I pulled the covers over my head, but she pulled them back. "You don't want to sleep all day, do you?" she asked. "I've already been for a run."
I pried my eyes open to see that she was dressed in a high-fashion velour jogging suit, very similar to one Madonna had been wearing in a photo in last week's People.
"Since when do you run?" She had the kind of body that stayed fabulous without exercise. If I didn't love her so much, I'd have to hate her.
"Since I heard that Saturday morning in the park is a great place to meet buff guys."
She perched on the edge of my bed. "Not that I actually bothered running. The trick is to always look like you're about to run, or like you've just finished running. It's hard to hook up with someone while you're in the process of running."
"Did it work?"
She grinned. "Yep. I met a really hot guy, very nice, too. He had old-fashioned manners like I haven't seen since I left Texas. I don't think he was there for running, but hey, it's the results that count, not the process."
"Did you get his number?"
"Not exactly. But I did tell him where my friends and I always hang out on Saturday nights, and I invited him to drop by and join us."
I frowned. "Where do we always hang out on Saturday nights?"
"I found this cute little bar. You'll come with me tonight, won't you, Katie? Maybe he'll bring a friend."
I groaned. "I'm not sure I'm up to it."
"Oh, come on, you were already in bed when we got home. You're not hungover, are you? How much did you have to drink last night?"
"Not that much," I said, mentally calculating. Oh God, I'd been persuaded to go kissing frogs in Central Park on only three cosmos. I was such a lightweight. But my hangover was more emotional than physical. I was still freaked out by the whole frog-kissing incident.
"Did you have a good time? What did you do?"
"Oh, the usual girls' night out stuff, looking for guys. Like they say, you have to kiss a few frogs—"
"Before you find a prince," she completed the saying for me. "Did you find any?"
"A prince is in the eye of the beholder." Let her interpret that any way she wanted to.
I wasn't sure I was ready to cope with the bar scene again, but I let Gemma drag me out that night anyway. Marcia begged off, saying she had work to do. That almost made me change my mind. If Gemma hooked up with her guy, that would leave me the odd one out. I supposed I could always beat a strategic exit if it came to that.
The bar she'd found was a comfortable neighborhood place, the kind where we might hang out regularly, if we were so inclined. By the time we'd been there about five minutes, she'd managed to turn herself into a regular who knew the names of every waiter and bartender in the place. I still couldn't figure out how she did it.
I ordered a glass of wine because cosmos made me think of frogs. Gemma tried to make casual conversation about how my week had gone while her eyes scanned the room, looking for her guy. Fortunately, her attention was too focused on looking for the guy for her to notice much of what I said. My week didn't really bear deep examination.
Finally, she lit up. "There he is!" she said. I turned to see a tall man with dark, Byronic hair enter the room. He wore dark gray slacks and a flowing white shirt with suspenders. He looked vaguely uncomfortable and out of place. He also looked familiar. "Philip!" Gemma called to him, standing and waving a hand in the air. He smiled and some of the unease left his posture when he saw her.
She pulled out a chair for him at our table. "Philip, this is my friend Katie. Katie, Philip." He took my hand and bowed over it when we were introduced. I hoped he didn't kiss it. That would only remind me of Naked Frog Guy. Then he placed his hands on the back of the chair she'd pulled out and waited expectantly. When she plopped into the chair she'd been sitting in instead of the one he was holding for her, he frowned and looked confused, then rushed to help seat her and scoot her up to the table before taking his own seat.
That was when I realized who he was. He was the frog prince from the night before, the one Ari had disenchanted with a kiss. He didn't seem to have recognized me, but considering he'd been surrounded by a giantess and two fairies, he probably hadn't noticed the plain vanilla girl. I wondered if he was magical himself or if he'd just been the victim of a cruel spell.
