No Quest for the Wicked Page 3

  “I bet R-and-D can whip up something,” Owen said, reaching for Merlin’s desk phone. “The trick will be finding someone willing to work with us under these circumstances.”

  “Yeah, knowing you’ll be knocked out just when things are getting interesting would be a real turn-off,” I said.

  “It would require a great deal of trust,” Merlin agreed with a sidelong glance at Owen and a fleeting frown. I bit my lip, knowing what that probably meant. Although I had no doubt that Owen was a good guy, and Merlin trusted him completely, not everyone in the company was dealing well with the recent revelations about Owen’s heritage. The loss of his powers was about the only thing that made his presence tolerable for a lot of people. There weren’t many wizards who’d be eager to join Owen on a quest for one of the most dangerous magical objects ever created, and even fewer who’d be okay with Owen having the ability to knock them out. Even if they gave the tranquilizer job to me, I was so closely associated with Owen that it wouldn’t make much difference.

  Owen hung up the phone and said, “They’ve got something they think should work. And what about Rod for magical support? He’d trust me, and he’s the best there is at illusion and charm.” Rod Gwaltney was Owen’s best friend from childhood. He ran the company’s personnel department, and he was also an expert wizard.

  “Good choice,” Merlin said, nodding, as he gave a very subtle sigh of relief. “We can use the security gargoyles for aerial reconnaissance and support. They can track the elves while also clearing the way for your team. Gargoyles are less likely to be susceptible to the Eye. It takes a lot to affect a gargoyle magically.”

  Owen got on the phone to call Rod and Sam, the head of security. They arrived soon afterward and got a quick briefing. Sam the gargoyle was his usual unflappable self, but Rod was startled by the revelation about the Eye. He cast a worried glance at Owen as he said, “I can see sending the A team, but is this such a great idea? I don’t doubt you at all, Owen, but you going after the Eye? It looks a lot like a bid for world power.”

  “I will deal with any fallout,” Merlin said before Owen could answer. “There is no one better suited for this quest, as Mr. Palmer is the one wizard who isn’t susceptible to the Eye.”

  Owen’s former assistant, Jake, broke the tension by arriving just then with what looked like a pencil case. “Here you go, three tranquilizer darts.” He opened the case to show three long, slender tubes. “You can either press them in directly, like a hypodermic needle, or you can throw them from up to ten feet away. They’ll cause instant unconsciousness in anyone, and the effects should last about half an hour, depending on the person’s size. Be careful with those. They’re all we’ve got on hand, and it takes about twenty-four hours to brew the potion.”

  “We’ll make them count,” Owen said, taking the case from him and slipping it into the inside pocket of his suit coat. “But just in case, you should get started on another batch.”

  “Now all we need is a target,” I said once Jake left.

  Just then, Minerva Felps, the head of the Prophets and Lost division that managed the company’s seers, swept into the office. If it had been anyone else, I’d have suspected her of lurking outside and waiting for the optimal time to make a dramatic entrance. Minerva had probably sensed five minutes ago when a good time would be. She carried a folder, from which she retrieved a stack of photos and documents that she spread out on the conference table. “Unfortunately, Jonathan Martin is a fairly common name,” she said as we came over to the table. “This thing was probably pretty pricey, so I figured we could rule out busboys, bicycle messengers, and anyone else who doesn’t earn at least seven figures. That still gave us a lot to sort through. The hackers and the seers ran credit card charges for this morning and looked for shifts in auras and came up with two very strong possibilities.”

  “Are either of them magical?” Owen asked.

  “Would you believe, there isn’t a single Jonathan Martin in the entire magical registry? We’re in the clear on that count, at least.”

  “So odds are, whoever has it doesn’t know what he’s got and didn’t buy it on purpose,” Owen said. “We’re not dealing with a power grab.”

  “Not a magical one, anyway,” Minerva said.

  “Can’t we just check the manuscript again?” I asked. “If the text changed when it moved before, maybe it could give us an updated location.”

