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“Hi there!” I said with a friendly wave. “Whatcha got there? It’s very shiny.”
He hit me with some magic, but it had its usual lack of effect on me. I laughed out loud with the joy of being back to my usual self. Being able to do magic was cool, but this was who I really was, and I knew how to work it in a way I’d never understood magic.
My sense of triumph died when I saw that Owen was no longer alone on the other side of the wards. More guards approached him from behind. I shouted a warning, though I wasn’t sure the sound would carry through the wards. At the same time, the guard on my side of the wards hit me with another bit of magic that I ignored while I watched Owen. He turned just in the nick of time, but he was badly outnumbered. They would overwhelm him in a moment.
I started to rush toward him, but stopped myself. More of our people were on the other side of the wards, and I was the only one who could get through the portal. I was our only hope. As much as I hated leaving Owen behind, I forced myself to focus on my mission.
The guard kept attacking me magically, astonished that his magic had no effect on this impossible interloper. I took advantage of that by rushing straight at him. He ran toward me, and at the last second, I veered aside to aim for the portal. It was an old fake-out I’d learned when playing touch football with my brothers, and since this guy obviously hadn’t experienced the joys of football, it took him a while to react.
About two seconds too long, in fact. I was almost to the portal when I felt a breeze against the back of my neck as he reached out to grab me, but I ducked and rolled in the nick of time. I went through the portal in a somersault.
And then I emerged in the middle of the biggest party I’d ever seen.
Chapter Nineteen
At first, I thought I’d wound up in the wrong place, despite Owen’s assurances. This wasn’t some old warehouse where an alien army was being assembled. It was a New York City rave.
No, make that a disco, I mentally corrected myself, since the song currently blasting through the cavernous space was the extended dance mix of “I Will Survive.” A disco ball overhead sent shards of greenish light reflected from the portal around the room, and beams of colored light played around the dance floor as a mass of people—make that elves—partied like it was 1979.
In the middle of the elven version of Saturday Night Fever, nobody even noticed that someone had come through the portal. In fact, I stood out more by sitting still on the floor than I had from somersaulting out of the portal. I jumped to my feet and attempted to move like the dancers. Immediately, I had two elven soldiers move to dance with me. They glared daggers at each other, then the one who’d arrived a split second later sighed and backed away.
While I danced awkwardly in front of the gyrating elf, I glanced around the room. I wasn’t the only female present, but we were definitely in the minority, and we were very popular. Being an in-demand dance partner might make it harder to escape than any guards would.
Although I hadn’t anticipated landing in a party, I supposed it made sense. If you kept a bunch of elves cooped up in a big space like this, and if they were from another world and they were just discovering disco, this was what was likely to happen. I said a mental prayer of thanks to Saint Gloria of Gaynor because as weird as this situation was, it sure beat landing in the middle of drilling soldiers.
When the song shifted to a Bee Gees tune, I moved on to dance in front of another elf, aiming for the exit on the other side of the room. So far, no one had noticed that I was human or an outsider. It took four songs for me to get within clear view of the exit, and then my hopes fell. The party ended at the doorway. Beyond that, in the hall that led to the street entrance, there were several armed guards who didn’t look like they were having any fun. They were facing out, like they were keeping people away rather than keeping people in, but I didn’t think they were likely to just let me leave. I needed to find another way out.
During a group participation rendition of “YMCA,” during which I was unable to make any progress, I noticed a staircase leading to a balcony surrounding the portal room/disco. That gave me an idea. If some gargoyles had disappeared from here, that meant MSI security knew something about this place, and if I knew Sam, he’d be staking it out.
As soon as the song ended and a Donna Summer tune started, I danced my way toward the stairs. I might not be able to escape via the roof, but I might be able to get a message out that way. There were a number of elves hanging out on the balcony, watching the dance floor below, and I paused to do the same before moving on to look for a roof-access stairwell.
Although my mission was urgent, I forced myself to look casual. This was a clear case of nobody questioning you if you acted like you belonged. So far, I was getting along just fine in enemy territory, and I didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize that.
This building might have been Elf Central, but it was still in New York and subject to the building code, so there was an exit sign over a doorway, indicating a stairwell. Unsure if the elves’ lack of interest in me would extend to me going through an exit door, I leaned against the balcony railing for a while, watching the dance floor. It was hard to think of all these dancers as a potential threat to my world. Did they even know what they were being used for? And were they on board with this mission? Maybe all we needed to do to stop the elven invasion was introduce the would-be army to the New York club scene. Then Sylvester would have to turn to Plan B for taking over the world. These guys didn’t seem like they’d want to change or destroy a world with nightclubs in it.
