

The Glassheart Chronicles

A Short Story Collection

By

Fisher Amelie

J.L. Bryan

Courtney Cole

Wren Emerson

Amy Jones

Tiffany King

Nicole Williams

Smashwords Version

Copyright © 2011 Lakehouse Press

**Smashwords Edition, License Notes**

This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of these authors.

Cover art was created by Roobix, LLC.

www.goroobix.com

The Wonderboom

By

Fisher Amelie

For Jen,

'Cause you're flippin' amazing

And you don't even know it!

Bramwell, West Virginia

Ten-thirty p.m.

Just breathe, Sawyer. Breathe. Take your phone from your pocket. Good.

Now, dial nine-one-one.

I dialed the numbers and as my thumb trembled over the send button, I let out a shaky breath.

"Nine-one-one. What's your emergency?"

I recognized the voice. I grew up with that voice. That voice sat behind me in almost all my history classes for some reason.

"Casey, it's Sawyer."

"Something wrong, Sawyer?"

"You could say that. I think I may have just found the missing head to that tourist." I also think I just threw up in my mouth a little.

"Jeez Sawyer, you've only been back in town two weeks and you're already causing trouble?"

"Casey, just get Danny down here," I said, impatiently.

"Alright, where are you?" she asked.

"I'm on County, about three miles from the center of town. Tell Danny, when I see his lights, I'll signal him."

"Alright," she laughed, "Uh, want me to stay on the line with you until he gets there?"

"Casey," I said through gritted teeth.

"I was just askin'! Jeez Sawyer! Don't get your undies in a twist," she said, before pausing. "Are you sure? Because, if you're scared, I wouldn't mind..."

"Casey!"

"Alright, alright. He's on his way. Sit tight," she said before hanging up.

As if I could do anything else.

This is how the second week of my returning back to Bramwell, West Virginia ended. Just peachy, right? Sawyer Tuttle, ex-assistant district attorney for Suffolk County in Boston, Massachusetts, now unemployed finder of body parts.

Unfortunately, my recently retired father suffered a stroke, leaving him paralyzed on the left side of his body. He's a tough old goat though and had made significant progress the first week he'd been released from the hospital, regaining much of his speech, but it was his body that wouldn't bounce back as quickly, forcing me to quit the job of a lifetime. A job I was positive I could never get back, regardless of my sterling records and alma mater, not after having only been there six months, quitting with hardly any notice anyway. Cities usually frown upon that type of behavior, despite the fact you're doing it for family.

When Danny's flashing lights approached me from a hundred feet or so, I waved my hands over my head, alerting him to where I was. His cruiser popped and crunched the gravel as it slid to a stop on the shoulder. He stepped from his vehicle, checking behind him for oncoming traffic and affixing his hat tightly onto his head. His badge gleamed in the headlights of a passing truck as he drew near me.

"Sawyer," he said, reaching out his hand.

I shook it firmly and nodded. "Sheriff."

"Hoped to see you again after all this time under better circumstances," he said, "but I suppose this'll do. Show me what you've found."

I led him to the patch of brush where I discovered the head. Danny flashed his heavy light dragging it across the grass, giving me an extra gruesome dose of what I'd tripped over while jogging home along County.

I saw these very same images in Boston on a daily basis as a criminal prosecutor but witnessing it in person just didn't hold the same effect. Apparently, pictures downplay the smells of their rotting subjects. I coughed into the sleeve of my t-shirt.

"Awful, right?" Danny commented.

"Terrible."

Danny stood and spoke into the transmitter at his sleeve, "Casey, can you have Deputy Carson meet me at mile marker one-seventy-five? Tell him to tell the Johnsons that their weekly domestic dispute will have to wait until tomorrow as we've got bigger fish to fry. Also, wake the coroner."

The thing buzzed with static before Casey answered, "''Kay. Did Tuttle spill his guts all over the pavement yet or..."

"Casey, we talked about this."

Silence.

"Alright, son. Tell me how you discovered the head."

I cleared my throat. "Well, I was jogging home..."

"And why would you jog so late at night on a dark road?"

"I'm just used to working out late at night. In Boston, I wouldn't get back from the office until late so it was the only time I had to do it. Guess it became a pattern."

"Alright," Danny said, jotting down information on a pad of paper. "Then what?"

"I was jogging on the shoulder against the flow of traffic when a car approached. I forgot to wear any reflectors so I decided, to be safe, I'd jog deeper into the grass line until the car passed. That's when I tripped over something. It felt a little too soft and bulky to be a natural part of the landscape, so I passed my key flashlight over the area and the light reflected off the eyes. Freaked me out, Danny."

"Can you think of anything else? See anything else that felt strange?"

"Nope."

"Okay Sawyer," he sighed. "Number still the same?"

"Of course. Has anyone in this little town changed their number in the past thirty years?" I asked sarcastically.

"Yes," he said, thoughtfully, "Little Katie Shannon's parents had to change their number because she was handing it out willy-nilly at a bar in Charleston and a couple of chaps wouldn't leave her be."

Katie always was a bit of a goof.

"I get ya. You're just doin' your job."

He smiled. "Need a ride home son?"

"That would be great actually, thank you."

Finishing my jog home was out of the question. There was something about not wanting to risk tripping over a second bloody head that night that left a bad taste in my mouth, best to leave that to the next jogging sucker.

"Alright, as soon as Carson gets here, I'll have him swing you home."

Danny went back to his cruiser and popped open his trunk. He began digging around and instead of bothering him, I opted to watch the black International Scout that was barreling towards us at what seemed to be a hundred miles an hour. Good gracious, they've got to be going at least eighty.

When the driver didn't seem to be slowing down, I stepped back a bit to avoid any possible gravel that could kick up from their tires and peg me in the face, because that would have been my luck. When the driver came to a screeching halt on the shoulder opposite my side of the road, I stifled the urge to cross and punch the guy out. I couldn't see very well when the driver stepped from the Scout but I recognized the clickety-clack of a woman's heels. It was the same noise I remembered the women at the court house would make when walking with purpose on the marble hallways.

When the woman's thin black high heels emerged under the lights of Sheriff Danny's cruiser, my heart stopped dead in its tracks. My cheeks heated to an unnatural warmth as I stared at the strap around her slender ankle. The most gorgeous woman I'd ever laid eyes on became engulfed by the light from the car. I followed those black heels up long, willowy legs and met the hem of a knee-length pencil skirt.

Now, the only reason I even knew what those were was because my ancient secretary tried to explain to me the appropriate types of skirts women should wear in the court room and that I needed to tell fellow prosecutor Mary Kingsford that she was dressing 'inadequately'. I didn't, by the way, tell Mary Kingsford because I thought Mary's skirts added a little interest to my day.

In my opinion, the pencil skirt is one of those elusive pieces of clothing that women believe are modest and truly, they are. But what women miss, or maybe they don't miss at all, is the fact that the pencil skirt does something to a woman's shape. Hips are curvier, calves are more pronounced, hips are better lined. There is nothing sexier to a man than a woman in a pencil skirt. Its appeal is the mystery and boy, do I love a good mystery.

As my eyes followed the woman's shapely hips, they continued up until they met the face of a literal Botticelli painting. She was devastatingly handsome with dark brown wavy hair that fell at her elbows and eyes that pierced through me. I couldn't get the color but I was determined to remedy that very soon. She was probably five foot five and no older than twenty-one. Too young for you, old man. I eyed her carefully. She looked strangely familiar.

At twenty-eight, there was no way such a young beauty would have anything to do with me but that didn't mean I couldn't appreciate her.

"Thanks for calling me, Danny!" she yelled acerbically, breaking me from my thoughts.

Danny looked up. "Oh Lord! Get out of here, girl! We haven't even started investigating yet and you can't be this close to the scene! Go on! Get! You can call me tomorrow for the details." She didn't turn around. "I'm serious as a heart attack! Get your butt back in that jeep or I'll call your mama!"

But she just shook her head and laughed.

"Nope," she said succinctly, before turning and stopping short two feet in front of me. "Well, well, well. What do we have here?" she asks, her eyes raking me up and down. "Let me guess, you were the one who found it?"

"Yes, ma'am," I said, unprepared for the nervous lilt in my tone. I cleared my throat and answered more surely, dropping a pathetic octave lower than my genuine voice.

"Yes, ma'am."

You're an idiot, Sawyer. She made me feel like a little kid at school, answering to an intimidating school teacher which floored me because I was a criminal prosecutor for the city of Boston. I'd run across some of the most imposing people that walked this earth but I'd never had a reaction like this to anyone.

She turned to face Danny once more, asking him a question but it was as if she spoke too slowly for me to catch on, I was so enthralled. Her hair blew in my face and my head swarmed as I breathed in her intoxicating scent.

"What happened?" she asked, snapping her fingers in my face, searching her bag for what I assumed was a pen. She pulled one out and clicked the end, the sound reverberating in the air as if in slow motion.

Before I could stop myself, the words came spilling out of me of their own volition. It was as if even words bent prostrate before this incredible woman and I couldn't stop until I'd told her everything, down to how many breaths I'd taken before she'd arrived, it seemed. She buried her eyes into her notebook, feverishly writing everything I was revealing to her. As I approached the end, having nothing more to say, I panicked, desperately needing to tell her more. This woman asked me for information and my body voluntarily willed itself to continue talking, to continue speaking until she commanded me to stop.

Then, she brought her eyes to mine for the first time since she'd arrived.

Our gazes collided in a spectacular explosion, wind lashed through my ears, tunneling out all other sound. Silence whipped around us, cocooning us together like we were the last two people on God's green earth.

And it hit us like an atom bomb.

My breath hitched in my throat and I felt an inexplicable need to place her hands in mine, to cull her body into mine, to press her front with mine and protect her from the world. Hers to mine.

A sudden, frantic urge overtook me and I would have given every possession I owned, every cent in my custody to hear her whisper my name in that same instant. I expected the only relief I could possibly feel from the ache forming in my chest would be to crush my lips to that stranger's baffling mouth, a mouth whose lips grew heavy and parted in anticipation, sending a secret thrill through my skin.

Our breaths sped beneath our chests and I heard a faint pant pass through that velvet mouth, her eyes searched my face, searched for a reason, for the something that could explain her necessity to have the same as I needed to have from her. Her unimaginable blue-grey stare made my heart beat so boldly that my body shook, afraid she'd perceive its deafening sounds. It beat this stranger's unfamiliar name with such intensity, I could do nothing more than to succumb to her unconscious summons.

My hands slowly lifted to touch her face.

"You've asked your questions. Now get." Danny's voice interrupted like a sonic boom, breaking us from our trance.

I thanked God I wasn't the only one to act disoriented. We both stumbled over ourselves, examining the world around us as if we were witnessing it for the first time.

"I've...I've got to go," she whispered to me.

"Wait!" I say, reaching for her hand again but she shrugs from it before I can grab her. "Aren't you even curious as to who I am?"

A faint curve met the side of her mouth and she narrowed her eyes.

"Sawyer Tuttle, don't be ridiculous. How could I ever forget you?"

And with that, she bolted for her Scout and sped from the scene, leaving me slack mouthed and dumbfounded as to what just happened between the two of us.

I turned to the Sheriff, "Who was that, Danny?"

Danny eyed me strangely, furrowing his brow. "Hit your head boy? That's my niece. That's Maddy. Didn't you recognize her?" He went back to removing plastic markers from a plastic kit. "She's a reporter now for The Bramwell Tribune, graduated last year in fact. Everyone's mighty proud of her." His chest puffed a little.

I brought both hands to my temples, rubbing furiously. That was Madeleine Gray? Madeleine. Gray. My hands began to shake and I fisted them into my hair to steady them. Why? Why her?

I knew, despite it being so late and my awful luck with his family, that Elliott Gray would be receiving a call from me that very night.

"Ready?" Carson asks.

"More than," I say.

At home, I rummage through my old room, skirting packed boxes from my apartment back in Boston, searching for the one box that held Elliott's cell phone number, praying it was still good. The number was in an old address book, tattered and torn but priceless all the same because this book held answers. I followed the wood floor hallway and sat at my father's desk in his old office. Glancing over his shelves, I noticed dust collecting over his beloved novels. Need to ask Genie to dust these. I was stalling. My cell phone lay cold in my hand. It's just Elliott, Sawyer.

Three rings later, he picks up.

"Hello?" A groggy Elliott Gray answers.

"Elliott," I barely say. "It's Sawyer Tuttle."

"Tut?" Great, high school all over again.

"Yeah, Tut," I hurriedly confirm. "Hey, I know it's late and it's been, what, I don't know, ten years or so."

He laughs, a genuine laugh. Good sign.

"All true, still good to hear from you though." He pauses. "I heard about your father," he adds softly.

"Yeah, he's doing remarkably well though, just struggling with some physical stuff. He'll be right as rain in a couple of months, his therapists say."

"That's amazing news, Sawyer. I'll never forget what he did for me. I'm glad to hear it."

"I know," I said. It was critical that I avoid that topic.

He coughed.

"Listen, I'm calling...Well, I'm calling because I, uh, ran into your sister tonight, under some, uh, strange circumstances."

"What happened?" He asked, more alert than I think I'd ever heard him. I always enjoyed making that guy uneasy.

"Well, long story short, I stumbled upon the missing head of that tourist whose body had been discovered last week. Familiar with the story?"

"I am. Go on," he said tersely, nervous about his sister, no doubt.

"Well, after your Uncle Danny interviewed me, your sister showed up for an interview of her own."

"Mmm, hmm."

"And, well, we had this moment."

He quickly jumps in with, "If you're calling for my permission to ask out my little sister, you've got terrible timing, Tuttle. It's two in the morning here, not exactly the best time to convince me what a responsible guy you've become."

"No, you don't understand. We had a moment," I said, emphasizing the word, trying to lead him to the correct conclusion without actually having to say out loud what I had always considered ridiculous. Saying it out loud would be the same as admitting it.

Absolute silence followed for a good five minutes.

"Elliott?"

He sighs. "Have you touched her?"

"No, no. I've barely looked at her."

"That's disgusting and no, you idiot, I mean, have you physically touched her yet?"

"I tried but she shrugged away from me," I admitted.

Elliott snorted.

"Listen," I say, "I know it's late but I could really use some advice."

"As much as I hate to say this, you need to touch her, to know for sure, you have to touch her."

"How do I do that?" I ask.

"You're asking me, Maddy's brother, to give you, Sawyer Tuttle, advice on how to put your hands on her?

"You're already on my shit list for this two a.m. call, not to mention the moves you pulled on Jules in high school." I shrug into my shoulders at that embarrassing comment. "Do you really expect me, after I've already given you the solution, to also give you further advice on how to go about touching her? You're walking on thin ice, bro."

"Alright, alright," I concede.

"Call me when you do," he says. "And Tut?"

"Yup?"

"It's good to hear from you, ya' dirty rat."

I smile as I hear the click of his phone. I spin in one fast circle in my dad's swiveling office chair, feeling for all the world like a teenager once again.

The next morning, I wake early to call The Tribune, to get a hold of one Miss Madeleine Gray. As I prepare myself to make the call, I run my hand over my mouth, my hands trembled in anticipation. I couldn't believe how one girl could make me that much of a mess. Girl, I repeat inside my head. Six or seven years are quite a distance, Sawyer.

But Maddy was no longer that little girl. She certainly didn't look like one and she sure as heck didn't dress like one either. I thought of her in her lovely, feminine skirt and that's when I decided I didn't care and that made me laugh out loud. I was certainly going to be rattling the bear cage when I finally caught hold of her and I was going to catch her. The city of Bramwell was going to hate my guts because little Maddy Gray was officially set in my sights.

I rang the newspaper only to discover she'd called in sick. Of course. I lean my back against the wall in the kitchen, trying to get a grip on the supreme disappointment of not knowing where she is, a hollow wanting seeped into my heart. Find her.

I ran past my mom, kissing her cheek in greeting and headed for the shower, knowing I wasn't going to stop that day until I touched Maddy and had seen for myself that this reaction wasn't what I knew deep down it really was.

In the shower, I lowered my head under the fall of water, letting it cascade down my back. My brief moment with Maddy heightened my senses, making me aware of each rivulet of water as it sluiced down my back and shoulders. Madeleine Gray, what are you to me? I know what I wanted her to be. I would have climbed Everest twice in one day for her to be what I wanted her to be.

After dressing, I helped my dad use the restroom and my mom dress his sarcastic ass. "Good to see your mouth hasn't lost its bite," I'd teased, then placed him in his chair. I practically ran to the old pickup I used to drive in college. I sat inside the cab and the leather protested beneath me.

"Easy, girl. Just like old times," I wooed her, running my hands along the dash.

I placed the key in the ignition and turned. Click, click, click. Nothing.

"Damn it, Annie! Start for me, girl."

I tried again but got nothing.

"Fine, have it your way. You know I hate doing this," I mumbled underneath my breath.

I stepped from the driver's seat and slammed the door. I paced in front of Annie three times before kicking the grill with everything I had in me. Before the kick had lost its strength I hauled to the cab once more, stabbed my keys in the ignition and turned. Nothing.

"Listen, I know you're pissed. I can sense it but I've got a very important person to meet right now and I don't have the patience for this."

I walked to the front of the truck once more. "Here we go," I whispered, before slamming my foot into the grill once more and running for the cab, turning the key again. She whimpered in response that time. "That's it Annie," I said, coaxing her, turning the keys once more, then again, and again, each time brought more of a response from her and with one final push, the truck rumbled to sweet life.

