She Blinded Me With Science (4 page)

Of course he felt Sophie concentrating on him. It proved his theory that she had Fae
blood. She also had a frighteningly disciplined mind, good enough to be an Advocate who could
scare the fewmets out of a lot of his relatives.

He went through the remainder of the scene on autopilot while he played with the
delightful possibilities of revenge on his relatives with Sophie's help. First, he had to convince
her that Fae were real, then convince her she had enough Fae blood to become a Changeling, and
then convince her that while he loathed the thought of being an Advocate, she could enjoy the
job.

He had such a good time imagining the family's dismay and astonishment when Sophie
graduated from Advocate training and took the position that had been set aside for him on the
day he was born, he almost missed the two Enclave Hunters standing by the back doors of the
ballroom.

Panic and decades of survival training fought. Kevyn wanted to run, but Enclave
Hunters were like dinosaurs--they wouldn't see him as long as he stood still. Or in this case,
acted like he didn't sense them. He dubbed them Larry and Curly and was thankful there was no
Moe or Shemp to have to deal with. Sophie's presence had partially masked the presence of the
Hunters. Could he use her as a shield, in reverse?

Only one way to find out.

When Sophie appeared in the back hallway among all the other groupies, Kevyn nearly
crowed with delight.

"Hey, Sophie, I was hoping to see you again," he said, and sidled past four bimbettes to
get to her. Kevyn almost felt sorry for the girls, probably just middle-schoolers, with their
woebegone little faces.
Almost
felt sorry for them. His continued freedom had first
place.

To be honest, getting to know Sophie had a pretty high ranking, too.

Sophie said nothing about the way Kevyn had freaked out last night. That worried him,
but not enough to stop him from linking his arm through hers and suggesting they escape the
hotel.

She suggested the steakhouse two doors down. That was crowded and noisy, with
lighting dim enough to hide him
and
the Enclave Hunters. Much as Kevyn liked the
idea of vanishing with her, lost and yet intimate among the throngs, it didn't suit. He pointed out
the upscale seafood restaurant four doors farther down, and laughed aloud when she reacted in
surprise.

"What's wrong?" he had to ask as they walked down the sidewalk to the restaurant.
"Don't you like seafood?"

"Love it. But that's kind of a romantic style of restaurant. Quiet and elegant." She
shrugged.

"Expense doesn't mean anything to me, if that's what you're worried about." He thought
about the few things he had learned about her. She was probably one of those penniless
academics.

Kevyn decided he admired Sophie. He had never really pursued anything in his life,
except his freedom. Being the baby of his family, he never had a chance to fight for anything he
really wanted. Everything was always decided for him, or his older brothers had already fought
the battles before he was born. And what was the sport in that?

"No, not the expense." She actually blushed, and that charmed him. "Private. I mean, it's
not like we're on a real date."

"Who says?" He laughed again when she blushed darker. "Sophie, what do your
boyfriends do on dates?"

"I don't date."

"Religious abhorrence?" He tightened his grip at a sudden vision of Sophie bolting. Just
when he needed her most.

"Nobody ever asked me out. No boyfriends." She shrugged, which was a little difficult
when they were linked together. He liked the warmth of her soft arm rubbing against his.

"Well, that's a mistake on a cosmic scale." Kevyn quickened their pace as they
approached the door of the restaurant.

"Don't feel sorry for me, please." She started to tug her arm free, so he held on tighter.
"I'd much rather we just stay friends, okay?"

"Whatever Madame wishes, Madame gets." He let her free her arm, but caught hold of
her hand to press a kiss against her palm. While she stood there, stunned and wide-eyed, he
bowed and swept the door open before them.

The restaurant was a mistake. It was definitely upscale and romantic--and run by snobs.
The hostess wore a long, sweeping black dress and the waiters all wore black pants, shoes and
vests and white shirts with lace at the collar. The hostess started towards them, horror starting to
cross her face. Kevyn snapped his fingers, casting a glamour over their jeans, sneakers and
sweatshirts.

