She danced up to us, waving what I hoped was a toy wand. “Hey, you two,” she boomed. “Great costume, Katie, and I presume the mysterious gentleman with you is one Mr. Palmer.”
Owen raised his mask slightly to verify his identity and gave her a smile.
“Why aren’t you two on the dance floor?”
We looked at each other, then Owen said, “Watching everyone else is more fun for us.”
“It gives us better office blackmail material for after the holidays,” I added.
She fluttered her fake wings at us as she returned to the dance floor. Others might have considered us to be wallflowers, but I had a good time sitting with Owen and trying to guess the identities of the various party guests in their costumes. Marcia and Rod were still dancing together, and still quite close. From what I’d heard about Rod’s social life, that may have been the longest he’d spent with any one woman in years. Philip had finally given up trying to ballroom dance in that crowd and was attempting to follow Gemma’s more contemporary dance style, even as he seemed to be a bit distracted by that catsuit. At least one fairy was floating and spinning above the crowd, and if I saw it, that meant my friends could see it, so I hoped they were too busy dancing to notice.
“I’d say it’s a successful party,” I remarked to Owen.
“Rod does know how to throw a party,” he said. He checked his watch. “It’s not long until midnight. I’d better fight my way back to the bar to grab some champagne.”
While he was gone, I slipped my feet out of my shoes and pointed and flexed my toes a few times to try to get the circulation going again. As I bent to put my shoes back on, a sudden wave of dizziness struck me. Maybe I should have asked Owen to grab some food before he got the champagne, I thought.
Owen returned more quickly than I expected. “They had the champagne all lined up on a table,” he explained. After he handed me my glass, he reached into an inner pocket of his jacket and withdrew two of those party things you blow into and make uncurl. “And we have something to help us usher in the New Year,” he said, handing me one of those. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want one of these or one of the noisemakers, but I figured there’s enough noise in here.”
“Very good choice,” I said, then blew it at him.
The band stopped playing and Rod took the microphone. “Are we ready for the countdown?” he asked.
Owen and I stood up and moved to join the rest of the crowd. Everyone counted down from ten together, then balloons and streamers floated down from the ceiling—where I hadn’t noticed anything hanging previously—and everyone cheered. Owen and I clinked our glasses together, then he leaned forward to kiss me. “Happy New Year,” he said.
“And happy New Year to you, too.”
I drank my champagne, and then things started to get a little fuzzy. And then things went kind of blank.
The next thing I knew, I was waking up in my bed with a killer headache, in my bedroom, in our apartment, and still wearing the red satin dress and fishnet tights.
Eighteen
I t was hard to tell what time of day it was from inside my bedroom because so little light came through the airshaft no matter what time of day it was, but this didn’t look like morning sun. I had to squint and force my eyes to focus so I could read my bedside alarm clock. The clock had to be wrong. It said it was nearly three in the afternoon. That was impossible. It would mean I was missing about fifteen hours, since the last thing I remembered clearly was kissing Owen at midnight.
I reached to rub my aching head and found the horned headband, still clinging precariously. Removing it eased the headache a little bit, but not enough. With a supreme effort, I willed myself into a sitting position. Maybe a shower would help, I thought, if I could make it all the way to the bathroom. The wooden floor seemed to have turned to ice, it was so hard to keep my feet under me, and I had to hold my arms out like a tightrope walker to maintain my balance.
A long, hot shower didn’t do as much to clear my head as I hoped. A large part of my brain was still out cold and the other part was having to lug it around like deadweight. My balance had improved some, so navigating the path back to the bedroom wasn’t quite as difficult as the walk to the bathroom had been. I threw on a sweat suit, and then I ventured out into the living room. I wasn’t yet sure I wanted to know what had happened during all those missing hours, but I was sure my roommates would tell me.
“It lives,” Marcia said drily from her seat at the dining table when I shuffled in. Gemma glanced up from the fashion magazine she was reading with a grunt.
