|
Worrying About Wizards by Elizabeth Eden (aka Jane Carver) The rumors began flying after lunch.
Eric Vale is coming. Eric Vale, the Wizard. The Wizard is coming.
Like magic, the news spread through open doors and windows around the
courthouse square in Despite his lack of status among the Spellfire true witches and wizards, sorcerers, fairies, gnomes, selkies, trolls, elves, vampires and shape shifters, Eric Vale was expected to grace the town with his presence. Only…no one seemed to know when he might arrive or where he might be staying. * * * * “We must ignore this man who stole the name wizard!” Gias, a Roman centurion ghost, slammed his fist down on the table. “To give him credence only brings more to follow him. Spellfire does not need attention. Media! Bah! Rumors say he comes to make a television show. Others say he comes to debunk magic and illusion. Still another says he comes to open a theme park in one of our meadows. The druids and fairies are outraged. Lady Lily, High Fairy of Mystic Meadows, says she can barely keep the masses calm.” His voice thundered around the small dining room set behind thick doors at the back of Spell House hotel. Murmurs rose as he took his seat. Captain James Dallingham of the early eighteen hundreds Texas Rangers thumped Gias on the shoulder in support of a good speech. The captain’s spurs jingled, and his gun holster accompanied his movements. Beside him, World War II pilot Colonel Jack Taylor sounded a few ‘hurrahs’. The three ghosts thumped the table in unison. “The military has spoken,” came their comment. * * * * Students flocked to the elective
archery class when they knew Prince Rayne St. Sienne was teaching. The
man stood at one end of the line of students, who eagerly clutched their
longbows, giving instructions in low even tones. He never moved, never
corrected by touch, never reprimanded or praised. Yet young wizards and
witches, along with other magical beings studying magic in the Graduate student Emily Withery carefully bent her bow and removed the string. Slipping both into a soft wrap, she took her time moving away from the shooting area. “He’s so hot!” one girl nearby whispered. “Are all elves like him?” her best friend giggled. “You mean tall and handsome? Or mysterious and sexy? Those scars only add more appeal,” a third young woman sighed. Though the prince stood over twenty feet away, Emily knew he heard the silly conversation. She’d watched him often and now saw his pointed ears and vivid facial scars turn dusky pink, a sure sign of embarrassment. Unhurried but with intent, she moved up to the trio. “He can hear you, you know,” she whispered with a significant glance toward the man. * * * * Rayne snorted, an undignified sound for one of noble blood, but he seemed to think the rude gesture appropriate. “So you think yourself too old to engage in the fantasies these younger ones enjoy. And you now refuse discourse with me based on our ranking in society.” He rubbed his chin in thoughtful contemplation. “True, I am high born, and you are only a student witch, but you can answer my questions regarding this imposter.” He crossed his arms over a rather magnificent chest, tossed a length of silver white hair behind his shoulder and propped one hip forward. Emily swallowed hard. If he wasn’t a poster child for luscious she didn’t know who would be. Still his knowing expression said either her face was too easy to read, or he read minds. She tended to think both in her case. And she wasn’t about to boost his ego. He seemed to handle that well enough by himself. “We will not discuss this further. I’m leaving.” “But you take your desires and passion with you.” His words taunted the very air around her. “Oooh, that’s about enough out of you, Prince Ego!” She bit her tongue to keep from adding further insults. She stomped away from him, but his words caught up with her. “Do you not find me hot and sexy? All that you desire?” * * * * “It’s very quiet here, Jarrod.” Eric stood on the front steps, his gaze cast over trees and pasture surrounding a single story home. “I think this will be good for you.” Jarrod Myerly, Eric Vale’s manager and best friend, paused with a suitcase in each hand. “That artist was right. His wife did a good job healing you, but he said you’d feel even better here.” “Can I go for walks in the woods?” Eric turned innocent questioning eyes to his friend. “Sure. As soon as we get settled. Remember that Brianna said you should rest each afternoon.” Jarrod waited while Eric mulled over that reminder. “Is it time to rest?” “Yes, it would be best after that long trip.” Jarrod twisted his wrist enough to see his watch. “It’s after two o’clock now. How about a short nap while I unpack my things. When you wake up, I’ll help you unpack. We’ll take a snack with us while we explore.” He