A Fairy Tale (26 page)

“Why, you traitor!” Emily said with a gasp of surprise.

“You’re the traitor! Her majesty has tried to be nice to you, but you’ve ruined everything. And now your horrible sister has made things even worse.” Emma’s voice broke in a sob, and Leigh patted her shoulder.

Emily supposed she should have been touched by the woman’s tears, but all she heard was the insult against her sister. She might say a lot of things about Sophie, but nobody else was allowed to. “What did you say about my sister?”

As upset as she was, Emma had the good sense not to repeat it. Iron might not be poisonous to humans, but it could dent a skull, and Emily was swinging the shackles like she really wanted to hit someone with them. “Something bad happened at the market,” Leigh explained with another soothing pat on Emma’s shoulder. “There was a man there with your sister, causing trouble, and he accused Emma of being someone else.”

A man there with Sophie? That had to be Michael, and if he’d been shocked about a human woman with the fairies … She felt like she’d been shot in the gut as she realized that with a different hairstyle and a wedding veil, Emma would look exactly like that photo in Michael’s apartment. “Holy crap, you’re Jen!” she blurted. “So, that’s what happened to you! Oh my
God
!”

That was the wrong thing to say. Emma/Jen shouted, “I am not! Stop saying that! I don’t know who this Jen person is, but that’s not me and I wish people would quit calling me that.” Which confirmed Emily’s suspicions.

By that time, the guards had caught up with them. They surrounded her from a safe distance, unable to get their hands on Emily while she was armed with iron. She and Eamon were badly outnumbered, but she had iron and he could use fairy magic. She glanced over at him to see what he was doing and was shocked to see him escaping through the front door. The guards ignored him as they focused on her.

That
bastard,
she thought. After she’d just saved his life. She’d thought they’d
bonded
. And now he was abandoning her? Maybe Sophie really was right about fairies. Of course she was. Sophie was right about everything.

The guards closed in on her. She waved them away with the shackles, but she could only face one direction at a time, and while she threatened some of the guards, others snuck up on her from behind. She kept turning in circles, but she was getting dizzy.

It was hard to concentrate on defending herself when she couldn’t get over what Eamon had just done. Maybe he’d gone to get help, she told herself, and she wouldn’t have been able to get through the door. Although she liked having company in captivity, he could do far more for her when he was free. He was merely being practical. At least, she hoped so. She didn’t like to think that he’d just saved his own skin while leaving her to rot.

She lashed out at a guard who got too close, and then someone tackled her from behind. While she was on the floor, Emma came over and picked up the shackles. Emily felt betrayed all over again, so she struck back in the only way she could while the guards had her pinned down. “Your husband is my upstairs neighbor,” she said. “He really misses you.”

“I have no husband,” Emma spat, turning away.

The guards dragged Emily to her feet and marched her up the stairs to Maeve’s living room, where they shoved her onto the sofa.

Emily had to bite the inside of her lip to keep from grinning when she saw the result of her handiwork on Maeve’s face. An ugly red mark marred the fairy’s perfect beauty, which had become much less beautiful the more Emily saw of her. Her mother was right: pretty is as pretty does, and someone as nasty as Maeve couldn’t be truly lovely, no matter how perfect her features were.

“I am losing patience with you,” Maeve snarled. “I am sick of you and your sister and your inability to cooperate. Your arrogance astounds me.”

Pot, meet kettle,
Emily thought, but knew well enough to keep her mouth shut.

“Apparently, I can’t count on your sister’s help,” Maeve continued. She leaned forward, looming over Emily, who forced herself not to shrink back. “You will have to do.”

Maeve straightened abruptly, then whirled away to pace the room. “Tell me about your grandmother,” she ordered.

That wasn’t what Emily had expected, but it seemed harmless enough. It shouldn’t hurt anyone, and any stalling she could do might give Sophie time to pull off whatever she was working on or Eamon time to get help. “You mean Nana?” she asked. “I don’t know her that well. She’s got Alzheimer’s, so she’s not all there anymore, and Mama says she was crazy even before that. Was there anything in particular you wanted to know?”