“Yeah, it lives. More or less,” I said, sitting very carefully on the sofa to make sure it was where I thought it was. I felt like I had a skewed perception of the world, as though everything was just a bit off from where it seemed to me to be. I noticed as I sat down that one of my red stilettos lay on the floor in front of the door. There was no sign of the other one. Maybe Prince Charming had snagged it when I lost it while fleeing the ball and he’d use it to find me again. “Would anyone mind filling me in on what happened after midnight? ’Cause I’m drawing a blank.”
“Oh, it’s quite the saga,” Gemma said. “I’m not sure we have time to tell the whole story.”
“How about we start with what should be the easy part: How did I end up at home and in bed?”
Marcia got up from the table and came over to stand in front of me. “When things got out of hand at the party, Owen and Philip dragged you out of there. Owen called for a car to drive us home. Owen and Philip got you up the stairs between them, and then Gemma and I threw you in bed.”
I nodded. “Okay. That makes sense. Well, the coming home part does. But what do you mean by things getting out of hand?”
“Ha!” Gemma’s response was somewhere between a snort and a laugh.
“Come on, y’all. What happened? I’m missing a lot of time here, and I don’t know why. I remember kissing Owen at midnight, and after that everything is a big blank.”
“Let’s just say I never had you pegged as a mean drunk.” Marcia tossed her hair, which still held some of the Marilyn curl, and stalked off to the kitchen.
“But I wasn’t drunk,” I protested. “I had one cup of punch, which seemed pretty watered-down even to me, and then a glass of champagne at midnight, and I don’t remember drinking all of that.”
“I hope you were drunk,” Gemma snapped. “Because if you weren’t and you were acting that way, well, you aren’t the person we thought you were.”
“What did I do?”
“You got nasty. You said some really mean things to us and to Owen, and then after you told him how pathetic he was as a boyfriend, you came on to every other man in the place—especially those who were there with dates.”
I moaned and buried my face in my hands. I’d only ever been truly drunk a few times in my life, and even then, never to the point of passing out, so it was hard for me to compare the experience. Still, it seemed like I should remember more than a couple of drinks if I’d had enough to pass out. Or was it like a concussion, where sometimes you forgot the whole day, even the time before you got conked on the head?
“What did I say to y’all?” My voice came out muffled from behind my hands.
“For one thing,” Marcia said, “you told everyone about me breaking up with Jeff. How did you put it? Oh yeah, ‘Like she thinks she’s too good for him.’”
Still with my face behind my hands, I said, “You know that’s not what I think. I told you that.”
“Yeah, and I also recall asking you not to tell anyone.”
I looked up to see her sitting once more at the kitchen table, a steaming cup of coffee in front of her. My mouth watered at the sight. Coffee, that was what I needed. If I got some caffeine into my system I was sure I’d be able to think straight. And would it have killed Marcia to offer me a cup while she was up? I recalled having brought many a cup of coffee to her when she was in a similar state.
“I don’t remember saying that,
honest. I didn’t mean to blab.”
“What was the big secret, anyway?” Gemma asked. “Why didn’t you want me to know?”
“It’s my business, isn’t it?”
While Marcia and Gemma argued, I eased myself off the sofa and aimed for the kitchen, hoping there was still coffee in the pot. I nearly wept with joy when I saw that there were at least two cups left. I poured half a cup for myself, added some sugar and milk, then took a cautious sip. One thing I remembered from the few hangovers I’d experienced was such a strong nausea that the thought of food or drink made my stomach churn. But my stomach felt fine. I was able to drink the whole cup, and soon my head felt a lot clearer, even if the headache hadn’t eased at all. Actually, it was even worse.
I wandered over to the front window while Gemma and Marcia argued. It was snowing outside, in the stage of a snowstorm when it’s mostly flakes dancing to the ground from the sky, but before much has accumulated yet on the ground. At any other time, this would have been the perfect day to stay inside with my friends, watching old movies while eating popcorn and chatting. Apparently, today wasn’t going to be one of those days. I tried to force my attention back to my roommates.