When “Dancing Queen” came on, the partiers whooped with joy and enthusiastically threw themselves into dancing along. Even the elves on the balcony joined in the dancing. They were all so caught up in the music that they didn’t notice me easing open the stairwell door and slipping through it.
There were no guards in the stairwell, so I was able to run up to the roof level. I cautiously opened the roof door, made sure the coast was clear, then wedged a piece of wood I found nearby between the door and the frame so it wouldn’t close all the way, in case the door automatically locked from the inside.
At first glance, the rooftop seemed empty. The good news was that there were no elves up there, whether guards or partiers escaping the crowd. The bad news was that I didn’t see any gargoyles, either. Now would have been a good time to have magical powers, I thought. I could have sent up some kind of signal. A cell phone might also have come in handy. I was starting to rethink my stubborn stance on refusing to have one. Then again, even if I’d had one, I wouldn’t have it now, since it seemed like all our stuff had been taken away from us when we were sent into the other realm. I wondered if jumping up and down and waving my arms would do any good. The danger there was that I had no idea what I’d attract.
That made me realize how visible and vulnerable I was standing there on the rooftop. There was a waist-high wall around the edge of the roof, and I ducked so that I was beneath it. Crouching, I made my way around the roof, peering up occasionally. It would have been lovely if I’d spotted Sam perched on an adjacent rooftop, watching this place, but I didn’t.
e middle of the elven version of Saturday Night Fever, nobody even noticed that someone had come through the portal. In fact, I stood out more by sitting still on the floor than I had from somersaulting out of the portal. I jumped to my feet and attempted to move like the dancers. Immediately, I had two elven soldiers move to dance with me. They glared daggers at each other, then the one who’d arrived a split second later sighed and backed away.
While I danced awkwardly in front of the gyrating elf, I glanced around the room. I wasn’t the only female present, but we were definitely in the minority, and we were very popular. Being an in-demand dance partner might make it harder to escape than any guards would.
Although I hadn’t anticipated landing in a party, I supposed it made sense. If you kept a bunch of elves cooped up in a big space like this, and if they were from another world and they were just discovering disco, this was what was likely to happen. I said a mental prayer of thanks to Saint Gloria of Gaynor because as weird as this situation was, it sure beat landing in the middle of drilling soldiers.
When the song shifted to a Bee Gees tune, I moved on to dance in front of another elf, aiming for the exit on the other side of the room. So far, no one had noticed that I was human or an outsider. It took four songs for me to get within clear view of the exit, and then my hopes fell. The party ended at the doorway. Beyond that, in the hall that led to the street entrance, there were several armed guards who didn’t look like they were having any fun. They were facing out, like they were keeping people away rather than keeping people in, but I didn’t think they were likely to just let me leave. I needed to find another way out.
During a group participation rendition of “YMCA,” during which I was unable to make any progress, I noticed a staircase leading to a balcony surrounding the portal room/disco. That gave me an idea. If some gargoyles had disappeared from here, that meant MSI security knew something about this place, and if I knew Sam, he’d be staking it out.
As soon as the song ended and a Donna Summer tune started, I danced my way toward the stairs. I might not be able to escape via the roof, but I might be able to get a message out that way. There were a number of elves hanging out on the balcony, watching the dance floor below, and I paused to do the same before moving on to look for a roof-access stairwell.
Although my mission was urgent, I forced myself to look casual. This was a clear case of nobody questioning you if you acted like you belonged. So far, I was getting along just fine in enemy territory, and I didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize that.
This building might have been Elf Central, but it was still in New York and subject to the building code, so there was an exit sign over a doorway, indicating a stairwell. Unsure if the elves’ lack of interest in me would extend to me going through an exit door, I leaned against the balcony railing for a while, watching the dance floor. It was hard to think of all these dancers as a potential threat to my world. Did they even know what they were being used for? And were they on board with this mission? Maybe all we needed to do to stop the elven invasion was introduce the would-be army to the New York club scene. Then Sylvester would have to turn to Plan B for taking over the world. These guys didn’t seem like they’d want to change or destroy a world with nightclubs in it.
