Kicking It(87)

The ceiling was way too low for me to fly, so I had to pick my clumsy half-human way through the room. Of course everything was complicated by the fact that I was still invisible, and while I could see other people they could not see me and get out of my way.

By the time I reached the back of the lounge, the faerie, of course, had disappeared. The only exit in sight was a door into the kitchen, so I pushed through it, ignoring the startled look of the busboy, who must have wondered why the door slammed against the wall when no one was entering.

I scanned the kitchen and saw the faerie at the far end, leaning his finger on the call button for the service elevator. The cooks and dishwashers ignored him, which meant he must have put a veil over himself. The only person in the room aware of him was me. He glanced over his shoulder, saw me there, and held up his hand like a policeman stopping traffic.

A wave of pressure hit me square in the chest and knocked me back into some shelves stacked high with dishes and glassware. Just about everything crashed to the floor, and all of the kitchen workers cursed loudly in unison, wondering how the hell that could have happened.

I blasted nightfire at the faerie, hitting him right between the shoulder blades. His face banged against the frame of the elevator as the nightfire burned through his fancy suit. The flame itself didn’t seem to bother him, but he’d definitely had his bell rung when his face crunched into the wall. I saw him shaking his head like a dog.

Unfortunately, my spell did not go unnoticed by the humans. Nightfire looks like blue fire and reeks of sulfur, unlike the faerie’s silent pressure wave. Two of the kitchen workers ran from the room, and the others dropped to the ground as the blue ball of flame just missed their heads.

Beezle poked his head out of my coat pocket. “Broken possessions. Check. Ball of flame. Check. Did I miss the witty banter already?”

“There’s still time,” I said.

Now that everyone in the room had conveniently ducked, I could stop messing about trying to tiptoe around the workers. I raised up on my wings, then gave one great flap and arrowed over the prep counter in the center of the room. Beezle tucked back inside my coat pocket, muttering something about his advanced age and my lack of care about his personal safety.

I had just about reached the faerie when the elevator doors finally opened, revealing a waiter returning to the kitchen with a cart full of dirty room service dishes. My quarry dashed inside the elevator, but I was right behind him. He tried pushing the waiter and cart out to stop me, but I managed to maneuver over the blockade and squeeze into the elevator just as the doors closed.

I ended up in the upper-left corner of the elevator, floating on my wings and holding my sword to the faerie’s neck. His chin was tipped up to me by the point of the blade and his eyes were furious. I blasted nightfire at the control pad and the elevator ground to a halt, the emergency alarm beeping.

“Make it stop,” Beezle said, his voice muffled inside my coat.

Another shot of nightfire made the alarm cease.

“Now,” I said, panting a little from exertion. I needed to lose about thirty pounds. It would make all this scampering after bad guys a lot easier. “Who are you, and why did you run away from me like that?”

“May eternal damnation be upon your house, spawn of Lucifer,” the faerie spat.

“I am not Lucifer’s spawn,” I said. “He’s my grandfather about eight million times removed.”

“A technicality,” the faerie said. “I will not cooperate with one of his bloodline.”

Beezle popped his head out of my pocket and peered over the lapel of my coat. “I’d cooperate with her if I were you. She has this sort of Wicked Witch/Incredible Hulk combo power thing where she smashes everything in sight and then when she gets frustrated she burns it.”

“I know well what Madeline Black is capable of,” the faerie said through his teeth. “I am a member of Queen Amarantha’s court, and I have observed her powers close at hand.”

“You’re one of Amarantha’s bootlickers, huh?” I said, lowering to the ground as I tried to place his face and failed. There were way too many courtiers at Amarantha’s castle.

“I am not a bootlicker,” the faerie said, drawing himself up. It was impressive the way he managed to look haughtily offended even though I held a sword at his throat. “I am Arkan, the Duke of Trium, second cousin to the Queen herself.”

“You’re a toady—that’s what you are,” I said. “You were sitting in the lounge keeping an eye out for me. You’re no better than an errand boy.”

“I think you’re insulting errand boys,” Beezle said.