Kiss and Spell - Page 8/105

I couldn’t help but sigh wistfully. That was what being in love in New York was supposed to be about, not fighting off gangster elves and then having dinner with my grandmother while being lectured on how to do magic. Owen and I had yet to manage one normal date that was even remotely similar to the kind of things you saw in movies. The closest we’d come was when we were hanging out as friends before we started dating. I guessed it came with the territory when part of your job was stopping bad magic.

But we weren’t on the front lines right now, other than apparently being targets. We should finally have the time to work on the romantic side of our relationship and see what was there without the adrenaline of constant danger or the closeness that came from developing battle plans together. I thought about planning a picnic for the weekend, but then I’d have to pack enough to feed Owen’s official monitors, the various factions who were also watching him, and now possibly the MSI security people and the elves who were out to get us. Was just one nice, romantic day out too much to hope for?

“It’s a lie!” Nita said, and I turned to her in surprise, wondering if I’d been projecting my thoughts unwittingly.

“What is?” I asked.

“This whole romantic autumn in New York thing. It’s like there’s an entire industry devoted to selling us this story, and then does it really happen? No! If you try to suggest any of this stuff to a guy, he accuses you of having seen too many movies. Apparently, no one but tourists goes boating on the lake in Central Park. Or is that just what they say when they don’t want to pay for it?”

“You have seen too many movies.”

“Well, yeah, but that doesn’t mean it can’t be at all true. Have you ever done any of this romantic New York stuff?”

“We went ice skating in Central Park last Christmas,” I said. And I fell through the ice, which was supposed to be impossible since the rink wasn’t a frozen pond. “Otherwise, no, not really. Work’s been crazy, so most of our dates are lunches at the office.”

“I think that’s the way most people date in this city.” She sighed. “They’re so doing it wrong.” I couldn’t help but agree as we watched the rest of the movie together. I had an amazing, gorgeous guy, so where was my romantic comedy life?

*

When Owen and I got to the office the next morning, I was eager to interrogate Sam about the previous evening’s events, but he wasn’t at his usual place on the building’s awning. “He’s avoiding us,” I accused.

“You know he had to be under orders, and he obviously did try to warn us as well as he could.”

“Then I guess we can’t go demand that the boss tell us what’s up.”

“I’m sure he’ll tell us soon enough.”

“I hope he lets us know before we get attacked by elves with knives again.”

“Elven blades are dangerous,” he agreed. Then we reached my hallway and he said, “I’ll see you for our afternoon training session.”

As I approached my office, I hoped Perdita had gotten over whatever had been bugging her the day before. I wasn’t in the mood to tiptoe around sensitive feelings. I felt a lot more like stomping on things.

She was already at her desk, which was unusual for her, but she merely glanced up at me, then looked down again. Normally, she’d offer me coffee, at the very least. Often, she’d bombard me with gossip and questions before I made it all the way through the door. “Good morning,” I called out more cheerfully than I felt, but she just nodded and continued pretending to work. I hadn’t given her a project to work on, so I knew her busyness was fake. Giving it up as a lost cause, I went on into my office.

I’d almost made it to my desk when she called out, “Um, Katie, could I talk to you about something?” She sounded troubled and more serious than normal.

I turned back and went to the office doorway. “Sure. What is it?”

She took a deep breath, as though steeling herself for something unpleasant. She wasn’t going to resign, was she? Sure, she was a ditz and a klutz, but I was getting used to her, and she often had good ideas. I’d hate to think that I’d driven her away. I hoped I was a good boss. I’d had enough horrible bosses for me to make a conscious effort to not repeat those mistakes. “There’s something I think I should show you,” she said, not meeting my eyes.

I went over to her desk and sat in the guest chair beside it. “Okay,” I said, as reassuringly as I could. “What do you have to show me?”