Kicking It(86)

“Great. So I’ve got to take the Red Shoes from a faerie psychopath who enjoys killing people by degrees and already has a reason to dislike me.”

“Pretty much,” Beezle said. “I’ll get your coat.”

I pulled on my black wool overcoat in defense against Chicago’s winter wind. Beezle put a scarf around his head, horns, and belly in a complicated wrap that made him look like a gargoyle mummy. His stony hawk’s eyes peered out from layers of brightly colored knitting.

I slung my sword over my shoulder. I had magical ways to defend myself, but I’d discovered pretty quickly that a pointy object is a great way to get someone’s attention.

We determined that it would be best if I did not attempt to contact Sammy Blue before going to visit him at his temporary quarters in a fancy Loop hotel. No sense in giving him warning so he could set a trap for me.

Beezle crawled over my shoulder and tucked into my inside coat pocket. I was certain he would promptly fall asleep, and sure enough, a few seconds later I heard the buzz saw rumble of his snore.

I pushed out my wings and flew out the kitchen window. The wings are part of my Agent’s legacy. I can’t be seen by ordinary mortals when I’m flying. Which is a good thing, as I’ve noticed people have a bad tendency to kill what they don’t understand. Supernatural creatures can sometimes see me, and sometimes they can’t. I’m not really sure if it has to do with their magic or mine. It was unlikely I would be camouflaged from any fae I encountered, though.

Sammy Blue’s hotel was a five-star type near the Magnificent Mile, the sort of place frequented by celebrities and other people with a lot more money than I would ever have. As the doorman opened the glass door, I slipped in behind a woman wearing a silver fox fur coat and carrying several shopping bags. The lobby was more or less what you would expect—crystal and marble and silk, oh, my—and the air was redolent with the scent trails of many expensive perfumes and colognes.

Once inside I paused. I knew Sammy Blue was staying here, but Beezle hadn’t given me a room number, and this place was far too huge to wander around and hope I bumped into someone who looked fae-like.

I could retract my wings, go to the front desk, and ask for him by name. Of course, I was dressed as my usual grubby self—black boots, faded jeans, black sweater—and security would probably remove me on sight for dirtying up the lobby. At the very least the concierge would notify Sammy Blue of my presence in the hotel, and I definitely did not want to spoil the element of surprise.

Getting Sammy’s room information from the front desk computer was my best bet, but there were three people moving back and forth in that space, and all of them seemed to spend a lot of time consulting the computer. My window of opportunity would be limited to the length of time it took the clerk to collect a receipt from the printer or hand over a room key.

The tricky thing about being invisible is that, well, you’re only invisible. You occupy the same space, and people can certainly feel you passing or hear any noises you might make. The average person will assume they imagined a sigh, or that there is just a draft in the room. But I would have to be extremely careful. If I accidentally bumped into anyone and they raised a fuss, it would be impossible to get the information I needed.

I moved off to the side of the lobby, hoping to find some clear space to extend my wings. My thought was to hover above the desk until my chance arrived. There was a lounge/bar area off the main lobby and a little alcove with a chair tucked to the side of the doorway. I made for the alcove, automatically glancing inside the lounge.

It was a good thing I did, because I saw the faerie sitting at the bar. His face was a dead giveaway. I’d never seen a faerie that wasn’t more beautiful than the sun. His face could have been carved by Michelangelo. He was impeccably dressed in a designer suit, and was receiving plenty of admiring glances, which he ignored as he stared blankly at the television above the bar.

There was only one reason for a faerie to choose solitude in a room full of interested parties. He was waiting for someone. His seat faced the door, which looked directly out onto the lobby. No one could pass by without his noticing. I hoped I could slip in without attracting his attention.

I moved down the three steps into the room, prepared to run after him if he saw me and bolted.

Which, of course, he did.

He locked eyes with me when I was about ten feet from him. His eyes were a startling violet, really and truly purple, and for just a second I paused. And while I paused, shocked by his fae eyes, he shot off his barstool so quickly that any human watching him would know he was not of this world. I’d assumed he’d head for the lobby and take the first elevator up to Sammy Blue’s room, knocking over as many people as he could in the process. But I guess I was the only one who operated that way. He snaked toward the back of the lounge in between the fashionable people moving through the room.