“Any will do,” Mallory said, walking into the middle of the lawn. She put down her bag, pulled a blanket out of it, spread it on the ground.
Catcher followed her. Ethan glanced at me.
“Is this a good idea?”
I looked back at Mallory. “I’m not altogether sure. But what choice do we have?”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
WHISKEY TANGO FOXTROT
We sat in a semicircle on the blanket, which didn’t do much to buffer the snow beneath us.
Mallory opened her bag, pulled out a round sterling silver platter polished to a high shine. She’d borrowed it from Margot’s stash of serving ware during her search for magic-making gear. She’d also brought matches, a sprig of rosemary, and a short bottle of champagne.
“What’s the bubbly for?” Ethan asked, when she’d set out her equipment and put the bag aside.
“Us,” she said with a smile. “It’s been a long night already.” She handed the bottle to Catcher. “Please to uncork, while I prepare the rest.”
She put the platter on the ground between us, the sprig of rosemary on top of it.
“This looks like alchemy,” I said. “Minus the crucible.”
; “Spoilsport.”
“Probably about many things, yes.”
The view turned to darkness as we reached Lake Shore Drive, which would take us into downtown.
“And how are you?” I asked.
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
I kept my voice low. “You looked, I guess, kind of lustful about Claudia’s magic.”
She smiled a little. “For a second, I thought you were going to say I looked lustfully at Claudia. Which, I mean, she is a babe.”
“It’s that ancient, voluptuous, Irish sexpot thing. Girl crush.”
“Total girl crush,” she agreed. “I’m all about the boys, and my boy in particular. But she has an appeal that’s just—it socks you in the gut. And the dress doesn’t hurt. I couldn’t pull that off. But damn, does she have the figure for it.” She smiled. “I really want to ask her out for coffee to talk about her magic. Maybe she’d take me to the green land, which would be pretty amazing. But with the magic and the dress, she’d either be arrested for lewd behavior or completely swamped by admirers. And I don’t know if fairies even drink coffee.”
I didn’t, either. “And the magic?” I prompted.
Mallory paused. “I’m not going to lie—I felt a twinge.”
“A twinge?”
“Want. Desire. It’s not dark, Claudia’s magic. She doesn’t need death and pain to make her magic operate. But it’s old. And with magic that old, good and evil aren’t nearly so far apart.”