"Ha, ha, hahaaa!" I shouted in triumph, jumping from my seat and landing on the grass beneath me. I whooped and hollered before turning to Annie and kissing her on the hood.

That's when I heard a faint sarcastic clapping coming from behind me. I froze in terror, dropping my head to my chest.

It isn't.

I turned.

It was. I lifted my eyes toward the heavens, a sense of humor indeed.

"Hello, Maddy," I say coyly.

She stands from her relaxed position, having leaned her striking body against the bottom banister of my parent's porch and started walking my direction.

God, you look beautiful, I thought. She wore tattered, faded jeans that fit her like a glove, a pair of olive green Tom's, her black shoe liners peeked out at the sides of her shoes, the worn hems of her jeans encased the heel of them. She wore an indigo fitted t-shirt that read 'Team Einstein' in white and her hair was down, the soft waves flowing with the wind. Her blue-grey eyes were engaging and glinted in the afternoon sun. Her lips were full and red, practically demanding me to kiss them.

"Hello, Sawyer Tuttle," she teased with those begging lips.

"Playin' hooky today, kid?" I said, stupidly emphasizing our age difference.

"Checking up on me, Tut?" She countered, letting me know she wasn't going to be treated like the title I'd just called her. Touché' Gray.

"I might be," I confessed, digging my hands in my pockets for safe-keeping.

She narrowed her eyes as she came to a stop too close for my own comfort, for my own sanity. Step back, Gray or I won't be responsible for my actions. As if she could read my thoughts, she rounded my body and approached my finally running Annie. She ran her right hand along the hood.

"I've always loved this truck," she threw over her shoulder at me.

I crossed my arms over my chest as if in protection. Like an arrow to the heart, that girl.

"Oh, really? And why's that, Maddy?"

"Because it belonged to you," she said, shocking me.

My mouth dropped open and I almost had to force it shut with my own hands.

"Speak plainly, Madeleine Gray," I said thickly, not believing this was happening.

She leaned her back against the side of my truck, placing her elbows on the hood and her left foot on the tire. "How much more plainly could I speak, Sawyer?" she dared.

I gulped down my anticipation.

"Wh...when?" I asked.

"My sophomore year at Bluefield, when you were in law school, you'd come home on the weekends, sending all the girls around here into a tizzy, including yours truly. Except, I was smart enough to keep my mouth shut, biding my time."

My breath sped up. I crossed the little bit of yard until my arms surrounded her, my hands on the hood on either side of her tiny frame, inches from the touch I had been seeking.

"Biding your time until when, Madeleine?" I scarcely asked.

She brought her big eyes up, her breaths matched mine. "Until you noticed me on your own," she murmured.

We stood there for seconds, minutes, maybe an hour, I couldn't be sure, just staring each other down, daring the other. I inched my face towards hers and she tilted her chin up.

"Little Maddy Gray?" We heard from behind us.

"Dang it," I whispered, my eyes sunk to the ground.

My arms felt like magnets on that hood. I couldn't move them. Maddy, sensing my difficulty, ducked under my arm and met my 'perfect timing' mother at the top of the porch. My arms finally fell to my sides and I joined the women there.

"It's good to see you, too," Maddy tells my mother. "It's been too long."

"Come in here, child. I have a glass of lemonade with your name on it," my mama said, poking at the air in front of her.

Maddy hesitated, looking up at me. I nodded my encouragement.

"Don't even think about refusing me, Maddy Gray," my mother continued. Infuriating woman.

All three of us met my father in the living room who was watching ESPN, some update on a college baseball team. He turned his chair our direction.

"Maddy Gray! How are you, baby doll?" he asked. "I haven't seen you in such a long time. Too long honey!"

Maddy surprised me and bent to grab my dad around his neck, hugging him tightly. I caught a single tear dripping down her cheek but she wiped it away before he could see it. My dad had helped out the Gray family once in a rather sensitive predicament. One that actually made me cringe thinking about, not only because of what had happened but because I had held a ten year old Maddy's hand during the thick of it and that sobered me quickly.

She's too young for you, Sawyer.

After a short visit with my parents, Maddy and I found ourselves alone on the front porch together.

"Where are you living now?" I asked.

"I have a little wood house off County. It's adorable, complete with white picket fence."

It sounded charming, much like its owner.

It got quiet, so I broke the silence. "I need to talk to you, Maddy."

"There's nothing to talk about," she said.

"I beg to differ," I said sternly, looking around, "but it's not safe to talk about it here."

She snorted. Too much like Elliott.

"It's hardly anything," she lied, tracing her toe over a gap in the wood planks of the porch, studying it like it was the night before an exam.

"Come on," I said, bounding down the porch toward Annie. "I know the perfect place."

Annie started in one turn of the key and Maddy took credit for that.

"Where are we going?" She asked.

"To the old vintage theater."

"Sawyer, I hate to tell you this but The Ridglea shut down five years ago."

"I know," I answered cryptically.

"Alright," she said, turning her gaze toward the window, studying a town we've both lived in practically our whole lives.

"Hasn't changed much," I said.

She turned, locking her gaze with mine. "It hasn't changed at all," she said, making me wonder what she truly meant.

We arrived at our destination quickly. The Ridglea Theater was a formidable structure in Bramwell, ancient in its architecture, an art deco dream. Dark red velvet lined every seat in its one room theater. Once a live venue house, it was turned into a movie theater in the late sixties. In high school, I worked the projector during the summers and during the last fifteen years of its existence, it only played classic films.

I parked in the rear of the theater, near the back entrance.

"You aren't going to just break into The Ridglea, Sawyer Tuttle! I'll not be a party to this criminal behavior!" she teased.

"Oh hush, Maddy. It's not breaking and entering when the owner gave you a key, is it?" I said, dangling a silver key inches from her face.

Shocked, she said, "I suppose not."

We entered the theater and its old smell of dust and history assaulted my senses.

"Smell that?" I asked.

Maddy took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the sweet bouquet of The Ridglea, a Bramwell landmark.

"Yes, I do. It smells like home to me, like high school popcorn fights, like Casablanca, like make out sessions with Robbie Dash."

That caught my attention. It heated my neck with bizarre anger and that brought a sneaky smile to Madeleine Gray's face.

"You like to push me, don't you?" I asked the cheeky girl.

She lifted one shoulder and feigned indifference but the girl was obviously everything but apathetic and that made my stomach clench.

It was dark once we reached the lobby and I instinctively reached for her hand.

Her hand cupped beautifully inside mine.

An instantaneous shot of warmth crept up my fingers, wound through my shoulders and sunk into my heart. The room began to glow with ethereal, dancing globes of soft yellow light, slowly rolling in and around us, never breaking their flow until Maddy jerked her hand away.

This is not what Elliott and Julia described when they illustrated their gift to me. Theirs was decidedly more violent and I found myself wondering if there was something wrong with me, not with Maddy though, never with Maddy.

"What. Was. That.?" Maddy asked.

I answered by grabbing both her hands in mine once more. Baptism by fire. The immediate warmth soothed the edges of my heart, preparing me to give her answer. It was different but it was unquestionably our gift, perfect in all its simplicity. There's more, I intuitively thought, unsure why I knew this.

"That, Madeleine Gray, is our gift," I whispered, in awe of our sinuous light.

"Our gift?" She whispered back, in disbelief.

I slid my hands up her arms as she whimpered in satisfaction, drawing her body into mine the way I wanted to the night before. Pressing her front to my chest, I buried my face in her neck and a low hum buzzed through my shivering blood, blood that raced through my veins at an absurd rate. Her pulse quickened and I could feel the throb of her vein against my lips. My tongue darted at the pulse and I couldn't stop myself from tasting her skin. Her hands were wrapped around my shoulders but the heat of my tongue made them drop limply at her sides as I groaned from her heavenly flavor, pressing my face deeper into her neck, inhaling her intoxicating fragrance deeply, nearly falling to my knees in acquiescence.

The winding, soft illumination brightened with each accelerated heartbeat. I entangled my fingers in her silk-like hair, dragging them through until the tips escaped my fingers but the lights never faulted as my face was still buried in her remarkable neck. I slid my fingers through her hair once more, from the sides of her face to the base of her neck and gripped there, pulling her head back to meet my gaze.

I married my lips with hers, the taste of her mouth too saccharine to be real, too hard to believe, too delicious to be true and then my tongue met hers, sending quivers throughout my entire body. She moaned into my lips, throwing the kiss into deeper frenzy. Our minds melded as one, reading every thought, every feeling and I felt her within my own thoughts, experiencing what I felt for her and it was overpowering.

I want you so, she thought. I think...I think I'm losing control.

You have me, I told her, and I won't let you lose control. You mean too much to me.

But then, our considerable gift was beyond a doubt revealed as a cloud of energy burst between us sending our clothing and hair to whip in its wake. A loud, low boom sounded, drowning out all other sound. When the translucent ring pushed from us like a ripple in water the buzzing pitch only seemed to grow higher in tone as the ring grew larger, dissipating from us, but it wasn't over. The ring lashed back at an exponential rate, covering us completely and igniting upward in a large mushroom of white energy, ending in an even louder boom. We tried to pull away but the kiss couldn't be broken.

Hundreds of images ran through our shared, undeniably connected minds. My parents at someone's wedding, beautiful children running through a backyard sprinkler, my much older mother crying at my father's funeral, Maddy's brother Elliott middle-aged and walking through the door of my home for a very familiar visit, Maddy, yet not Maddy, as a child, crying over a skinned knee, Jesse Thomas covered in blood and laughing, Old man Thatcher serving Maddy and I food, Maddy's mother and father, Shelby and Mark, dancing in front of a Christmas tree, and finally me, yelling Madeleine's name into a fire just as a flash of something flew past me into the house ablaze before me, an image so disturbing I wanted nothing to do with it.

The magnet driving us together broke abruptly, jolting us apart and we both skidded to the floor beneath us, the tunneled sounds of our visions fading into nothing. Darkness surrounded us once more and the stillness after such an implausible act was eerie. I lay on the marble lobby floor of The Ridglea breathing deeply, trying to piece together the assault but my thoughts were interrupted by faint crying. I bolted upright.

"Maddy?" I whispered, afraid to startle her.

"Here," she wept.

I crawled her direction but withheld my touch, not wanting to alarm her.

"Things seem strange to you, I know," I said, a pathetic attempt to appease her.

She sat upright, "But...but not to you?" She asked.

"No, not to me," I said, shaking my head in the pitch blackness surrounding us, as if she could see me.

I heard her swallow. "Why Sawyer?"

I sighed. "I'm not sure you'll believe me."

"I was just flooded with alarming images that looked a lot like they could be our future, Sawyer Tuttle, and an image so disturbing I want nothing to do with it," she shuddered, repeating my very own thoughts.

I slid my hand across the dusty marble floor until it met Maddy's but she didn't pull away as I feared she would. Our faces became illuminated by our dancing globes, like giant bobbing fireflies. We scanned our surroundings, terrified at the damage our blast should have caused, but as our eyes searched, we found nothing. The lobby was perfectly undisturbed, as if nothing had ever happened. We brought our disbelieving eyes back to each other.

"You and I share a supernatural gift," I whispered.

Maddy searched my face.

"Sawyer, you're..you're scaring me. You speak with such confidence, it's unsettling. You act like this was expected! And why is the lobby in such perfect condition? Nothing should have survived that blast," she said, glancing around her, still so very unsure.

"I did expect it and I don't know."

"How could you have possibly known that this was going to happen?" she asked, her hands beginning to tremble.

"I...I didn't know exactly what would happen but, I admit, I wasn't surprised either.

"I recognized something in you yesterday and because of that called someone I know who shares a gift, similar to ours, with another person and his advice for me was to touch you. That, in order to be sure we shared this something, I needed to touch you.

"I had planned on explaining everything to you before but lost myself and accidentally grabbed your hand without thinking. I'm exceedingly sorry. I never meant for you to find out this way. I meant to prepare you."

I wanted so badly to reveal names but I didn't have the right to. I knew it would be up to Elliott to explain it to Madeleine. Plus, I considered what happened in that lobby shocking enough for one afternoon.

"That's too cryptic, Sawyer." She thought carefully, "You said 'his'. Who is it? Do I know him?"

Do you know him? "I'm sorry. I can't tell you."

"Then I think it best you let go of my hand," she said, her eyes turning unexpectedly cold. I gripped harder, ignoring her plea. "You have information, Sawyer, and you won't give it to me? After what we just shared?" she asked, betrayal painting every line of her face.

She jumped to her feet, ready to sprint but I met her before she could escape, wrapping my arms tightly around her body, her back pressed closely to my chest.

"Please don't go," I whispered in her ear, her hair wisping out as my breaths blew across the strands. "Just hear me out."

Her breathing became strenuous and a warm tear splashed onto my forearm. I whipped her around to face me, holding her face in my hands. I wished so badly to kiss her cheek, her forehead, chin, and lips but I refrained, afraid of what more could be revealed with the tie, settling to run my hands across her face instead, staring at her pleadingly.

"Very well," she scarcely agreed.

She freely laid her head across my chest and I covered her head with my hand, stroking her hair until our shared warmth calmed us both down. The light was all consuming yet peaceful, soothing.

"This is incredible," she said quietly.

The words filled me with such exhilaration, I panicked at giving myself false hope.

"Look at me," I said. "Please, Madeleine."

She did just that and I realized I would never call her Maddy again because Maddy was reserved for the ten year old I used to tease incessantly, the one who always fought back, for the sixteen year old I used to shake my head at, for the eighteen year old I pretended not to notice but could never quite pull off. This woman was not Maddy. This woman was Madeleine. My Madeleine.

I opened my mouth to speak but my cell phone interrupted me. I grabbed my phone to smash it into the nearest wall but I remembered myself, knowing it could be my mom needing help with my dad. I hit the 'Accept' button, not familiar with the number.

"Hello?" I asked, wrapping my arm tighter around Madeleine's shoulders. She sighed.

"Sawyer, it's Danny."

"Hey, Danny," I said, wondering how he got my number. Madeleine looked at me curiously.

"Hey, your mom gave me your cell number. I hope that's okay."

"Of course."

"I need you to meet me at the station, if you can. The sooner the better, I have to have you sign an affidavit. You know the drill."

I did. I put many people in jail using those sworn statements.

"We'll be there in ten," I said and hung up the phone.

"Feel like visiting your uncle?" I asked her.

"Sure, why not."

The two of us had to kick the crap out of Annie, but she eventually started and Madeleine kissed the dash in apology. For the briefest moment, I wished I still had my Land Rover but quickly recanted that wish. It was hot outside, so she rolled down her window, sweat trickling down her throat. She twisted her hair, toppling it on top of her head, fanning herself with her free hand. She searched the seat and found an old t-shirt of mine underneath an older law book. She used it to wipe the sweat dribbling down her neck and I found myself wishing I could be that t-shirt.

Danny was outside pacing on the creaky wood porch of the ancient station when we arrived, his arms folded across his chest. When he saw us approaching, he stopped, shaded his eyes from the sunlight to get a better view of my cab and I almost laughed out loud when I saw his hands go to his hips and he shook his head back and forth. Rattling the Bramwell bear cage. I stepped from the cab and rounded the front, nodding my hello to Danny. I reached Madeleine's door and helped her from the car. I wasn't prepared to see our light but our brief contact made us both remember that we'd almost forgotten.

"Hey, Uncle Danny," she said.

"Don't 'hey Uncle Danny' me, Madeleine Gray! What do you two think you're doing?" He asked us both before turning his heated gaze onto me and I stepped back slightly, "She's too young for you Tuttle," he pointed in my face.

I tried to defend myself but Madeleine's fire, my old familiar friend, came out with a vengeance.

"Uncle Danny! Not that it's any of your business, Sawyer's only six years older than me."

"Six years is a good amount of time, young lady! You weren't even in high school yet when he was a sophomore at Yale! This is just too weird. Your dad is going to flip!"

Madeleine calmed at his words as if something had dawned on her.

"If I'm not mistaken," she said, "it's one year less than the age difference between you and Aunt Becky."

His mouth gaped open. "Uh, yeah, but, well," he stammered before collecting himself. "Young lady! Your Aunt Becky was a mature woman when we met! You're just a girl."

"I'm twenty-two. You and Aunt Becky were already married a year when she was my age!"

His mouth fastened tightly, his eyes narrowed and he could only gesture to both of us to get inside the station.

"Come on, you two."

I winked at her when Danny turned to walk through the door, trying very hard to hold back the laughter bubbling in my throat. Fiery Madeleine Gray, the purest definition of gumption.

Inside, as I signed my sworn statement and answered a few more questions from a cranky Danny, Madeleine wandered around the station for awhile. I hadn't realized it yet but I'd brought reporter Gray with me that afternoon.

"And what's this, Sheriff Danny?"

"What, Maddy?" Danny asked an invisible Madeleine as he rumbled through a few pieces of paper on his desk.

He looked up. She was in the evidence room.

"Dang it, girl. I think you're going to be the death of me. That room's supposed to be locked! Carson!" He yelled, getting up and heading Madeleine's direction.

He emerged with a guilty looking Madeleine by her upper arm, leading her out the door. She started to walk away. "Wait a minute!" he said. "Give me your phone."

She handed it over. Danny started flipping through her phone pictures.

"Aha!" He said, deleting the obvious photos she had taken. "Listen to me Maddy girl, if you sent any of these pics already to that damned paper you work for and they print them? I'm going to have to charge you with tampering with evidence and impeding an investigation. You understand me, young lady? Those are serious charges." He turned over and caught my stare in the doorway. "Both of you," he continued. "Get out of here before I invent something to ticket you for."