“Did she ever teach you songs?”

This had to be the weirdest interrogation ever, Emily thought. She shrugged and said, “Not that I can think of. She sings with Sophie. That’s how Sophie keeps her calm.”

“Do you know their songs?”

Emily shook her head. “Not really. I haven’t been home in years.”

She couldn’t stop herself from flinching away as Maeve leaned over her, so close that Emily’s eyes crossed when she tried to focus on Maeve’s face. “Think about the songs. Try to remember. Your life may depend on it.”

While Emily was catching her breath, Maeve left.

So, wait, Maeve had gone through all this trouble to get her hands on Sophie to learn a
song
?

Michael’s Apartment

Saturday, 6:30 a.m.

Michael woke to the worst pain he’d experienced since he’d been shot. His chest throbbed, and the rest of his body didn’t feel so hot, either. He felt like he’d been in a big fight and come out the loser. When he finished assessing the aches and pains, he became aware that he wasn’t alone. His hand clutched another, smaller hand. It was the first time in nearly seven years that he hadn’t awakened alone.

Then the events of the night before came rushing back, and he remembered why he hurt all over. He also recognized the irony of waking up with someone else the morning after seeing his wife again. Opening bleary eyes, he turned to see Sophie Drake lying next to him, looking uncharacteristically vulnerable in sleep. She lay on her side, facing him, her right hand under her pillow and her left hand in his, one leg bent and the other stretched, her toes pointed even in sleep. A stray curl lay on her cheek just on top of the faint bruise on her cheekbone.

Then he noticed that Sophie’s eyes were open and watching him. “It’s early and we were up late,” she murmured sleepily, her eyes fluttering closed. “Go back to sleep.”

She’d thrown a blanket over him, but she lay uncovered, so he moved the blanket over to cover her, too. He hadn’t thought he could get back to sleep, but the next time he woke, it was nearly eight thirty and Sophie was sitting up and stretching, catlike.

He lifted his head from his pillow, then let it fall back when it proved to be too much effort. “Did I have a really weird dream last night, or did something strange actually happen?”

She pulled her legs to her chest and rested her chin on her bent knees. “I have no idea what you dreamed last night, but yes, you stumbled into something that must have seemed really strange.”

He closed his eyes and groaned. “I thought I might be having some kind of ICU psychosis attack. So I really saw Jen?”

“You certainly seemed to think you saw her, and there’s a good chance that she was there, if I’m right about what I suspect happened to her.”

He tried to remember the details of the night before, focusing on the concrete things. He could sort out the weird stuff later. “It was her voice, that was what I noticed. It sounded just like her.” He frowned. “But how could she have been in the city this whole time, with every cop in the department keeping an eye out for her, without anyone even seeing her once?“

She studied him for a moment, like she was assessing him. Then she said, “Do you want the easy explanation, or do you want the truth? Let me warn you, you won’t like or want to believe the truth. The easy explanation will let you go on the way things have been. The truth will change everything, and you can never go back.”

“That sounds ominous.”

“It is, believe me, it is.”

“I don’t think I can make a decision like that before coffee.”

“Both of us could probably use some breakfast. I don’t suppose you have any eggs.”

“I may. Emily was making me breakfasts after I got out of the hospital.”

“And I’ve got the skillet with me.” She unfolded her legs and swung around to sit on the edge of the bed, then looked back over her shoulder at him. “There’s just one thing. I don’t know how to make coffee.” She seemed sheepish about it. “I don’t drink it, so I figure there’s no harm in not learning to make it. But I could give it a shot.”

“I can make coffee with one hand tied behind my back.” He moved in an attempt to get up, but sitting up was more than he could manage. Reluctantly, he said, “The coffeemaker is self-explanatory, and right now, I’m not going to be a critic. You could give me some grounds to chew on, and I’d be happy.”

She gave him a sweet, almost shy smile and stood. “Okay, then, you stay put, and let’s see what I can come up with.” She paused on her way out of the room and spoke toward the floor. “Do you need to go out, or are you okay for now?” An answering snore told him that Beau was sacked out at the foot of the bed.

