Utterly Charming (27 page)

After lobbing the last he ran toward Nora. He reached her, put his arms around her waist, and helped her into the garage.

“I think this is Emma,” she said, pointing at the toad. Blackstone squinted.

“By God,” he said. “It is. Get her out of here, Nora.”

“Where do I take her?” Nora asked.

Blackstone looked over his shoulder at the ruined neighborhood and winced. “Good question.”

“Are you hiding, Aethelstan?” Ealhswith’s voice floated down from the roof.

“Just stay put,” he said, and as he started to leave, the snake shot out of Nora’s sleeve and made a dive for Blackstone’s arm. Nora had to catch it with her right hand.

“Malcolm?” Blackstone asked. The snake wrapped itself around his arm and peered into his face. “Malcolm?” He sounded thrilled.

“You have a snake named Malcolm?” Nora said.

Blackstone nodded. “He’s my familiar. And I haven’t needed him more than I need him right now.”

“Aethelstan, are you afraid of me?” Ealhswith sounded as if she were pleased.

“Not on your life, Ealhswith,” he shouted. Then he patted Emma on the head. “You don’t know how much easier you’ve just made this,” he said, and ran back to the front yard.

Nora stepped out farther. The smoke was hurting her lungs. The air had gotten so hot that she could barely breathe.

“This time you won’t find a glass coffin in my garage,” Ealhswith said.

“I know,” Blackstone said. He whirled, going faster and faster until he was just a blur.

A fire truck pulled up on the street, and the men on the truck stared at Blackstone. Nora did too. The toad was still trembling in her pocket.

Then black lines shot out of the whirling dervish that was Blackstone. They went toward the roof, and above her, Nora heard a thud.

“You can’t do this! You can’t!” Ealhswith shouted. “If you hurt me, you’ll hurt Emma!”

The toad cringed in Nora’s pocket.

A black-wrapped Ealhswith fell off the roof like a charred bowling ball. It hit the eave above the front door, bounced, and landed in the lawn.

Blackstone stopped whirling and stood over her. “I can do anything I want,” he said. “Because I know where Emma is, and I know how to save her this time.”

He nudged the black-wrapped ball with his foot. It whimpered.

“Can’t cast a spell now, can you?” he asked. “It’s rather scary when you can’t move your arms.”

Nora stayed in the garage. She didn’t trust this. Not yet.

“I think a thousand-year sleep might be a good punishment. Or maybe I should kill you so that you can’t inflict yourself on anyone else.” He peered at Ealhswith through the black wrapping. Nora couldn’t see anything except small bits of flesh.

Then he shook his head. “But that would make me as bad as you. Your future belongs to the Fates. They’ll figure out what to do with you.”

He waved an arm over Ealhswith, and the entire black ball disappeared.

Several more fire trucks pulled up, and the fireman started spraying water on the other houses. Blackstone walked toward the garage.

“If you could do that all along,” Nora said, “why did you let this go on?”

“I couldn’t do that all along,” he said. “It takes centuries of training to do that one spell, and sometimes the mage you attack doesn’t survive it. I didn’t dare risk it, not while Emma was in her coma.”

“But she’s a toad now,” Nora said. “And Ealhswith did that. There are a dozen more animals upstairs.”

Blackstone nodded. “As I said, I’ve learned a little during this last millennium.”

The toad poked its head out of Nora’s pocket and watched everything with its large eyes. Blackstone’s snake peeked out of his collar and hissed.

“Pleasant familiar,” Nora said.

More and more fire trucks were showing up. The sky was black, the sun gone. Smoke covered everything. The ashfall covered Nora, the car, the yard. Particles floated in the air.

“But first,” Blackstone said, his smile for Nora, “we take care of the neighborhood.”

“Kind of you,” she said.

“I remember your complaints the last time. Besides,” he said, “if I don’t, we’ll be inundated with more and more people.”

“Not to mention the loss of air.” Nora coughed, and it wasn’t for effect. Her throat was raw.

Blackstone turned. He seemed to be bracing himself, drawing strength, as if he had just finished a marathon and was then told he had to run for five more miles. He spread out his arms, mumbled something in that archaic Danish, and everything disappeared.

Whiteness, opaqueness.

Nora felt dizzy.