"Yes, sir," Madeleine said, throwing him an exaggerated salute. I wanted to laugh but all I could think of was how Julia that was of her and became slightly uncomfortable.

"Maddy, you're pressing your luck."

We hopped into Annie and both breathed a sigh of relief when she started at the second turn of my key and before we knew it, we were traipsing toward my house so I could help my mom with my dad's lunch.

"What'd you find?" I asked, barely able to contain my curiosity.

"Oh boy, wouldn't you like to know," she teased, wagging her eyebrows.

"Come on," I urged, pulling into my parent's driveway.

We started for my front porch when she pulled me short by my sleeve.

"I saw the weapon," she said.

All the color drained from my face. "Madeleine, you didn't pick it up, did you?"

"Of course I did!" She scoffed but at the look on my face she said, "But it was sealed in a clear plastic evidence bag, hadn't even been processed yet. It's alright. I just wanted to see what kind of weapon could remove a man's head." I cringed. "It'll give me an edge in my article to know what type of knife was used."

"You'll implicate yourself if you mention that knife, Madeleine Gray. You can't do that, not until the investigation's over and they've apprehended their suspect. You hear me?"

She smiled flirtatiously at me.

"Protecting me are you, Mister Tuttle? Mister district attorney?" She teased, sidling closely to me.

"Without a doubt."

She brought her face to mine and I slid my hands to her neck. We leaned into one another.

"Are you sure?" I asked quietly.

"Let's just try it." She said. "What's the worst that could happen?"

That was all the encouragement I needed. I greedily pressed my mouth to hers, a crazed heat engulfed my stomach, working its lovely magic up into my heart and into the fingertips holding so strongly to her face.

A single image came flooding to our minds.

A man, murdering a young woman outside an abandoned barn late at night, a weighty full moon highlighting the blood splattered across her lifeless face. The murderer's meaty fingers gripped tightly onto a wood handled butcher knife as he tossed it into the field near the barn, the knife landing with a dull thud in the grass. Not recognizing the haunting dead woman, there was only one reason I could think Madeleine and I shared this image and I wanted far away from it and the weapon Madeleine had held in her hands not half an hour before.

The mushroom cloud hadn't yet dissipated before we forced ourselves apart with every ounce of energy we had in us, the image too disturbing to endure any more of its message. The energy cloud may not have knocked us off our feet but it might as well have because panic flooded both our veins.

Madeleine's face was drenched with tears as I read the message in her eyes. Flee.

"Wait," I said, holding out my hands, my futile attempt to stay her in her place but she sprinted anyway, running as fast as possible to her car. I ran after her, hurdling over the large stone at the end of our drive and slamming her door closed before she could open it all the way, my arms encasing her. She tore at them in desperation.

"Please, stay away from me!" she begged. "I can't do this. Please!"

"Madeleine!" I yelled, her beseeching making my heart ache. "Listen to me!" Her eyes met mine for the briefest moment. "Call your brother," was all I could think to say.

"What?" She asked, wide-eyed.

"Just, call your brother. Tell him everything. Leave nothing out. Please, just do that for me."

I released her from my prison arms.

She hurriedly opened her door but before she sat, she threw over her shoulder, "I'm sorry but this is too frightening. I can't do it...I..I won't do it. Please, just leave me alone." And with that, she slammed her door shut and sped off, leaving in her wake, a devastated, very alone, and utterly gutted, me.

Two weeks later, the ache had grown debilitating. I was barely sleeping, taking to the couch in a vegetable-like state, keeping the television on to drown out my paralyzing sorrow but it didn't work, nothing did. After noticing the lack of life in me, my dad asked if it was my job I missed so much and I was forced to attempt a smile around both my parents so they didn't pile any more guilt on their heavily-ridden shoulders but they eyed me wearily and I knew I was fooling no one.

I saw Madeleine about town, stunning as ever, but even as beautiful as she was, I knew she suffered as I did, deep circles kissed the underneaths of her eyes, her cheeks had become sunken, her hair missing the sheen it always owned.

We were dying, literally dying.

I called Elliott five times a day and he tolerated me with kindness, having experienced this first hand and he confirmed it. We were dying. A slow death, but death nonetheless. He attempted to get a hold of Madeleine but she evaded his phone calls over and over, ignoring his pleas. I pounded on her door every night, pleading with her to listen to me, promising her we could figure things out but it was all for not. She wanted nothing to do with me.

It was two am the Monday of that third week, an infomercial resounded in the background but it didn't have my attention. The only attention I could afford to give was for the aching hole inside my chest. I stared blankly at the television, seeing nothing when I heard someone pounding loudly at my front door. I threw my body up, grabbing the old baseball bat that sat in my mother's umbrella stand by the front door.

"Who is it?" I asked, squinting out the peep hole.

Madeleine.

I froze. She stood, tossing her weight back and forth from one leg to another, her arms wrapped tightly around her abdomen, her face buried in her chest. I threw open the door, tossing the bat to the ground. We stared for several moments.

"So, I talked to Elliott," she spoke in greeting, choking back a sob.

"Oh, Madeleine," I said, engulfing her in my arms. Our warmth flooded over us, the light swirling in and around our bodies. She sighed as I let out the breath I'd been holding for nearly three weeks. "I missed you."

She laughed as a sob escaped from in between her lips. "More than you could possibly imagine." But I could, so I hugged her even tighter.

"He told me," she continued. "Everything."

"And?" I asked carefully.

"And he thinks we share a gift of premonition," she admitted.

"What does that mean to us, sweetheart?"

"I think it means," she said, her glassy eyes pleading with mine, "that we have until the next full moon to catch a killer."

The End

About Fisher Amelie...

Fisher Amelie resides in the South with her kick ace husband slash soul mate. She earned her first 'mama' patch in 2009. She also lives with her Weim, 'Jonah', and her Beta, 'Whale'. All these living creatures keep the belly of her life full, sometimes to the point of gluttony, but she doesn't mind all that much because life isn't worth living if it isn't entertaining, right?

Fisher grew up writing. She secretly hid notebooks and notebooks of dribble in a large Tupperware storage container in her closet as a kid. She didn't put two and two together until after college where it suddenly dawned on her, "Hey, I like writing."

She's a bit dense. "No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are. Put down that Oreo, your butt can't take any more."

"You're rude."

"Yeah, yeah."

Anyway, she likes to write and has finally beaten her self-esteem into submission enough to allow herself to be scrutinized under the 'other readers' microscope.

"No! No! Not a cover slip! Last time it gave me a ra...." (mumbling)

Rescue Fisher from her metaphorical specimen slide at www.fisheramelie.com

The Monster in the Garden

By

J.L. Bryan

It was said that Pascal's landlord, the fat knight Renier de Champcevinel, had two daughters. Agnes, the daughter of his second wife, could readily be seen around the manor, at festivals, or being courted by minor gentry from other villages. She was fourteen, wore her golden hair in long braids, and had an easy smile.

The knight's first daughter, the eldest, was only spoken of in whispers, and had been for so long that many said she did not exist, or had died at birth, or had long since been delivered to a convent. Others whispered a fantastic story—that she was a hideous monster, a thing of the devil, and was kept imprisoned in the high-walled garden behind the manor house. Her name was Isabel, and she was two years older than Agnes, if she was alive at all. Isabel's mother, the knight's first wife, had died in childbirth.

On his first day carrying water to the manor house, Pascal was determined to have a glimpse of the monster in the garden.

Pascal's back groaned under the weight of the wooden staff across his shoulders and the heavy, sloshing buckets at either end. The buckets were sealed with wooden lids, but water leaked out around the edges. He had to bring them uphill from the village well to the knight's house. He was now fifteen years old, and this meant he had just inherited the unpleasant morning task from his older brother.

Pascal's family belonged to the manor, which meant they served whatever minor vassal the distant Count decided to endow with the land. The Count's family had granted and withdrawn this land for generations, as vassals rose and fell in favor, but the arrivals and departures of lords meant little to the families who were bound to the land.

Pascal had never ventured far from the cottage where he was born. Neither had his parents, nor his grandparents. Serfs were not permitted to travel, and in any case the world outside the lord's protection was much too dangerous without a horse and sword. Pascal's family owned no such wealth.

He staggered to the kitchen entrance, as his brother had instructed him, and emptied the buckets into a barrel. The three women of the kitchen staff paid him no attention, and he hurried away with his empty buckets.

He should have hurried downhill, left the buckets at home, and gone to help his father and brothers dig the new irrigation ditch, but Pascal wanted to see the monster. He continued around the back of the house and saw the high, uneven stone wall, shaggy with vines. The garden was enclosed by three stone walls, the fourth wall being the house itself. Pascal approached it slowly, glancing at the rear windows of the main house to check whether anyone was watching.

He set down the buckets and staff, wiped his sweaty face on his sleeve, and put his ear to the rock wall. The stones felt cool against his cheek.

Pascal could hear the sounds of quiet rustling behind the wall, but he couldn't be sure whether they were man or beast. He walked the perimeter of the wall, searching for a crack or a hole through which he could peer. On the wall opposite the house, he did find a crack large enough to admit a little light from inside the garden, and a view of blossoming irises, but that was all.

He tapped on the wall.

"Is anyone there?" Pascal whispered.

The handful of flowers in his view shook, and then he heard a deep, angry growl. The monster. Pascal stumbled backward, tripped over a bucket, and landed in the dirt. He looked to the uneven ridge of stones at the top of the wall, expecting to see a horrible beast leaping down on him, but there was only vines and moss and the endless summer sky above.

The growling and snarling grew louder, and he scrambled to regain his feet. Pascal hurried downhill, not stopping to grab his empty buckets. The rumors must be true, he thought. An unholy monster lived in the garden.

The next day, Pascal left in the early dark, even before their chickens were awake and ready to be let outside. His parents slept on a heap of straw. Pascal, his four brothers, and his two sisters each had their own spot on the straw-covered floor. In winter, they slept closer together, near the hearth, but since it was summer they kept their distance. His youngest brother slept between the family's two pigs.

Pascal walked toward the manor house by the light of half a moon, keeping an eye out for wolves and men, both of which were equally dangerous. He had to move early because of his foolish mistake yesterday, leaving the buckets and staff behind. Now he would need to hike up to the manor house, retrieve the buckets—assuming no one had stolen them—and bring them back downhill to the well before he could deliver the knight's water.

All of this meant he had to approach the stone wall again, by moonlight, and hope not to stir the monster. Fortunately, his buckets and staff were still there, on the ground beneath the crack in the wall. Apparently nobody else wanted to get too close to the beast, either.

Pascal's curiosity got the better of him, though. He leaned against the crack in the wall and again looked inside. The purple blossoms looked black in the moonlight. He still could not see the monster, but his hands shook with fear.

"Who's there?" a voice whispered. He jumped, expecting someone from the knight's household to grab hold of him and whip him for trespassing in the dark, and for trying to get a look at the knight's dark secret.

No one was around, and he wondered whether he might have heard the voice of a ghost.

"I can hear you out there," the voice came again. It was a girl's voice, he realized. From the other side of the wall. "Who is it?"

"My name is Pascal," he whispered back.

"I do not know a Pascal."

"I'm only a commoner."

"Why have you come here?"

Pascal hesitated, but could think of nothing but the truth. "I have heard that a dangerous monster lives within these walls."

"Oh? What have you heard of this monster?"

"They say she has the horns of a goat, the teeth of a wolf, the tongue of a serpent. They say she will devour any man who sees her."

"So you thought it would be wise to see her? Do you wish to die?"

"No...but I wanted to see if it was true."

On the far side of the wall, a shape moved to block his view of the flowers. He could make out a single blue eye in the moonlight, but the face in which it was set was shrouded in darkness. Pascal gasped and backed away, then stopped forward and looked in at her eye again.

"There," the voice said. "You have seen the monster now. You may go."

"You don't sound like a monster." Pascal remembered the throaty growls from yesterday. Perhaps she was a shape-shifter, like the garoul, men who were said to change into wolves.

"I am Isabel," the girl said. "I am the one you came to see. And if you do not wish to die, I do not know what you could want from me."

"Are you truly what they say you are?"

"Perhaps I am worse. You have described me, Pascal. Tell me how you appear. Are you also a monster with goat horns?"

"Are you making a joke?"

"Of course not."

Pascal hesitated. Maybe she wanted to see if he was the sort of man she liked to eat. "I am just a normal person. Nothing special."

"What is your age?"

"Fifteen."

"Tell me of your eyes, and hair, and hands."

Pascal did the best he could to describe his brown eyes and black hair. He didn't know what to say about his hands, which were callused from years of plowing, digging, weeding and picking. "My hands have five fingers each," he told her. "They would be tough and chewy to eat."

She laughed, and the sound was so lovely that he could not believe she was any kind of monster.

"Have you ever touched a woman with those hands?" she asked.

"Once, at the Feast of Fools," Pascal said. "Marie let me touch her beneath her dress."

"And who is Marie?"

"She is the daughter of Gerard, the candle-maker."

"Is she very pretty?"

"I think she is."

"And you? Are you very pretty?"

Pascal did not know how to answer. His hesitation brought another laugh from her. As if to join in, roosters crowed across the manor, announcing the immanence of dawn.

"You should leave now," she said. "My father might have you killed for speaking to me. There is more than one monster in this household."

"Can we speak again?"

"We should not. If you come again, it should be long after sunset, so that no one will see you. But you should not come again. Promise me you won't, Pascal."

"I won't," he said.

He carried the buckets down into the village, filled them at the well, and then trudged uphill again with them. The sun was high and hot above him.

Pascal emptied the buckets into the barrel in the kitchen, as usual, but he noticed the three kitchen servants scowling at him this time. A fourth person was there, a very large and hairy man wearing only trousers. He grabbed Pascal by the shirt collar.

"They tell me you are the reason my breakfast is delayed," he snarled. "There was no water to boil my eggs."

Pascal opened his mouth to apologize, but the man punched him in his teeth. Pascal reeled back out the kitchen door, and the man hurled one of the empty wooden buckets at him. It bashed Pascal in the forehead as he tried to duck. The other bucket followed, cracking into his knee, and Pascal cried out and fell into the dirt.

The big man stood over Pascal, blocking the sun. He had a layer of fat, a sign of his wealth, but clearly there were still great muscles underneath. Pascal felt blood trickle from his temple and down his cheek. He managed to push himself to his knees, but his left leg felt too wobbly to let him stand yet. Pain throbbed from where the bucket had hit his knee.

"What happened to the other boy? He was never late," the man said, and Pascal realized he was the Chevalier Renier de Champcevinel, his landlord. Pascal was accustomed to seeing him in public, dressed in a little finery, with an entourage. Now, wearing only his trousers, the knight looked just like any peasant man scratching himself in the morning.

"Sire, that was my brother, Robert," Pascal said. "I apologize. I will never--"

"His name, and your name, are of no importance." The knight kicked one of the buckets. "Water. At sunrise. Every day."

Pascal nodded and continued kneeling in the dirt, waiting for the knight to depart, but the man kept staring at him.

"You were the one who left the buckets by the garden wall?" the knight asked.

"Yes. I am sorry."

"Why were you by the wall?"

"I...don't know, sir." Pascal felt his heart hammering. Legally, his landlord could beat him or kill him. Pascal thought he might fight back if the knight tried such a thing, but that would surely end with Pascal getting put to death.

"I don't want to see you near that wall again," the knight said. "Bring water, and leave."

Pascal quickly agreed that he would. He heard snarls and growls from behind the wall, and turned to see seven thrushes flying up from behind it, squawking. They winged away into the forest.

"Go!" the knight ordered, kicking him in the ribs. Pascal hurriedly gathered his buckets and staff and ran away from the manor house.

That night, he sat quietly while his family ate dinner. He had a hunk of dry, salty bread in one hand, ripped from the single loaf that his family was sharing, but he held it absently and stared at the hearth while two of his brothers fought each other, his youngest brother screamed to be breast-fed, his sisters argued with his mother, and his father sat in the corner of the house drinking from a wineskin.

He kept thinking about Isabel, the monster in the garden. How could a laugh like hers belong to a monstrous brute? He lay awake, remembering her voice, wondering what life would be like trapped in such a small place. He thought it would drive him mad.

He brought water for the knight the next day, and the next. After three nights, he could no longer resist his desire to talk with Isabel again. While his family slept, he stood and walked towards the front door curtain.

"Pascal, where are you going?" a voice whispered. Katerine, his youngest sister, seven years old.

"Nowhere. I'll come back soon."

"You can't go. There are evil spirits in the night."

"They won't hurt me."

Katerine frowned, clearly not believing him.

"The priest gave me a special blessing," Pascal lied, "To protect me from all monsters."

Katerine's face brightened. "Can come I with you?"

"No."

"I want to come!"

"Quiet! If you stay here and stay quiet, I'll bring you a present."

"What kind of present?"

"It's a secret. But you have to stay quiet."

Katerine nodded her head and lay back in the straw. She closed her eyes, and Pascal left the house.

He walked through the silent shadows of the village, where the moonlight turned the familiar little houses into pale and alien things. The market square was an empty plaza of darkness, presided over by the bloodstained gallows at the north end.

There was plenty to fear in the night—men, beasts, and unholy spirits. He hurried up the hill to the looming manor house, keeping to the shadows as much as he could. There could be a man on night watch, for all he knew.

Pascal made his way around to the back of the house, to the small hole in the wall, and pressed his mouth to it.