  “I’m not sure it would be much help, unless it stays in one place for awhile,” Owen said. “Remember, someone had already bought it by the time we got to Tiffany’s after I was sure of the translation. By the time I translate the new location and figure out what the cryptic, poetic language really means, it may have moved again. It’ll probably be quicker to track down the owner, since we do have his name.”

  Minerva pointed to a photo of a steely-eyed man with close-cropped gray hair. “This one seems like our strongest candidate. His company took over another firm this morning, and there’s been a major corporate bloodletting as he’s consolidated power. The aura around him is really murky. It’s not all-out evil, but it’s not sunshine and puppies, either.”

  “Do you have an address?” Owen asked.

  She handed him a printout. “Home, office, and his new acquisition are all on there. The strongest vibes are coming from the new office.”

  Owen scanned the sheet, then said, “It’s just down the street. Let’s go.”

  “I’ll fly on ahead, see what might be in the way, and get my people to clear a path for you,” Sam said. He waved a hand at a window to open it, then flew out. The rest of us went down the stairs.

  We’d just left the building when Owen’s cell phone rang. He listened for a moment, then said, “Got it. Thanks.” After putting the phone back in his pocket, he said, “Sam says there’s a commotion, but there aren’t any elves in sight.”

  “Lyle left before we got the purchaser’s name,” I said. “Maybe they’re still tracking it down the hard way.”

  I had to jog to keep up with the two guys as we headed downtown. I’d always thought that the way Owen carved his way through a crowd had something to do with magic, but he still managed it. He exuded “I’m on a mission” vibes that made people move out of his way.

  When we reached the address, the commotion Sam had mentioned became obvious. A stream of people carrying cardboard boxes poured out of the building’s front doors. Some of them were in tears, while others were livid with rage. “I don’t think their human resources people are doing a very good job with this,” Rod remarked. “It’s going to leave a toxic atmosphere among the employees who are left.”

  “If this guy’s on a power binge, he may not care. He’ll want them living in fear,” Owen said. “Think you can get us into the building and up to the executive floor?”

  “If they’re smart, they’ll have beefed up security to keep disgruntled former employees from getting to the boss, but I can deal with that,” Rod said. He whispered a spell and waved his hand, and we walked right past the lobby security guards to the bank of elevators. An elevator opened, and another group of box-carrying people got off. When the elevator was empty, we boarded, and then Rod did something to the control panel so that we went straight up to the executive floor, which should have required a special access key.

  I had to yawn to pop my ears as the elevator shot upward. There was something wrong about this scenario, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. As the elevator slowed, I said, “Would someone on a magical power binge fire everyone, or would he want more minions to do his bidding?”

  The two guys looked at me for a moment, frowning. “He might want to choose his minions instead of taking what he got, or he could be testing their loyalty,” Owen said. The elevator stopped and the doors opened before we could discuss it further. “You getting anything?” Owen asked Rod softly as we left the elevator.

  “You mean like a sudden and inexplicable lust for power that’s drawing me toward something? Nope.” He raised an eyebrow
and grinned. “However, I see something else that’s drawing me.”

  I followed his line of sight and saw a buxom blond receptionist sitting at a desk that looked like it could control the space shuttle. I elbowed Rod in the ribs. “You’re dating my roommate,” I reminded him through clenched teeth.

  “Sorry. I can’t help it if my eyes still work.” He adjusted his cuffs and straightened his tie. “Leave this to me.” He put on his most charming smile and sauntered over to lean on the receptionist’s desk.

  As Owen and I stood back, watching him work, Owen said, “I was always impressed by how he does this sort of thing, but now I’m even more amazed.” Part of Rod’s success with women had to do with the fact that he used a handsome illusion to cover his rather plain real appearance. The rest of it was because when he turned on the charm, he did so magically. He’d supposedly stopped using an attraction spell on everyone when he started dating my roommate Marcia, but he hadn’t let go of the illusion. I’d always seen his real face, and now that the illusion no longer worked on Owen, he had a best friend who looked totally different from what he’d known since college.