Then the buildings were back as they were. The fire was gone. The smoke was gone. The air was clean and fresh. The flowers still bloomed, and the pine tree across the street stood tall and proud. There were no fire trucks on the street, only a handful of cars that had been parked there.

The curtains moved in the radio personality’s house, and Nora thought she saw a face in the window.

“Thanks,” she said.

“My pleasure,” Blackstone said, bowing again. It touched her every time he did that. He seemed elegant and courtly and somehow right. On any other man that action would seem like an affectation. “Now let’s take care of Emma. Please take her out of your pocket and place her on the driveway.”

“You’re sure this is Emma?”

“Aren’t you?” he asked.

Nora bit her lower lip. How to say that the toad looked like a toad to her? Actually, it looked like a frog to her, or had from a distance.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “It’s Emma. I recognize her eyes.”

Nora looked. The bulging eyes looked like frog eyes. She took the toad out of her pocket and placed it on the driveway. Then she stepped back. The toad just sat there, watching Blackstone.

He stepped toward the road. Then he raised his arms, muttered more in Danish, then repeated parts of the spell in English. It sounded vaguely like Shakespearean dialogue from Macbeth. No wonder the bard had gotten the witches scene from the Fates.

Blackstone ended it with a shouted, “Reverse Ealhswith’s spells!” and then he clapped his hands. There was a loud boom, and Nora was knocked backward onto the ground.

She landed beside the Saab, but there was no concrete beneath her. She had scraped her elbows and hands on grass. Frowning she looked up. Dozens of naked people littered what was now a vacant lot, along with furniture that had tumbled haphazardly into place. The couch and chairs were in the same spots they had been in that living room, but the bed had fallen on its side. Both big screen TVs were there as well as all the DVDs.

The glass coffin had shattered.

The naked people were sitting beside each other, holding their heads. They all looked toward Blackstone, and he cursed slightly.

Nora looked at him too. Behind him, Emma sat on the grass. She was also naked. And perfect. Nora had never known another woman to look so perfect.

Emma was staring at her own hands, then at the space where the house had been.

“Good heavens, that child needs a coat!”

The voice belonged to Amanda. Nora turned. Her mother was behind her, and Jeffrey was beside her, much in the same positions they had been in before they decided to scout the neighborhood.

“Give her your shirt, Jeffrey,” Amanda said.

Jeffrey started to unbutton his shirt. Blackstone took a step toward all the naked people and swore again.

Then he held his arms up and said, “To the Fates!” and clapped his hands together again.

The naked people—except for Emma—disappeared.

“What’re you doing?” Nora asked.

“Sending evidence,” he said.

“They were people, not evidence.”

“Too many for me to deal with.” He turned toward her. “It would have been a mess.”

“You could have spelled them like you planned to spell Emma.”

“It’s not that simple,” he said. “Didn’t you recognize Jimmy Hoffa in there? And the crew of the
Marie Celeste
? Obviously Ealhswith has been doing this for a long time. And keeping them as some sort of vendetta.”

Jeffrey got up and wrapped his shirt around Emma. That seemed to break her spell. She patted his hands and stood slowly, her gaze still on Blackstone.

“Aethelstan,” she said. “I misjudged you.”

He shot Nora a quick glance, so quick that she wondered if she imagined that he was rolling his eyes. Then he turned toward Emma. “No,” he said. “I owe you an apology.”

“No, you do not,” she said. “I owe you an apology. You saved my life.”

Then she ran into his arms, Jeffrey’s shirt flapping around her. They spun slightly, and Blackstone looked at Nora over Emma’s shoulder.

“You saved me,” Emma said again. Then she grabbed his head, brought it down, and kissed him.

Nora held her breath. Blackstone looked alarmed. But Emma giggled. “See!” she said. “Even that spell has been reversed.”

“I guess so,” he said, and for some reason he didn’t sound happy.

Emma backed out of his grasp and wrapped the shirt around herself. She smiled at Nora. “Thank you,” she said. “You were great. As were you, Amanda. And you, Jeffrey. I owe you so much. I shall get you a new shirt.”

He nodded, as if he were in shock. Nora was trembling. Things were moving too fast for her.

Emma grabbed Blackstone’s hand. “Let us leave,” she said.

He glanced at Nora. “Do you have objections, Counselor?”

“Not if my client doesn’t,” she said, amazed that her voice could sound so calm.

Blackstone frowned slightly and looked at Emma.