"Isabel?" he whispered. He repeated her name again, and then a third time, speaking louder with each repetition. "Isabel, are you there?"

"Quiet!" her voice answered. "I was asleep. Is that you, Pascal?"

"Yes."

"Why did you wait so long to return?"

"You made me promise never to visit you again."

"A promise I hoped you would disobey," she said.

"And so I did. Obedience is not one of my virtues."

Isabel laughed, but quieted herself.

"Why do they keep you confined here?" he whispered.

"Because I am a monster."

"The stories are true?"

"Some of them, I'm sure. And now, you will tell me a story, won't you?"

"A story about you?"

"Oh, please not," she said. "I do not wish to think about myself."

"Then what would you hear?"

"Anything about the world beyond this wall."

"I know little of life beyond the village."

"For me, the village is as distant as Paris."

"What do you wish to hear?"

"Something secret."

Pascal thought it over. "They say that Jean the brewer is having an affair with the carpenter's wife."

"It must be quite the scandal!"

"He gives the carpenter beer and ale until he falls asleep, and then he lays with her in the carpenter's own house."

"The peasant's life must be full of such sordid things. What else can you tell me?"

Pascal thought it over. "There was a sheep born last year with two heads. Everyone said it was an evil omen, but then they said it could be witchcraft by the old widow Teffaine. The priest ordered the sheep killed."

"And what about the witch?"

"She died before the priest could decide what to do with her. He said the Devil had claimed her soul so that the priest could not return her to God."

"Such excitement," Isabel whispered. "Tell me more about the village."

"The stories may grow less entertaining from here."

"Tell me of anything that has happened. Tell me about the Festival of Fools, and how people dress on such a day, and of your sweet Marie."

"She is not mine. She has already married someone else."

"That is sad."

"I suppose it is."

Isabel laughed. "The festival. Tell me."

Pascal explained the annual December festival, how a boy was crowned Lord of Misrule and the commoners treated nobles with open disrespect, even demanding food and drink at the doors of the nobility.

"That is how it should be," Isabel whispered. "Madness and merriment. Why should we torment ourselves for a God who clearly cares so little for us?"

Pascal found the question large and frightening, so he wanted to speak of anything else. "Shall I tell you more about the village?"

"Yes!"

He spoke for as long as he dared, telling her stories and gossip from the village. Some of it was very old news, but it was all fresh to Isabel.

"I must go," he said at last. "The moon has nearly crossed the sky."

"But you will return?" Isabel said.

"I wish to see you next time," Pascal said. "Is there no gate in the wall?"

"Father had it sealed with stone when he imprisoned me here. There is only the door to the house, and that is barricaded on the inside to keep me out here. Someone would catch you entering the house and making all that noise, unshackling the barricade."

Pascal studied the wall. It was hardly smooth—just jumbles of raw stones held together by cement.

"What if I climb over?" Pascal whispered.

"It is too dangerous."

"I can move quietly."

"I do not mean the climb, I mean me."

"What will you do?" he asked. "Kill me and eat me?"

Isabel laughed. "You should stop making me do that," she whispered. "Someone will hear me."

"I promise to never make you laugh again."

Isabel laughed again. "I told you to stop that! Now go, I hear someone moving inside the house."

"Sleep well, Isabel."

"Wait. First you must promise me you will never return, for your own good. I am nothing but danger to you."

"I promise it."

Pascal returned to her again the next night, and the next, telling her stories of all that he saw and heard in the village, as if she were blind and needed him to describe the world to her. During the day, he was tired and sluggish at his work, and his father beat him for it, accusing him of drunkenness. He gave Katerine a bunch of wildflowers for her secrecy, and she seemed pleased with this bribe.

During the day, Pascal listened carefully in the village for any bit of gossip he might bring for Isabel's amusement.

Each morning, he delivered the water to the manor house, and he was not late again, and he avoided the walled garden. When he brought the water, he would hear barking and growling behind the wall, but he never heard this during his nightly visits. He began to think that perhaps she was only a monster by day, and at night took the form of a girl. He did not wish to ask her about it for fear of upsetting her. He imagined her girl-form as angelic, just as beautiful as her beast-form was ugly.

He visited her throughout the summer, week after week. She described for him the inside of the walled garden—stone benches, herbs and vegetables she grew herself and ate herself, since no one in the house would touch the food she grew.

"Why not?" Pascal had asked her.

"Because I am poisonous," was her reply.

He learned that she had lived in the walled garden since she was a child, as long as she could remember. There was a thatched shelter in one corner, and a firepit. He tried to imagine life confined to so small a space, no larger than the one-room house he shared with his family.

"I must come over the wall," he told her again, near the beginning of autumn. "I want to see you."

"You cannot," she said. "No one can come close to me and live."

"Would you harm me?" he asked.

"I could not help it."

"But you are not a beast by night," he said. "Only by day. Isn't that right?"

"What do you mean?"

"When I bring water in the morning, I hear only growls from behind this wall. At night, I never hear them. You are no monster when the sun is down."

"And you mean...you think I change into a beast by day, and a girl by night?"

"Do I have it wrong?"

Isabel laughed, long and hard, and he could hear her smothering it with her hands.

"No," she whispered. "What you hear in the morning is Chasseur. The dog."

"A dog?"

"He is chained by the door to discourage from me attempting to go inside. When they throw the scraps in here to feed him after dinner, I add some herbs that make him sleep. He would howl all night if I did not."

She laughed again, and Pascal felt foolish. He was glad she couldn't see the look on his face.

"So you believed I was some sort of growling beast, but you wanted to come in and visit me anyway?" she asked.

"Yes," Pascal said.

"You're foolish," she said. After a long moment, she said, "Pascal, I think I love you."

Pascal's heart thumped at that. He had wondered whether the girl behind the wall shared his growing affection, or if she only spoke to him because she was alone.

"Let me come over the wall," he whispered. "I need to see you." He searched the rough stone face for handholds.

"Not tonight," she said. "You will wake Chasseur, and he will wake everyone. Wait until tomorrow, and I will give him a double portion of his sleep medicine."

"I cannot wait that long," Pascal said.

"You must. And promise me you will not touch me. I don't want to see you suffer."

"I suffer already."

"We will not be together long if Chasseur awakens. Come tomorrow night, when we might have hours of peace."

Pascal forced himself to wait.

The next night, he arrived with one of his big wooden water buckets, with a length of rope coiled inside. He had already tied one end of the rope to the sturdy handle at the top.

He whispered for Isabel, and her blue eye immediately appeared at the hole, bright in the moonlight.

"Get as far as you can from this wall," he whispered. "I'm throwing something over."

"Be careful. And hurry."

Pascal walked along the wall until he saw a good notch at the top, between a pair of stones. He threw the bucket over, letting the rope have plenty of slack—he needed it to land softly in the dirt, not clang back against the wall.

When the bucket landed with a thump on the other side, he pulled the rope into the notch at the top of the wall. Then he drew back on the rope, hand over hand, hearing the bucket knock against the wall as it ascended.

"Quietly!" Isabel whispered.

Pascal hauled back on the rope until the bucket was flush against the notch. It would serve as his anchor. He pulled himself up the rope with his hands and walked along the wall with his bare feet.

When he reached the top of the wall, he sat still for a moment and looked down into the garden. He saw the thatched roof of her shelter in one corner, and a huge dog on a chain sleeping next to the door. A great variety of plants and flowers grew in the soil and in clay pots along one wall.

Isabel kept to the shadows, her face and body hidden under a hooded robe, like a monk's. She wore gloves that extended to her elbows.

"Come down," she whispered. "Someone could see you up there."

"Give me time." Pascal gathered up the rope and dropped it inside the wall. Then he anchored the heavy bucket against the outside of the wall and slowly descended the rope.

When he reached the bottom, he coiled the rope around a stone bench to keep the bucket from falling outside.

"So that is how you look." Isabel approached him, most of her face hidden under her hood. He could see only her mouth and her pale chin.

"Isabel." Pascal reached for her.

"No." She took a step back. "You must not touch me."

"I would not take advantage of you."

"I only wish that you could," Isabel said.

"Let me see you, Isabel."

Isabel drew back her hood. She was small and pale, as if she carried some sort of illness, but he thought she was beautiful. Long black hair spilled from the hood around her shoulders. He gazed into her eyes.

"See?" she asked. "No horns. No serpent's tongue." She stuck out her tongue at him, as if to prove it.

"You are more beautiful than I imagined."

"You were imagining a hairy beast."

"Isabel..." He drew closer, reaching his hand for her cheek.

"No!" She took his hand in her hers—the material of her gloves was coarse and scratchy. She pressed his hand against her left breast, against her heart. "If you must touch me, you will have to do it through my clothes. Your skin cannot touch mine."

Pascal lay his other hand on her chest, and then felt his way down her stomach, to her hips. While his hands explored her body, she closed her eyes, leaned her head against his chest, and sighed. Her hand found the length of rope that held up his trousers, then moved to his lower back. Her other hand slid all over him, shyly at first, then with passion. They caressed each other without touching.

Pascal kissed her, and his lips burned like fire.

"No!" She turned her head aside. "You must not."

"Isabel, please, kiss me again."

"Already the pox has spread to your face."

Pascal touched his own lips, which felt like they'd been pressed with hot coals. His fingers came away wet with blood. The burning sensation spread from his lips, to his nose and chin, across his cheeks.

"Now you see how I am a monster," she said. "No one can touch me, or the pox infects them. Touch me again and you will die."

He wrapped his arm around her, caressing her again with both hands while her gloved hands explored him. She reached under his shirt.

"You still wish to touch me?" she whispered.

"I wish for nothing more." He took her chin in his fingers and turned her face back toward him. Blisters and sores opened on his fingers. "What do you wear under this robe?" he asked, caressing her hip.

"Nothing."

He kissed her again, and she kissed back, her tongue burning holes in his gums and inside his cheek.

"Stop!" Isabel demanded. She turned her head aside, but this time he could not obey. He kissed her cheek, her earlobe, her slender neck. She punched him with a fist and pushed away. "See what you are doing to yourself." She lifted his shirt, and Pascal took it off.

Lesions, tumors and pustules were knotted all over his chest and down his arms to his bleeding fingers.

"What is happening?" he whispered.

"That is my curse. That is why I must live behind these walls. Do not touch me again, Pascal. I don't wish to see you suffer." Her eyes looked wet, and a sob escaped her throat.

"If I cannot touch you, let me see you," he said.

"You can see me from there."

"All of you, Isabel."

She lifted her robe, revealing her feet and her shins. "Like this?"

"Yes."

She bit her lip. "You first."

Pascal loosened the rope at his waist and let his trousers drop. She looked him over while she slowly drew her garment up and over her head, then cast it aside. They watched each other in the moonlight, desire thickening and charging the air between them, like the onset of a storm.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered.

"You are beautiful to me, too," she whispered.

Pascal took her up in his arms and kissed her, and she did not resist, but clung tightly to him and kissed him fiercely.

Spasms wracked Pascal's body. He fell to the dirt, twitching, his flesh turned to leprous decay, his insides screaming in pain.

"Pascal, I am sorry," she cried, grabbing her own hair in both hands. "I do love you. I tried to warn you. Please don't die. I should not have touched you."

"I love..." he said, and then his mouth and lungs filled with blood, his body shuddered, and his eyes closed for the last time.

The End

About J.L. Bryan...

J.L. Bryan studied English literature at the University of Georgia and at Oxford, with a focus on the English Renaissance and the Romantic period. He also studied screenwriting at UCLA. "Monster in the Garden" relates to his _Paranormals_ trilogy, which includes _Jenny Pox_ , _Tommy Nightmare_ and the upcoming conclusion, _Alexander Death_. He enjoys remixing elements of paranormal, supernatural, fantasy, horror and science fiction into new kinds of stories. He lives in Atlanta with his wife Christina and his very new son John.

His website is http://jlbryanbooks.com

Wicked Enchantment

By

Courtney Cole

Dropping through wispy, diaphanous clouds, I tumbled from the sky in a completely unladylike fashion and landed abruptly on the sidewalk. Straightening from my crouch, I pivoted in a circle to get my bearings. I was surrounded by quiet suburban houses, all cut from the same vinyl-sided cookie-cutter. A shaggy little ankle-biter yapped at me from a handkerchief sized yard across the street. His insistent bark quickly grated on my nerves. I snarled at him and he ran yelping back to his porch, where he cowered beneath the steps.

I smiled in satisfaction before I shook my head to clear it. It was always a little disorienting traveling back and forth between the mortal world and the Spiritlands. Honestly, I hadn't gotten used to it again just yet. My immortal memories had only recently been returned to me and I was still getting accustomed to the whole thing. But already, I seriously hated being here. Even the air was miserable, damp and clinging to my skin.

The only thing worse than being here was appearing as a mortal. I sighed. Like so many of the other gods and goddesses from the Spiritlands, I had been relegated to mortal form for the past several thousand years. But the Fates, the three frightening Moirae sisters, had recently given me a get-out-of-jail-free card. They had returned my goddess heritage to me, complete with body and memories, with one condition. I had to perform a task for them. And to do it, I had to assume my mortal shape just one more time. I dreaded it, but it had to be done.

Looking around to make sure no one was near, I gritted my teeth and shape-shifted. In the blink of an instant, during which I knew I only appeared as a blur, I transformed into my mortal image. Glancing down, I opened my hand to make sure I still had the small brown leaf. It was there, resting safely on my palm. My orangey, mortal palm. Ugh. I could not wait to leave this short, pudgy body behind soon, forever. The Fates had promised. All I needed to do was this one little thing and I would never have to live as a mortal again.

The dog from across the street was furiously yapping again, pausing only to growl. Apparently, he hadn't appreciated my little magic trick. I gritted my teeth and pointed at him. He forcefully flew against the wall of the house before sliding lifelessly to the porch. He wouldn't be yapping anymore.

I calmly walked up the manicured sidewalk and stood on the delicate front steps staring in through the large, sparkling window panes. Mortal houses seemed so temporary and breakable. They were made from flimsy wood and concrete, as opposed to the marble and stone that I was accustomed to. The homes of gods were built to last forever, a requirement that mortals simply didn't have.

As I stared inside, I didn't miss the irony. It seemed that I was always the outsider looking in. There was no reason to feel sorry for myself, of course. I might be an outsider, but that simply meant that I was seldom surrounded by idiots.

Inside the house, Gavin Chase was stretched out on his sofa, sleeping with a cat curled at his side. I almost shuddered. How mortals could interact with furry creatures of that sort was entirely beyond me. But Gavin wasn't exactly a mortal. He just didn't remember it. Yet. But I was here now and that little issue would soon be fixed.

I lifted a finger to ring the bell and almost shuddered again. My finger was short and stubby, over-tanned. Another thing some mortals seemed to have a penchant for. I couldn't wait to get back to myself. My goddess body was perfect and unblemished, soft and smooth as porcelain.

I watched Gavin wake and in amusement, studied his dark face. He had always had dark hair and eyes, in every life that he had ever lived. From the very beginning, when he was Cadmus, husband of my rival goddess, Harmonia, he had appeared the same. Dark hair, friendly white smile and an easy attitude.

Harmonia didn't deserve him, but life after life, she had still gotten him. It had amused the Fates to allow it- to make the gods and goddesses love and lose their soul mates time after time after time while they were in mortal form. Harmonia had been tricked by them to believe that she was a Keeper of Fate and that the fate of the world itself rested on her shoulders. Life after life, they had made her choose to allow her soul mate's death, bound by her strange sense of loyalty and honor.

Harmonia. Thinking of the goddess of contentment and peace made me want to retch. In each mortal life, the Fates had positioned us against each other, using our natural opposition to their advantage. We were polarized opposites in every way. I relished chaos. She enjoyed peace. Her very nature annoyed me. Why would anyone want to create harmony? Being bad was so much more fun.

Gavin swung the door open wide and I almost laughed out loud at the expression on his face. Of course he was surprised. He still thought that his girlfriend Macy was simply a mortal like himself and that she and I were sworn enemies. And I guess his thoughts did have shreds of truth in them.

Macy was a mortal, for now, just like Gavin. She was only just now remembering that she was actually the goddess, Harmonia. And Gavin hadn't remembered who he really was. Today was the day of reckoning for both of them. And as for that second part... well, we were sworn enemies. Just not mortal. We had never gotten along, but technically, it wasn't my fault. It was simply how we were created to be. But that didn't mean that I didn't enjoy it.

And this was going to be fun.

"Tara?" Gavin uttered in surprise, his voice husky from sleep. I felt a little stirring from deep within in reaction to his primal maleness. He really was an attractive man. He always had been. Lean and strong, with a smile like the sun. This was going to be very fun.

"Hey, Gavin." I conjured up my best sweet voice. I was truly good at faking it. "Is Macy here?" I knew full well that she wasn't.

"No, she isn't. She might be at her house though." He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Why?"

I widened my eyes innocently. "Because I want to apologize. This bitterness between us is just horrible and I really want to fix it. And I was hoping to talk to her. Do you think she'll be here soon?"

He studied my face for a moment and I did my best to maintain an angelic expression. I was a very, very good liar and mortal men were so easily manipulated. I could see that he really wanted to believe me, the gullible idiot.

"Possibly," he replied cautiously. "I'll call her and find out. Come in," he motioned.

I stepped gingerly past him and waited in the foyer as he closed the door.

"Have a seat," he gestured toward the sofa. I took one, avoiding the furry creature still languishing in the sun. It opened one eye and stared at me before lazily closing it again. Stupid feline. I remembered the dead little dog across the street and smiled an evil grin.

