No Quest For The Wicked - Page 87/105

“You’re probably right,” Mimi said.

I turned to walk away, talking to her over my shoulder. “Well, it was great running into you again. Good luck with your party!”

I didn’t think it would be so easy to escape from her, and I was right. Even though she talked about going back to the museum, she came after us—in the opposite direction from the museum. I was also right that it was weird for her to be so nice to me. The Eye must have been telling her what to say so it could get back into the hands of someone who would use it. Now she had that scary gleam in her eyes, and I knew that reasoning with her wouldn’t work. She lunged at me, clawing at my clothes. “Where is it? Give it to me! I know you have it!” she shouted.

I tried to fight her off, resorting to the usual chick fight moves of hair pulling, kicking, and scratching. Owen wrapped his arm around her neck to try to pull her off me, and then she screamed, “Help! Police! I’m being attacked!”

“You’re attacking me!” I protested.

“Because you stole my brooch!”

“You’re wearing your brooch!”

“This isn’t the real one!”

“Take it to a jeweler, he’ll tell you it’s real.” At least, I suspected he would. I didn’t think the gnomes would have tried to make the switch on the elves unless they had something that would stand up to appraisal. Not that it mattered, since she wasn’t listening to reason. She could feel the difference, and that sense of power had become a need, a hunger.

With either uncanny knowledge or extreme luck, she lashed out with her high heel and caught Owen’s injured leg. He blurted something that I suspected was a naughty word in some ancient, esoteric language. In his moment of shock, she broke free from him, knocked him down, and lunged at me again. There was a horrible tearing sound, and then she gave a cry of triumph. She had the brooch.

She held it above her head, cackling like a mad scientist in an old B movie. “Hey!” I cried out as I jumped to grab the brooch from Mimi, ignoring the torn lining hanging out of my skirt pocket.

“You did take it!” she shouted, holding the brooch out of my reach. “I knew it! I’m not insane! I was missing my brooch!” She pinned it on her dress, next to the fake brooch, then stepped to the curb to hail a cab.

“Don’t let her go!” Owen warned. He was still struggling to get to his feet, but he waved my help away.

I rushed to stand beside Mimi, hoping that my bedraggled appearance might be enough to scare away cabs, even if she did now have the power of the Eye and could probably summon them. “Go away!” she said to me, a ring of command in her voice.

“No!” I said cheerfully. “I don’t think so.”

She turned to look me in the eye. “I don’t need you now that I have my brooch back, so go away,” she said, emphasizing each word.

“What was that? I didn’t hear you.”

Owen limped over to join me. “Let’s herd her away from the street,” he whispered. I looked at him and could tell from his slight smile that he had a plan.

“Hey, Mimi,” I said, taking a step toward her. “Did I ever tell you what it was like to work for you?”

When I was nearly toe-to-toe with her, she took a reluctant step backward. “Get away from me,” she said, reaching up to rub the brooch.

Owen moved around me to stand in front of the curb, and then stepped up onto the sidewalk, forcing her back another step. “I hear you weren’t a very nice boss,” he said.

She backed away, frantically rubbing the brooch, like she expected a genie to come out of it and help her. “I said, get away from me.”

“I told you there was nothing in that brooch to give you power,” I said, enjoying this way too much. “You only imagined it. You’re still as weak as ever.”

“No, no!” she sputtered, missing her footing as she backed away and nearly falling. Her voice rose shrilly as she cried, “Get away from me! That’s an order!” When we didn’t relent, she turned and ran toward the park entrance we’d so recently left.

“Keep her in sight,” Owen said, speeding his pace in spite of his limp. I took his arm to support him, and the two of us went after her, running like contestants in a three-legged race.

“I’m assuming you’ve got a plan,” I said as we ran, “because in case you didn’t notice, we lost the brooch. We were supposed to get and keep the brooch, not lose it. We’re back to square three!”

“Square three?”