“Object?” Emma said. “No. I finally understand what has happened. I am ready to face the future. It is time to get to know Aethelstan. This Aethelstan. He says we are soul mates, you know.” She smiled at all of them, and it was like a blessing from the gods. “I will make sure Aethelstan pays you for your services.”

“Women don’t rely on men for money anymore, my dear,” Amanda said, a bit primly.

But she was speaking to the air. Emma and Blackstone were gone.

Two weeks later, Nora still hadn’t closed the file. She didn’t know how.

Should she put in her notes that she had witnessed a gigantic magic battle? That she had seen dozens of animals change into dozens of naked people, one of whom might have been Jimmy Hoffa, and then watched as the entire group vanished? Should she mention that her client had disappeared—literally into thin air?

Every time she thought about recording any of her thoughts about the Emma Lost case, she realized how hopeless it was. How hopeless it all was.

And it was over. That’s what she kept telling herself. Somehow she managed to get through the days, meeting new clients, doing new cases, going to court, talking to Ruthie. The nights were the hard part. Her apartment seemed empty, and it didn’t help that Darnell had started going into Emma’s room and howling until all hours, as if that would bring her back.

He was probably insulted that Emma’s spinning wheel had disappeared the day after Emma had. If Blackstone was willing to come and get Emma’s prized possessions, the least he could do was take the cat whose heart Emma had stolen.

But Emma clearly wasn’t thinking of anyone but Emma. She hadn’t been since the entire group rescued her from Ealhswith.

To be fair, Nora hadn’t really been thinking of anyone but Nora either. After the first day’s shock had worn off, she had bought herself two large cartons of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream and eaten them both while she watched sappy movies. She hadn’t acted like this when she separated from Max; she couldn’t believe she was acting like this over a man who had done little more than smile at her.

He had probably charmed her. Blackstone, not Max. Despite his promise. He had probably raised those long, beautiful arms of his, recited something in Danish, and made her melt every time she saw him.

That had to be it. She wouldn’t have fallen in love with him on her own.

Even though, in her heart, she knew she had.

And she didn’t know how to talk about this. Ruthie was pretending that Blackstone didn’t exist. Nora’s mother was having difficulties of her own. She finally had to accept the existence of magic, after all that evidence.

“I should have trusted your father,” she said to Nora. “But I thought he was foolish.”

At least Amanda had Jeffrey. Nora had no one.

One night, in a moment of weakness, she had called Max. He, at least, had been sympathetic. She told him everything, and for once, he didn’t pretend that she was talking about mobsters. He told her to treat herself, to be kind to herself, and he even promised to back off on the nasty parts of the divorce.

He had kept that promise. His response had been the only good thing to come from this entire mess.

Mostly she thought about Blackstone, and most of these thoughts went through her mind in the middle of the night, long after she had exhausted herself at work—and lately, at the health club, figuring if she couldn’t sleep naturally, and sleeping pills left her groggy, she would try good old-fashioned exercise. But that simply made her muscles sore and made her bed seem even more uncomfortable than it already did.

Squidgy didn’t like her tossing and turning either. The cat had taken to sitting on her headboard, waiting until Nora had finally dropped off, and then jumping on the bed, waking her up. She was beginning to think sleep would be as elusive as Blackstone was.

Although she knew how to reach him. All she had to do was go to his restaurant, but she didn’t really have a reason to. Their business was completed. The wicked stepmother had been vanquished. He was now living happily ever after with Emma.

As much as she wished them both well, Nora really didn’t want to see what eternal happiness looked like. Especially when she had a hunch it would pass her by.

It was 3:00 a.m. on a Thursday night, two weeks after Blackstone had defeated Ealhswith, that Nora’s doorbell rang. She knew because she looked. She also knew because it had been the first time that she had fallen asleep at anything like her normal time in weeks. So of course someone had to ruin it.

As she got up, she slid her feet into her slippers and grabbed her robe. The doorbell rang again as she hurried down the stairs. When she reached the door, she peered through the peephole. And saw nothing.

“Dammit, Sancho,” she said. “Can’t you show up during business hours?”

“These are business hours,” he said from the other side of the door. “In England.”

“I’m not in England. Come back tomorrow.”

“This is tomorrow.”

“You know what I mean.”

Outside the door, she heard the unmistakable sound of a chuckle. “That’s why you’re so perfect, you know.”