The illusion of their upscale outfits earned them a shadowed, circular booth lit with
scented candles, within sight and sound of a trickling fountain. Sophie didn't protest when Kevyn
ordered a carafe of expensive wine for them. He choked on his ice water when, the second time
the water came back to their table, Sophie asked for diet cherry cola. It surprised him more when
the waiter didn't even blink, and hurried to bring it to them. Somehow, Kevyn thought a ritzy
place like this wouldn't deign to stock something so plebian.

And intoxicating.

What was she up to?

"Oh, this is the best," Sophie murmured, when she sipped at the tall wine goblet full of
the gently fizzing liquid. "You have to try this. It tastes better when it comes out of a dispenser
instead of a bottle."

"Thanks, but it's your treat."

"There's plenty." She waved at the tall carafe of cola, almost the same color as the wine,
then slid the goblet over in front of him. Before Kevyn could again refuse, she picked up his
goblet and put it in front of her. "Share?"

She's trying to get me drunk.

How could Sophie know he was susceptible to diet cherry cola, unless she was working
with the Enclave Hunters? Maybe his parents had hired her to trap him, catch his interest, even
seduce him?

Kevyn knew his limits, and how to spell himself to sober up before the dangerous,
out-of-control point. He would just play along with her and see where she led.

Through the appetizers and the salad, he pretended to sip at the cola and plied her with
questions about her doctoral program. They switched glasses back and forth, and several times
Sophie accidentally poured more cola into his wine. Or
was
it an accident? It tasted
strange, but intriguing, so he let it pass. Mixing wine and cola actually helped him fight off the
woozies.

Maybe that was why he saw her drinking rum-and-Coke that first night?

Kevyn realized Sophie had drunk far more wine than cola, and she wasn't tipsy.

Interesting.

When their entrees came, he ordered coffee and joked about the double dose of caffeine
making him more tipsy than the wine. Sophie laughed, but that speculative light in her eyes grew
brighter.

If she was an Enclave Hunter, she would know that coffee combined with the caffeine in
the cola to counteract the artificial sweeteners and flavors, much like dark chocolate acted as a
health and energy booster. So what game, exactly, was she playing?

He was on his way to the bathroom when he felt the buzz of energy from the Enclave
Hunters entering the restaurant. The snap of magic they flung around themselves was like a
thunderclap. Kevyn whisked a cloak of invisibility around himself while the reverberation still
echoed through the ether and silently laughed at their obliviousness.

Intriguingly, Sophie reacted to all that magic buzzing through the atmosphere. She
looked around the restaurant, frowned, and hunched her shoulders. Kevyn almost lost his grip on
the invisibility spell when she reached up and rubbed at the lovely pointed tips of her ears.

Down boy,
he scolded himself.

Firmly shoving his mind into stealth mode, he crept through the shadowy restaurant to
sneak up on the Enclave Hunters.

They, in turn, crept up on Sophie and slapped an invisibility spell around themselves.
Kevyn was close enough that it overlapped with his and let him see through the shield. He could
hear and see everything they said and did.

"Another wild goose chase," Larry said with a sigh, and glared at Sophie as if it was her
fault they couldn't find their quarry.

"Halfling," Curly said with a sigh.

"More like an eighthling. She has power, but there's no training. Not even consciousness
that she has power." He snorted. "Waste of time."

"Maybe not. She's kind of cute. In a mixed-blood kind of way."

Cute?
Kevyn felt something stir to life and try to roar. Sophie was more than
cute. And who did they think they were, critiquing her, maybe trying to decide if she was worth
slobbering over?

He saw her first! If anybody was going to seduce a Halfling, it was going to be him.
They'd just have to wait their turn.

If he ever gave them a turn.

Kevyn took two steps back, almost losing contact with their magic, almost losing his
grip on his own magic so he became visible.

What was he doing, feeling possessive over Sophie? She was trying to get him drunk,
after all. That meant something was going on in her devious, highly intelligent mind.

Kevyn scolded himself to get back on track and moved closer, so he could see Sophie
while he listened to the two Hunters.

