt a little too warm for comfort. There weren’t too many situations more awkward than being mistaken for an engaged couple when you were just friends, especially if there was even the slightest undercurrent of more than just friends from either side. I felt like she’d pulled my deepest, most hidden feelings out for public display.

  “See anything you like?” I asked.

  He pointed toward a delicate brooch that looked almost like someone had taken a feather and dipped it in go
ld. “That’s it. It’s her.”

  “Wow, that was easy,” I said, turning to get the saleslady’s attention. She was with another customer, and the moment I saw who that customer was, I ducked behind Owen.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “That other customer—no, don’t look!—is my former boss. She’s evil. She’s worse than Gregor in ogre mode, except she doesn’t actually turn green and grow horns.”

  In spite of my warning, he turned to look. “She doesn’t seem so bad.”

  “That’s what’s so evil about her. She seems perfectly nice, totally rational. And then in the blink of an eye she turns into this monster. You never know what might set her off. With any luck, she’ll get out of here before she recognizes me.”

  Of course, that pretty much jinxed me right away. It was as good as saying a magic spell to make her notice me. “Katie, is that you?” Mimi said, crossing the store to give me an insincere air kiss.

  “Yeah, it’s me,” I said.

  “And how are you doing in your new job?”

  “Great.”

  She raised a thin, overplucked eyebrow. “Really? I find that surprising, given your skill level. I would have thought you’d find it a real challenge to take on a new job.” Even though the words were venomous, she maintained a pleasant tone and expression.

  I felt like I was right back in my old position, when she could make me feel so helpless I wanted to burst into tears. I’d only managed to stand up to her when I already had the new job lined up. Otherwise, I’d spent my time trying not to set her off.

  “It must have something to do with the quality of the management, then, because Katie’s already been given a big promotion,” Owen said in the kind of smooth, calm tone he tended to use in business meetings when he was intimidating people. It was as good as a knight in shining armor coming to my rescue.

  Mimi glanced at him, got the appreciative look in her eye that women tended to get when they saw him, then turned to me and sniffed disdainfully. “You would have needed a lot more training and experience before you were ready to move ahead in our organization.”

  Bolstered by having Owen staunchly at my side, I tried to match her saccharine smile and tone. “And that’s why I looked for opportunities elsewhere.”

  She pulled the tall, silver-haired gentleman she was with closer to her. “You’ve met Werner, haven’t you? We’re here looking at engagement rings.”

  “It’s good to see you again, Werner. Congratulations. And this is Owen Palmer. We work together. Owen, Mimi used to be my boss.”

  With the kind of almost evil smile I wouldn’t have thought him capable of, Owen said smoothly, “I must thank you for making it so easy for us to recruit Katie. She’s been invaluable to us.”

  Mimi blinked like she had to mentally diagram the sentence in order to figure out what he’d said and how she should react to it. The moment her nostrils began to flare, Werner took her arm and said, “It was nice seeing you again, Katie. A pleasure to meet you, Owen.” Then he dragged her back to the engagement ring display.

  “I see what you mean,” Owen said softly, raising one eyebrow. “Rod could have probably come in lower on the salary offer and still lured you away from that.”

  The saleslady returned to us. “Is there a piece you’d like to see?”

  Owen maintained his business cool long enough to point to the feather brooch and say, “That one, please.”

  “Excellent choice, sir. I love that one.” She slipped the key chain from around her wrist and unlocked the case, then took out the feather brooch and laid it on a black velvet cloth for inspection.

  “I’ll take it. And can you gift-wrap it?”

  “Of course, sir.”

  He handed over a credit card without even looking at or asking the price. I caught a glimpse of the price tag and almost choked. I’d driven cars that didn’t cost that much. I knew he had to be pretty well off, given that he lived in a neighborhood where a million might buy a modest place, but I hadn’t actually given much thought to how rich he might be. I guessed he was making up for years of gift baskets.

  While he finalized the transaction, I spied on Mimi and Werner, who were studying rings. Getting away from her had been the best part of being offered the job at MSI. Seeing her again reminded me why I was keeping quiet about my loss of immunity until I had a better sense of what to do. I couldn’t face going back to that life. While I knew that most bosses weren’t like her, I also knew that without having any particular qualifications that I didn’t already share with half the young career women in Manhattan, I wasn’t likely to be treated like anything other than a disposable commodity. At MSI, I at least had one quality they desperately needed. Or I’d had it once. I didn’t know what I’d do if it didn’t come back.

