Elixir (17 page)

I had never used anything external when doing a spell, just called upon my own inner resources, the Elixir that flowed through my veins. This was all new to me, and I was nervous.

“So this Focus thing sounds all well and good in theory,” I said, “but how are you going to get a crowd of hundreds of thousands of people to focus on any one thing at once? We don’t have much time. I mean, Eva’s Fetch won’t last more than a few weeks.” My stomach tightened. “The cops could have us arrested and we could be charged with attempted murder any day now. I don’t know how you’d be able recruit that many people in time.”

“We don’t have to recruit them. They’ll gather on their own.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Think about it, Mab,” he said. “Where will we find a crowd of hundreds of thousands of people, all gathered in the same place, focused on the same exact thing? The time is nigh, and it’s one of my favorite Foci
—
too bad it only happens once a year.”

And then it hit me.

It was so incredibly perfect that I started to laugh.

“The Times Square New Year’s Eve ball-drop!”

Obadiah smiled.

“Bingo.”

CHAPTER 13

M
y visit home for Christmas had not gone well. Maybe I shouldn’t have made the announcement in the middle of Christmas dinner; then again, there’s no good time to tell your parents that you might be going to prison. Dad called his lawyer brother, yelling into the phone for him to fix this, never mind the fact that Uncle Bill was a tax attorney; meanwhile, Mom cried hysterically into her eggnog. I felt like I’d failed them. They’d begged me not to go back to New York, only tearfully agreeing to let me leave when I promised them I’d call Detective Foster back and take the deal.

But I hadn’t called Detective Foster. I was going to set things right, but I would have to do it my own way. It was New Year’s Eve day, and I was standing at One Times Square, stamping my feet and shivering in the frigid air.
Meet me under the ball,
Obadiah’s pigeon note had read. Well, here I was. Where was he?

The crowd had already started to gather. I could see them milling around the buildings, waddling in their overstuffed coats, their funny New Year’s hats. Everyone was talking and laughing excitedly, bouncing up and down on their heels, rubbing their hands together, trying to ward off the deep midwinter cold.

And we still had almost eight hours to go.

I must confess—I’d always thought the million or so people who gathered to wait outside, in the freezing cold for eight hours or more on New Year’s Eve, just to watch a stupid crystal ball descend, were idiots. And now here I was, outside in the bitter wind, standing in the mass of people blowing paper whistles and holding plastic New Year’s babies and wearing fuzzy top hats.

Dammit, where was Obadiah?

And then I saw him. Even in the great throng of people that were moving in and out of the one break still left in the police barricade line, he was unmistakable, a head taller than everyone around him, clad in a long, black coat—ever the one to stand out from the crowd.

When he saw me, he smiled. It was one of those completely involuntary smiles, an expression of genuine happiness. For a second, I forgot how freezing cold I was.

“I was worried you weren’t going to come!” I called out to him as he approached. He embraced me, kissing my cheek—and somehow that normally chaste gesture wasn’t so chaste when Obadiah did it.

“You didn’t think I would abandon you out here with all these loonies?” Obadiah replied, grinning, scanning the crowd. “Sorry about the wait; took me forever to get through security. Really, if it wasn’t for what we’re about to do, I’d be ringing in New Year’s at home by the fire with a stiff glass of bourbon, the way New Year’s should be rung in.”

“That sounds nice,” I replied, imaging firelight glowing off of Obadiah’s body.
Don’t even go there.

“I don’t get to spend many New Years at home, though,” he added quickly. “You don’t get many opportunities for a Focus as good as this.”

I imagined that was true—it was rare that you could get over one million people focused on anything at once.

You couldn’t even see the ball from here, the building was so tall, but I knew it was up there. I still didn’t even know how this whole thing was going to work. All this talk of spells and Foci and Goblin magic troubled me. I missed my old magic, which came as naturally as breathing. But that was gone now. And if this was the only way I could have magic, the only chance I had to go home—I would take that chance.

Obadiah was staring up at the top of the skyscraper too, towards the ball, shading his eyes as the bright winter sun gleamed off the building.

“So what do we do?” I asked. “Stand here and freeze for”—I checked my watch—“about seven hours and forty-five minutes, and then what happens?”

Obadiah turned to me, surprise on his face. And then he started to laugh.

“You think we’re going to be standing out here on the sidewalk in this crowd for seven hours?”

“Well, how else . . .  ?”

“Like all these crazy, frozen fools?”

I guess it was a little foolish of me—I should have put more faith in Obadiah to have a better plan.

“Then what will we be doing?”

“We can’t be in the crowd that’s watching the Focus. We have to
be
the Focus. They have to all be watching us.”

“And how exactly are we going to make one million screaming people pay attention to us at exactly twelve midnight?”

“Easy,” said Obadiah, smiling, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “They won’t even know they’re watching us . . . but they will be, because we’ll be inside the ball.”

I gaped at him.

“How the hell are we going to get inside the New Year’s Eve ball?”

Obadiah grinned. “I worked that out a few years back. Reuben moonlights as a stagehand. One of his jobs is setting up this New Year’s Eve ball shindig. He always makes sure to leave one of the panels on the ball loose. I know which one it is, and we can crawl inside.”

The idea of being inside the Times Square New Year’s Eve ball was so fabulously preposterous that I started to laugh.

“Don’t they have security up there?” I protested. “See how many cops are out here on the street? How many barricades? You really think we can just take the elevator up to the top of One Times Square, get out on the roof deck and then just climb up the pole and into the ball without anyone noticing? Obadiah, they’re going to think we’re terrorists, trying to blow up the New Year’s Eve ball!”

