Once Upon Stilettos (Enchanted, Inc. #2)

Once Upon Stilettos (Enchanted, Inc. #2) Page 62

It felt nothing short of inevitable. I had no good reason why we shouldn’t go downtown and see where I worked—at least, no good reason I could share with the others. I had plenty of reasons I had to keep to myself. For one thing, the office building was on a street that didn’t appear on any maps, and it tended to be the kind of place you didn’t notice unless you were looking for it. It also didn’t fit in at all. It looked like a medieval castle transplanted into Lower Manhattan. Those alone were reasons I didn’t particularly want to parade my friends and family by my office. Then there was the fact that the security guard was a talking gargoyle. I crossed my fingers and hoped Sam would be off moonlighting at a church over the weekend. He could probably pick up some extra cash filling in for a gargoyle at St. Patrick’s.

“Downtown it is, then,” I said, trying to force more enthusiasm than I felt into my voice. If I sounded like I was trying to hide something, the folks would get suspicious, and there were enough reasons for suspicion without me adding to them. I sincerely hoped Idris had something better to do on a Saturday than keep stalking me.

The next morning, Gemma, Marcia, and I guided my parents onto a city bus. Gemma insisted on the bus instead of the subway because it was the best way to see the changing neighborhoods of the city. We got off in front of the Woolworth Building, where we peered through the front doors into the ornate lobby.

“Now do we see your office?” Mom asked. “Didn’t you say it was near here?”

Actually, you could see it from there, if you knew what to look for, but I preferred to prolong the inevitable. “Why don’t we come back by there after we’ve seen everything else?” I suggested.

I let Marcia lead the way once we entered the financial district, since that was more her domain than mine. While she rattled off facts and figures about the buildings we passed, I kept my eyes open for potential magical strangeness. In the days before I learned about magic, I frequently saw odd sights in this part of town, probably because of the proximity to MSI headquarters, where a large portion of the magical community was employed. They all seemed to have stayed away during the holiday weekend, much to my relief. I saw nothing with wings, nothing moving that wasn’t supposed to, nobody making anything disappear or appear out of thin air. This was probably the most normal I’d seen New York since I’d moved here.

We made a side trip by the Ground Zero site, then went all the way down to Battery Park, where we looked out across the water to the Statue of Liberty. Marcia led us down Wall Street, and we paused to take pictures in front of the Stock Exchange. By the time we reached the South Street Seaport, we were ready for lunch.

All that walking had left everyone tired, so conversation was muted. I hoped that meant they would all be too tired to ask many questions once we reached my bizarro office building. With luck, they’d be so tired they’d just want to hit the subway station and go home.

I took the lead when we finished lunch and headed up the hill. I couldn’t help but hold my breath as the MSI building’s turrets came into view. I could see them, and that meant Mom could, too, but I wasn’t sure what anyone else might see. I didn’t want another fight between my parents about whether or not Mom was seeing things.

“Now, that’s an interesting building,” Dad said.

“Which one?” I asked, probably a little too casually as I tried to hide my anxiety.

“That one, the one that looks like a castle.”

“Oh. Well, that’s my office building, believe it or not.”

“I didn’t even know this was here,” Marcia said, frowning. “I’ve been by here hundreds—thousands—of times, and I’ve never noticed it.”

“It’s amazing what commuter tunnel vision will do to you,” I said. “I’d never noticed it, either, until I went for the interview.”

We drew nearer, so the rest of the castle-like building was visible. Fortunately, Sam was off-duty. There was nothing unlikely perched on the awning over the main entrance.

“I can’t believe I’ve never seen this,” Marcia said, still frowning and shaking her head.

Gemma pulled her guidebook out of her bag. “It’s got to be in the guide, since it’s so unusual. Maybe it’s Victorian-era Gothic Revival.”

I knew she could flip through the guidebook all day long and never find that building, but I didn’t say so.

I tried to keep my pace steady so they’d be less inclined to slow down and look too closely as we passed. “So, anyway, this is where I work,” I said. “There’s a subway station on the other side of the park.”