  The receptionist tossed back her head and laughed at something Rod said, then he leaned closer and favored her with a huge smile before turning and coming back to us. “I don’t think this is it,” he said. “It feels wrong, and I don’t think someone like her would be out here and happy about it if her boss had the Eye in his office.”

  Before he finished speaking, Owen was already on the phone to get the information on the other possibility. His magically enhanced phone worked even in the elevator rocketing downward, and when he ended the call, he turned to Rod. “Are you absolutely certain? Because Minerva said the energy around the other Jonathan Martin is happy.”

  “I’d be happy if I had ultimate power and invulnerability,” I said.

  “The boss did mention a container that dampens its effects,” Rod suggested. “If they put it back in that box when they sold it, he might not be affected by it at all.”

  “That would make things a lot easier on us,” Owen said. “It might also keep the elves from finding him if they’re going by seers’ signs instead of having a name.”

  In the building lobby, we got caught up in the mass of box-carrying former employees heading toward the exit. “It’s too bad this one wasn’t our guy,” I said. “Then we might have been able to help these people by taking away his power.”

  “Then again, if this is what he does with power when it’s not magically enhanced, what would he have been like with the Eye?” Owen said before jumping forward to help a woman get her cardboard box full of desk toys, photographs, and potted plants through the front door.

  I shuddered. “Good point.”

  It was now lunchtime, and the downtown sidewalks were even more crowded. Sam led us to the next address by way of alleys and side streets. When he came to rest on the awning over the building entrance, he said, “I’m not seein’ any elves around here. We may have beaten them.”

  “Or it may be the wrong place,” Owen said wearily.

  “Hey, chin up, kiddo!” the gargoyle said. “There’s no point in givin’ up this soon. You can’t get a strikeout with one pitch.”

  This building’s lobby was more posh than utilitarian. The building was relatively new, but the décor gave the illusion of stability and tradition, with lots of carved dark wood, oil paintings in gilded frames, and upholstered furniture. Rod’s magic got us past the lobby security guards to the elevators and then to the restricted executive floor.

  The executive lobby was even more posh than the main lobby had been. It looked like the sort of club where men meet to drink brandy, smoke cigars, and call each other “old chap.” The receptionist’s desk was so large that I had to wonder what the executive’s desk was like. You could probably play table tennis on it.

  This receptionist wasn’t the office trophy wife type. She was the real wife type, which made me suspect that the trophy wife was at home. This was the kind of woman who served as an external brain for her boss, keeping track of all the little details of his life at the office and at home. She was middle-aged, conservatively dressed, and looked exhausted.

  She greeted us with a wary smile. “May I help you?” she asked.

  “We’re looking for Jonathan Martin,” Rod said, exuding his usual charm.

  Either she was immune to magic or she just didn’t waste time on smooth talkers, because she didn’t melt the way women usually did when Rod hit them with the full whammy. Instead, she gave him a frosty smile and said, “Mr. Martin has gone to lunch. It’s his fiancée’s birthday, so I don’t expect him back until late.”

  I thought I detected something familiar in her tone, so I signaled for the guys to let me handle this. “Sounds like his fiancée’s a piece of work,” I said sympathetically. “Let me guess, she acts like you work for her, too—and they’re not even married yet.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I practically have to curtsy to Her Royal Highness while I’m picking up her dry cleaning and making appointments for her.”

  “Yeah, I’ve worked for one like that. And you know Her Highness has to go somewhere really special for her birthday.”

  “Naturally. I had to make the reservations for the Twenty-one Club weeks ago. He’ll get all the credit, of course, though he did get the gift this time, which is an improvement.”

  Bingo! “Let me guess, something in a little blue box?”

  “Nothing but the best for Her Highness.”

  A gift from Tiffany’s looked like proof that this was our guy, and now I knew where he was. “Well, I guess we’ll have to call on Mr. Martin later,” I said. “Thank you for your help.”

  “Would you care to leave a message?”

  “No, I suspect he’ll know what we needed.”