"She has pretty strong potential. If it drew us off track, imagine what she could do as a
Changeling?" Larry mused. He cocked his head to one side and frowned as he studied Sophie,
who sat totally unaware of her Fae watchers, sipping wine and making notes in her notepad.
Kevyn made a mental note to check that notepad the first chance he got.

"We could get a reward from the Council, if we do," the Hunter continued after a few
more seconds of study.

"And they could also chew us out for wasting their time. Training Changelings is too
much work. It's more fun to see what diluted Fae blood does in the Human world when people
don't know they can work magic." Curly snickered.

Kevyn seriously considered breaking his cover to pop him a good one, right in the
chops.

But that would mean having to run, and he wanted--no, needed--to spend more time
with Sophie. Whatever she did, he knew he could extricate himself before he got into
trouble.

Besides, as long as he stuck with Sophie, the Hunters would stay away. They would feel
power emanations and assume, wrongly, that they only sensed another powerful Halfling. They
wouldn't dream that a Fae on the run might use her as a shield.

* * * *

When Kevyn's coffee came to the table, Sophie poured some diet cherry cola into the
cup, and most of the carafe into the sealed coffee pitcher. That had to have some effect on him,
right?

Too bad The Book hadn't told her how much it would take.

Kevyn returned in a cheerful mood. A little too cheerful, Sophie thought. Then again,
her conscience prickled, and that might have affected how she viewed everything.

It definitely caused her to hallucinate. She heard two men talking right in front of the
table, but couldn't see them. And though their voices were muffled and they spoke in another
language, she had the strangest feeling they were talking about her.

For all she knew, they were ghosts. If Fae were real, just like Great-aunt Serena had
always proclaimed, then ghosts could be, too.

That wasn't a very nice thought. She had seen
The Sixth Sense
and for three
months, every time a chill breeze touched her, she looked around for evidence of ghostly
activity.

Which made no sense, because at the time she didn't believe.

Sophie wasn't quite sure what she believed anymore.

"You are so pretty," Kevyn muttered. He tipped back his cup of coffee, put the cup
down so it clanked against the saucer, and rested his chin in his hand while he studied her with
bleary eyes. "You are the prettiest girl at the entire convention."

Which proved what she had just been thinking. She couldn't believe in anything.
Nothing she depended on was reliable anymore.

"Who ever said skinny was pretty? I like soft girls. Curvy girls." He stroked one
fingertip down her arm, giving her shivers that made her warm and gooey inside. "Like
you."

Well, if she was looking for a sign that he was drunk, this was probably it.

"So, you like fat girls?"

"Nope." His elbow slid a few inches forward, and Kevyn leaned closer to her. "You're
special, Sophie. You have no idea how special you are."

"I know exactly how special I am." Her eyes stung and she looked into Kevyn's eyes and
cursed herself for being so clever she was stupid. The first guy who spent time with her without
some ulterior motive or to win some moronic, testosterone-induced bet, and she had to ruin
things by getting him drunk.

Drunk on diet cherry cola? Who ever heard such a thing?

Maybe the Fae weren't really magic--they were just mutants. Aliens, maybe. Sophie
wondered what would happen if she went to the doctoral board and said she had proof that Earth
had been visited by aliens, and they left their rejects and merged them with the Human genome
to cause problems hundreds of generations later.

"You don't wanna know how special you are," Kevyn whispered, leaning closer so his
breath brushed against her cheek.

Sophie stifled a whimper. It was the story of her life. She had to get a guy silly drunk for
him to show some interest in her. Too bad he made her feel so good just by staring into her eyes.
Of course, he looked sort of cross-eyed right now.

"It's a bunch of trouble, being special. Different."

"In grade school, they called people like us freaks," Sophie muttered.

"Not freaks. Magic." Kevyn smiled crookedly and nodded. "Real magic. And being
magic is a pain in the keister. You don't know how lucky you are, being a real girl. Wish I could
be." He frowned, shook his head, and sat up a little straighter. "I mean, real and not magic. Not a
girl. Wouldn't have any fun with you if I was girl. Because I'm glad you're a girl. Want you to be
my girl. Bet you'd be warm and soft and cuddly and I bet you'd taste like everything I like
best."