“Don’t worry about it. You couldn’t help it. But there is a way you could make it up to me.”
He frowned. “How?”
“Do you have a spell for moving furniture?”
“Usually, I just push.”
“I meant up or down stairs. When you moved into your place, did you actually carry everything up the stairs, or did you do the abracadabra routine?”
“Abracadabra wouldn’t be very effective for teleporting or levitating heavy items. That’s more of a rabbit-in-a-hat spell.” The crinkles at the corners of his eyes told me he was teasing me. “But yeah, there are spells for moving.”
“What are you doing the weekend after next?”
“Let me guess, I’ll be moving furniture.”
“Only if it’s not too hard, and if you’re free.”
“Who’s moving?”
“We got dibs on a two-bedroom unit downstairs in the same building. And I figure that instead of us hiring big, burly men to carry our furniture down the steep stairs, their muscles rippling and shining with sweat while we gaze upon them in admiration, you might prefer to snap your fingers or flick your wrist or whatever the spell calls for while you say the magic words.”
“Yeah, Rod and I could move you easily. You don’t even have to pack. And if Rod isn’t too eager, I bet the big, burly men threat would work on him.”
I hugged his arm. “Thanks. You’re the best.”
The sound of honking horns on a New York City street wouldn’t have caught my attention, but when it was accompanied by the sound of screeching tires and loud, metallic bangs, I whipped around to see what was happening. An armored car was careening toward us, knocking aside every other vehicle in its path. I grabbed Owen’s arm and shouted his name, but instead of looking at the armored car, he turned to stare at the crowd.
I wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but apparently he saw it, for he tugged his arm out of my grasp and moved his hands in a subtle pushing gesture while he said soft words that I didn’t understand. I did understand the surge of power that radiated from him. Soon, the out-of-control armored car resumed a reasonable course, gradually moving to pull over without hitting anything along the way.
Before the armored car came to a complete stop, Owen took off, chasing someone down the sidewalk—probably the magical villain. I figured the real action would be wherever Owen was going, so I ran after Owen, abandoning the brewing shouting match between the armored car driver and the drivers whose cars he’d hit.
He had a head start and was much faster than I was, so I could barely see him ahead on the crowded sidewalk. There was a blast of magic so strong that even the normal people who had no idea magic existed paused and shuddered, and then everything came to a total halt.
I groaned and muttered, “You know you’re not supposed to do that,” while I wove my way through commuters frozen in time to find Owen stepping forward to grab the arms of two young men.
“It’s only for a second or two,” he said as I reached his side. “And it was necessary.”
“You don’t have to get defensive,” I said, just as time started moving again. Owen’s captives jerked in shock when they suddenly found themselves in custody. They struggled, but Owen was using more than muscle power to hold them.
“Hey, man, what is this?” one of them said, playing innocent. “You can’t just grab people like this.”
“And you can’t just hijack an armored car in broad daylight on a busy city street,” Owen said, managing to sound calm even though he was breathing heavily.
“You can’t prove anything,” the other captive said. “Help! Police!” he shouted, then added, “And try explaining this to the police.”
“I won’t have to. Did you really think I’d let anyone see or hear you?” Owen asked, raising an eyebrow.
Two men dressed all in black suddenly appeared in the empty space next to me on the sidewalk. Funny, I hadn’t noticed any major magic. “We’ll take it from here, sir,” the shorter man said, waving a hand. Silver chains materialized and looped around the captives’ wrists.
Owen released them and stepped back. “Do you need a statement?” he asked. “I witnessed the incident. I’m with MSI.”
“We may contact you later,” the taller man said. Then he frowned at Owen and asked, “Aren’t you James and Gloria Eaton’s boy?”
“They brought me up.”
A smile broke out on the man’s craggy face. “I thought so. You probably don’t remember me, but I was at your house a few times when you were a kid. Tell James and Gloria that Mack said hello. It looks like they trained you well.”
