Suzanne Lazear - Charmed Vengeance

“So you propose we simply walk into the building stark naked.” Shivering, he wrapped his arms around himself. It was nice to see the old James returning. Still, part of him would rather turn into an icicle than be found naked by passersby.

James shrugged and held out his hands in an empty gesture. “You have a better idea, because I don’t know about you but I’m turning blue.”

Try as he might, a better idea didn’t come to him.

He couldn’t believe they were going to walk into a building in New York City in the nude. James had a point—they needed to get off the roof before they were found by the air patrol. Now that would probably end with jail and aethergraphs to Quinn, given they had no money, identification, shoes, or clothing.

Steven surveyed the skies looking for hovercops. None, yet. He thanked the Bright Lady that the way into the building was unlocked and thanked her again that the slight warmer stairwell it led to also stood empty. Still, he braced for discovery at any time.

James opened the door leading to the floor.

“What are you doing?” Steven hissed, clutching his pen and glancing around as if someone might appear out of thin air and drag them to the police.

“It’s late. I’m sure everyone’s gone home. Might as well start on the top floor.” Without even poking his head out the door first to look both ways, he strode into the hall as if he wore a suite of the finest clothing indeed of … nothing.

Steven hurried to keep up with him.

“Look for clothes, money, too.” James disappeared into an office.

In the darkness of the empty hallway she stood there, blinking. If only he could be as free as James. Also, the idea of stealing made him uneasy. However, they needed clothes. What choice did they have?

He crept toward the big double doors at the end of the hall, heart thumping so loud James could probably hear it. Gulping, he tried the knob. Locked. Sending out a tendril of magic he saw a flash of green and heard the lock click. He tried again. This time it opened easily.

Being earth court had its privileges. His gifts ran more toward plants and trees than metalworking, but this was easy enough.

Noli seemed to do well with both. Then again, she always had.

Giving his eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness because he was afraid to turn on the lamps, he surveyed the room. No, this room didn’t appear to hold anything useful other than treats in a crystal bowl on the desk.

Wait, the coat rack in the corner held an overcoat, a top hat, and a walking stick. Perfect. Nevertheless, they may look silly walking down the streets of New York with no trousers.

Strangely shaped offices lurked behind the waiting area. One by one, Steven poked through them, noting mentally that one had a morning coat and another, galoshes. He walked into another office. The desk held a neatly folded suit. Shoes sat on the floor.

Had the Bright Lady answered his prayers? She did work in mysterious ways.

Next to the suit sat a note. Jillian, 6 pm. Don’t forget the ring. Underneath the note was an address. Just his luck the occupant had brought a nicer suit of clothes for his evening on the town with his lady. Hopefully, he remembered the ring.

Mentally apologizing to the man meeting Jillian, Steven pulled on the trousers, shirt, vest, tie, and coat, feeling a little strange wearing someone else’s clothes. They were meant for daytime, the waist a little big and the sleeves long. This man also had a larger neck, but it was infinitely better than going naked. The shoes weren’t a bad fit, even if there were no socks.

The last office had a pointed end and offered a spectacular view of the city but only held an overcoat—a very fine wool one. Steven shrugged it on. The pockets contained a few coins and a book of matches. On his way out he grabbed the galoshes for James, making mental notes of the offices he’d taken things from. Somehow he’d find a way to replace them. Back in the reception area he shoved a few candies in his pocket and put on the top hat. A look in the mirror told him he didn’t do too badly. He took the other overcoat from the rack and returned to the hallway.

“Well, aren’t we fancy.” James appeared, wearing a rough worker’s uniform, a satchel slung over his arm. “Find anything for me?”

Steven held up the overcoat and galoshes. “Should we keep looking?”

James pulled on the galoshes. “Trade me shoes?”

“No.” He didn’t feel guilty either since James was responsible for them being in this mess in the first place. If they’d just avoided their kind as he’d wanted …

James pulled a few coins from the coat pocket. “I’ve got eleven cents. You?”

“Forty-three.” He dug into the suit jacket pocket and found seven more. “Sixty-one cents. We’re rich.”