“It’s not like you’ve had perfect relationships, yourself,” Marcia said.
“What? Because I hit a rough patch with Philip? Well, we talked last night, and he said work was distracting him. He’s going to try to be better because he misses me.”
“That’s great!” I said, trying to radiate enthusiasm for my friend’s good fortune.
Both of them turned to glare at me, looking like they wished I’d just vanished. “You say that now,” Gemma said, “but that’s not what you said last night. I believe there was something about what a slut I was because I was thinking of dumping him for not sleeping with me yet.”
I cringed, though to be fair, she had pretty much said something along the same lines, except for the part about her being a slut. It wasn’t like I’d broken any new ground there.
Marcia chuckled. “Yeah, and ironic, wasn’t it, considering she went from that to complaining about Owen doing the same thing with her? And then she must have been thinking of poor Philip’s reputation by giving him a chance to show he wasn’t a cold fish.”
By this time I’d cringed so hard I nearly had a cramp. “How did Owen react to the things I did?” I asked. My heart clenched at the thought of what he must have felt.
Gemma shrugged. “It’s hard to tell with that mask he had on. But he went really quiet, still-like. He made sure you were looked after. A lot of guys would have left you there to find your own way home, and he wanted to make sure you’d be okay. I think he really, really likes you. And he’s a good guy.”
I shook my head as though that would clear out some of the deadness. “I just don’t get it. I don’t know where that stuff could have come from.”
“It had to have come from somewhere,” Marcia said.
“We should have known that nice routine was too good to be true,” Gemma added.
I went from contrite to angry. “Come on! How long have you known me? We’ve lived together at least five years, off and on, and you’ve seen me drunk more than once. You’d know by now if I had anything ugly hidden underneath the surface.” I tried to think of an explanation for whatever had happened. The most obvious, of course, was that I’d been enchanted. I’d done some pretty out-of-character things not too long ago, the last time I’d lost my immunity, when I’d been enchanted. It would have been easy enough for someone in that crowd to have zapped me with a spell. Unfortunately, I couldn’t tell them that. “Maybe it was one of those drugs people slip into drinks, like the news shows are always warning you about. My mom sent me a magazine clipping about that the other day.”
My head finally cleared completely, although I still felt like my brain was too big for my skull, and I felt like I was truly, fully awake for the first time today—even more awake than usual. I could now assess the situation and see it for what it was. They were lying to me, a voice in my head said, winding me up to make me regret drinking too much. None of that stuff had really happened. I’d probably fallen asleep on a couch and missed the whole party.
I laughed. “Okay, I think your little prank has gone on long enough. You’ve run it into the ground, and it’s not the least bit amusing.”
It would have been nice if I could have grabbed a coat and stomped out of the apartment, but the snow was coming down hard and I didn’t want to be out in it. Instead, I went back to the bedroom and slammed the door. I thought about calling Owen to get the real story of what happened at the party, but then I realized I didn’t have his home phone number. That certainly said something about our relationship. I hoped he might call to make sure I was okay, but he didn’t. I spent the rest of the day curled up on my bed and trying not to dream up revenge fantasies against my roommates. I had the light out and was pretending to sleep long before Gemma came to bed.
Because I’d gone to bed so early, I woke before my roommates did. I got up, got dressed, and left. I figured I’d let them worry about me and stew all day, and then maybe they’d be sorry enough to come clean and apologize that evening. Leaving early also meant that I might stand a chance of missing Owen. If he didn’t care enough to call to see how I was doing after a night when he’d had to carry me home, I didn’t want to see him. It would serve him right if he worried about me.
