The Lost Enchantress by Patricia Coughlin

fair and square?”
    He smiled. It wasn’t a genuine smile, of course, but it was still plenty effective, more than enough to make her heart do a little stutter step.
    “Define ‘fair,’ he challenged.
    Ouch. Best not to let the conversation veer in that direction.
    “Look, I’m very sorry to disappoint you,” she said, trying to sound reasonable but firm, “or seem uncooperative, but this discussion is really a waste of time.”
    “That’s a matter of perspective. As I told you, I’ve already invested a great deal of time searching for the pendant.”
    “And as I told you, it’s not for sale.”
    He hesitated, his expression clouded, as if she were a puzzle he couldn’t quite figure out. “What if I told you it was a matter of life and death?”
    Everything inside her went still. Was that a threat? Belatedly it occurred to her that remaining there alone with him hadn’t been the smartest move she’d ever made. She’d chased down interviews with enough unsavory types to know better than to let herself be manipulated into such a vulnerable position. It was more evidence—as if she needed any—that she’d been thrown way off her game.
    “I suppose I’d ask whose,” she said in her calm and even reporter’s voice.
    “Mine.”
    It wasn’t the answer she expected, and she immediately suspected it was a trick. Before she had a chance to find out for sure, someone spoke from the shadows behind them.
    “Not so fast there, pal. If you want to be real about this, both your lives are on the hook here.”
    They both turned in that direction, Gabriel Hazard as startled as she was.
    Eve would have bet the night couldn’t get any stranger. She would have lost. Standing in front of the concrete wall ten yards away, wearing shiny black suits, dark glasses and black felt fedoras, were the Blues Brothers, or at least a damn good facsimile.
    Whoever they were, they definitely had not been there when she arrived a few moments ago. Eve was certain of that. Well, as certain as she was about anything that had happened in the past few hours. The relevant point was that they seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, which she knew enough to know meant they had appeared from somewhere else . . . another dimension or world or someplace equally fantastical.
    That couldn’t be good.
    “So,” said the shorter and rounder of the two, “that being the operational situation, why don’t you just do yourself a favor, doll, and toss that pendant my way?”
    “What pendant?” she asked with what she hoped was a credible aura of utter cluelessness.
    The Blues Brothers chuckled and elbowed each other.
    Brother Small adjusted the tilt of his fedora. “What pendant, she says. Everybody’s a joker these days.”
    Their laughter stopped abruptly, as if someone had jerked the needle off an old record album.
    “I hate jokers,” said Brother Tall. “But just on account of I also don’t go for messing up a dame if I don’t have to, I’m going to give you one more chance to play nice and hand over that pendant. A little something I call the three-second chance. Three . . . two . . .”
    He skipped one and both men started toward her. So much for chivalry.
    Acting on instinct alone, Eve grabbed the pendant right through her dress and held on to it as tightly as she could. She had no idea what prompted Hazard to grab her and try to shove her behind him and no time to think about it. As soon as he touched her, the same iridescent glow that had materialized in the ballroom appeared again, this time forming a dome over the two of them so that they were cocooned inside a bubble of highly charged mist.
    Hazard scowled suddenly and pressed his fingertips to his forehead as if his head ached, but still managed to keep his body angled protectively in front of hers.
    “Nice trick,” said Brother Tall, his smile smug as he examined the mist. “Too bad for you I got a nicer one.”
    They kept coming, their hands raised in front of them, palms