moved up the three steps, across the wide porch and sat a bag down in order to open the door. “But Eric, we won’t go far today.” “Slowly. Brianna said to go slowly.” Eric’s heart-stopping grin blossomed as gradually as he talked. “Will she and Kaden visit?” “I don’t think so. She said they had other people to help.” Jarrod grabbed the second bag and waved Eric in the door. “Come see the house. Kaden said it was beautiful.” Eric Vale, known to the world as The Wizard of Magic, nodded solemnly and followed his friend. He stopped several feet inside the door, however, the sheer simplicity and quiet beauty of the Garrett home almost too much for him to absorb at once. * * * * A man stood in the clearing. Not a large clearing for such a well-built man. His back was to Rayne. He stood so still that the elf wondered if he had heard Rayne’s approach. Not possible! The stranger looked first to his left then to his right. He took a step one way then stopped and stepped the other. Finally, he moved back until he was in his original spot. Rayne expected the man to put hand to chin in thought or perhaps thrust both hands into his pockets in resignation. Obviously, he was lost. In black jeans and khaki shirt, long smooth hair over his collar that came together in a riot of curls, the man looked athletic and capable of enduring a night in the open. Rayne was about to pull back and leave the intruder on his own when the man spoke. “Jarrod?” A low, tremulous, weak sound. Never had Rayne heard such a lost scared voice. A child-like sound of bewilderment. That one word and his heart went out to the stranger standing alone. Should he stay and help? The man turned in his direction, and Rayne made his decision. Before him stood a god-like man, as his friend Judith would say. Dark hair falling on each side of his face to curve gracefully around his ears. A straight nose, strong chin and broad shoulders. Full lips that would drive women crazy. His voice held some quality that Rayne could not identify. But he did recognize the look in the man’s eyes. Wide brown eyes filled with fear. Innocent eyes of a man afraid to go forward, petrified of being lost. Child-like terror. Not what Rayne had expected. * * * * “Are you lost?” Asking straight out might get the two out of her clearing quickly enough. The handsome one shook his head. “Jarrod knows where we are,” he said confidently. Only Jarrod did not look like he did. However he was being stubborn, refusing to ask for help. “Can I get that arrow for you?” The dark man’s eagerness surprised Emily. His request did not sound like a come on; it sounded like a kid wanting to participate. “Sure.” He ran to the target, and she could have sworn…? Imagined…? The arrow jumped out of the hard target to land in his hand when he got close. But then again, the sunlight was fickled, interrupted by tree shadows. She was tired. These two were human, not magical beings. Still that arrow did seem to… “Here! That was fun!” He handed her the arrow but turned it around so she grasped the feathered shaft rather than the sharp tip. … “E, be quiet. The lady was practicing and needs to get back to that after she walks with us.” Jarrod’s words were harsh though not loud. “I can’t talk to her? That’s not nice, Jarrod.” Oddly enough, E’s face clouded up like a child’s. His lower lip stuck out, and he hung his head. “Aw, look, E. I didn’t mean to be rude. I’m just…tired.” Jarrod ran a hand slowly over his face. Emily got the impression he was more worried than tired but refrained from mentioning the thought. * * * * “You seem to fear the unknown.” He leaned against a tree, crossed his arms and ankles. “This is new territory for you. I think you should explore and see if you like it.” “New pathways, new territory. Geez.” She stood and approached him but not closely. “Ignoring the metaphors we bandy around,” he straightened. “I want to know you better. You seem to complement me in some way unknown to me. Truth is,” he walked past her. “I find myself thinking about you more than I’ve ever thought of another woman. And believe me,” he pointed a finger her way, “I’ve thought of a few over my rather extended life-time.” He sank into a graceful heap, legs folded neatly in front of him as he assumed her former pose. He cocked his head to one side and cast a shy glance at her that caught her off guard. “However, none of those women seemed to pull at my…” He hesitated as if she might mock him but finished it in a rush without looking her way. “None have pulled at my heart like you do.” Rayne totally took the wind out of her sails, the conviction out of her argument. She sputtered in an attempt to understand what he was saying. “You find me attractive?” “Indeed. I do.” “You want to spend time with me?” “Absolutely.” “You want to,” she gulped, “kiss me?” “Most