No Quest for the Wicked
cover you and waylay them.”
    We hurried toward the Broadway exit, but there was another man in black blocking the door. He could easily follow us when we left—or keep us from leaving. We turned to head for another exit, but yet another black-suited man appeared. As he approached Rod, a thin, blond figure flew at him, shouting, “Stay away from him!”
    It was Natalie. She threw herself between them, then turned to Rod and said, “Go on, I’ll hold him.” With a smile, she added, “And I promise to wear blue.”
    “I thought you broke that spell,” I said to Rod as we ran toward Thor and Granny, who’d been easily taking out their pursuers while maintaining the facade of being helpless elderly people.
    “I did! I guess I’m just irresistible on my own.”
    I elbowed him in the ribs. “Remember, you’re dating my roommate.”
    “Now what?” Owen asked. “They’re covering the exits.”
    A pure, high, plaintive sound swelled through the air, and everyone in the store stopped to listen. It was as though the best Irish tenor ever had launched into a mournful folk melody in front of a bar full of Saint Patrick’s Day drinkers, leaving them all crying into their green beer. Earl the elf was singing, that hauntingly beautiful voice disconcertingly at odds with his appearance.
    “Ah, elfsong,” Rod said with a nod, a tear trickling down his cheek.
    “An interesting use for it,” Owen said. “Let’s go before it loses its effect.”
    Even the black suits stood entranced, their eyes welling with tears. Granny and Thor joined us, holding on to each other like a couple of drunks. Owen and I had to herd the group through the revolving door because the others didn’t want to leave. Earl let the last note linger, then joined us. “I don’t know how long the effects will last, so we’d better lose them before it wears off,” he said.
    Granny patted him on the arm. “That was lovely, son. Do you know ‘Danny Boy’?”
    “Granny, later,” I said. “There’s a subway across the street, or we could go back to Penn Station.”
    “Penn Station,” Owen decided. “It’s easier to lose someone there.”
    We ran the long block back toward the station. As we ran, Owen got out his phone and updated Sam on the situation. I didn’t notice large groups of people wearing black following us, but I felt a lot more comfortable once we were in the station. “Now where do we go?” I asked.
    “Away from here,” Owen replied, putting his phone back in his pocket. We headed across the station to the Eighth Avenue subway, and a little of Rod’s magic got us quickly through the turnstiles in time to jump on an uptown train just before the doors closed.
    Our group stood in a cluster around one of the poles near the door. “I think we need to talk before this goes any further,” Owen said.
    “Yes, over food and ale,” Thor agreed.
    “I could do with a bite,” Granny said.
    “Come to think of it, I didn’t get much lunch,” Rod put in.
    “You got more than I did,” I said. “I didn’t have much appetite then.”
    “Okay, we’ll talk over food,” Owen said with an exasperated sigh. We got off the train at Fiftieth Street and moved cautiously out of the station. Thor took the lead, moving one step at a time and glancing warily around before taking another step.
    When he’d reached the sidewalk, a voice said, “It’s okay, you’re in the clear for now.” Startled, Thor jumped backward, lost his footing, and would have fallen if Earl hadn’t caught him. “Oh, sorry about that. Didn’t mean to scare you,” Sam said from his perch on a sign in front of the subway entrance.
    Thor jerked himself out of Earl’s grasp and straightened his jacket. “I was not scared. I was merely startled. I don’t expect to see gargoyles at this level.”
    “Were they able to follow us?” Owen asked.
    “Hard to say,” Sam replied. “You know, in this city, wearing black doesn’t make anyone stand out. For now,

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