Either way, I wasn't sure I wanted my roommate dating him. But what could I say? It wasn't like I could suggest to Gemma that it was time for a trip to the restroom, then warn her that her new guy used to be a frog. So far he'd been very polite and had given me no excuse to take such a strong dislike to him that I'd use a roommate veto. Those had to be saved for very special circumstances, such as when you recognized your roommate's date from the artist's rendering of a serial killer on the news
and she refused to acknowledge that fact. I wasn't sure the former frog status was quite that bad.
They seemed to be nicely at ease with each other. In any other circumstances this would have been time for me to come up with someplace I needed to be so I could leave them alone. But I couldn't leave Gemma alone with a former frog. A fly buzzed through the bar, and I watched with a sick feeling in my stomach as Philip's eyes tracked it hungrily. When he licked his lips while watching it, I'd had enough.
I waited until Gemma turned to talk to the waiter, then leaned over to Philip. "Look, I know what you used to be, and I hear that's not something that happens to nice guys. So I want to make it very, very clear to you that if you give my friend anything to complain about, I know people who can turn you right back into a frog. Are we clear?"
His eyes grew wide as he nodded. I doubted I could really get one of the guys at MSI to turn him into a frog, considering that the girls had said frogging spells had been outlawed, but he didn't have to know that.
Just as Gemma returned her attention to us, a waiter came over and put a glass of champagne in front of me. "Compliments of that gentleman over there," he said.
I turned, my heart in my throat. I didn't know what to hope for. I'd never had that sort of thing happen to me, so I steeled myself for disappointment. It was something Rod might do if he ran into me in public.
But it wasn't Rod who smiled at me from across the room. It was Naked Frog Guy, now fully dressed. "Wow, Katie, an admirer!" Gemma said. "Go talk to him." In other words, leave her alone with her frog—er, guy.
Oh, I definitely wanted to talk to him, but not for flirtation purposes. I stood—Philip rose slightly from his chair as I did so, proving that he was from more than a decade or so ago, since few modern men did that sort of thing—picked up my drink, and made my way over to Naked Frog Guy's table. He stood to greet me. "My dearest Katie, I can't begin to thank you for what you did for me," he said, sounding like a surfer dude attempting to perform Shakespeare. It didn't quite work.
"How do you know who I am? How did you find me?"
"Your fairy friend told me who you are. Finding you wasn't difficult. I'm Jeff, by the way."
I wanted to pluck off Trix's wings and feed them to her. "Thank you for the drink.
But it was no big deal, really." I leaned closer to him. "I'm not sure you realize this, but you weren't really a frog. It was just an illusion. I didn't do anything."
"You freed me. You saved my life. And you're the most beautiful thing I've seen in a long time."
I got the impression that it might not have taken a spell to get him to sit naked in the park and ribbit at people. His mama must have dropped him on his head one too many times when he was a baby. "We're even now. You bought me a drink, so all's square. Now, have a nice life, and stay away from strange lily pads. What happened to you, anyway? Did you lose a bet?"
He looked sheepish. "Something like that. But now I feel like the winner, for it brought you to me." He twitched his wrist, and a red rose appeared in his hand. He then presented the rose to me with much ceremony. Great. Now I had a crazy stalker who had magical powers. "Please take this as a token of my devotion."
"Wow. Thanks. But really, this is too m
uch. We're completely even now, okay? You don't have to do anything else. Now, I have to go. 'Bye." I dashed out of the bar before he could do anything else. After this weekend, going to work Monday morning was going to feel practically humdrum, even at Magic, Inc.
* * *
Owen was already on the platform, leaning against a pillar, when I got to the subway station Monday morning. He looked much better than he had the last time I'd seen him. The dark shadows were gone from beneath his blue eyes, and his skin had a healthy color to it. Baseball must have agreed with him.
"How was the game?" I asked. "I hear the Yankees won."
He studied the toes of his shoes and turned pink. "What makes you think I had anything to do with that?"
"Sounds like someone has a guilty conscience. I didn't say anything about how the Yankees seem to have won. But you know, it does explain a lot."
"I take it you don't approve."