definitely! And why would I not? You are a beautiful, desirable, passionate woman.” He eased his way to his feet and approached her slowly. In a stupor, she stood and let him place his hands on her arms. “Desirable,” she croaked through dry lips, her eyes wide in stunned shock. “Passionate?” “Regardless of your less than flattering name for me, sweeting, I would call you mine if you allowed.” That declaration upon his lips, Rayne leaned down and touched Emily so gently, so delicately that for a heartbeat she wasn’t sure if he had kissed her or not. * * * * Imagine Emily’s surprise when she and Rayne stepped out of hiding and greeted the man she knew as E. “E?” She spoke carefully because she remembered he was rather simple. And this time he held a sword in his hand. “Emily! Hello!” Immediately the sword fell to his side. “Rayne! Do you know Emily, too?” His cheerful greeting belied the tear stains on his cheeks. “My friend, you are well?” Rayne spoke gently but came no nearer. “Emily and I heard a noise and thought perhaps you were injured.” Caught with telltale tears, E quickly rubbed them off with his thick muscled forearm. “I’m good, Rayne. But I need help.” The man came straight to the point of his concern. “What kind of help?” “Kaden said I have to practice.” He held the sword up. “With this. Her name is Courageux Feminin. That means Bold Justice. Kaden said so.” “My friend…E…” Rayne glanced to Emily who nodded that E was all she knew of his name. “Will that sword not break? What are you practicing for?” “I don’t know,” Eric said with a frown of concentration on his forehead. He brightened immediately and held up the sword. “And she won’t break.” Emily decided to test E’s imagination. “Do you think it’s magic?” “Magic?” E held the sword out in front of him and let the light play off the fullers—the grooves running down the middle of the blade. “Yes! Yes, Emily. She is magic. Like me! Maybe that’s why Kaden said I should practice. Someday I might be able to use her in a magic show. Someday I might be the Wizard again.” He happily swung the sword back and forth, unaware of the ashen hue of Rayne’s already pale skin or the shocked expression Emily wore. Child of Light/Child of Night by Jane Carver At the bow stood five as the real world no longer saw them. Merlin in his maroon robes of finely woven clothe, a staff in his hand, long dark hair behind him. Wizard, sorcerer, enchanter, he answered to many names and no mortal. The light of mischief and magic shone in his eyes. Lady Rhiannon stood next to Merlin, her twin by the design of fate, not humanity. Once lost to her. Now found. Fairie princess to a realm that no human believed in any more. Twin of magic and twin of the fey. Dark hair lay in graceful waves down her back, mirroring her brother and fellow sorcerer. A diaphanous blue gown hugged her curves, lending her a sensuousness and majesty mortals had long since forgotten. Niniane, the white sorceress known
by those of old as Nym. Lady of the Morgan le Fey, a great healer though the world remembered her as a witch. A darkly dangerous woman, woven tightly into Arthurian legends, she learned her magic under the tutelage of Merlin himself, though he knew her not in true form at the time. Mother of the seductive sea sirens and creator of the magnificent flying ship aboard which they sailed. Her gown of scarlet and forest green highlighted a delicate complexion and golden brown curls. Ahead of her lay adventure, and she reveled in the prospect of challenge. At her shoulder stood Janus, ancient Roman god of beginnings and endings. Most often abstract concepts only he recognized. Seen by mankind as two-faced, one looking back, the other forward. The past and the future. His blond curls lay close to his head; his beard hugged the face of a handsome man. A short white silk tunic outlined with a golden band ended at his knees. Leather sandals with straps tied to his calves secured his steps. His game was now in play. Excitement and determination held him aquiver like an arrow prepared to fly. Five god-like beings of ancient legends prepared to enter the unknown world of Spellfire. Were they ready to play immortal cupids? Was Spellfire ready for them? Ready or not, their ship set sail in the new light of morn for distant shores. * * * * * * * * “Ma’am? You okay?” The closer he got, the more he wanted to say but words failed him. Not that he talked a great deal but for sure this time, his tongue just plain had nothing to say. If he could still breathe like a human, he’d be out of air, she was that fetchin’. She had pulled herself up out of the dust and straightened her shoulders as Trin approached. Fatigue drew harsh lines on her face. Her jeans, shirt and denim jacket were dusty but good quality. Scuffs marred the toes of her expensive laced boots. Her