I picked up a sweet roll and coffee at a deli I passed on my way to the subway station, but when I got into the station, I found myself heading for the uptown platform instead of my more usual downtown platform. I noticed the mistake and tried to correct it, but nothing happened. I kept heading for the uptown platform, as though someone else controlled my body. I saw an elf pass me on the staircase, so I figured I had my immunity back and no one could be controlling me magically. Maybe my subconscious was trying to tell me something and I should just go with my gut.
I got on an uptown express train, then got off at Times Square and instinctively made my way over to the Spellworks store. I stood on the corner across the street from the store, waiting and watching. After a while, I got cold from standing still, and just waiting there seemed pointless, but when I tried to move, something in me resisted. My subconscious was being really, really stubborn. I put up an even stronger fight and finally succeeded in moving one leg, but then I saw Idris approaching the store and decided to stay for a while.
Of course, the moment I decided to stay, my subconscious got other ideas. I darted out across the street, dodging honking cars, to reach him. It took him a moment to notice me, and then yet another to recognize me. “What are you doing here?” he asked, his eyes bugging. He immediately scanned the area around me like he was looking for my magical bodyguards. Come to think of it, I hadn’t noticed them, myself. I must have thrown them off by leaving so early, before Owen got there to walk me to work.
I opened my mouth to answer him, but what came out was, “Are you missing anything? Or have you been too busy with your lady friend to notice?” My subconscious was a very strange place. I had no idea what I was talking about.
He rolled his eyes. “I am not dating Sylvia. She’s my investor. You may think I’m joking around with my business, but it’s for real, and it’s going to take that dinosaur you work for down.”
I glanced over at his single, tiny storefront, then back to him. “Yeah, we’re shaking.”
“How big a task force do you have assigned to figure out what I’m doing and bring me down?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest and taking a pose that made him look like a wannabe rap star. “Yeah, you’re running scared.”
“We’re not scared of you. We’re scared about the mess you’ll make and the innocent people who’ll be hurt along the way.” That was me talking, I was sure.
“That’s what you say.” He glanced around me again, then asked with a smirk, “Where’s your boyfriend this morning? I thought taunting me was his job.”
“He’s too busy to w
aste time on you.” Part of me wanted desperately to stay there with him, which made me really worry about my subconscious, but I knew I needed to get to the office. It took all my will to drag myself away from him to get to the subway station. While I waited for a downtown train, I checked my watch. Unless a train came very soon, I’d be late. I stared up the tunnel, wishing for a train to get there right away. For once, it worked.
When I got to the office, Owen’s lab was empty. That gave me a chance to focus on my own work. I had a revised marketing plan in response to the Spellworks threat to wrap up and get to Merlin, and that almost distracted me from obsessing over what might have happened at the party and whatever was going on with me this morning. I still didn’t think my friends had told me the truth. After all, I never acted like that. I printed the final document, then headed to the departmental printer room to pick it up.
Trix greeted me with a worried frown when I got up to Merlin’s office. “Are you okay?” she asked. “You were in really bad shape by the end of the party.”
“What kind of shape?” I asked.
She shrugged her wings. “You weren’t acting like yourself.” Then she gave one of her tinkling fairy giggles. “For a moment, I even thought Ethan might have regretted breaking up with you.”
“That bad, huh?” I asked, playing along, though I was sure she was in on my roommates’ scheme.
“I’ve seen worse. Remember, I used to hang out with Ari.” Her eyes flashed in anger for a second, then she was back to her perky self. “What brings you up here?”
“I’ve got this plan the boss wanted to see.”
The intercom on Trix’s desk buzzed. “Tell her to bring it to me,” Kim’s voice said.
Trix looked up at me and rolled her eyes. “Her majesty beckons.”
This would have been the perfect time for Merlin to fling open his office doors and ask to see me, but he didn’t, so I sighed, shrugged, and headed to what used to be my office. “You need to make sure Mr. Mervyn sees this as soon as possible,” I said, trying to give my best impression of a superior speaking to a lowly office peon. “It’s high priority.”
Damsel Under Stress (Enchanted Inc #3) Page 25