I went with something tried and true that I’d already seen them react to. After the first few words of the enchanted extended dance mix of “I Will Survive,” most of the elves on the dance floor were singing along. When the tempo picked up, they started dancing, oblivious to anything going on around them.
Up on the balcony, Sylvester hadn’t noticed that he’d entirely lost his audience. I saw it dawn on him. He tried shouting louder, but the little gargoyle adjusted the volume, making the music even louder. Florence and her friends fell into the dancing like everyone else, and Owen took my hand and spun me around.
“You’re not under the spell, are you?” I asked him.
“No, I think it’s elf-specific. But we might as well enjoy ourselves a little.”
When the song ended, I swapped out players and put on “How Deep Is Your Love?” The elves might not have been under a literal spell, but they all swayed and sang along, creating harmonies that the Bee Gees only dreamed of. Even Sylvester seemed to get caught up in the moment.
During the song, I searched around the table and found a microphone connected to the stereo, then I figured out how to switch over to that input. I let the song fade out when it ended, turned on the microphone, and handed it to Florence. “Give it your best shot,” I whispered to her.
“All of this is a lie!” she shouted, her voice echoing throughout the warehouse. “The only invasion here was to support the Elf Lord. He was the one to open the portal. He was the one who created the prison in the elven realms. I was a guard there, and he was the one who gave us our assignments. He was the one having people kidnapped and sent there if they had any inkling of the plan. He was the one who stranded his own people there so no word would leak out, and he was the one kidnapping elves from the other realm and bringing them here as an army.”
She handed the microphone over to one of her colleagues, who backed up her story with an additional tale of Sylvester being present when a prisoner was sent through the portal. Soon, there was a line forming for the microphone, each elf with a story to tell.
We’d broken Sylvester’s spell on the crowd. Enough elves were listening to the testimony that I didn’t think his innocent victim act would survive. However, Sylvester wasn’t about to roll over and play dead, even as angry elves headed up the stairs toward him.
He turned to run, right toward the staircase that led to the roof.
Chapter Twenty-One
“He’s getting away!” I shouted, then realized that didn’t do any good because no one could hear me. I dialed Sam on my phone. “Stop Sylvester! He’s headed to the roof!” I said when he answered.
“Got it, doll,” he replied, and I saw him already flying toward the balcony.
“When did you get that?” Owen asked.
“A lot has happened since the last time you saw me,” I said mysteriously as I slid the phone back into my pocket.
We moved through the crowd toward the stairs. “It has? How much time has gone by?” Owen asked as we ran.
He looked so alarmed that I didn’t have the heart to keep teasing him. “Only a couple of hours. Merlin gave me the phone. I guess when we went missing they decided it would be a good thing for people to be able to reach me, and I’ll admit it’s come in handy tonight.”
Sam could only hamper Sylvester’s escape, since Sylvester fought back with magic. I got out my phone again and called Merlin. “Are you here yet?” I asked.
“Almost.”
“The roof!” I shouted, forgetting the fact that I was giving orders to my boss. I didn’t think he’d mind my tone under the circumstances.
Owen and I reached the balcony and rushed for the stairwell door where Sylvester had just disappeared. Earl and Brad were right behind us, and when they saw us running, Mac and McClusky joined the chase. Rod came after them. All those people running up the stairs sounded like a herd of stampeding elephants as our footsteps echoed around the stairwell.
We made it out onto the roof just as Merlin stepped nimbly off a flying carpet hovering a couple of feet off the ground. He then turned to help Granny down. When Sylvester saw Merlin, he stopped so abruptly that he skidded a few inches. The rest of us fanned out to surround him.
“Why, Sylvester, imagine seeing you here,” Merlin said, sounding like he was paying a social call. “I was just at your office, looking for you.”
Sylvester started to run for the stairs, but Owen and I blocked the way. The Elf Lord did a double take when he saw us. “You? But how did …” His voice trailed off as his expression clouded.