I shrugged. "I'm a Texas Rangers fan, and they used to be the Senators—you know, from Damn Yankees—so you get the picture."
"Sorry about that. And it wasn't like we did anything major. We just improved the umpire's eyesight a little bit."
"Yeah, sure." He grinned at my teasing tone, and as the train pulled into the station I realized it was the first time we'd talked about something other than work. He was still breathing, he wasn't any pinker than normal, and he hadn't passed out during a whole conversation that had nothing to do with business. He was even looking me in the eye. That pretty much proved that his interest in me didn't extend beyond friendship. Pity.
As we clung to a pole together on the train, I asked, "Are you a big baseball fan?"
"I don't know if I'd call myself a big fan, but I like it. It's so—" He groped for words. "—normal, and that's not something I feel often."
His eyes looked troubled, and I wondered if magical ability might be as much curse as it was blessing. Hoping to make him smile again, I stood on tiptoe and whispered in his ear, "I guess that's when you're not casting spells on the umpires." It worked.
He grinned and turned a rather becoming shade of pink.
* * *
That evening, I hovered around my office a little past quitting time, hoping to causally step out into the hallway just as Owen walked by so we could go home together. Maybe I'd learn another personal detail about him. Unfortunately, he didn't show. He must have been back to work on finding a counterspell. Reluctantly, I headed home alone.
When I came aboveground at the Union Square station, I was glad he wasn't with me. At first I didn't pay much attention to the guy standing by the station entrance, playing a guitar and singing. Then I heard my name. He was singing Barry Manilow's
"Mandy," but just saying, "Oh, Katie" over and over again in tune with the music, or rather, out of tune with the music. Afraid of what I'd see, I turned to find Jeff, the Naked Frog Guy, beaming at me. Still strumming and singing, he lowered himself until he was down on one knee. Please, don't let him propose, I prayed.
He had a look of utter devotion on his face that reminded me of Cletus, the not so bright but incredibly friendly black Lab we'd had when I was a kid. Unfortunately, Cletus wasn't too discriminating. He'd give that same look of devotion to family members or burglars, whoever was willing to rub his tummy. I suspected this guy was much the same way. It had to be a result of the spell. I tried to remember how the frog prince spell went in fairy tales. Did my breaking the spell mean he was doomed to be
in love with me forever? This would be a whole lot more fun if he just had to grant three wishes for me.
I figured I had a couple of options. I could ignore him and keep walking, running the risk that he'd follow me. Or I could stop and tell him to give it a break, which might or might not do any good if he was under a spell. I decided that having a short conversation here was better than having my own personal troubadour following me through the streets of New York.
I got as close to him as I dared, then hissed, "What do you think you're doing?"
"I'm serenading my maiden fair, the one whose gentle kiss saved my life." He was back in Shakespearean surfer mode.
"Well, knock it off. I don't want to be serenaded."
"My humble offering doesn't please you?"
"It embarrasses me." It should have embarrassed him, but once you've sat naked in Central Park, everything else is only minor humiliation. Then I got an idea. "You know, absence makes the heart grow fonder."
Within a heartbeat his guitar was back in its case and he was gone. I should have thought of that sooner. With a great sense of relief, I headed home.
* * *
Thus began my second week at MSI. This week was a little more ordinary than the last one had been—or as ordinary as things were likely to get at a magical company.
There weren't any intruders—at least, not that I spotted—and I wasn't called upon to help check out any new, potentially dangerous spells. I met with Mr. Hartwell a few times to talk about marketing, but I didn't see Merlin at all.
Presumably, Owen and his team were still testing the spell and trying to find a counterspell, for he went back to looking pale and tired most of the time. After another week with apparently no good news, he developed a worried crease in his forehead. We still rode to work together most mornings, but that was all I saw of him.
I got in the habit of regularly eating lunch with Ari and occasionally with Isabel, and through them I got a better orientation about life in the magical world. During the next couple of weeks I also got a better sense of what my job really was all about. I went on sales calls, always checking for any of Idris's spells that might have been hidden away and making sure that the shop owners were on board with our marketing messages. I also sat in on a few meetings and fine-tuned my ideas for a more effective way to do real-time, live verification.
