No Quest For The Wicked

I watched helplessly as he edged closer and closer to Mimi. Once he was in position, he glanced around, looking for the expected diversion. When he finally saw me and gave me a “Well?” look, I shook my head. He frowned, shrugged, and then wandered casually back to me.

“What happened?” he asked when he was close enough that we could speak without being overheard.

“The assistant standing by Mimi’s critical pocket is a puritan.”

“How can you tell? Do you recognize him?”

“I smelled him.”

“Smelled him?”

“This guy reeks of that cologne I sprayed all over the guy chasing us in Macy’s. I mean, way more than ‘I don’t have time for a shower, so I’ll just put on some extra cologne’ levels. You know they’d have someone close to the brooch to be ready for making their grand saving-the-world show, so it all adds up. I doubt you’d have stood a chance.”

He glanced at Mimi and her minions, his brow knitted as he chewed his lower lip. Then he turned back to me and sighed softly. “You’re probably right. Good catch. But now what do we do?”

“I’m not sure we should do anything at the moment,” I said, nodding toward Sylvester and the elves, who were heading for Mimi.

He turned to follow my gaze, then he winced. “We should probably do something,” he said. “We can’t let them get to it first.”

I caught him by the elbow as he started to move. “No, wait. Those puritan guys aren’t going to let the elves take it, either. Maybe we could let them fight it out.”

He gave a grin that was so close to evil that if the people who were convinced he would follow in his birth parents’ footsteps had seen it, they’d probably have insisted on having him arrested immediately. “Nice thinking. Be ready to act once they’re distracted.”

But the elves walked right past Mimi. They acted like they were sniffing the air but hadn’t yet homed in on the scent—and I didn’t think they were tracking the minion’s cologne. “They don’t know who has it!” I whispered to Owen, clutching his sleeve where I still held his elbow. “They didn’t see her at the restaurant, and she’s not wearing the brooch. They must have sensed the brooch was here, but how accurate are they at close range?”

“I guess we’ll find out.” We went back to work messing with tablecloths but paying far more attention to what was going on with Mimi.

It turned out to be Mimi who approached the elves. “The band seems to be here,” she told one of her minions. “Check that off.” Then to Sylvester, she said, “Good, you’re here. They’ve got the stage set up over there.” She quirked an eyebrow as she took in an eyeful of Sylvester and Lyle’s vintage eighties attire and added, “I believe I mentioned on the phone that black tie would be required, so I hope you’re planning to change into your tuxes after you’ve carried in your gear.” When the elves didn’t move, she glared at them and said in a dismissive tone, “You can go set up now.” Without waiting for a response, she and her minions headed off to deal with the next item on her list.

Lyle turned and started to move away, obeying the order, but Sylvester caught the back of his shirt collar and kept him from going anywhere. Meanwhile, the Elf Lord’s eyes narrowed as he watched Mimi’s rapidly retreating back. One of his slanted eyebrows slowly rose, and he smiled slightly to himself.

“He’s figured it out,” Owen whispered to me as he pulled a cover off a chair and added it to a growing pile of rejected linens.

We both turned when someone new ran into the room. It was Earl. He skidded to a stop when he reached his supposed boss. “My lord!” he panted. “I got your message.”

Sylvester didn’t bother telling him to shut up. He merely raised his hand without turning to look at Earl. Earl made a face at the back of Sylvester’s head, then turned to us and gave a helpless shrug. “He is really on our side, right?” I whispered to Owen.

“He’s probably trying to keep his cover. At least, I hope so.”

A funny gleam in his eyes, Sylvester slowly followed Mimi, moving like a sleepwalker. He hadn’t released Lyle’s collar, so his sidekick was forced to go with him. The other elves glanced at each other, then followed their boss. Earl trailed behind all of them. Sylvester raised his hands in front of him to shoulder height—at least, he raised his left hand. His right was still holding on to Lyle. He realized this when his right hand didn’t fall into position, and he quickly released Lyle and resumed whatever he was about to do. Earl called out, “Uh, your lordship?”