smile, however, eased the exhaustion so that he no longer noticed anything but her face. Huge brown eyes with a straight small nose and a mouth with lips that bowed with sensuality. “Ma’am?” He held her arm, more out of a desire to touch her than steady her. “I’m fine, sir. Thank you. Just so very tired.” Her gaze intentionally studied his face, moved to his hat and the wisps of gray hair curling out from under the brim. She’s exhausted, and all she sees is a worn out man. He no longer wished for family, but danged if this here woman wouldn’t have made a pretty partner back in the day. The sun now rested higher across the end of the road. Trin had to get to cover but couldn’t leave her alone. “Ma’am, I need to get back to town pronto. You have a car or something?” … If he could get rid of his passenger, he could make it to the house and saving darkness in time. Any delays…well, the little lady here would have to take over the driving cause he’d be a pile of ash. * * * * Monday night and Trin shuffled papers on his desk behind the main counter at the Sheriff’s department. His hat sat cocked back on his head, his gun at his side, despair over the amount of paper work before him dimmed his curiosity only a little. “Anyone catch the name of that woman I picked up yesterday morning?” “Name’s Anna Rutherford. Didn’t have a lot to say. Exhausted. She’d been out helping Ira and Fanny Jamison dig a new well.” Sergeant Bill Carter passed along another report that Trin had to finish. He grinned at the older man’s grumbles. “Did the lady leave an address or anything, or is she already gone?” Trin stuffed a handful of papers in his Out box and stood. Hitching his gun belt to a more comfortable spot on his lean hips, he sauntered over to the key board and took down the keys to his patrol car. Despite his deadpan expression and feigned attempt at not caring about the woman, Carter chuckled. “The Sheriff took her to Havoc House. She has a room there. Her car is still out on the logging road though. Last word I had before I came off duty is that she’s up and in the dining room. Slept all day. Wonder if she needs a ride in the moonlight?” When Trin passed, he whacked Carter in the back of the head. * * * * Drawing his gun, he tipped his hat
back on his head and listened. Noise came from somewhere ahead. He edged
closer to the third house on the left and stopped at the corner. To his
left was a fence. Probably a back yard beyond it. In front of him were a
double set of windows, wide porch and a massive wooden door with a As a vampire, he could teleport inside. Making sure he was not visible to a casual on-looker, like Anna, he stepped into the darkness around the corner, disappeared and reappeared in the house, in the living room. Two figures stood on tiptoes at the fireplace mantel. A huge picture that must have hung above now leaned against the wall. A wall safe was their objective, but so far, they hadn’t gotten it opened. Trin could not tell if the two were men, women or one of both. Both were lean and short, not more than five-seven or eight. He pulled back the trigger on his Glock, the noise loud in the big room. Both figures at the fireplace froze. “Put your hands up where I can see them.” His gun steady, his feet braced, the burglars’ next move caught Trin off guard. Each one took off with amazing speed in separate directions, circled him and made for the door to the back yard. Trin spun on the ball of his foot and transported outside. His move was less than a second behind theirs, but when he got to the enclosed yard—the fence eight feet or more tall—no one was there. * * * * Anna sat at the window of her suite, sunlight warming her hands where they rested on the sill. At no time in her life had she ever wanted to stay in one place for longer than it took to accomplish her latest good deed. Somewhere else needed her, or someone else wanted what only she could do. With money came great power and responsibility. That responsibility needed tight control and strong will power. Otherwise, her heart, and not her head and common sense, would direct her efforts. * * * * This time when the two broke and ran, Trin was ready for them. Instead of running though, they disappeared. He followed their essence to the front yard. Intent on catching them, he was right behind them as they popped in here and disappeared there, he gave little thought to anyone watching. For once, the challenge of the chase overcame his need for secrecy. So when he followed the third time, amused to hear the two grousing about the nagging copper behind them, he was not prepared to come to a halt in front of…Anna Rutherford. Or to see the boy, Jocko, holding her against him. A wicked looking knife, at least a foot long, hovered in the air before the pair, its tip pointed at Anna’s throat. |
|
|