Settling into my job made it easier for me at home. Things went back to normal with my friends, except for the fact that I wasn't being set up with a different guy every weekend. Gemma swore she was working on Project Boyfriend but hadn't found the right guy for me yet. I enjoyed the break and the chance to spend more quality time with my friends. Gemma was still dating Philip the Frog, and for her, sticking with the same guy for more than a week meant she was getting serious. My own frog guy, Jeff, hadn't shown up again, but I worried about what might be in store when he decided he'd been absent long enough for my heart to grow really fond of him.
By my fourth week on the job, I couldn't imagine working anywhere else. The strange old building felt like home, and there didn't seem to be anything odd about working with people who had wings. I'd learned to have my hands ready if someone offered me a cup of coffee, and I'd been spoiled by having whatever I wanted for lunch delivered instantly.
That Thursday morning, I got a verification call from the sales department. I entered the department to find Selwyn, the elf I'd gone with on my first call, waiting for me.
"Hey, Katie, babe," he said, pointing his fingers at me like guns. "Ready for some action? I've got a few accounts I need to check on." He dropped his voice to a stage whisper and added, "Not to mention looking out for a few other things, wink-wink, nudge-nudge."
"How are sales?" I asked as we made our way to the building exit.
"We aren't seeing a lot of inroads from our so-called competition, but then the competition isn't selling anything that would affect what we sell. That marketing stuff seems to be working, though. Our sales are up, and that's made most of our distributors more eager to work with us and less eager to take risks by carrying anything less than kosher."
We stepped outside and climbed onto the flying carpet. I now almost felt comfortable riding these things. I felt far more comfortable with anyone but Selwyn driving, however. He was the worst kind of show-off, and I think I only encouraged him by looking nervous.
"So we're doing okay?" I asked, trying to mask my flying anxiety.
"Looks like it. They've only caught a few people using those spells, and they don't appear t
o be as effective as they're advertised to be. Word gets around about things like that." I'd been keeping an eye on the news, looking for signs of inexplicable crime sprees, but it just seemed to be normal New York crime levels. Maybe things weren't as bad as we'd feared, but then I doubted they'd have brought Merlin back for something so easy to solve.
We reached our first stop, a music shop in the East Village. I wondered if this was where Jake had bought that spell. It was a seedy place I wouldn't have gone into by myself, and I doubted they'd sell the kind of mainstream music I liked anyway.
"This is a surprise inspection, so make it look good," Selwyn whispered to me as he pushed the door open. "Hey, Marco!" he shouted.
It took me a few seconds to figure out whether the being that stepped from behind the beaded curtains at the back of the store was human, and even though I guessed he was, I still wasn't entirely sure. He was skinny enough to have been a male model in the days of heroin chic, and his arms and legs were long in proportion to his body, giving him an insectlike look. He had more metal hanging off his face than I'd had in my mouth with a particularly elaborate set of
braces. He didn't look happy to see Selwyn.
"I'm good. Don't need to restock."
Selwyn didn't let his customer's dour reaction dim his salesman's enthusiasm. "Just checking in. I like to keep my finger on the pulse of sales, keep it real down here on the streets." As Selwyn went into his pitch, I took it as my cue to scan the shelves.
In addition to the records and CDs, there was an entire rack of spells. Most were MSI spells, in their new packaging, but there were a few copies of the spell Jake had found. I caught Selwyn's eye and nodded.
He instantly dropped the smooth salesman's air and grew cold. His eyes looked like chips of flint, and I was glad I wasn't the one he was mad at. "So, you're selling that trash," he said, looming over Marco. If I wasn't mistaken, he'd actually grown a few inches. Were elves stretchy?
Marco wasn't easily intimidated. In fact, he looked bored. "Yeah, so?"
"So, it violates every ethical standard our people live by."
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