“Flattery won’t get me to let you in.”

“Come on, Nora,” Sancho said. “Aren’t you in the least bit curious why I’m here?”

He got her there. Through her exhaustion and her frustration, she had to admit curiosity. Maybe Blackstone had sent him.

Maybe pigs flew.

Maybe if someone cast the right spell on them, anyway.

She pulled the door open. Sancho came inside. He was wearing a velvet smoking jacket and a pair of matching trousers. “Aren’t you hot?”

“It’s cold in Australia,” he said. “It’s their winter.”

“You’re not in Australia. This is Oregon, or have you forgotten?”

“I haven’t forgotten a thing.” He pushed the door closed and walked toward the couch as if he were the one who lived here. Darnell, who had been sleeping in Emma’s room, came out and stared at Sancho.

“Is that Emma’s cat?”

“No,” Nora said. “It’s my cat. But it seems to have adopted Emma.”

“Mind losing it?”

“To Emma? Why should I mind? The damn cat screeches for her all night anyway.”

“Good,” he said and plunked down on the couch.

“You didn’t come here to ask me about a cat.”

“No, I didn’t.” He ran a hand over his brow. “You weren’t kidding. It is hot here. I thought the Northwest cools off at night.”

“It does. It was one hundred today.”

“Zowie.” He stood and removed the smoking jacket, revealing a tuxedo shirt beneath. For some reason all that velvet looked good on him.

“If you didn’t come for Darnell, then why are you here?”

“To see if you’ll go to Blackstone.”

It felt like a punch in the stomach. No one had spoken his name around her since the day after he disappeared. She’d had to clarify things for her mother and Jeffrey, who looked skeptical when she described Emma as the love of Blackstone’s life, and then Nora had gone into a self-imposed silence.

“If he wants to see me, he knows where I am,” she said, perching on her armchair. Sancho was hot, but she was too cold. Her robe was thin and she had the windows open. It had cooled down to at least fifty-five degrees, and a breeze was blowing that chilly air inside.

Sancho rolled his eyes. “He won’t come to you.”

“Then why should I go to him?”

“You still haven’t figured it out?”

“No,” Nora said.

“You’re his soul mate.”

“Right,” she said. “And you are the king of England.”

“No,” he said. “I was the king’s assistant.”

“If one considers Arthur a full king of England, and not king of a smaller kingdom called Camelot.”

Sancho’s eyebrows went up. “Blackstone told you that?”

“Parts of it.”

“And here I am now, acting like a matchmaker.” He shook his head. “How the mighty hath fallen.”

Nora rubbed her cold hands together. “Blackstone and I are as different as two people can be.”

“Oh?” Sancho asked. “You seem similar to me. You’re both strong personalities who act in the face of anything that comes your way. You’re dynamic and interesting and basically unflappable.”

“And I’m a mortal, and he’s not. I’m thirty-five and he passed that mark 986 years ago. He’s met everyone from King Arthur to Jimmy Hoffa and the most famous person I know is my soon-to-be ex-husband. He’s—”

“For a lawyer, you make terrible points,” Sancho said. “And you’re as bad at putting two and two together as Blackstone is.”

“What does that mean?”

“When you went to see the Fates, did they talk to you?”

“Of course.”

“But what did they say about your mother and her lover?”

“Her lover—?”

“Oh, stop. You’re not twelve. You knew that your mother’s been sleeping with this Chawsir fellow. You just haven’t wanted to acknowledge it.” Sancho leaned forward. “I think it’s true love, by the way.”

“Since when did you become a romantic?”

“Look up your Geoffrey of Monmonth. I’ve always been a romantic.” He leaned back. “What did the Fates say about your mother and her lover?”

“They said they were blathering.”

He nodded. “And you have cats. Your mother doesn’t.”

“What’s your point?” Nora snapped.

“You’ll find out after menopause.”

“Oh, shit,” Nora said. “You’re not implying I’m one of you.”

He grinned. “You do catch on then, after someone clubs you over the head with it.”

She put a hand over her eyes. She wasn’t sure she was willing to let the implications of what he had just said sink in. “Why is this relevant?”

“Because,” he said, “You and Blackstone aren’t as different as you think.”

“But he’s off living happily ever after with Emma.”

“Really?” Sancho said. “With little Emma?”

Nora’s heart rose for just a moment. “He’s not?”

