Damsel Under Stress

Finally, the others settled on the complex choreography of who would do what and when. All that was left was to set it up and see if the bad guys were willing to play along. “Mr. Wainwright,” Merlin said to Ethan, “you will contact Miss Meredith in the morning to arrange that exchange. Make it sound like your client is planning to give in to her demands, but say nothing that sounds like it might be a pledge. Meanwhile, I will go to the Spellworks store and give them the message for Mr. Idris. Someone at the store has to know how to contact him, and under the circumstances, I’m sure they’ll do so.”



I’d have loved to be a fly on the wall for Merlin’s visit to the store. Imagine being a magic store clerk and having the real Merlin walk into your store. It would be like Elvis walking into a neighborhood record store.



“What about Gemma?” I asked as the thought occurred to me. “If they figure out they have the wrong person, she could be in danger.”



“We already have her guarded,” Merlin said.



“She’ll be worried sick, though. She’s probably called the police by now.”



“Why shouldn’t she call the police?” Rod asked, his voice and face hard and grim. “Marcia is in danger.”



“I have one more question,” I said, raising my hand. “When do we deal with Ari?”



“After everything is secured, we will get you to a safe place where we know we can retain custody of her, and then we will summon your fairy godmother to do the spell,” Merlin said. I tried not to groan at imagining any more time spent with Ari in my head.



Once everyone had synchronized their watches and verified their parts in the plan, the others went home. I helped Owen clear away the remains of the mostly uneaten Chinese food. “Do you think we have a prayer of making this work?” I asked.



“We’ll find out tomorrow. I’m sorry your friends have been caught up in this.” His voice had warmed a little toward me since our earlier conversation, but I still felt a bit of a chill.



“It’s Ari’s fault, really,” I said, forcing a light tone into my voice in an attempt to ease the awkwardness. “She was the one who broke the spell on Philip in the first place, which left him wandering the park for Gemma to find when she decided jogging in the park on Saturday mornings was a good way to meet men.”



“I assure you, I will do everything in my power to make sure your friend is returned safely.” He said it like he meant it as a solemn vow, and I knew his power was considerable enough that he wasn’t swearing anything lightly.



“Thank you,” I whispered. He just nodded in response. I could have really used a hug, but he didn’t look like he was in the mood, and I could practically feel the barrier between us.



Before we headed to bed, he gave me the immunity potion and the fairy sedative. I’d have to go through magical detox when all this was over, given the number of magical drugs I was taking.



I wasn’t sure if it was the potions or my overall weariness, but I slept hard and woke feeling heavy and lethargic. When I’d showered and dressed, I found Owen in the kitchen, making breakfast. As soon as he noticed my presence, he gestured to the two glasses that sat on the table. “Ah, yes, the morning doses,” I said.



“Drink those, and then you can have some coffee.” He looked even more tired than I felt. I wouldn’t have bet on him having slept at all. He certainly hadn’t shaved, and he still wore his glasses.



I drank the fairy sedative first, then chased it with the tea-flavored potion. As I put the second glass down, Owen put a mug of coffee in my hand. “Bless you,” I said before taking a good, long swallow.



He dished up scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast, and we ate in near silence. I didn’t feel much like talking, and he wasn’t one to talk just to fill silence, whether or not he was mad at me. Normally, I would have insisted on helping him wash dishes after breakfast, but this time I sat there and let him clear the table. “You know,” I mused out loud while I watched him wash dishes, “when this is over, I think I want a vacation. I want to go somewhere quiet and lie in a hammock or sit on a front porch and read a big, juicy book—and have no magic anywhere around me. No fairies, gargoyles, elves, gnomes, none of it.” I looked up to see him gazing at me. His eyes looked hurt. “Magical people would be okay,” I assured him. “As long as you don’t actually do magic. And it’s not that I have anything against all the other species. It’s just that they remind me of things that I’d prefer to forget while I’m on this hypothetical vacation.”