Michael wasn’t sure how long it took, but it didn’t seem like long enough before she returned with a mug of coffee. She put it down while she helped him sit leaning against the headboard, then handed him the mug. He took a tentative sip, and that was enough to wake him up. He pictured his hair standing on end, like in a cartoon.

She gave a worried grimace. “It’s awful, isn’t it? I’m so sorry.”

He took another swig before shaking his head. “No, no, it’s fine. I like it strong. Strong is good.” He drained the mug and handed it back to her. “I’ll take another, if you don’t mind.” She took the cup warily and went back to the kitchen. He couldn’t help but grin. It wasn’t exactly
good
coffee, but it was as strong as the coffee in the precinct when it had been left on the burner overnight, only without the burnt taste, and that made it practically gourmet to him.

While he let the caffeine work through his system, he tried to recall the night before. He remembered following Sophie to the park. It got weird after that, with a marketplace full of strange people on the grounds of Belvedere Castle, Sophie dancing, a confrontation between Sophie and a weirdly beautiful woman, and Jen, who didn’t recognize him. The mental images were so dreamlike that he wasn’t sure any of it was real. Things grew even hazier after he saw Jen. He remembered pain and fear and falling asleep in Sophie’s arms. He didn’t remember how he got home.

Sophie returned with a tray loaded with two plates of pancakes, which she set next to him. She went back for his second cup of coffee and a mug of tea, then joined him on the bed, sitting so gracefully that she didn’t disturb the tray.

She took a bite of pancake, chewed deliberately, swallowed, and took a sip of tea before asking, “Have you decided whether you want the easy answer or the truth?”

The caffeine had made it to his brain, so he felt qualified to say in no uncertain terms, “The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. What,
exactly,
happened last night?”

She took another bite and drank more tea, clearly attempting to delay the inevitable. Finally, she composed herself, looked him straight in the eye, and said, “You must have followed me again, and you found a fairy market, a place where the world of the fae meets the human world.”

 Michael blinked in surprise. Of all the things he’d thought it might have been, this wasn’t it. “Wait,
fairies
? Like Tinkerbell? Are you kidding me?”

“Real fairies aren’t like Tinkerbell or like the things you see on greeting cards. They’re not little and cute with dragonfly or butterfly wings. They’re supernatural beings who live in a realm below our world, but in a parallel universe, or something like that. I know how to go there, but I’m not entirely sure what the place is or how it works. They have magical powers that they mostly use to create illusions and make themselves beautiful. Don’t let the beauty fool you, though. They’re ugly to the core. They can be cruel, just for the fun of it.”

He laughed and shook his head in disbelief. “You’re talking about these things like they’re
real
. Tank didn’t put you up to this, did he?”

She raised an eyebrow. “What did you see last night?”

“I saw a market on the terrace in front of Belvedere Castle.”

“Was it there when you got there?”

“They hadn’t turned the lights on yet, so I couldn’t see it until they did.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “
Really?
Is that what you saw? If you expect me to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, you have to do the same.”

In his mind’s eye, he saw her sitting on the empty terrace, putting on her dancing shoes. If there had been enough light to see Sophie, there would have been enough light to see the market being set up. “No, it wasn’t there,” he admitted. “And then it appeared.”

“When?”

“Midnight,” he said as he realized the truth. “Suddenly the place was full of booths and people.”

“What were the people like?”

“They were beautiful. A lot of them looked like hippies, all floaty rags and flowers and leaves. Then there were some dressed like something out of an old Rat Pack movie.”

“Did they look human to you?”

“Yeah. They had funny-colored hair, and they looked kind of surreal, but they were human. No pointy ears or wings.”

“That’s what fairies look like—or the way they want you to see them. You only saw that market because of the four-leaf clover on your keychain. Otherwise, you could have walked through that whole terrace without realizing anything was going on.”

“You’re serious?” He regretted eating breakfast because it threatened to come back up.

“Quite serious.” He held eye contact with her for a long moment, but she didn’t waver or show the slightest sign of amusement. Nothing pinged his internal lie detector.