Enchanted, Inc. - Page 99/116

It appeared that I'd found a real fantasy nerd. I wasn't sure if that would make this easier or more difficult. "Well, magic is real. It's different from the books, and to be honest, I don't know a lot about it, but a lot of those fantasy creatures you read about are real. There are people who really can do magic."

"Can you do magic?"

I shook my head. "Nope. I'm as nonmagical as you can get, to the point that magic doesn't work on me. And you're the same way. That's why you see the things you do. Most people have just enough magic in them to be influenced by it. They don't see weird things because the magical people have ways of masking them so they look normal. But we don't see the illusions. We see the truth. So we see the wings and the ears and the results of spells."

He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes again. "Wow." He shook his head, then pinched his own arm, winced, and blinked. "Wow. Either I'm really and truly nuts or this explains a lot."

"Believe me, I know how you feel. I didn't get clued into all of this until very recently."

"I don't know what to think. I don't know whether to believe you or whether I should just start drinking heavily. There's no such thing as magic."

"You'd be surprised. Want me to introduce you to Trix?"

He shook his head violently. "I'm not sure I could deal with that right now."

"I do know some people who'd be better at helping you figure this out than I am. I work for a magical company. They need people like us to help them see through all the illusions. You could be an incredible asset to us. There was already the possibility we might retain you for some legal matters, if we thought you could deal with the truth, but you being an immune, well, that changes things. We're always looking for people like you."

"I just... I don't know."

"What will it hurt to talk? At worst, you'll get a better sense of whether or not you're crazy."

"Just talk?"

"And maybe a little legal advice. We really do need some help in an intellectual property matter." I decided I might as well come clean, through and through. "To be honest, that's mostly why I wanted to go out with you. I remembered our conversation, and it was particularly applicable to the situation we found ourselves in. You can understand how in our line of work, we can't just call the law firm of Dewey, Cheatem, and Howe and hire a lawyer."

"Yes, I can see where that wouldn't necessarily work so well."

"Not that I don't find you interesting," I hurried to add. "I just did have an ulterior motive. What's going on ... well, it's big. And important."

He frowned in thought for a moment. "A new client is always good," he said after a while. "I have some time free at ten Monday. Would that work?"

I was pretty sure we'd make it work. Besides, Merlin would probably know already, in that weird way he had. "Ten would be fine."

I didn't have my own business cards, but I found the one Rod had given me in my purse. "Here's the address, and there's a map on the back. Let me write in my direct line for you." On the back of the card where the map was, I wrote my name and my office phone number. "Just ask for me at the front desk."

He took the card and studied it. "MSI, Inc., huh? What's that stand for?"

"Magic, Spells, and Illusions, Inc."

"Okay, then, I'll see you Monday. Do you mind if we call it a night? I'm not sure I'm up to dealing with anything else tonight."

"Not at all." I grabbed the check before he could. "I insist. After all, I lured you here under false pretexts for business purposes." He didn't put up a fight. He looked too drained to argue.

"At least let me make sure you get home okay. You said you live near Union Square?"

"Yeah, off Fourteenth. But I'll be fine." In the state he was in, I doubted he'd be much of a bodyguard."

"No, I can't leave a lady to get home by herself."

"Believe me, I'm well looked after. But you can walk me to the subway. I live very close to a stop, so I'll be fine." We left the restaurant, with Rod and Owen still sitting at the bar, and walked down the sidewalk toward the subway station. I saw Sam still on his perch from earlier in the evening and waved to him. "Hi, Sam!"

"Hey, sweetheart!" He left his perch and glided down to join us on the sidewalk.

I thought poor Ethan would have a stroke. "Okay, that's a gargoyle, and it's talking to us," he said.