“I just wanted to make sure I could get through the door on my own,” I said.
He immediately looked concerned. “I didn’t think about that.”
“Relax. I was fine. I can still do that much magic. Cookie?” I held the bag out to him.
“You brought refreshments?”
“I’m from the south. We don’t have gatherings without food. I probably should have baked. These are just leftovers from the store.”
At about five minutes before eleven, there was a rustling noise near the basement apartment entrance. Owen doused his magical light, and we both froze, holding our breath. A rectangle of grayish light showed as the door opened, and two figures were silhouetted in the opening. I was pretty sure it was Mac and McClusky, but we stayed quiet until they identified themselves.
The door closed, plunging the room back into darkness, and then a magical glow appeared near the floor, where it wouldn’t be as visible through the windows, which were up near the ceiling. “We’re here,” Mac said.
Owen’s glow relit, and he said, “Good, you found it.”
Mac looked around the empty space. “So, this is what it’s like inside all these buildings?”
“From what we can tell,” Owen said.
“It would be pointless to build an entire city, inside and out, just for show,” I added. “I wonder how much of all this is illusion.”
“But there’s still enough to physically interact with, which tells me that the Elf Lord’s scheme is big enough to make it worthwhile,” Mac said. “Speaking of which, any sign of our elf friends?”
“Not yet, but they’ve still got a few minutes,” Owen said.
McClusky scowled, but before he could say anything about elves, I held out my bakery bag. “Cookie? There are also some scones in there.” He looked at me like I was insane, but Mac reached over and took a square of shortbread from the bag.
We waited a while longer, and then McClusky gestured for the bag and took one of the giant cookies. Mac checked his watch, then shook his head and said, “This is just like them. It’s a power game, you know. They’re showing they have the power position by keeping us waiting.”
I was surprised to see Owen smile ever so slightly as he said, “Okay, you’ve made your point. I’d like to get this over with.”
At that, the shadows shifted and five elves appeared right next to us, as though they’d been standing barely a foot away that whole time. I couldn’t stifle a yelp of surprise, and I wasn’t the only one. McClusky started coughing, having choked on his cookie.
I hadn’t heard or seen the elves come in. Had they been there all along? Earl was there, but I didn’t know the others, and when I got a look at their apparent leader, I forgot about the others. He was in human guise, so he didn’t look like an elf, but he did look otherworldly. All elves seemed to look eternally young, but while Earl looked like he really might be a college student, this guy had the look of a thirty-year-old actor who could still believably play teenagers. That is, sexy, mature-for-their-age teenagers, the types who have steamy affairs with their young, pretty teachers on teen nighttime soaps. He also was perfect casting for the role of dashing young rebel leader, with his intense eyes and catlike grace.
It was a good thing it was so dark and the lights were so far away from me, I thought as I brushed a few beads of sweat off my forehead. I wondered if maybe he was using a charisma spell to maintain the upper hand in the meeting because I normally didn’t react to other men this way, especially not when I was standing right beside Owen.
The elf leader smiled at all of us—though it felt like the smile was mostly directed at me—and said, “Hi, I’m Brad.”
That broke the spell. I bit my tongue before I blurted, “Brad? Seriously? Brad the elf?” He’d have looked right at home in a jaunty beret with a couple of bandoliers over his shoulders. He should have been “Jacques” or maybe “Pierre.” Brad was the star player on the football team, not a resistance movement leader. The rest of us introduced ourselves, using first names only. I wished I’d thought to give myself a cool code name because “Katie” wasn’t any more of a good resistance name than “Brad.”
“Now that you’ve graced us with your presence, I guess we can get started,” Mac said, sarcasm dripping from his words.
Judging by the elves’ body language, I had the feeling Mac was going to face some resistance, and not the kind he was trying to organize. I didn’t know yet if it was the idea of working with wizards or Mac assuming leadership they weren’t on board with, but I recognized a certain degree of wariness in the way they viewed the situation. They weren’t crossing their arms over their chests, or anything else that obvious, but there was something defiant about the way they stood.