  Owen tucked the small, gift-wrapped box in the breast pocket of his suit coat and said, “What next?”

  “For books, I’m thinking the Strand. Maybe something rare and interesting like a first edition?”

  “Good idea. Think you can walk from here?”

  “Of course.” I figured we’d already wrapped up our encounter with Mimi, so I didn’t feel the need to say anything as we left. We headed back over to Broadway, then uptown. “Do you have any ideas for books that would be good?” I asked.

  “I’ll have to see what they have, but I got a look in his library at Thanksgiving, so I know what he already has.”

  “I wish it were that easy to shop for my dad. I can’t keep up with what he has in things like books from this far away, and he never seems to ask for anything other than socks and gloves.”

  “Socks and gloves? Really?”

  “You’d have to know my dad. For him, that’s extravagant. What do you usually ask for?”

  “I don’t. There’s not much of anyone for me to ask.” I mentally kicked myself for asking without thinking. Given what he’d told me about his home life, I should have known better.

  We reached Grace Church, where Sam’s occasional appearances used to make me uneasy before I learned about magic. I tried to keep from looking at the church as we passed, instead keeping my pace brisk. I didn’t like the reminder of what I’d lost. Owen slowed down, though. He paused, and then he seemed frozen in time. If I hadn’t known that something was likely going on, I wouldn’t have noticed it at all. So that was what the rest of the world saw when one of us paused to chat with a gargoyle. The frozen image must have masked the conversation. Losing my immunity might have been a pain at times, but it was certainly educational. I was more than eager, however, to end the lessons and get back to what passed for normal in my life.

  Owen unfroze and resumed walking with me. “Odd,” he mused out loud. “Sam usually takes that shift.”

  I tried to pretend I had the slightest clue what he was talking about. “He did say he’d worked a lot over the holiday. Maybe he traded off with somebody else.”

  “That’s probably it.” I was surprised that he didn’t even question me about not participating in the conversation.

  We reached the bookstore, and he headed straight for the rare-book collection in the adjacent building. Apparently, he’d done this sort of thing before, which shouldn’t have surprised me, considering the stacks of old books in his office. He probably knew every rare-book dealer in town. We went up in the elevator, then entered the rare-book room. The bookseller on duty there recognized Owen, and Owen seemed to know him, which was good because I doubted I could have handled this transaction if Owen had gone mute on me again.

  Owen walked past shelves and tables full of books. He stopped in front of one bookcase, frowned, then ran his hand about an inch behind the spines. At one book halfway down the shelf he grinned and pulled the book out. “Look at this,” he whispered. “It looks like a fairly early printing of a Dickens, which would be valuable enough, but what do you see?”

  He was asking me for my opinion as a magically immune verifier, and I couldn’t see anything.

  “I don’t know anything
about rare books,” I managed to stammer even as I fought back a flood of panic. I should tell him now, I thought, but the encounter with Mimi was still too fresh in my mind. I couldn’t risk losing my job because I’d lost the ability that made them want me.

  “I do know you were once able to tell the difference between a Tom Clancy and a rare codex.”

  “Yeah, but that difference was obvious—new book as opposed to really old book. All old books pretty much look alike to me.”

  He glanced over his shoulder to make sure the bookseller wasn’t watching too carefully, then held his hand over the book. It shimmered, then an even older, more ornate book appeared. “Ah, just what I thought,” he said. “This is very rare. James will love it.” He took the book over to the bookseller and asked, “How much do you want for this one?”

  The bookseller’s eyes grew huge. “I didn’t realize we had that. Let me check for you.”

  “If you want to have it appraised, I can come back and pick it up later,” Owen offered. The bookseller took his contact info and promised to call when he had an answer.

  As we left the store I asked, “How did you know that was there?”

  He shrugged. “I felt the magic. You sometimes find things like that, truly rare items veiled as moderately rare things. It’s a way of hiding valuables in plain sight. And then when an estate has to be sold off, the heirs may not even know what they have. Sometimes books can go for generations hidden like that.”

  “You could have reveiled it and paid only for the Dickens, you know.”

  “But that would have been cheating.”