  Once we were on the elevator, Rod gave me an appreciative nod. “Nice work there, and without even using magic.”

  I gave what I hoped looked like a modest shrug. “I recognized the look in that woman’s eyes when she said the word ‘fiancée.’ It’s the way our receptionist always looked when she talked about our boss.” I gave an involuntary shiver. “Just looking at her gave me Mimi flashbacks.”

  “We still don’t know if this is our man,” Owen said.

  “This one did buy a gift at Tiffany’s,” Rod pointed out.

  “That would explain why the seers aren’t getting the sense of power from him,” I added. “If he bought it as a gift, he may be keeping it in the protective box. And that means we need to hurry uptown and snag it before he can give her the gift. I don’t think we want a woman who can put that look in a receptionist’s eyes to have this kind of power.”

  Sam was waiting for us outside. “We gotta get uptown, right away.”

  “We’re way ahead of you, Sam,” Rod said. “That’s where we’re heading.”

  “Yeah, but the elves are already on their way. My guys say they’re movin’ in on Fifty-first Street. Looks like they found it.”

  Chapter Three

  I’d thought we had a head start because we knew the purchaser’s name, but apparently the elves could detect the Knot as soon as it came out of the protective box. “Uh oh,” I said as I hurried to keep up with the guys, who were hurrying to keep up with a flying gargoyle. “If the elves’ seers found the Knot, then that probably means Mr. Martin has already given it to his fiancée. And that means we’ll get to deal with the scary dragon lady who now has extra evil power.”

  “We’ll let Rod deal with her while we go after the Eye,” Owen said.

  “Wouldn’t this be faster in a car?” I asked as we ducked down an alley to cut between two streets. “Or at least the subway?”

  “We’re doin’ ya one better, doll,” Sam said. “By the time we get back to the office, there’ll be a carpet waitin’ for you guys.”

  A flying carpet might have been fast, but it wasn’t my favorite way to travel. When I flew, I preferred to have something solid like an airplane
around me. Flying carpets were severely lacking in safety features like seatbelts. I was surprised, though, when Owen came to a complete halt and dug in his heels stubbornly. “No. Uh uh. No way on earth.”

  Rod stopped and turned around. “What?”

  “I know how you drive, and I’m not getting on one of those things when you’re in control.”

  “You’re welcome to drive if you can find a way to do it without magic,” Rod snarled defensively.

  “It won’t do us much good if we don’t get there alive,” Owen shot back.

  Owen’s anxiety was unsettling. I didn’t want to do something that scared him this much. He didn’t scare easily.

  “I’ll be careful,” Rod said. “Yeah, I may have had a few mishaps, but I’ve grown up since then.”

  “Since last year?”

  Sam flew back to us. “Boys!” he shouted. “We’ve got a quest to finish. And neither of you’s drivin’. I got one of my people on the job.”

  That didn’t make me feel much better. I’d seen the way gargoyles drove cars. I could imagine how they’d handle something that flew. Fortunately, the driver waiting for us wasn’t a gargoyle. He was a small, pixie-like creature whose face was mostly obscured by a pair of plastic goggles. He’d tied two bits of the carpet’s fringe around his body in a makeshift seatbelt, and I wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad sign. It might have meant he was safety-conscious, but it could also have meant that he was planning for a wild ride.

  Owen helped me onto the hovering carpet, then sat beside me with one arm securely around my waist. I held on to the carpet pile with both hands as Rod climbed up behind the driver. Then the carpet took to the sky and I clamped my lips together so I wouldn’t scream.

  The driver proved to be very professional. He didn’t show off or take unnecessary risks, unless you consider going ridiculously fast to be an unnecessary risk. Buildings sped by in a blur, making it difficult to tell where we were. It was probably the quickest trip uptown I’d ever taken, and we slowed to a stop within minutes. I slid gratefully off the carpet and was surprised to hear Owen’s deep sigh of relief when his feet touched solid ground. That made me feel like less of a wimp for wanting to kneel and kiss the sidewalk.