Gavin pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed a number. I waited, the anticipation lingering like expensive chocolate on my tongue. Harmonia was going to be furious, terrified... and would fall right into my hands. The Fates would be so pleased.

But he shook his head.

"Voicemail," he murmured to me with his hand clasped over the phone. He waited and then spoke after the beep.

"Hi, beautiful. Hey, you're not going to believe this but Tara Wilson is here looking for you. She wants to apologize or something. So call me. I love you."

He flipped his phone closed, tossed it on the couch and shrugged at me.

"She didn't answer."

I smiled my most pleasant smile. "Is it okay if I hang out for just a minute or two to see if she calls back? I mean, surely she always returns your calls, right?"

He looked puzzled. "Of course she does."

"Perfect. Then I'll just wait a minute." I patted the seat next to me. "Why don't you come talk to me? I owe you a few apologies, too."

He stared at me suspiciously again. "You owe me an apology? What for?"

"I owe you a couple of them. Sit down and I'll explain."

He stared at the empty seat next to me and I almost laughed. Men were so easily led around by their noses. But his hesitation did annoy me.

"Come here," I coaxed, in a sugar laden voice. "I don't bite."

He hesitantly settled onto the edge of the couch next to me and I stroked his arm. He moved away, staring at me in apprehension. I fought back my agitation as I felt my temper begin to flare. How dare he prefer that simpering nothing to me?

I scooted a little closer and leaned into him, inhaling his mortal scent. He smelled of cedary musk and sunshine, like the outdoors. It worked for him and I had to admit that I liked it. This wasn't going to be a hardship, by any means.

"I apologize for being so mean to your girlfriend. I truly do. I didn't mean to be so... vicious. She and I have had a misunderstanding, but I want to rectify it."

"A misunderstanding?" Gavin raised his eyebrow. "You stole her boyfriend last year. I don't know how, but you did. And that was cold. And that is entirely for her to forgive, not me."

"True. But I wanted you to know, too. You clearly love her."

He stared at me with cold dark eyes. "Yes, I do love her. Now, what was the second thing?"

"Oh, yes..." I trailed off, resting one hand on his. He automatically pulled it from my grasp, his stare hardening. "There was one other thing. Just a small thing, really. I'm sorry for this, Gavin."

He looked at me in annoyance. "Sorry for _what_ , Tara?"

"This," I murmured. Reaching for his phone, I grabbed it and stepped out of his reach before I flipped it open and hit redial. While he watched me in confusion, I waited for the beep and then started speaking.

"Harmonia, I have Cadmus. The poor dear thinks he's in love with me. Can you believe that? Find me and don't dally. Bring your bloodstone and the Map of Souls."

"What are you talking about?" Gavin demanded, as he snatched his phone from my hands. "I don't think I'm in love with you and why did you call me Cadmus?"

"Oh, my sweet. There are so many things to tell you. But we should probably begin with this."

I stood and quickly shimmered back into my goddess body and stood proudly before him, beautiful and strong. I felt the strength returning to me as it pulsed through my veins. I had missed it, even though I had only been without it for a few minutes. Mortal bodies were so weak.

Gavin stared at me incredulously, fear forming in his eyes as he leaped from the couch and backed away from me. I enjoyed fear, though. I could smell it a hundred yards away. And he was covered in a thick blanket of it now, anxious and apprehensive. I licked my lips and took a step toward him.

"What the hell is going on?" he demanded as he backed further and further away. I had to smile. Did he really think he was getting away? So cute. I took another step.

"Ah, sweet Gavin. Or should I say Cadmus?"

He stared at me in confusion. "Why do you keep calling me Cadmus?"

"There is so much to catch you up on, Cadmus. So much. But you'll need to come with me, first."

He shook his head. "You're crazy and I'm not going anywhere with you. You need to leave. Now."

I laughed, a malicious and cutting sound, even to my own ears.

"Or what? You'll call the police and tell them that Tara Wilson just morphed into the goddess Eris right in front of your very eyes? I think not. They'll lock you away in a mental institution."

"The goddess Eris?" he repeated slowly. "What the hell are you talking about?"

I sighed. "This is getting tedious. Let us just get this over with."

I leaped across the room in two single bounds and pinned Gavin against the wall. I had to give him credit-- he was strong for a mortal. But I was using goddess strength and he had no chance. The scent of fear was so strong in the air around us that I couldn't help myself. I licked the side of his neck and found the taste to be exquisite. Terror was such a turn-on. I licked him again, oblivious to his protests and struggles.

But the delicious emotion was distracting me and I needed to focus. Shifting my purpose back into the forefront of my mind, I quickly stuck the leaf in my mouth, crushed it in my teeth and mixed it with my own saliva. Holding Gavin roughly against the wall, I forced his mouth open with my own, thrusting the crushed leaf into his mouth with my tongue.

He struggled as hard as he could in a valiant effort to escape. But I was a hundred times stronger than he was in his mortal state. And I kept his mouth locked with my own until I was certain that the enchanted leaf had dissolved and he had swallowed it.

The Fates had created it themselves with powerful magic, creating a strong love potion mixed with Awakening balm. He would very soon remember exactly who he was, with one minor little change. He would not remember that Harmonia was ever in his life at all. Instead, he would think that he was madly in love with me. Every instance that she had appeared in his life would simply be erased, which would leave a few confusing holes for him to deal with.

I knew the second that the potion had taken effect. He stopped struggling and stood limply against the wall, held firm by my arms. And then he moved against me, wrapping me in his embrace, deepening the very kiss that had just enchanted him against his will. I smiled against his lips. This was easier than I had thought it would be. The magic was indeed very powerful.

He pulled back and looked at me, his dark eyes slightly blank.

"Eris," he murmured. "I'm so glad you are here. Where are we?" He stared around in wonder and bewilderment at the house that I knew his mortal body had grown up in. "I don't remember how I got here. What is this place?"

I smiled again, forcing a pleasant expression.

"It's of no consequence, sweet Cadmus. All that matters is that I've found you and I'm going to take you home. That's what you want, isn't it? To go home?"

His eyes were still glazed over in confusion, a side effect of the potion, as he nodded.

"Yes," he whispered huskily. "I'd like to go home." I tried to ignore the soft place inside of me that his vulnerable voice was awakening.

"Then come with me," I replied softly, holding out my hand. He took it, wrapping his strong fingers around mine and staring at me with an expression of trust that I had never seen before. No one trusted me...with very good reason.

"Come," I repeated.

And he did. Kneeling with him on the floor, I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and thought about my home in the Spiritlands. The white marble columns rising out of the horizon at dusk, the lanterns which spread their warm light, the ancient, thick carpets collected from all around the world, the silken tapestries and bedclothes. I could practically smell the sweet scent of my homeland as I felt the familiar weakening of my limbs and we began to fade from the mortal world.

And then suddenly, we were standing together in my home.

Gavin stared at me in the blanked over stare that I knew I should become accustomed to. As long as the potion was in effect, he would be perpetually confused. And oh-so-malleable. I smiled at him.

"We're home, my sweet," I said, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek. I sensed that he almost moved away from me, something that was annoying. Really? Even under the permeating effects of a love potion, he shirked away. That wouldn't do.

I turned and pressed myself against him, kissing him long and hard. He eventually wrapped his arms around me and returned the kiss. As he did, I couldn't help but become absorbed by it, allowing that soft place within me to swell, just for a moment. His chest was hard, his arms were firm and he smelled really good. It was of no matter to me that he wasn't really mine. He was mine for now.

Cadmus pulled away and stared around me in puzzlement.

"Is this home?" he asked as he examined my home.

"Of course, sweetheart," I assured him. "We're home in the Spiritlands. We love it here."

"The Spiritlands," he repeated in a murmur. "We do love it here, don't we?"

I wanted to laugh at his perplexed gaze, but didn't dare. I wasn't sure exactly what would break the spell and I couldn't risk doing anything. My freedom from mortal bonds was at stake, and nothing was more important than that.

I led him by the hand to a serving tray on a carved banquet table. Picking up a silver pitcher full of sweet Olympic nectar, I stared into his chocolate brown eyes as I lied calmly to his face.

"Cadmus, my love, I need you to listen. Never, ever drink from this pitcher. It is poison for you and I would never want anything to harm you. Do you understand?"

He nodded. "Of course. It is poison to me," he repeated blankly.

I briefly wondered what it would be like to have a splendid man such as this love me. Truly love me as he did Harmonia. I slid my hands over his strong, muscled arms and lean torso as I leaned up to kiss the side of his neck. He no longer tasted like fear. He tasted like a man and I hadn't had a real one in quite a while.

But this was important. He could never drink the nectar, because once he did, it would restore his immortal form and his true memories and then he would know everything. That couldn't happen yet. After Harmonia came here, it wouldn't matter. But until then, I had to be careful. Very careful.

"Don't ever forget, my love," I whispered as I licked his bottom lip. He nodded stoically.

"Now then," I continued. "I should show you where you will be sleeping." I took his hand and he trailed behind me as we walked down the marbled floors of my hallway. Opening the double doors to my bedchambers, I showed him inside.

He stared around at the massive bed, woven tapestries and gleaming ebony floor.

"Are these your rooms? I will sleep here also?" he asked tentatively as he walked further inside. I nodded.

"Is that a problem, Cadmus?" The words felt sickeningly sweet on my tongue, but he didn't seem to notice. He shook his head.

"Of course not. Your rooms are beautiful."

He walked to the veranda doors facing us and stared out at the vast expanse of land that backed up to the house. Wild flowers and tall grass blew across the empty plains of the Spiritlands. There was nothing else as far as we could see.

"Are you looking for something?" I asked, watching his face. He seemed hopelessly lost and I knew it was from the holes in his memory. It was so entertaining.

He shook his head slowly. "No. I don't believe so. I just feel odd. Like I shouldn't be here, like someone else needs me."

A flash of anger burned through me quickly and my head whipped around.

"No one else needs you but me. Do you understand?" I snapped. How was it possible that even in this bewitched state he was so closely tied to Harmonia? It was unfathomable. Her hooks were embedded deep within his handsome, bronzed skin.

He turned to me in surprise. "I meant no offense, Eris. Truly."

My ire faded somewhat. It was true. He did mean no harm. That was something about him that had never changed. He was a good person, with a pure soul. And if that fact didn't sicken me so much, I would almost feel badly for doing what I was doing. But that wasn't in my nature and in my opinion, being good made him weak.

I walked smoothly to his side and kissed his cheek.

"Don't worry, my love. I'm sorry that I snapped at you. I am just tired and I'm sure you are as well. Why don't you rest for a bit before we have dinner?"

He nodded in compliance and walked obligingly to the bed. As he slid onto my silken bedclothes, I was briefly tempted to join him. My time with him would be short and I should take advantage of the time that I had. I wanted to know, at least one time, what it was like. But there was something I had to do first. Turning on my heel, I walked briskly from the chambers and to my desk by the fireplace in the great room.

I pulled a sheet of parchment from a drawer and while I was thinking about what to write, I noticed a movement from the corner of my eye.

A black raven with blood red eyes sat watching me from the open window. It was silent and still and held a rolled up paper in its sharp beak. The Fates had wasted no time. I motioned to him and he fluttered from the window to my desk in the space of one heartbeat, dropping the missive unceremoniously in front of me.

"Lachesis would like to know if it is done?" the bird politely queried, cocking his head and staring at me with a crimson eye.

I nodded, freezing in trepidation in spite of myself at the mention of the middle Moirae sister's name. "Yes. Cadmus is at this very moment resting in my bedchambers."

The bird kicked the paper toward me with one clawed foot. "She wants you to read this and respond," he creaked.

I stared at the bird for a moment before unrolling the paper. It was frustrating, to say the least, to listen to the condescending tone in his voice.

But instead of reacting, I turned my attention to the feminine scrawl on the paper.

Harmonia will arrive with Aphrodite. Leave her unharmed and

bring Aphrodite to us. We'll send Alexi to escort you.

"What kind of trickery is this?" I asked the bird in annoyance as I tossed the message onto my desk. I hated the uncertainty that I heard in my voice and quickly sought to harden it as I continued.

"They told me to imprison Harmonia by any means necessary and deliver the bloodstone to them. And now I am to ignore Harmonia and focus on Aphrodite?"

And I had so been looking forward to using 'any means necessary'.

The inky black raven stared at me unblinkingly and slightly judgmental.

"Are you questioning the Fates?" he asked calmly.

The threat was clear in its voice. I quickly shook my head. I should not anger them. There was no point. Obviously, I would do what they wanted.

"No. I do not question them." I stared at the bird defiantly, daring him to challenge me. He did not. Instead, he cocked his head again, motioning silently toward the blank paper in front of me.

Gritting my teeth, I reached for a pen.

It will be done.

I rolled up the parchment and handed it to the bird and he balanced one foot on it while staring at me.

"You can do whatever you may," he croaked. "But remember. Harmonia is the Chosen One."

My head snapped up.

"You believe the prophecies?" I asked incredulously.

He stared at me, his bloody red eye staring straight into my thoughts, it seemed.

But he remained frustratingly silent.

For a brief moment, one split second, a rush of white hot fear flooded through me and stilled my heart. Could it be true? Would Harmonia be the one who would demolish the Moirae sisters' rule over the Spiritlands? Could she restore the throne in Olympus?

But I shook my head. It couldn't be. How could the goddess of harmony and contentment be anywhere close to powerful enough to conquer the Fates? It was impossible and I willed my rapid heartbeats to still. The bird did not know what it was talking about. It was only one step above a carrier pigeon.

He stared at me in amusement and I fought the urge to strangle him.

"It's foolish to doubt," he observed.

"Just deliver my message to the Fates," I snapped. "Be gone."

He scooped up my missive in his beak and waddled to the edge of my desk before flying out the window in a flurry of black feathers. I sat still for a second before I moved. I would be fine. The Fates would not be toppled. And if I served them well, they would allow me to stay here in my home. I sighed despondently. I definitely did not want to return to the mortal world. And that very thought made me remember the beautiful mortal slumbering in my bed at this very moment and I smiled.

I didn't even waste the time walking to my bedchambers. I simply envisioned it and I was suddenly standing next to the bed, staring down at Cadmus' tranquil face. In sleep, he had a boyish quality that made him seem vulnerable and appealing. His dark hair had fallen over one eye and I reached down to brush it away. At the touch of my hand upon his brow, he opened his eyes.

"Hi," I murmured quietly. Why did I suddenly feel so nervous? This was all a game. He was nothing to me but a way to lure Harmonia to my home. Yet my own body was traitorous and I felt an unexpected, wild longing for this man.

"Hi," he answered uncertainly. He nervously ran his fingers through his hair as he watched me. "Did you come to nap?"

"Yes," I smiled. "And then some."

I slipped the straps of my shift off of my shoulders and let it fall to the floor. Cadmus flushed and looked away. I leaned forward and with one finger, turned his head toward me.

"You're not a virgin, my love," I murmured.

He nodded silently as I crawled into bed with him. His body was warm and masculine and I was really going to enjoy this.

Climbing on top of him, I bent to kiss the side of his neck and then his lips as I moved against him. His eyes fluttered closed and I watched him as I slid my body over his. His muscles flexed and tightened as he arched toward me in a complete physical reaction to my touch. His face was beautiful in its perfection.

Until he spoke.

"Harmonia," he whispered.

I froze and his eyes flew open.

"Is something wrong, Eris?" he asked cautiously. He didn't even realize what he had said.

But from the wary way he watched me and the tense way he held himself, I could tell that he innately knew that I was dangerous, even if his mind was telling him that he loved me. It appeared that I couldn't even pretend that he was mine...because deep down, he never would be. A lump formed in my throat, but I quickly swallowed it and replaced it with fury.

I threw the covers off, picked up my clothing and stormed from the room, pausing in the hall to get dressed and compose myself. Cadmus didn't even call after me, something that I tried not to let pain me.

After I had gotten my temper under control, I continued into the great room and dropped into a chaise lounge with a sigh. It didn't matter. None of it mattered- he was nothing to me. But I couldn't deny that his reaction had stung. I truly had thought that he would prefer me to her, if he was just given a chance.

Movement in the doorway caught my attention and I glanced up.

Harmonia's jade green eyes stared at me through the glass of my front door. I felt a wickedness welling up in me and before I could stop myself, I called for Cadmus. Almost immediately, he appeared, just as I knew he would, smiling apologetically at me.

I motioned for him to come closer, perfectly aware that Harmonia's gaze was upon us. Cadmus came to me willingly and I wrapped my arms around his neck, drawing him close to me, inhaling his kiss, deepening it as I held him next to me. My knees actually felt weak from it by the time he stepped away. But it had served its purpose. I kept my eyes locked with Harmonia's and hers were full of pain, a fact that I enjoyed.

At her loud knocking, Cadmus walked away from me to open the door. I listened to him speak with Aphrodite as I watched Harmonia's face with pleasure. She was tormented, her lovely features twisted in angst... just how I liked them. This was not what she had expected. I was sure that she had thought that I was torturing him. Never had she guessed that he had been in my bed. And she would never know exactly what we had done there.

She flashed a look of rage in my direction and then marched over to stand in front of me.

"What have you done, Eris?" she demanded, her green eyes spitting jade flames.

"I have no idea what you mean, Harmonia," I answered innocently, trying my best not to laugh. She had no idea how amusing she was. I felt the need to rub it in, to make it even worse for her. I would only have this leverage over her for a short while- I wanted to use it while I could. I called to Cadmus.

