Delivery duty is the worst.
I march down Second Avenue while dragging a little red wagon behind me. Two large boxes lay stacked on the cart. And inside those containers? A thousand little glass slippers and tiny carved pumpkins. Today, it’s my job to deliver them to the L Center.
The good news is that the center isn’t far from Cynder Mercantile.
The bad news is that one of the wheels on my wagon snapped about a half-block ago. It’s tempting to use magic, but this is precisely the kind of situation where I can’t. Dozens of people fill the nearby stretch of sidewalk, and I’m not even counting the who can watch from buildings. The chances that someone would notice my spell are just too high.
As a result, my march to the L Center takes on a certain rhythm.
Drag.
Drag.
Drag.
Whump.
Drag.
Drag.
Drag.
Whump.
Them there’s the jingle of glass. Wincing, I give the boxes a gentle shake. Did anything break? No.
Back to it, then.
Drag.
Drag.
Drag.
Whump.
It’s not that hot outside—and I’m wearing shorts and a T-shirt—but even so, I sweat up a storm.
Finally, I’m in the final stretch for the L Center’s loading dock. I turn off the main sidewalk, navigate through a skinny alley, and then approach a small yard. The loading dock takes up one wall of this tiny space. As I haul my wagon along, I come to a major realization.
For a new place, the L Center has nothing but broken concrete back here. It’s way more bumpy than the regular sidewalk. Hasn’t anyone delivered glass to this place before?
As I haul the wagon onto the edges of the yard, Jacoby materializes before me. He looks very non-sweaty and annoying.
“Hello, Elle. Fine day, isn’t it?”
“Are you following me?”
“Never. I have…” He taps his cheek dramatically. “Yes, I’m following you. Things are awfully boring in Doc Eight’s shop.” He glances behind me. “Why are you using a broken wagon?”
“It wasn’t broken when I left Cynder.”
“Would you like some help?” asks Jacoby.
“I know what you think of as help, and the answer is no.”
Six teenagers march into the yard. They’re all wearing fancy gowns and have VIP passes hanging around their necks. Moving in unison, they turn to stare at me. All their irises flare with silver light.
“How may we serve you?” they ask in unison.
I round on Jacoby. “Who are these girls and why did you enchant them?”
Jacoby rolls his eyes. “I knew you wouldn’t allow me to help directly, so I brought in some outside aid.”
“They’re all wearing ball gowns and high heels. They should not be schlepping boxes around.”
“Um, they’re human.” Jacoby rolls his eyes again.
That’s dark fae for you. And Jacoby’s one of the nice ones.
“You’re terrible,” I counter.
“No, I’m interesting. And completely devoted to you, don’t forget that part.”
“Where did you find these girls anyway?” I lean in a little closer. “I don’t think any of them are blinking. That can’t be healthy.”
“They’re here for the Le Charme Extravaganza,” says Jacoby.
I tilt my head. “And that’s tonight?”
“Obviously. Didn’t you notice everyone lined up in front of the L Center?”
“Not really. I was more focused on not breaking glass slippers.” My eyes widen. “This isn’t a Glass Slipper Ball, is it?”
“No, it’s one of those where they award a new Le Charme Lady.” He bobs his brows. “Why? Do you have your eye on Alec Le Charme?”
“That’s a big no.” Mostly because I’ve been breaking into his office to un-steal jewels. I read online that you should never date people you work with. In my opinion, Alec counts in that category.
I quickly scan the yard. There doesn’t seem to be anyone around. (In my opinion, Jacoby and some enspelled humans don’t count.) So I pull on a little of my fae magic and send it toward the girls. A tiny cloud of silver faerie dust flies off my fingertips and surrounds the teenagers. In my mind, I issue a command.
Move.
They start cooing.
“Oh crap,” I groan.
Jacoby grins. “Did you enchant just them to act like pigeons?”
“I asked them to move. I really only know how to enspell two kinds of animals.”
“Let me guess. One of those is pigeons.”
I stick my tongue out at him. “Shut up.”
Jacoby scans each girl in turn. They’ve started scratching at the concrete with their feet. “You know,” says Jacoby. “I like them better this way.”
That prickly feeling on my neck again.
Someone’s watching us.
Turning, I see the outline of a guy standing in the back shadows of the loading dock. He’s totally staring at this situation.
Oh, no.
This man must work here. I’ve been through the drill before. I’m supposed to just unload stuff, not stand around with six girls cooing like pigeons and an evil fae.
Things have gotten complicated.