"We can talk about it later, but now I want to get you away from here. They've got it under control."
"Got what under control?"
Before he could answer, there was another whoosh of wings, and Sam was on the scene with some of his people, including the beaked gargoyle I'd seen earlier. "Okay, let's haul the perp away," Sam instructed.
Rod bent to pick up my purse, then put his arm around my waist and said, "Come on, let's get you somewhere safe."
"Safe would be nice."
"I don't live too far from here, if you'd rather go there and get yourself together, maybe talk some, before you go home." Under other circumstances I'd suspect that was a pickup line, coming from Rod, but he sounded genuinely concerned. If he was a big enough letch that he'd hit on a woman who'd just been mugged, then I might as well find out now instead of later.
"That sounds like a good idea," I said. It did. I wasn't sure I wanted to face my roommates until I'd calmed down considerably. Telling them about the date was going to be bad enough. Gemma would kill me for scaring off the perfect guy.
He walked me down a side street, then another side street, and then to a modem apartment building. We went through the lobby to a bank of elevators. "I didn't know you lived near here," I said when we were inside the elevator. It was a weak attempt at casual conversation, considering how badly my voice shook.
"There are a lot of us in this neighborhood."
"Any particular reason? It's not extra loaded with magic, or anything like that, is it?"
He smiled. "No, not really. There's just a lot to do around here, and some of the Village denizens are odd enough that nobody pays much attention to us." The elevator came to a stop, and he escorted me off. He unlocked a door, then pushed it open and said, "Welcome to my humble abode."
It wasn't all that humble. Magic must pay pretty well. It was the classic high-end bachelor pad—all sleek leather upholstery and blond wood furniture with glass insets. He had an entertainment center to die for and a view of the city lights. "Nice place," I said, admiring the framed classic movie posters.
"Thanks. Make yourself at home. Have a seat, or the bathroom's just down that hallway, if you want to freshen up. I'll make you some tea."
I wandered down the short hallway and found the bathroom. It was as small as most New York apartment bathrooms, and almost entirely devoid of grooming products, aside from basics like toothpaste. I supposed his idea of grooming was putting on that illusion.
In the light of the bathroom, I checked myself out. I had torn my stockings, after all, a small hole on the side of my right knee. I dampened a tissue and blotted the dirt off my skin. Otherwise, I seemed to be unscathed physically. Emotionally, I had a feeling I would be a total wreck as soon as the shock wore off. In fact, I was already shaking.
I took off my shoes before trying to walk back to the living room. My legs felt like rubber, and they wobbled in unpredictable directions. I barely made it to the sofa, where I collapsed into the soft leather cushions. Rod came into the living room, holding a steaming mug.
I took it from him, then fought to keep my hands steady. "Wait a second, you said you were making tea. You mean, you actually made this instead of zapping it into existence?"
"Believe it or not, we don't all go around just zapping things. For one thing, it's an energy drain. At the office, we have enhanced power circuits to draw on. Most of us don't have them at home."
I nodded. "That explains a lot. I was wondering why you bother going to restaurants or bars."
"It's the social factor. We need that as much as anyone else. And it never quite tastes the same. I wasn't sure I could get the tea just right without actually making it."
I tasted it, and it was very strong, and very sweet. If I wasn't mistaken, there was more than just tea and sugar in there. I drank a little more. "Thank you."
He sat next to me on the sofa. "Now, I imagine you're wondering what just happened."
"Yeah, I believe I recall asking you a couple of times. I don't think it was an ordinary mugging. He didn't even try to grab my purse."
"No, it wasn't an ordinary mugging. We'll know more once we talk to your attacker, but we think tonight's adventure came courtesy of our friend Idris. He must have figured out the role you've been playing, and he wants you out of the picture."
I shuddered, then gulped down more of the tea. "What role? I'm not magical. There are hundreds of people in this city who could have done exactly what I did. If he's going after people who are a threat, he should be going after Owen."