"Cadmus, darling. Please come sit with me. I have the need to feel you near."

He stared at me dutifully as he walked to my side and sat. The fury on Harmonia's face was too entertaining and I couldn't contain myself. I laughed in her face.

"What have you done?" she repeated, gritting her teeth.

Keeping my eyes glued to hers, I let my fingers wander aimlessly over Cadmus' toned shoulders and arms, trailing down to rest lightly on the top of his thigh. There was no way that she could feel him tense up at my touch. I was the only one who knew of his innate discomfort.

"I have no idea what you mean, Harmonia," I answered pleasantly. "Is it so far-fetched to imagine that Cadmus just acquired better taste and prefers me to you?"

I could see Harmonia clench her jaw before she answered.

"He doesn't even know who I am. You've done something, you wretched snake."

At the venom in her voice, Cadmus raised his gaze to hers, then shifted to mine. He was clearly startled.

"Is there a problem?" he asked hesitantly.

"Yes," Harmonia answered. "You are mine. We've been together for thousands of years. You don't belong here."

I started to speak, to object, but there was no need. Because Cadmus laughed, a rich, husky sound that echoed throughout my stone home. And Harmonia's face fell. I reveled in her sadness and stayed silent.

"I think I would remember that, would I not?" Cadmus asked her, his twinkling warm eyes attached to her face. I could see, just for a second, that he was hoping it was true. Even in this confused state, he felt a connection to her, a connection so strong that magic and my best efforts couldn't break it. It was maddening.

He turned to me and his expression changed into one of necessity. Pleasant necessity, but necessity nonetheless. I steeled myself against the emotion that he invoked in me. What was wrong with me? None of this mattered. He didn't matter.

"Sweet Eris, we should invite your friends in for the night. The Chimeras will be out soon. We wouldn't want them to get waylaid by one."

I felt a smile forming as I shook my head. "No, that would indeed be tragic, dear Cadmus."

Harmonia was at a loss for words, something I had never before witnessed. It was vastly amusing. I watched her face the reality that it wasn't safe for her to travel the Spiritlands at night. Finally, she turned to me, wrenching her eyes from Cadmus' face.

"Thank you, dear friend," she spit. "We would be ever so grateful for your shelter."

Cadmus grinned, a beautiful smile that took my breath away. And it was directed at her. I steeled my heart once again.

"Wonderful. Any friend of Eris' is a friend of mine. I will see to your rooms."

He pushed off of the couch and strode from the room with a masculine, loping walk. Both Harmonia and I watched his broad shoulders disappear through the doorway before she turned to me once more.

"What did you do?"she hissed.

"As if I would tell you," I answered in satisfaction. I couldn't make Cadmus want me, but I could enjoy the pain that I inflicted upon Harmonia. She would never know what had happened between him and me, something that I knew would torture her forever. That would have to be enough.

For the first time, I noticed the entourage that had accompanied her. Aphrodite and the Amazon queen, Ortrera, stood anxiously behind Harmonia, with Ortrera's warriors lingering on my porch. I fixed my gaze on Aphrodite. For whatever reason, she was supposed to be my focus now.

Ortrera stepped forward from the shadows and murmured into Harmonia's ear. Regardless of her quiet tone, my goddess hearing could hear her words perfectly.

"My warriors will be outside guarding our horses," she said quietly to Harmonia. "I shall stay inside with you."

Harmonia nodded while I pondered that. I would need a plan that would thwart the Amazon queen while I absconded with Aphrodite and that was not going to be an easy task. My thoughts though, were interrupted when Cadmus reentered. In the flickering candlelight, his bronzed face was so handsome that it was almost painful. I swallowed hard, knowing in that second, as he focused on Harmonia, that he would always be hers.

"Your rooms are ready," he announced to Harmonia. "If you would come with me, I'll show you the way."

Unable to concede quietly, I couldn't resist another jab at my nemesis.

"Don't be gone long, Cadmus dear," I sang in what I hoped was a lighthearted tone. "I shall need you again shortly."

He nodded, smiling a curt smile in my direction before he led the visitors out of the room and down the hall. Watching his broad back disappear, I knew that the charade was over. I could no longer play house with Harmonia's husband. I needed to focus on what I needed to do in order to keep my immortality.

Rushing to my desk, I yanked open drawers until I found what I needed.

A small vial full of a sleeping potion so potent that it could level an entire clan of Chimeras rested innocuously inside a velvet bag. The glistening gold vial sparkled in my fingers as I lifted it out and rolled it back and forth. The liquid within was more useful than most of its kind, because it didn't need to be ingested. I simply had to rub it on my fingers and then touch the skin of whomever I wanted to effect. Because I had created it, I was immune. The most casual of touches and even the fierce Amazon queen would go down. Unless awakened by equally powerful magic, she would sleep for a hundred years.

Calmly walking down the hall with the potion in my hand, I passed the bath chambers. From within the closed doors, I could hear Harmonia and Cadmus murmuring softly. They were in there, together and alone. I paused, frozen to the floor, as I listened to Cadmus' raspy moan and the smooth sound of flesh rubbing against flesh.

I closed my eyes for a brief painful second, blocking out the images that sprang instantly to my mind. I couldn't help but imagine them wrapped in an intimate reunion embrace, staring lovingly into each other's eyes and my heart physically hurt. I blocked it out as I crept toward the Amazon's bedchambers.

I had one mission and one purpose only.

I didn't even know that I was crying until my vision blurred and a tear dripped onto my hand. Annoyed with myself for showing weakness, I wiped quickly at my eyes. I was being ridiculous. Cadmus was nothing to me. Nothing. But strangely, regardless of my internal protests, I knew that I would feel his absence and his rejection for some time to come. It was profoundly painful. But I couldn't think about that now. That would come later, I knew, when I was attempting to sleep in the dark... alone.

Putting it out of my mind for now, I studied the muscled woman standing with her back to me at the windows. Ortrera was watching her warriors make camp outside and I knew I only had a few moments before her keen instincts sensed my presence. It would only take one touch from my hand. Just one. And then she would be out of my way and I could deliver Aphrodite to the Fates, securing my eternal freedom.

It would only take a second.

I stepped into her room and closed the door softly behind me.

The End... for now.

To learn what happens next, please read Fated

Book Two in The Bloodstone Saga
About Courtney Cole...

Courtney Cole is the author of four novels, Every Last Kiss, Fated (Book One and Two of the Bloodstone Saga), Princess and Guardian. She is currently hard at work on Book Three of the Bloodstone Saga. When she isn't writing, you can find Courtney doing... wait. There's seldom a time when she isn't writing.

After releasing the second book in The Bloodstone Saga, Fated, Courtney received quite a few e-mails from readers asking, 'What the heck happened at Eris' house? What exactly did she and Cadmus do?' So Courtney wrote Wicked Enchantment to answer those questions.

To learn more about Courtney Cole, visit her website: www.courtneycolewrites.com

The Second Daughter's Second Daughter

By

Wren Emerson

In a town where you can't trust anybody to have your best interests in mind, I was amazingly slow to learn how to put up a protective wall around my heart. I was sixteen years old and I still believed in true love. That might have been forgivable, but the fact that I believed that it could happen to me was just delusional.

David Abernathy was nineteen years old to my sixteen. He'd graduated the year before when I was only a freshman at Desire High. He was from a strong Family, but not one of the Coven Families. I knew him, of course. Everybody knows everybody else in Desire and in that way I'm sure he knew who I was as well. I thought he was a good looking guy, his eyes were a soft brown color and his hair was softly waving and brown.

I had him in my Biology class. He spent most of every period cracking jokes and essentially flaunting his contempt for the class and the teacher. It was a bold move for someone who wasn't from a Coven Family and thus above consequences, but if he was ever scared, he never showed it. That rebellious streak drew me in. I was from a Coven Family, but as a Second Daughter's Second Daughter, I was a nobody. I wished that I could be as brave as David, but I crept around the edges of life hoping that I wouldn't accidently offend anyone.

It was over Christmas break of my junior year that David talked to me for the first time. I was walking through a bookstore in the next town when I rounded a shelf and literally bumped into David.

"I'm so sorry!" he said as he knelt to help me retrieve the books that were scattered all over the floor.

"It's ok, I wasn't watching..." My words dried up when I realized who it was I was talking to.

He noticed my sudden silence and grinned at me. "I know you. You're... Jennifer?"

I opened my mouth to correct him, but he laid a finger across my lips. My heart stopped beating for a moment.

"I know this. Something with a J, right? Don't tell me, just nod if I'm right." I nodded. "Julie?"

"So close. I'm Julia Carter." I held out my hand and he shook it solemnly.

"I'd just like to say that I was going to say that next."

"Suuuure." I teased, amazed at my boldness. I was usually very shy, but David seemed to bring out a more aggressive me.

"I'm David Abernathy. I think we had a class or two together once."

I nodded, delighted. "I remember you. We had Biology together your senior year."

His eyes lit up. "Ah, yeah, that's right. I didn't learn a thing all year. If it weren't for my lab partner I wouldn't have had a prayer at passing. But you know, she was just a Second Daughter so-" It was his turn to cut himself off abruptly.

I attempted a smile to let him know that it wasn't a big deal, that I totally understood how it is. I hoped that it wasn't as wobbly as it felt, but my stomach was clenching violently and I was afraid I might throw up. How embarrassing to think that his friendliness might have meant something.

"Hey, no. I didn't mean it like that. You're different, of course. She's not from a Coven Family like you. Her Talent is really lame too. I think it was something like being able to boil small amounts of water. I'm sure she'll make some lucky guy some really great soup someday."

I snorted despite myself. I wanted to be mad at David, but I couldn't. He was just too charismatic even though I knew he would never like me like that.

"Do you want to go get some hot chocolate? I hear they have a double chocolate recipe here that's amazing."

I nodded, hope rising again.

He took my books from me and carried them under his arm like an old time suitor might have a hundred years ago. He insisted on buying my drink and we sat together at a tiny table in the corner. Our knees were forced to spread around each other or else jut out the side of the table. My legs ended up between his and he swayed them back and forth ever so slightly. It was probably a nervous tic, but it was easily the most erotic thing to happen to me in my short life.

"You know," he pulled a thin section of hair into his fingers and stroked it, "You are a really pretty girl. I guess I never really noticed before."

I flushed, but I knew it was true. I wasn't conceited; being pretty was just a part of who I was as much as my Family's wealth or the fact that my Talent was strong and useful. I had long, glossy black hair that tumbled down in loose waves to my lower back, clear tanned skin, and wide brown eyes framed by especially long lashes. I had considered moving to NYC when I graduated and becoming a model. I was tall enough and I didn't really know what else I should do with myself.

David was quick to realize he'd touched on a nerve and he easily changed the subject. We sat at our table for the next two hours, sipping our drinks and chatting. David made me feel interesting and, of course, I was already a big fan of his.

When we finally decided to leave, he asked me if he could call me. I agreed quickly and gave him my number, half afraid it was just an empty gesture so that we parted on a good note, but he called me later that night. And from that day on we talked every day.

When he asked me if I'd like to be his girlfriend, I couldn't believe my luck. He wasn't from a Coven Family, but he surely could have had a First Daughter from a strong Family. With me, he was trading all hopes of a powerful station in the hierarchy of Desire. I expressed my concerns and he just laughed at me.

"Silly, girl. If I wanted that, I wouldn't have fallen in love with you."

"You fell in love with me?" My voice was nearly inaudible.

His eyes were soft and serious. "How could I not? You're gorgeous and smart and funny and a really good kisser."

I slapped his arm playfully, flattered and happy.

"So," he asked, pulling my body against his as he leaned against a tree in the park where we'd been hanging out all afternoon, "Is that a yes or what?"

"Yes." I said, but it was lost inside his mouth as he kissed me.

We dated for the next four months. When he clumsily attempted to seduce me for the first time, I smiled and pretended that his awkward attempts were irresistible. With practice he did become much more adept at it and by April I was confident that maybe someday I'd enjoy the same level of pleasure from our encounters as he did.

During Spring break David accepted an invitation to join some of his older friends on a trip to Florida. It was our first fight.

"Babe, I don't understand why you're being so unreasonable." He whined. We were standing on my front porch and I hoped that our voices wouldn't carry into the open windows.

"Because you're going with a group of girls to a beach where there will be even MORE girls in basically nothing and you didn't even have the decency to invite me. I'd love to take a trip to the beach, Babe." I spit out the last word, furious from the hours of circular arguing.

"You're too young for this trip, ok? And you wouldn't have fun anyway. It's a bunch of First Daughters and their boyfriends."

I was livid. My hands itched to hit him. To pummel him until he admitted how much his careless words hurt me. Worse than his words was his apparent inability to empathize with how the situation made me feel. I shoved my fists into my pockets instead.

"You said that status didn't mean anything to you. That you loved me and were happy to give up all that."

He pulled me against him and kissed the top of my head. "I do love you, but all of my friends are going and I want to do this with them. Just this one thing, ok? Please tell me you'll be cool."

I shrugged. "Does it really matter if I'm cool or not? You'll just do whatever you want to do. I don't care."

He whooped and spun me around in a circle before he dropped me to the ground. I staggered, off balance with my hands in my pockets, but he righted me. "I've got to call the guys and let them know I'm coming for sure. Thanks, Honey."

I watched him gallop off and for the first time I realized that there were a lot of things about him that I didn't love. Hell, there were a lot of things that I didn't really even like. I sighed and entered the house.

It was three weeks after his trip when he called me and asked me to come over.

Things had been tense ever since he came back. I could sense a distance, but I couldn't think of what I could do to make things better when I was still carrying so much anger over his abandonment of me. He'd been in Florida doing who could tell, while I spent my break sitting in my room, reading.

This time he was the one waiting on his porch. I figured that he'd take me up to his room right away like he always did. I was fully prepared to deny him sex. Actually, I'd been waiting on the opportunity to make him work for it again since he came back, but he hadn't tried anything with me.

"Hey, you look great." He was cheerful today. It was the first time he'd shown any sincere emotion with me for weeks.

"You look pretty good yourself, you cool drink of water." I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed the side of his mouth playfully.

He gently disentangled my arms and led me to a wicker settee.

"Look, Julia, we need to talk."

I groaned, "Are you breaking up with me?"

"Yes, I think that's exactly what he's doing."

I whipped around to see that there was another girl on the porch. I knew her, of course. Her name was Lynn Patterson and she was 22 or 23. Her hair was blond and cut into a limp shag that was unflattering to her pinched features. Her overly tanned skin looked leathery and caught her eyes in the middle of a dense web of wrinkles. I knew she was one of the First Daughters who went on the trip with David and it didn't take me long to figure out why she was here.

"Really, David? Her? She's not even from a powerful Family." Lynn glared at me.

"I had a lot to drink and things just happened. I'm so sorry."

For once he wasn't smooth and I wasn't melting into a puddle at his feet.

"We're getting married," Lynn said smugly. "We're having a baby." She rubbed her flat stomach in triumph.

I felt like throwing up, but unlike the way it felt when David and I met, this wasn't a pleasant sensation at all. I fought the urge, determined not to let them see how devastating this news was. "Great. That's just great. I wish you all the best. I'm sure your marriage will be nothing but happy and healthy."

I walked off the porch at a gait that could almost be called a jog. I heard David call after me, but he didn't follow me. The last thing I heard was Lynn's sickening coos. They deserved each other.

I didn't go to school the next day. Although David didn't go to school there, I couldn't bear to face anyone. I felt so humiliated and angry. I wanted to hurt someone. I just wanted to punch someone until their lips split against their teeth and their eyes swelled shut. The idea of blood running down Lynn's leathery face made me smile, but it was a false smile. Tight- lipped and painful.

I paced my room in an attempt to burn off the adrenaline that coursed through me. My violent fantasies had me in a keyed up state. I lapped my bedroom dozens of times before I had an idea. What if I weren't in Desire? What if I went somewhere where all the kids were the same regardless of their birth order in their family? I knew from watching TV and reading books that unless you were heir to a royal lineage or something like that you were off the hook in the outside world.

I decided that with school ending in a few weeks I might be able to find a summer camp where I could go live for a couple of months and not have to risk running into David or Lynn or any of their friends. The fact that I'd be treated like everyone else instead of a second class citizen was just icing on my cake.

I did some research that afternoon and after a couple of phone calls I was able to locate information for a couple of camps and asked them to please send me their marketing materials overnight if possible and I'd gladly pay the shipping charges.

I picked my camp mostly based on the way the lake was lined with willows. It looked so beautiful and I imaged myself sitting underneath one as the sunset, writing bad poetry.

My Mother agreed dismissively when I asked permission to go. I thought I might have to persuade her to let me spend the summer away from town, but all she asked was what name she should put on the check.

I made it through the last month of school without running into David or Lynn. I wasn't close enough with anyone for them to notice a change in my behavior. The good thing about being invisible is nobody notices when you retreat inside yourself. I was just another piece of furniture to the kids at school and for the first time I was happy about it.

As the school year drew to a close I had more and more trouble sleeping at night. Fluttering anticipation filled me every time I thought about going away for the summer. More than once I thought I might vomit when the excitement got too overwhelming. The prospect of being treated like every other kid instead of a worthless reject made me dizzy.

I hoped that my mother would drive me to camp and see me off. She told me she had errands that she had to take care of and that since I set this plan in motion it was my responsibility to see it through to the end. I thought about pleading with her, but it would be pointless.