“If we did what you describe, yes, we’d be stopped at once; we wouldn’t even make it into the elevator. But actually, they don’t have any security up on the roof, now that the stagehands are done setting up. All the security is down by the door of the building.”

“Well, that’s the only way in.”

“Not if you’re me,” said Obadiah.

“I don’t understand.”

“Not to bring up a bad subject,” said Obadiah, “but how was your friend able to fly?”

“Elixir.” I gasped. “You’re saying we’re going to fly up there?”

“Unless you have a better idea.”

“But what about all these people!” I gestured to the amassing crowd. “Won’t they notice? Don’t you think they’d notice two people flying overhead?”

Obadiah shook his head. “It’s amazing how seldom people look up. Anyway, we’ll go around to the back side of the tower, away from Times Square. No one is paying any attention to that side of the building. We’ll drink our Elixir—consider it an early New Year’s Eve toast”—he winked at me—“and then up we’ll go.”

My heart was beating fast. It had been twenty-two years since I’d flown. I still sometimes had dreams about it—feeling the cushion of air under my belly, lifting me high, spreading my arms out, feeling the wind rush over them, pumping higher, watching the ground get smaller and smaller below, whirling and whooping in the fresh, bright air. I’d wake up smiling with my arms stretched out like wings. And then the disappointment would set in as I sat up in bed and remembered that I’d never fly again.

Only . . . what if I could?

It won’t be the same,
I told myself. Humans weren’t meant to fly. The Elixir had made Obadiah and Eva levitate temporarily, but that wasn’t the same as a fairy’s innate power. Still, it worked—at least briefly.

“How do you know when it wears off?” I asked, thinking of Eva lying on the concrete like a broken doll. “How do you know how not to fall?”

Obadiah sighed.

“You have every right to be worried, after what you’ve seen. But we won’t stay up for very long. Unlike your roommate, I’ve had Elixir before. I have a feeling for how long it lasts and when it wears off. We’ll go straight up to the roof. We won’t linger.”

I nodded, but I was nervous.

We began to make our way in the opposite direction of the crowd. It was slow going, with everyone else rushing to get
in
to Times Square and us trying to get
out,
but eventually we made our way to the back of the tower. The sidewalks were almost empty here—everyone was either in Times Square or inside one of the rowdy bars that dotted the street.

We stood in the shadowed corner of the enormous glass tower, the cold wind biting at us through the chasms between the skyscrapers.

Obadiah reached into his coat pocket and produced a small vial.

I didn’t even have to ask what it was. I could tell by the way it shimmered in the sunlight.
Elixir.

“You ready?” he asked.

I nodded, but inside I wasn’t sure. In my mind’s eye all I could see was Eva’s body, limp upon the ground.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

He held up the vial.

“I’ll go first. That way, if you get in trouble, I can fly down to you and help.”

“I’m sure I’ll be able to control myself,” I said quickly. But what was I thinking? Eva hadn’t been able to control her fall.

“Don’t worry,” said Obadiah, “I’ve had a lot of practice at this.”

But I could see the uncertainty in his eyes, even as he tried to reassure me.

He removed the cork stopper to the vial of Elixir. It came off with a resounding pop, like a cork of champagne.

Instantly I could smell it. Even with all the odors of Times Square assaulting my nostrils, the scent was unmistakable—like storm-cleansed air. I closed my eyes. It didn’t matter how many times I smelled Elixir—every time it was like my soul was thirsty.

I watched Obadiah drink the vial, his eyes closed. He made a deep, guttural noise in the back of his throat as he drank, almost sexual. I felt like I shouldn’t be there, it was too intimate, watching the Elixir fill him, and then he passed the vial to me.

I closed my eyes. Holding the intention clearly in my mind—
fly to the top of the tower—
I raised it to my lips. The drop fell on my tongue. I could taste my memories in the sweet nectar—memories of flying, memories of magic coursing through my body. I could almost feel the old Feydust tingling.

I opened my eyes.

Obadiah was hovering in front of me, slowly ascending.

But I remained firmly on the ground.

“Obadiah, it’s not working!” I cried out in frustration.

I turned around to see if anyone was watching us. But the crowd was flowing into Times Square. No one stopped to notice two people huddled in an alley behind a building.

He was now a foot or two off the ground. But I hadn’t moved.

“Just wait,” he said. “Be patient.”

“I’m not a patient person, Obadiah,” I grumbled.

Then I let out a sharp gasp. I felt the hard pavement drop out from under me. My feet had left the ground too.

My body began to rise. There was a cushion of air between the soles of my shoes and the sidewalk, and it was growing, like an air mattress being inflated. The normal heaviness of my body felt light. I felt the wind rush around my ankles.

It was working! I was passing windows in the tower. I lifted my arms and soared higher.

I couldn’t help myself—a laugh of pure joy bubbled out of me. I was flying. I felt like uncontrollably giggling and crying at the same time—I had missed this so much!

Obadiah silently put his finger to his lips as he heard me cry out, warning me not to attract the attention of passersby. But he smiled at me. Everyone was hurrying into Times Square. No one had noticed us. Obadiah was right; people seldom looked up.

We were speeding along now, zooming past the building stories, making our way towards the top of the tower. Obadiah was a yard or so above me. If anyone glanced up now, they’d see us as no more than bird-like specks.

I looked down and instantly regretted it. It made me dizzy—everything was like toy miniatures below, and I felt terribly afraid at the idea of falling. I’d never felt that fear when I flew as a fairy. But doing it as a human was different—it felt precarious, scary, wrong to be up so high. My body lurched.
You can’t think about falling,
I told myself. I turned my gaze to the roof of the building, willing myself to fly higher.