No Quest for the Wicked by Shanna Swendson

as “business bland.”
    He studied me, and I could tell he was wrestling with a diplomatic way to respond. “You don’t look bad,” he said at last.
    “It took Gemma’s help to get me this far.”
    “And I don’t shop,” Owen added.
    A saleswoman approached us, gave Owen a dazzling smile, and asked, “Can I help you find something?”
    Owen immediately turned bright red and started stammering. I’d almost forgotten about his shyness, it had been so long since I’d seen him outside the office basement. He could handle himself in an official capacity or with people he knew and trusted, but around strangers, he blushed and clammed up. It was really rather adorable.
    Rod intervened, asking the saleswoman, “We were wondering about your personal shopper service.”
    “That would be on the third floor,” she told him.
    When she was gone, I said, “Owen also doesn’t talk to strangers. Which leaves you. You’re great with women.” I didn’t think that Granny or Thor would even be in the running for posing as a personal shopper.
    “Okay, okay. If you think I can pull this off.”
    I patted him on the shoulder as we headed to the escalators. “Just pour on your usual charm, and you should do fine.”
    “I haven’t used my ‘usual charm’ in ages. I’ve been trying to be good, but it’s hard to reform when you people keep pulling me back in.”
    “It’s all in the line of duty. You’re playing Don Juan for a cause now, not for selfish reasons.”
    Up on the third floor, a frighteningly thin blond (probably fake, but with no roots showing) woman in a severe suit stood waiting, tapping the pointy toe of her high-heeled shoe impatiently, even though it was still several minutes before her appointment. “That’s got to be her,” Rod whispered.
    “Do you feel anything that might be the Eye?” I asked him, also in a whisper.
    He shook his head. “If she’s got it, it’s in the box. Do you think she’d be standing there, waiting, if the Eye were working?”
    “Good point. Now, go get ’em, tiger. We’re all counting on you. But no pressure!”
    While the rest of us lurked behind mannequins, Rod dialed up the charm to maximum levels and approached the woman. “Ms. Winters?” he asked.
    “Yes.” She snapped out the word.
    “I’m André, and I’ll be helping you today.”
    “My appointment was with Cecile.”
    “I’m afraid Cecile had a family emergency, so she asked me to fill in until she could get here. She sent her most sincere apologies. Now, is there something in particular you’re looking for today? Any big events you need to dress for or pieces you want to build an outfit around?”
    She looked at him like he’d grown a second head. “Cecile usually pulls pieces and has them ready when I arrive. I told her what I wanted when I made the appointment.”
    “Oh, ah, um,” Rod stammered. He sounded a lot like Owen. This was not a good time for him to lose his mojo and turn bashful. Then I felt an increase in magical use as he gave up trying to do this the hard way and hit her full-on with the whammy. “I wanted to add my personal touch,” he said, his voice soft and seductive as he reached out to touch her hand.
    All her frosty edginess melted away, and she looked more like what I was accustomed to seeing in women around Rod. In fact, it reminded me of when I first saw him, when I wondered if he was a rock star I didn’t recognize because of the way all the women on the subway car looked at him. “Oh, personal is good,” she sighed.
    Still weaving his spell, Rod said, “I definitely think we should add more blue. I’d bet you look lovely in blue—like a sapphire blue. Please tell me you wear sapphires.”
    “I haven’t before. But let’s buy some!”
    I put my hand over my mouth to suppress my giggles. I wished we were filming this because it was one of the funniest things I’d seen in ages. Then I noticed that Owen was staring at me, not Rod. “What’s wrong?” he