I left Desire before the sun came up and made it to camp around noon. I parked in the dirt lot and hiked to the camp proper, balancing my luggage the best I could. I had to stop several times to adjust my grip or just to rest, but I finally made it, a little sweaty, but otherwise intact. A perky counselor a few years older than me took my name and directed me in the direction of cabin four.

This camp catered to high school aged teens from fourteen to eighteen. Campers were segregated by age in each cabin so I knew that everyone in cabin four would be sixteen like me. I struggled up the short flight of stairs to the door, but luckily a girl inside saw me coming and rushed to help me carry my things inside.

"Hi! I'm Daisy." She was a tiny thing, blonde and pretty, but she barely came up to my chin.

"Hi." I tried to remember that I was going to be a different me here. A bolder me who was used to being the center of attention. Still, my voice cracked when I said, "I'm Julia."

"Do you want to share a bunk with me? If not there are a few that are still open." Her smile was open. She did seem like a nice girl.

"Sure. Are you on top or bottom?" She led the way to a bunk at the rear of the room.

The cabin was long and filled with a double row of bunk beds that were pushed against short sections of walls between screened windows. There wasn't glass in any of the windows, but there were thick oil cloth curtains that could be rolled down and tied to hooks at the bottom. The entire interior was built with the same unpainted wooden planks that the exterior was built with. The effect was rustic and, to my mind, exciting.

"I have the top, but I'll trade if you want it."

"No, the bottom is fine with me." My smile felt genuine for the first time since David dumped me. I hadn't even been here for ten minutes and I was already making friends.

She showed me the row of lockers where we could store our things and then offered to give me a tour of the grounds since this was her third summer at camp.

I struggled to keep everything straight in my mind as she showed me the shower facilities, mess hall, rec center where you could check out all sorts of outdoor sporting equipment and other key landmarks. We were on our way to the lake when a male voice called to Daisy.

"Hey, Daisy, glad to see you made it back."

We turned around and saw a group of cute boys. They were all bare-chested and wearing swim trunks and flip flops. They were all good looking, but the one who greeted Daisy was breath taking. His chest was chiseled perfection with a light dusting of blond hair, but it was his face that made me bite my lip. Green eyes, full lips, and long white-blond surfer hair. He even wore a shell necklace. He was also the only boy who was significantly taller than me.

"Hi, guys."

I watched the way Daisy interacted with them. She was wearing a short, form-fitting sun dress and a pair of dainty strappy sandals. Her hair was twisted carelessly and clipped in a fun up-do. I felt like a hippo next to her in a pair of denim shorts that fell just above my knees and a baggy t shirt. And the hour I'd spent on curling my hair into pretty ringlets? I sighed.

"So who's your friend?" One of the boys asked.

"This is Julia." She pointed out the boys one by one. "And this is Ormond, Zach, and Mark." The cute one was Mark.

We all headed to the lake together. Daisy flirted effortlessly with them as they did silly things to impress her. I couldn't quite bring myself to start any conversations, but I was proud of myself for being able to answer their questions with humor. I wasn't ready to think of myself as a social butterfly yet, but I was willing to bet that none of them could guess at my desperate insecurity. That wasn't who Julia-at-camp was. Julia-at-camp was pretty and about to become a lot sexier.

We left the boys at the lake and when Mark said to me, "Hope I see you around." I wanted to squeal.

I kept it cool until we were well on the path back to the camp proper. "Oh my gosh, Mark is the cutest guy I've ever seen."

Daisy sighed. "I know. I've been coming to camp with him for years and he still hasn't gotten the hint that I'd like to see him naked."

I knew I was blushing, but I was exhilarated. Having a friend was wonderful. "Do you want to go shopping with me? I drove my car here and my clothes aren't going to work."

"You were supposed to turn in your keys when you checked in."

I shrugged. "I guess the counselor forgot to ask."

"Do I get to help pick out the clothes?"

"Sure."

She clapped her hands. "Yay!"

Daisy directed me to the nearest town with a mall she deemed adequate. We spent the next three hours shopping and I bought enough clothes to replace everything I'd brought with me. I bought a couple of things for Daisy too. We decided to head back instead of eating out because, Daisy assured me, meal times were the prime times to socialize with everyone at once.

Camp was pretty unstructured. The only scheduled events were meal times, wake up, and lights out. The rest of the day you were free to do whatever kinds of activities you wanted. There were lessons every hour that you could join and you were always free to do things on your own. If you left camp to go hiking, you had to sign out and then sign back in, you had to return before dark, and you couldn't go alone. And, of course, as Daisy pointed out, you weren't supposed to leave camp by car.

Every evening once the sun set there were different group activities planned. Usually a bon fire, but there were also dances, movies, and a talent show to look forward to. Daisy explained that relationships that formed during the summer tended to burn hotter than ones back home because you were free to spend literally every waking hour together.

The literature stressed that it was a camp for kids who could be trusted to be responsible for their own choices. Sexual conduct was discouraged, but those choices were ultimately left up to each camper to decide for themselves. There were condoms provided in a no questions asked environment and tomorrow on the first full day of camp there would be an orientation that covered the camp policies as well as an extensive safe sex lecture. I didn't plan on having sex while I was there, but I also wasn't going to rule it out.

We went back to our cabin and I switched out my clothes in my locker and shoved the old ones under the bed. I slipped on a lightweight dress that hugged my curves in a way that would have normally made me feel embarrassed and exposed, but Daisy assured me it looked amazing on me. She showed me how to twist my long hair into a simple French knot. I finally felt like I belonged somewhere now that I looked like all the other girls milling around our cabin.

We went to dinner together and sat at a round table alone. "I know a lot of people here, but trust me, it's better to do it this way and see who turns up."

I looked around the huge mess hall and saw that it seemed to be filled with girls sitting in groups of two to four at other tables. Within the next ten minutes guys started to trickle in and they were in their own small groups. They got their food and started sitting among the girls. There were tables filled with only girls and only boys, but they all seemed to be either incredibly awkward or younger.

Daisy and I were talking about different activities we'd like to try during the summer when the rest of the seats at our table filled up. We were surrounded by six boys and I was delighted to see that Mark was one of them. Zach was there too, but I didn't know the other four. We did a quick round of introductions and the boys started talking in the loud way that they do.

Mark sat across from us and while Daisy spared him several friendly smiles, she seemed to be even more occupied by the two boys that sat between them. When he whispered in the ear of the boy sitting next to me and they traded places, I almost chocked on the piece of broccoli I was chewing. The boy who had formerly sat next to me gave me a lingering look before getting involved in the passionate sports debate with the other guys that'd he'd been engaged in since they sat down.

"I thought it'd be nice to learn a little bit more about you. This is your first year, right?" Mark's smile was lopsided and infectious.

"Yeah, I've never been to any kind of camp before. I thought this place sounded awesome though, so here I am."

We chatted for the rest of dinner and then Mark asked me if I'd like to sit with him at the bonfire afterwards. I shot a look at Daisy to see if she minded and saw that she didn't look happy. I raised my eyebrows and she nodded and made a pushing gesture with her hands that I took to mean "hurry up and say yes, already" so I hurried up and said yes.

As we were getting ready for bed later I asked Daisy if she minded and she said, "Oh hon, I wish I could have something with Mark, but I think we're destined to always be just friends. It'd be nice if one of us had a shot with him."

Our days took on a relaxing rhythm that first week. We'd wake up to the obnoxious sound of bugles blasting Reveille over the PA system at 6 am. There was an hour between wake up and breakfast which we could use however we wanted. Some girls rolled over and went back to sleep, others spent the time preening, but Daisy and I slipped into gym clothes and went to a morning yoga class together. We had just enough time for a quick shower before breakfast.

We took a class or two in the mornings where Daisy would pay more attention to the boys flirting with her than the instructor, while I became proficient in different skills. And then after lunch we'd always end up at the lake where we'd swim and sunbathe with some of Daisy's other friends until dinner. Mark joined us almost every night with a group of his friends and Daisy started to get especially friendly with his friend, Simon.

The second week, Mark started asking me where we planned to be the next day and more often than not would show up at the classes with Simon. They even managed to coax us away from our group of girls to use the jet skis, boats, and canoes. It took some convincing to get Daisy to agree. She wasn't a very strong swimmer and being out in the middle of the lake made her nervous. Eventually Mark and Simon managed to charm her and it wasn't long before we became an inseparable foursome. And Mark asked me if I'd consider dating him exclusively.

Our first kiss was the most romantic moment of my life. It was on the night of the first dance of the summer. We'd spent the evening dancing together and talking, but there was a tension between us that made me feel like I was constantly trying to swallow past a lump in my throat. He asked me if I'd like to take a walk across the grounds with him. I was having a great time, but the crush of bodies was exhausting.

We walked for a while, holding hands and not talking much. He pulled me into the shadow cast by a tree and backed me up against it. He playfully held my hands above my head and then leaned in and kissed me. I pulled my hands away from him and wrapped them around his neck and kissed him back.

It was a point of no return. I think I knew on some level that sex was inevitable. I felt something on a physical level that I had never felt for David and I wanted to explore it. We started sneaking kisses at every opportunity. We became experts at sneaking out after lights out.

Officially, nobody was supposed to leave their cabins after lights out, but in reality, nobody ever checked the cabins after a perfunctory bed check and the bolder kids and those most ruled by hormones were always sneaking out, Daisy and I among them. She and I would walk together to the edge of the woods and then go off with our boyfriends in different directions.

It wasn't long before Mark and I took things to the next level. Although the sex was different from how things went with David where I was used to having sex in the comfortable beds of our rooms, it was infinitely more exciting. There was something arousing about frenzied sex on a threadbare camp blanket in the middle of the woods. The fact that other couples were all around us only added to my excitement. We could be caught at any second. It was thrilling.

Daisy was on the money when she said summer romances burned hot. Mark and I started spending every minute together we possibly could. For the first time I could see a future for myself outside of Desire. I could go to college with Mark and we could get married and live like normal people do in the outside world. When he looked at me, it wasn't with pity at my low station. His eyes shone with admiration and love and he told me frequently that he couldn't believe how lucky he was to have caught my attention.

It was during the last week of camp that I got food poisoning. Evidently the fish they served us at dinner was bad and I and a lot of other kids got sick. I spent the next two days throwing up in a basin next to my bed and sleeping uneasily. Daisy apologized, but explained that she couldn't be around me while I was sick or else she'd end up vomiting too.

I made my recovery and felt desperate to see Mark. He hadn't even sent me a note while I was sick. I worried that it grossed him out too much and when I finally did see him, he seemed strangely distant, although he said the right things and was as physically affectionate as ever. If I hadn't been burned by David, I probably would have even been looking for it, but as it was, I became paranoid and was rewarded by intercepting several covert looks between him and Daisy.

I asked him before lights out where he wanted to meet for our nightly rendezvous, but he made lame excuses about needing to be there for Simon who was still sleeping off the effects of his own bout with food poisoning.

Things seemed a little strained with Daisy as we brushed our teeth and got ready for bed check. I didn't mention anything, but when she dropped to the floor beside our bunk and started sliding into her easy-to-remove clothes that were our nightly uniform, I asked her where she was going.

"Oh," she said casually, "I'm meeting with Simon, of course. Where else would I go?"

If I wasn't already suspicious, her brittle laughter would have convinced me something was up. But again, I said nothing. Instead, I left the cabin moments after she did and followed her.

I wasn't worried about her seeing me. I was from a town of witches where every woman has a unique Talent. Mine was being able to turn invisible. Anything I was holding or wearing turned with me. The only sign I was around was the footprints I left, but nobody ever thinks to check the ground when they think they are being followed.

She drifted quietly through the dark trees to the lake where she started to remove her clothes under the cover of the willow trees. She slid into the water with hardly a splash and swam out past the point she could reach and started to tread water.

Not even a minute later a shadowy figure arrived and started taking off his clothes. I wasn't surprised at all to hear Mark's voice call out a soft hello. He rushed into the water, but he didn't make any efforts to be quiet. I went ahead and took off my clothes too under a different tree and swam behind through his wake, although I seriously doubted either one of them would have noticed if I'd joined them completely visible.

"Did she suspect anything?" he asked.

"No, I told her that I was going to meet Simon."

Mark frowned. "I told her he was still sick and I was going to hang out with him tonight."

Daisy shrugged. "Well, tell her that he felt better and left you there, but since you already blew her off, you just went to sleep."

"Yeah, that'll probably work."

"What are you going to tell her for the next couple of nights? I've had a crush on you for ages and now that we've finally hooked up, I want to make the most of it."

Mark shook his head. "I have no idea. I like her a lot, but you're so damn sexy. I wish you would have come up to me the first summer like you did the other day. We could have been doing this for years now."

She swam up to him and they started to kiss. They somehow managed to kiss and swim until they could reach bottom. At that point, it was easy to see that things had progressed past kissing.

I stood there, not even a yard from where they made love, fuming. When David cheated on me, at least I didn't have to see it or listen to him plotting behind my back. Pacing was out of the question in these circumstances. All I could do was stand there, clenching my fists and grinding my teeth for what felt like forever. Finally, mercifully, it ended.

Daisy gave him a final kiss and then swam back out to the deeper water. Mark started goofing off and doing handstands underwater, careless of his nudity. Perhaps flashing his private parts was his intention. It infuriated me even more...the idea of them laughing and playing while they assumed I was sleeping alone in my cabin without a clue of what they were up to.

I don't remember there being a conscious thought about what I was about to do next. There was just a hazy blank between standing there fuming and then grabbing Daisy by her ankle and pulling her underwater. She tried to struggle, but I was bigger and stronger. I wrapped my legs around her and wrapped my arms around a massive rock. Because I wasn't struggling or winded from having vigorous sex, she ran out of air long before I did. I continued to hold her until my lungs ached.

To be sure that she wouldn't pop up and ruin the next part of my revenge, I dug a hole in the muck underneath the rock I'd used to hold us under and shoved her leg as far into it as I could manage, then I packed mud around it. It probably wouldn't hold very long, but I hoped it would last long enough.

I shot to the surface and took a great gasping breath of air. Mark was still playing in the shallows. I thought about what I should do with him. Drowning him wouldn't be easy. In a face-off between us, he was the bigger and stronger of us. I gulped air and dove to the bottom of the lake again. I was scouring the bottom with my hands when something wrapped around my arm. I almost inhaled water until I realized it was just Daisy's hair floating around like kelp down there. I found what I was looking for and surfaced.

This time I splashed loudly enough to get Mark's attention. I gasped loudly and made helpless mewling sounds. I wanted to convey my urgency without giving away my identity. It took him long enough to pay attention that I could have easily drowned for real if I actually needed his aid, but eventually he came to rescue his damsel in distress.

When I was sure he was coming, I stopped thrashing and hoped that since he couldn't see me, he'd assume that I was under the surface of the water.

My plan worked flawlessly. He started diving only to resurface empty handed. He was shouting for Daisy, but we were far enough away from camp that I didn't worry that anyone would hear him.

I let him expend his energy while I treaded water calmly. I saw that he was started to flag and I steeled myself to act. I let him attempt another rescue and when he resurfaced, I smashed the rock I brought up from the bottom of the lake into his skull.

I must have let my invisibility drop when I attacked because he looked at me, confused.

"Julia? What are you doing?"

"You lied to me. I loved you and you lied to me. She was supposed to be my friend. You were supposed to be my friend!" I struck him again for emphasis and then hit him again.

By now his entire face was covered with gushing blood and his head had a distinct dent in it. His eyes rolled back behind his eyelids until only the whites showed. I dropped my rock and hauled him under the water. He didn't resist as I held him until I couldn't hold my own break anymore.

When I was sure he was dead, I let him go. I didn't try to hide his body or disguise the scene of my crime. I was sure that there wouldn't be any evidence of my part in their murders and nobody could possibly have seen me.

I got dressed and slipped back into cabin 4. I thought that maybe I wouldn't be able to sleep, but it turned out not to be a problem at all.

The next morning I pretended to be concerned that Daisy was missing and reported her absence to the admin. They organized a camp wide search for her and Mark when Simon reported that he was also missing. Activities were suspended while they sorted things out.

Campers weren't sure what to do so everyone milled around. Simon asked me, in what I suppose was supposed to pass for a casual tone of voice, if I thought it was weird that those two were gone. I told him I was sure it was nothing. I knew that Mark loved me and Daisy was crazy about him.

The details were never publicly released, but my best guess is that they found Mark floating on the surface of the lake. It must have taken a lot longer to locate Daisy. They probably had to bring in divers. They called everyone's parents and camp ended that very day.

I'm not sure how the deaths of two campers affected their business because I never went back. That summer taught me a lot about myself. My relationships with Mark and Daisy showed me that I was a person worthy of love and respect, but it also taught me that people lie and cheat even when they say they love you.

I drove back to Desire with a new sense of confidence. I realized that being invisible in all possible ways wasn't a burden, but a blessing. Nobody would ever suspect I was a threat until it was too late and now I knew how I could handle those people who would try to hurt me. I decided that I didn't want to leave Desire after all. I was going to dispense justice.

I became friends with Marla Madison when she started dating my cousin, Jack. And when she came to me in tears when he cheated on her with her sister, I started to plan my revenge. For some reason she was able to forgive Jack for his role in the affair, but I wanted to make sure that Vanna got what she deserved. Unfortunately, I could never get her alone and one day she and her mother and her bastard daughter disappeared from town.

I was disappointed, but I settled in for a long wait. I knew that someday they'd return. Desire has a way of calling women home whether they like it or not. They'd be back and I'd be waiting.

The End

About Wren Emerson...