“Come see for yourself,” he said and waved an arm. She caught it halfway up.

“I’m not going to see him dressed like this,” she said.

“So you’re coming with me?”

She sighed. What could it hurt? “Will this be a Dickensian visit? You know, like the Ghosts of Christmas Present?”

He grinned. “How did you know that was me?”

“I didn’t really,” she said.

“Those English writers,” he said, as if she hadn’t spoken. “They always had to find a way to process their experiences.”

She stood. She’d had enough. “If you were the Ghost of Christmas Present, how come Dickens portrayed him as tall?”

Sancho shrugged. “Revenge? A bad memory? Political correctness?”

“In 1843?”

He stood too. “All right,” he said. “I’ll be honest with you, if it’ll make you stop haranguing me and get you out of that ratty robe.”

“It’s a nice robe.”

“It’s not as nice as your normal clothes,” he said pointedly.

She crossed her arms.

“I’m Andvari.” He said that as if she should know the name.

“That’s a relief,” she said. “I was beginning to think you were Rumplestiltskin.”

“No,” he said with a bit of irritation. “My name is Andvari. That’s the name I was born with. Andvari.”

“So?”

“Don’t they teach Norse myths in school anymore?”

“I don’t know about anymore,” she said, “but twenty years ago, they taught mostly Greek and Roman myths.”

“Blatant discrimination,” he said. “The Norse say that I was forced to give up my horde of gold and the magic ring that created it to Loki as payment to Otter’s father for Otter, whom Loki had slain. I got a bit pissed, so I put a curse on the ring. There’s more that has to do with dragons and gold piles, but that’s the essence of it all.”

“Is it true?”

“Is what true?”

“The myth?”

He shrugged. “I was bad-tempered when I was young.”

She shook her head. “I don’t know what I should believe anymore.”

“I haven’t lied to you,” Sancho said. “Not once. Come with me to see Blackstone. Then you can make up your mind about him.”

“One more thing before I go,” she said. “Did he charm me?”

“The way you’ve been treating him? If he did, then all that would mean was that he was very bad at charming. And he isn’t. But you’ve been countering his wishes from the beginning. No one does that, usually. He’s smitten, lady, and has been for the past ten years. Why do you think he opened his restaurant in Portland?”

“So he could keep an eye on me while he guarded Emma’s coffin.”

“Baaaaaad idea, which is what I told him at the time,” Sancho said. “He should have been in Hawaii or Iceland or somewhere else remote so that he wouldn’t lead Ealhswith to you or Emma, but he didn’t listen. He wanted to be close to you.”

“You are so full of it,” Nora said.

“I may be,” Sancho said. “But I’m not lying. And I’m tired of standing around.” He snapped a finger. Suddenly she was warmer. She looked down. She was wearing a black jacket with tasteful beaded embroidery running along the side, a pair of matching black pants, and black pumps.

“These aren’t my clothes,” she said.

“Consider them a gift,” he said and waved his arm. Before she could catch it, he swung it all the way around. One minute she was in her apartment, and the next she was in Quixotic’s kitchen.

She had to duck as a china plate whizzed by her and smashed against the wall. Blackstone was standing slightly to her side. He had his arms crossed and a bemused expression on his face.

Emma had grabbed another plate and was about to throw it. Sancho took Nora’s arm and moved her behind one of the stainless steel tables.

“Can they see us?” Nora whispered.

“Of course we can see you,” Blackstone said. He still hadn’t looked in their direction.

“Do not speak for me!” Emma said as she lobbed another plate at him. He stepped to one side as the plate flew past and shattered against the wall. There was a large pile of broken china behind him.

“Are you going to keep throwing until you hit me?” he asked.

“Perhaps I will continue even after that!” she said and threw another plate. It sounded like a gunshot as it exploded against the wall.

“Then you’ll owe me the cost of the china,” he said.

“I owe you nothing!” she yelled.

“What’s going on?” Nora asked.

“I think it’s Ealhswith’s influence,” Blackstone said.

“It is not!” Emma shouted, picking up another plate. “It is you! You who treats me as if I am a common—wench!”

She threw the plate on that last word, and Blackstone stepped in the other direction. The plate slammed against the wall but did not shatter. It landed on top of the china shards and rolled off them, spinning as it hit the floor. It continued to spin for a moment, and then it shattered, as if in regret.