Completely Smitten Part 23

Darius typed in her name, his fingers caressing the keys.

"Over the centuries, you've been angry at me a lot. I've done a lot of stupid things."

Darius moved the cursor to the next line, asking for birth-date. He had no clue what hers was.

"But you've never been mad at me for who I am and how I look before."

Darius moved the cursor to the next line. Address. He didn't know that either.

"Yet twice in two days, you've yelled at me for things I can't change." Blackstone leaned his head against the wall.

"I mean, I could change them, I suppose. I could spell myself so that I looked different--at least for a while. Or I could dye my hair or hunch, or something. But I get a feeling that's not the real problem."

Darius moved the cursor to the line for phone number. He didn't have that either. He knew so little about this woman.

Maybe that was the problem.

He was as obsessed about her as she was about the tall handsome Darius she had met.

"If you want me to fire her, I can still do it," Blackstone said.

Darius sighed and closed the file. "I don't want you to fire her."

"Then what can I do?" Blackstone asked.

Darius shook his head. "It's not you, Aethelstan."

"You said that yesterday, but here we are, one day later, and you're still yelling."

"Yeah," Darius said, "I am."

He swiveled his chair. Blackstone was studying him.

"Have you ever met Cupid?" Darius asked.

"'The' Cupid?" Blackstone asked.

Darius nodded.

"'The' Cupid as in the little cherub in diapers who stabs everyone?"

Darius frowned. "Who taught you your mythology?"

"No one," Blackstone said. "I knew most of it was wrong, so I never bothered to learn it very well."

"No kidding." Darius crossed his arms. "Cupid doesn't stab people."

"Oh," Blackstone said. "He's one of us, I take it?"

Darius nodded.

"What does he do?" Blackstone looked at him.

"Shoots arrows at people," Darius said.

"To make them fall in love?"

"Yeah," Darius said softly.

"You think he's behind this?"

"Maybe," Darius said. "I saw him the morning that I met Ariel."

"Did you get hit with an arrow?"

"No," Darius said.

"Would you remember it if you did?"

"Oh, yeah," Darius said, remembering how startled Robin Hood had looked when he saw an arrow sticking out of his chest. He had stared at the arrow for a long time before he had looked at Maid Marian. Of course, by then the arrow had faded away--and the entire war against King John had, in a single moment, escalated.

"Then how can you blame him?" Blackstone asked.

"Because he may have new tricks," Darius said. "Like you said, I don't normally act like this."

"What are you going to do?" Blackstone asked.

"I'd love to choke the life out of the little weasel," Darius said, "but that's not going to be feasible. I'm in enough trouble as it is."

Blackstone nodded, apparently not realizing that Darius was referring to trouble with the Fates, not with Ariel. "Do you need my help?"

"Not yet," Darius said, "but if anyone asks, just say I was provoked."

Blackstone leaned forward. "You're not going to do anything rash, are you?"

Darius smiled. "When have you known me to be rash?"

And before Blackstone could answer, Darius clapped his hands and disappeared.

Ariel was following Sofia through the dining room, inspecting table setup for dinner. Suddenly a white light flared through the kitchen wall.

"What was that?" Ariel asked.

"What?" Sofia looked around, as if searching for something. "I didn't see anything."

"That light," Ariel said. "Straight in front of us. The kitchen wall."

Sofia stopped, then crossed herself. "You might want to do that."

"I'm not Catholic," Ariel said.

"You might want to convert," Sofia said.

"Why?"

"You're one of those."

Ariel frowned. This conversation had taken a strange turn. "One of whats?"

"The ones who can see." Sofia had lowered her voice.

"See?" Ariel was still staring at the wall. It looked normal now. "See what?"

"The ghosts." Sofia was whispering.

Blackstone had told Ariel about this. "I don't believe in ghosts," she said.

"Then how do you explain what you just saw?"

Ariel shrugged. "A power surge? Problems in the kitchen?"

"To cause a white light? Ariel, if that were the case, we'd hear sirens, fight off fire trucks, hear yelling and screaming. There's been nothing."

"Does everyone else see a white light?" Ariel asked.

Sofia shook her head. "Sometimes they see things disappear or appear. Or float. Sometimes they can see through the walls. Sometimes they hear voices."

Ariel did feel a bit disconcerted. The only other time she had seen lights like this, she had just fallen off a cliff. "What does Blackstone say about it?"

"He says if there are ghosts here, they are benign ghosts."

"Do you believe that?"

Sofia shook her head once. "That's why I try to be here only in the daylight, so that there are fewer of them. But in the winter, in the twilight, sometimes ..."

She didn't finish her sentence. Instead, she headed toward the front of the restaurant, where the windows showed the darkening sky.

Ariel trailed behind her like a duckling. "I thought we were checking the tables."

"I'm sure they're fine."

"Then what are we doing?" Ariel said.

"Staying here." Sofia had reached the maitre d's podium and she clung to it like it was a lifeline.

"Why?" Ariel asked.

"Because," Sofia whispered, "we're only a few steps away from the door."

Ariel resisted the urge to shake her head. She wasn't used to being around superst.i.tion. There had to be a scientific explanation for the lights.

She left Sofia's side and headed back through the restaurant, checking the tables as she went. The white linen tablecloths, the large bone china dish whose main purpose was to be whisked off the table as soon as the patron sat down, the expensive silverware, the napkins folded like tulips, all were in place.

This restaurant was like an old clock that had been kept in perfect repair; everything moved along in its time, just like it always had. When Sofia left, Ariel would take her place as a cog in a very big wheel.

Nothing was out of order and there were no more flas.h.i.+ng lights. Yet the feeling of discomfort remained.

Ariel let herself into the kitchen, feeling her shoulder muscles stiffen as she did so. She was bracing herself for another encounter with Andrew Vari.

But she didn't see him. Only the cooks and the busboys, and the evening wait staff, who were just beginning to show up for their s.h.i.+fts.

Then Blackstone came out of the back room. He stopped when he saw her, looking like a little boy who had just gotten into trouble. As he walked toward her, he smiled, and his entire demeanor changed. He became the charming employer, the man who had befriended her the day before.

"Is everything all right?" he asked.

"I was just going to ask you that," she said. "I saw a light against the back wall."

"A light?" He sounded confused.

"Sofia said it was ghosts."

He laughed. The sound rang hollow. One of the chefs looked over, his pale skin blotchy from steam.

"I warned you about the superst.i.tions around here," Blackstone said.

Ariel nodded. "I know. Only I'm the one who saw the white light."

"A white light," he repeated, sounding a bit stunned. "You saw it through the wall?"

Interesting choice of words. "I saw it against the wall."

He nodded.

"I'm worried that it could be a short or some kind of electrical problem."

He gave her a half-smile. "You have an a.n.a.lytical mind."

"Isn't that allowed here?" she asked, smiling in return.

"Of course it is," he said. "It might even be better."

"Better than what?"

He seemed surprised that she had heard his last comment. "Better than the rest of us."

He put his hand on her back and propelled her back toward the interior of the restaurant. "Come on," he said. "Let's go see if we can find that short of yours."

Somehow, though, she knew they wouldn't. And she knew that he knew they wouldn't. They were going through the motions, for a reason she didn't entirely understand.