James slung the satchel back over his shoulder, wiggling his galoshed feet comically. “I found some more in the desks, a few snacks, and some other things. I think we’ve got over a dollar now.”

That wouldn’t get them passage to Raleigh but it could get them to the air terminal where they could hopefully find work on a ship headed in that direction.

They crept down the stairs.

“I’m taking the elevator,” James huffed after several flights.

“There won’t be an operator this time of night. We’ll have to walk,” Steven snapped, though he secretly wished they could take one. This building must have at least twenty stories!

All the way down James moaned and groaned. Steven’s fingers fisted and unfisted, itching to smack him. Finally, sweaty and exhausted, they made it to the ground floor and slipped out the back door among the throng of people coming and going from a restaurant in the basement. His stomach growled, now that they had some money supper would not be unwelcome.

Their breath formed little frozen puffs as they emerged onto the street. Steven was grateful to have a warm coat. James studied the street signs and started walking.

“Where are we going?” Steven trotted to keep up.

“We need to catch a streetcar or whatever they call them here.” He kept moving. “Unless you think we have enough for a motorcab.”

Steven blinked. “Where are we going?”

“To someone who can help us.” James looked comical in workpants, galoshes, and a fine coat.

Steven glanced around the still bustling street. Honking motorcabs crowded the roads. Hoverboard and flying cars streaked the skies, their lamps lit so they were visible in the dark. People milling about filled every other inch. How could so many people be out so late?

“Have you even been here before?” Steven asked.

“Yep. When I was searching for Jeff. Got some help from one of Quinn’s friends. If we can figure out how to get to him, I know he’ll help us.”

The words he’ll help us made Steven groan inwardly. They were here in New York because of Fae help. “One of Quinn’s friends? How did you run into him?”

James shrugged, a half-step in front of him. “What, you think when you ran pell-mell into the Otherworld after Noli I just took off to find Jeff without a plan? I went home and Quinn helped me figure out the most logical places to look, told me who I could trust, and such.”

“Oh.” The idea of more Fae help made Steven’s belly churn, the stink of the airship still in his nose. But if this man knew Quinn …

“One more thing.” James grinned as he looked around the busy streets. “On our way we have to find a fluffy cat.”

“Are you sure this is the place?” Steven eyed the building dubiously. Men, dressed in fine clothes, wafted in and out, the place having the feel of a gentleman’s supper club. Despite its fashionable address, uniformed doorkeeper, and unassuming appearance, he got the idea that this place might be something less … reputable. The sign read simply Mathias’ Place.

“I’m sure.” James strode up to the doorkeeper, a large man in a burgundy uniform with gold epaulettes and a hat. It didn’t help that his brother’s jacket squirmed.

Steven told James he had to hide the kitten in his coat, not wanting to march down the street with it. He still wasn’t sure what the cat was for … or if he wanted to know.

The doorman narrowed his eyes at them. “Do you have a reservation? I’m certain you’re not members.

Yes.” James’ eyes twinkled. “Under the name Gentry.” Steven bit back a groan. The Gentry were one of the many silly things mortals called his people. Some of their stories were downright ridiculous.

The doorman stepped toward them as if preparing to toss them out. “You’re not dressed properly.”

“That’s a long story. We’re here to see Mathias,” James wheedled. “It’s important.”

The doorman didn’t move. “We have a door charge for non-members.”

A door charge? That would eat a chunk out of their illgotten money. They’d already used some for something to eat and transportation.

“Maybe we should go elsewhere—find someone else to help us,” Steven suggested. Someone who didn’t require a cat as a present.

“It’s fine.” James pulled some coins out of his bag and held them out.

The doorman squinted. “I have my eye on you.”

They paid and the doorman let them inside. The reception room reminded him of the inside of a cigar box—plush red walls, a few settees and tables, a podium. Several women, well, girls, since they were about fifteen to eighteen, surrounded the podium, giggling.

Beyond them, men dining filled a restaurant. Tantalizing smells made his belly want more than the snack they’d bought from a street vendor on the way. A velvet curtain hung behind the podium.