“Marissa,” said Grimm, speaking from the reflection in the shoes, “put them in the bag.”
I did, and the fantasy blew away like dry leaves down the sidewalk. My back hurt where I’d hit the Dumpster. My arm throbbed where she’d grabbed me, and my cheek had that hot feeling that said somewhere in her thrashing, she’d managed to nail me with a foot.
“I’m going home,” I said to my compact mirror. “What do you want me to do with her?”
“Leave her for the police. They’ll be there shortly. Evangeline needs your assistance on the Upper East Side, and there’s the matter of a troll.”
“I’m going home.” I knew full well he’d heard me the first time.
“I’ve got work for you, Marissa, and if you are ever to get your own ever after—”
“The only after I’m interested in right now is after a bottle of wine and after a long night’s sleep. I’ll see you when I’m ready for work.”
“Marissa, you need to ask yourself what you want more: a night’s sleep, or another job.”
I wiped a trace of blood off my lip, took a look at my bruises in the compact. Everything about me ached and the cold seeped out of the shadows into my bones. I put my hand on the bracelet and made my decision. “Tell Evangeline I’m on my way.” Nights like this made me wish I’d never gotten started in this business.
Two
NOT THAT IT was ever my choice. No one chooses to be traded by their parents to pay a magical debt, certainly not when they are sixteen. Still, if I had to be a debt slave, Grimm was about as good an employer as I could ask for. For instance, he let me stay with my parents until I was eighteen (which I think was saving him room and board) and he insisted I attend night school at the community college (a smart agent is a good agent). But it was still slavery.
Grimm was a Fairy Godfather, and he was good about making wishes come true if you had the Glitter to make it happen. My parents didn’t, but they needed a wish in the worst way, and Grimm gave them one. My little sister got her miracle; Grimm got me. So I did what he told me to, mostly, and I saved up my Glitter. One day, I told myself, I wouldn’t be answering calls in the mirror, or going monster hunting at the movies.
Monday came around before I felt like rolling into the office. When I got out of my morning shower, Grimm gave me a call.
“Marissa,” he said.
I grabbed my towel and wrapped it around me. “Not here. Call back in a few minutes when I’m dressed.”
He gave a presumptuous laugh. “I could peek on you, you know, and you’d never see me. We’ve never properly signed your contract.”
“Not gonna happen, you disgusting, lecherous son of a—”
“That will do. Get dressed. I’ll meet you in the office at eight thirty sharp, my dear. New assignment.”
I was late on purpose.
We rented office space like everyone else. You’d be surprised how much cheaper it was than buying. A throng of wishers, as usual, packed the lobby. I nodded to the receptionist and slipped into a door marked “Staff.” Down the hall, I meandered into the conference room, ignoring a stare from Grimm that said You are late.
“Bring in the princess,” said Grimm, from the conference room mirror.
The receptionist buzzed the door and she came in.
“Marissa, meet Princess Arianna.”
She didn’t look like a princess. She looked like a college intern for a radio station. Five foot three, strawberry blonde, and a complexion that could sure as hell use work. Plus she was packing the freshman five on her hips, along with the sophomore seven on her thighs and, well, you get the idea. “Pleased to meet you, m’lady,” I said, using the formal language Grimm preferred when I met new clients.
She pushed back a pair of wire-frame glasses. “Call me Ari, please.”
“Grimm.” I started, then took a breath. “Fairy Godfather, what is her destiny?”
Grimm swirled in the mirror the way he always did, and spoke in that monotone voice he’d practiced over the last four hundred years. “She will meet a fair prince and find love. They will live happily ever after.” Sometimes, I was amazed he could say that with a straight face. I’d read the divorce statistics, and being a princess didn’t help matters.
Ari sighed and sat down, apparently satisfied.
“I need to consult the stars in order to aid you,” I said, and excused myself.
Grimm waited in my office, looking out from the full-length mirror. “Consult the stars?”
I picked up a copy of People magazine and flipped through it. “What’s the deal?”
“Standard princess setup,” said Grimm, now peering out at me from the goblet on my desk.
“Who’s the guy?”
“Standard prince.”
I knew the type. Pitcher, quarterback, CEO. Whoever he was, he could afford a little fortune worked out in his favor. Glitter was the currency of magic, but plain old money could buy almost anything. “I’m in.” I headed back into the conference room.
I gave Ari a smile as real as the plastic ferns out front. “The stars are very favorable.”
She looked relieved. The stars never looked anything but favorable, a fact we didn’t mention in the sales pitch.
“It will take a few days to prepare the rituals,” I said, “but Leona will set you up for a makeover and style rescue—I mean, enhancement—and everything will be ready right on time.” I left her there and got down to the real work.
See, we could do magic. Well, Grimm could, and I almost could because I worked for him, but magic was expensive. If it were a prince seeking a princess, things would be a little harder, and we might have had to actually shell out the Glitter for a love potion. Setting up a princess was a whole different matter, thanks to one fundamental law of the universe: Men are stupid.
Oh, I’m not saying they are too dumb to tie their shoes. I’m just saying the only thing a man needs to fall in love is a little prep work from the wrong woman. Then, when the right woman appears, it’s like magic. Only less expensive.
WE STARTED ARI’S setup with a meeting, that’s how it always went, and that’s where Grimm came in handy. He wasn’t technically a “he,” but “Fairy God Person” sounded weird. While he could appear any way I wanted him to, a balding, sixty-eight-year-old man served as a good reminder of his true nature.
“Where’s this prince going to be?” I asked, knowing full well he’d already done auguries. When I was seventeen, on one of my training trips, Grimm actually took me into Kingdom to see how an augury was done. Basically, they took a living animal, opened it up with a knife, and let its insides be outsides. From the patterns, Grimm could tell what was going to happen.
Grimm always used rabbits, on account of a grudge he had with the Easter Bunny. I’d had a pet rabbit when I was little, and the first time I saw an augury I think I managed to throw up and faint at the same time. After that, Grimm had it done without me. Not that it mattered. After six years in this business, I’d gut Thumper himself for an ounce of Glitter.
“He’s going to be taking a fine stroll along the waterfront tomorrow. He’ll be quite hungry, and you’re going to meet him there.”
I knew the rest well enough to tune out the drone of his instructions. I’d made a career out of being the wrong woman. I flirted, I teased, I got them a little hopeful, I strung them along, and I dumped them like a rock. Ari would waltz in with a kind smile and a hot cup of coffee. You get the picture. It was a different kind of magic.