Wren Emerson was born on the mean streets of small town Kansas 30*mumble* years ago. She first put pen to paper at the tender age of 12 and wrote an epicly awful story. She then became publisher and editor in chief of a family newspaper which included articles written by indentured servants/siblings. It got rave reviews from all 8 members of her family.

Now in adulthood, Wren still enjoys bossing people around so she became overlord to a small army of minions; her true love, kids, a cat, and a dog. When she's not plotting to form a dictatorship she writes. When she's not writing, she plays video games, reads books, practices her iphoneography skills, and spends way too much time hanging out in #pubwrite on Twitter.

You can learn more about Wren at www.wrenemerson.com

Tunnel of Love (or Heartbreak)

By

Amy Maurer Jones

Dedicated to my BRATS (brilliant, remarkable, artistically talented students)

Liv's backyard  
June 2015

"Jedd, Shy is dangerous! He killed two of our classmates and kidnapped a little girl! Why are you being so stubborn about this?" I demanded an explanation for his pigheadedness. He was being impossible.

"Don't you think you're being a little overly dramatic, Liv? I just want to help." he rolled his eyes at me.

He's always so passive when it comes to his own safety.

"Getting yourself killed isn't going to help anyone!" I think I'm about to have and aneurism.

"There you go again..." More eye rolling, a flip of his hand, dismiss, dismiss, dismiss...

"You think this is so simple..." I can't believe his attitude. "OK Mr. 'I know it all,' please enlighten me! Please explain to me exactly how I am over reacting to your desire to hunt down a soul sucking Daeva?"

I was fuming now. This better be good.

He shrugged first to enunciate his point. What a jerk! "I am more of an asset to you than I am a liability." I was about to say, 'so what stupid' but he held up the palm of his hand in objection. I hate how he can read me so well. "You said you were going to be traveling underground with the Gnomes." He just stared at me. "...right?" he prompted me further. I nodded in agreement. "OK, so what is the big deal? I'll be under the ground. The mother Earth suffocates and kills Daevas. Do you think Shy is going to come looking for me under the ground?" He had a superior look on his face that I was tempted to smack off, but he did have a point. As much as a hated to admit it... I gestured for him to continue. His Cheshire Cat grin widened. "If my life or my soul is ever in danger I'll just burrow down into the bunny hole. See? It's no big deal. Meanwhile you'll have an extra Spiriter on duty. I can see masks and feel allures just as well as you and your Gnomes can." He was positively proud of himself... and so darn cute! Gaaah! Life is so unfair.

"Fine..." I caved. I'm such a sucker for his steely blues and gleaming grin. "Meet me in Gaea's meadow early tomorrow morning at six o'clock sharp."

"Six o'clock in the morning?" he uttered in disbelief.

"Do you want to go or not?" I challenged.

He straightened his posture abruptly and nodded a salute. It took everything in me not to roll my eyes this time.

"See you in the morning." He smiled, warming my heart again. He could be every bit as sweet as he could be infuriating.

"Six o'clock." I reemphasized.

This was not the time to go weak in the knees over a boy. There is a Daeva on the loose for crying out loud. He didn't cooperate with my efforts. His eyes remained playful and his smile endearing.

"On the dot," he chuckled and with a quick wink he turned and headed for home.

The next morning...

"Six o'clock on the dot, just as promised." Jedd beamed as he stepped through the misty trees that outlined Gaea's meadow.

Gaea is the Oracle of Life. She's an Elder Guardian Spirit that chose the form of a grand old Oak tree after her human charge passed on to the Spirit World. Her son, Beau is my mentor, my Guardian Spirit. Jedd and Beau don't like each other very much.

"He's pretty cute. I can see why my Beau is so jealous." Gaea whispered to me as Jedd approached.

I shushed her and her branches wriggled in laughter. Everyone is a comedian...

"You really don't have to do this Jedd."

He can't say I didn't offer him a way out when the Gnome's tunnels leave him feeling filthy and claustrophobic.

"No way Liv, I'm not going to bail. Forget it!"

He was being thoroughly pigheaded again, even at this early hour. He wasn't going to change his mind so I suppose I should just accept it. I sighed.

"Fine, this way."

I moaned and groaned under my breath as we silently trudged off toward the forest line. He kept looking at me out of the corner of his eye but he didn't speak. He was probably worried I would change my mind about allowing him to join me on the quest. After several minutes of stepping over tree knots and ducking under leafy green limbs we came to a ledge in the forest floor. It wasn't a significant drop but would still require a careful decent. At the bottom of the decline rushed a stream of crystal clear water.

"We're meeting Gert and the others on the opposite side of the stream." I informed Jedd.

"Gert? What kind of a name is Gert?" he asked incredulously.

I pretended not to hear him. If he thinks Gert's name is odd just wait until he sees his caution sign orange glowing hair. Jedd followed me down the embankment. As it turns out I was more in need of assistance than he was. I slipped on three different occasions and he caught my fall each time. Each steadying hand was accompanied by a gloating superior smile.

"Oh fine, so you can walk more stealthily through the woods than I can, big deal!" I complained.

He laughed at me, but his smile transformed from cocky to adoring. After we crossed the stream I tried to feel for the Gnome's allures. Jedd picked up on what I was doing and joined in my search. After a few minutes we caught their signal.

"This way..." Jedd nodded beyond a large boulder in the brush.

He scaled the humongous chunk of rock in about the same time it took me to walk around it.

"You can quit showing off," I teased.

"You know you like it," he flirted back, wagging his eyebrows at me.

Uhg! He's just too cute. OK, time to snap out of it. It's show time. I began stomping on the ground to let the Gnomes know our exact location. Jedd watched me skeptically.

"What?"

What was his problem now?

"You're like this demi–God, super ninja Spirit girl and the best you can do to summon your Gnomes is stomp on the ground?"

He was making fun of me... and I loved it. To Jedd I would always be his best friend Liv. No more, no less. I gave in and shared a laugh with him. It felt nice to be plain old Liv and Jedd for a brief moment. He accompanied me in my Gnome stomping dance and it felt like we were back in the third grade again trying to pack the dirt down where we had buried our most recent treasure. Unfortunately, the trip down memory lane was short lived. Before I knew it, chunks of dirt came flying up into the air followed by a clan of Gnomes with Crayola coded hair coloring. Jedd stared at their tiny, stodgy looking, little figures in amazement.

"Ha! They look just like those little naked troll dolls you can fasten on your key chain or insert on the top of your pencil... except they're wearing clothes..." he babbled.

He continued to chuckle in amusement. I could tell his fascination with them was innocent but I wasn't sure the Gnomes would appreciate his behavior so I elbowed him in the ribs. The Gnomes merely looked confused momentarily before returning their expectant gaze to me.

"Jedd, this is Gert, Nort, Runt, Mo and Snert." I pointed to each Gnome as I spoke his name. Jedd nodded to each of them and they grunted their return. "Gert, what news do you have for me? Were you able to make contact with any of the Gnome clans in the south or out west?" I asked Gert because he is the Master of the eastern clan.

"Grrnt, yes, there have been sightings of your Daeva in both areas. Grrnt, here is a list of the most likely cities to find him." Gert handed me a piece of paper.

The hand written list read:

Memphis

Tulsa

Pittsburg

Las Vegas

Cincinnati

Nashville

Albuquerque

"OK, so what's next?" Jedd wondered.

"We'll need to plot out a course of destination. You know, map out a travel route." I answered and Jedd pulled a map of the United States out of his back pack. I shook my head. "We'll require a different type of map, a map of the Gnome's underground tunnels."

Just as I finished my sentence, Nort fished just such a map out of his pocket. He unfolded it and spread it out an adjacent smaller rock next to the boulder Jedd climbed over minutes before. This time Jedd pulled a red Sharpie pen out of his bag and handed it to Gert. Good job, Jedd. He's such a quick learner. Appreciative of Jedd's gesture, Gert took the pen immediately and circled the listed cities on the tunnel map. Then he began to number them in order of priority for the journey; Pittsburgh, Cincinnati, Nashville, Memphis, Tulsa, Albuquerque, and finally Las Vegas. The order may have varied slightly had we been preparing to travel above ground but tunnel travel was different. There were short cuts and a general lack of obstacles. We wouldn't have to climb mountains or cross rivers. It would be a straight shot from one city to the next which would seriously decrease the distance.

"Whoa, you mean we can travel on foot to Pittsburgh, Cincinnati and Nashville in just two days? That's crazy awesome!" Jedd breathed in honest impression.

The Gnomes were delighted by Jedd's enthusiasm and fascination with their tunnels. Jedd asked them all kinds of questions.

"How did you create the tunnels and how long have they been here?" Jedd bantered excitedly.

"Grrnt, we dug them many, many years ago." Nort answered as he dug his fingers into his scalp of red fuzzy hair to scratch his head. "Grrnt, it is hard to say how long they have been here... many millennia no doubt."

Jedd's eyes widened.

"Well, how can you tell where it would be safe to dig or not to dig?" Jedd persisted.

This time Mo, the purple headed Gnome, answered. "Grrnt, we use our nature charms to sense water, lava or anything that may endanger us."

"Wow, but how do you navigate? A compass won't work under the ground." Jedd was unstoppable but the Gnomes seemed to enjoy his curiosity.

"Grrnt, you could say we possess our own version of charmed GPS." Gert laughed and the rest of the Gnomes and Jedd joined in.

Male bonding? Go figure...

The journey...

Our first stop on our journey was Pittsburgh, PA. This bustling city would be the perfect place for a Daeva to hide. Home to the Steelers, Pirates and Penguins, this historically known, industrial driven, steel and glass town is a sports fan's dream spot. People come from all over to cheer on their favorite team. They could easily be lost or misplaced in the festivities and conveniently tossed into the Allegheny River after their souls have been consumed. Jedd and I planted ourselves on a riverside park bench and scoured the newspapers for traces of Shy. There were literally dozens of papers to choose from; Arts and Entertainment, Sports, Business, African American, and half a dozen university press pages. We decided to sift through the more traditional newspapers dedicated predominantly to the local, regional and national news. Jedd was flipping through the Pittsburgh Post – Gazette and the Pittsburgh Tribune – Review while I paged through the Pittsburgh City Paper and The South Pittsburgh Reporter.

"We've got a Jane Doe listed in the local section of the Pittsburgh Tribune - Review. It says they pulled the body from the Allegheny last Wednesday." Jedd raised an eyebrow in suspicion.

"Yeah, that certainly sounds like Shy's signature work. Where is the body now?"

I had to ask. We were going to have to investigate the remains.

"It's at the University of Pittsburgh Medical Center."

Jedd looked doubtful about our ability to successfully break into a university hospital morgue. I sympathized.

"Look at this." Something caught my attention as I flipped the page. "Alley Cat Killings Taper Off." I read the name of the article aloud.

"Vagrants..." Jedd peered over my shoulder to get a better look at the article. "It would seem the Alley Cat Killer was on a murderous spree for a few days and then suddenly quit." Jedd's suspicious eye brow returned. "The killings stopped just about the same time the Allegheny began surfacing corpses."

Jedd was echoing my exact thoughts.

"This was no Alley Cat Killer... this was a Daeva." I looked at Jedd and the concern in his steely blues showed me he'd come to the same conclusion. "Let's make a visit to the morgue." I added reluctantly.

Jedd nodded his dread.

The University of Pittsburgh Medical Center...

"This place is huge!" Jedd repeated my thoughts as we stepped inside of the large hospital.

"Well, lucky for us, hospital morgues are always in the basement. Let's find an elevator." I said and we trudged off into the nooks and crannies of the medical center.

After a few short minutes we spotted an orderly pushing an empty cart intended for soiled laundry. It was just rounding the corner.

"That way," Jedd insisted. "The cart had clean sheets and supplies on it. They keep all of that kind of stuff in the basement."

We whisked ourselves around the corner and at the end of the hallway an elevator awaited us. Before I knew it we were on the elevator pressing the button that would take us to the basement.

"That was easy enough." Jedd grinned with pride.

Then the elevator beeped and dictated a digital message requesting a clearance code.

"You were saying..." I laughed. Jedd's shoulders slumped forward. "OK, plan B. All multiple level buildings have stairways to satisfy fire code mandates. What do you say we take the elevator down as far as we can, get off and try to find the stairwell?" I suggested.

"It's something... why not?"

Jedd pressed the button to the first floor, the elevator doors closed and we began our decent.

"The stairwell has got to be somewhere close by," Jedd said as the elevator doors slid open and we made our way out into the abandoned lobby. "Here... but the door requires a code. Damn!"

Just as Jedd spotted the stairwell I spied a supply closet which was momentarily void of orderlies.

"I've got an idea."

I grabbed Jedd by the elbow and pulled him into the supply closet and shut the door behind us.

"Liv, do you really think this is the time for a make - out session?" Jedd teased.

"Keep dreaming..." I pretended to be annoyed by the thought of a make – out session with Jedd but I know my cheeks were flushed scarlet. Jedd's rush of muffled giggles clarified my fears. I pulled a set of scrubs off the shelf and handed them to him. "Put these on. We are now officially hospital orderlies on laundry duty to the morgue."

After I put on my scrubs I grabbed a large stack of crisp, white linens and shoved them into Jedd's arms. Next, I grabbed a pile for myself and toted Jedd out of the supply closet before temptation overwhelmed me. This was no time to be over powered by my own hormones.

"Now what? The door is still locked," Jedd complained in frustration.

"Have a little faith. I bet we won't wait five minutes before someone comes out of that door. Hospitals are crazy busy..."

The door to the stairwell flew open as I was in mid \- sentence. I winked at Jedd and this time he blushed. Huh, how about that?

"You two! Are you taking those sheets down to the morgue?" shouted a pair of tired and frustrated, assuming eyes.

Jedd's eyes looked as if they would pop out of his eye sockets as the forty – something female orderly looked us over.

"He's new..." I explained and elbowed Jedd in the ribs.

"Oh... uh... uhm, yes mam..." Jedd staggered over his words.

I'm sure the orderly thought he was an idiot.

"Well, hurry along! They need more sheets!" She chided us as she held the stairwell door open for us to enter.

Without another word we darted down the stairwell.

"How lucky was that?" Jedd breathed.

"Ye have little faith." I smiled.

Jedd rolled his eyes.

The relaxed and triumphant moment was over when I came to a door labeled with a silver plate inscribed with the word, morgue.

"Here goes nothing." Jedd barely whispered as we entered the expansively cold and sterile room.

Silver metal tables scattered the floor and white ceramic counter tops and wooden cabinets lined three of the four walls. The fourth wall was floor to ceiling, sparkling steel. What looked like over sized file cabinet drawers dotted the surface. I looked to Jedd and gestured toward the temporary caskets.

"Start feeling for dark allures... Spiriter." I instructed Jedd dryly.

"Shell... far left corner... third drawer from the bottom." Jedd spoke solemnly.

"You can sense their energy from all the way over here?"

We hadn't even begun to cross the room yet. He is really gifted. I stared at him for a long moment. Eventually, he just shrugged. He didn't like this part of his gift any more than I did. We made our way to the body in question, opened the drawer and pulled back the sheet. Sure enough we were looking at a naked pair of female feet with a tag tied around one big toe. It read, Jane Doe in careful cursive script. We were about to replace the sheet and close the drawer when a strange squeaking sound startled us.

"Grrnt, sorry to alarm you two..." It was Gert's voice echoing from below.

I looked down and spied a glowing drain grate. The grate magically lifted away from the floor and lowered itself to the side of the opening. In a flash Gert, Nort, Runt, Mo and Snert popped into view.

"Grrnt, your Daeva's been here, alright. Grrnt, he's left shells scattered up and down the water's edge of the Allegheny. Grrnt, it's only a matter of time before they surface on the embankment." Gert explained.

"One already has." I said and Jedd gestured toward poor Jane Doe.

Gert and his brothers bowed their heads in a moment of silence before Gert continued his report.

"Grrnt, the Gnomes in the Allegheny area do not believe the Daeva is still here. Grrnt, they believe he is gone." Gert began.

"Why? I mean, what makes them suspect he is gone?" Jedd questioned.

He didn't believe Shy was still here, nor did I. The newspaper story about the Alley Cat Killer flashed into memory.

"Grrnt, the dark allures are weakened and the physical bodies of the shells are three to four days expired." This time Nort chimed in.

"That's kind of what we were thinking." I nodded feeling defeated.

Jedd pulled the folded newspaper article from his pocket and handed it to Gert. The Gnomes curved their heads around the document for a brief moment before looking at each other and scowling. Gert handed the paper back to Jedd.

"Grrnt, this is your Daeva." Gert reemphasized.

Gert cocked his head to the side oddly and quickly just as we heard voices and laughter in the hallway. Before I could panic the Gnomes magically vanished down the drain, the grate was replaced, the sheet was spread over the victim and the drawer was securely closed... and Jedd and I were standing at the opposite side of the room in front of an open linen cabinet restocking the clean white folded sheets. In the same instant the orderly woman from the stairwell entered the room.

"Very good! Now, we need towels on the third floor," she barked at us.

Jedd and I closed the cabinet door and sped out of the room. When we finally reemerged in the elevator lobby on the first floor I took a deep breath and relaxed.

"Whoa, that was so cool! Can I take Gert to school with me when I forget to do my home work? I bet I could fit him in my duffel bag..." Jedd said half joking, half serious.

We yanked off the scrubs we had layered ourselves with earlier, nearly tripping over them as we darted for the exit. We must have looked like two mental patients fleeing the psyche ward with tear streaked faces accompanied by hysterical bursts of laughter. We hadn't yet decided if we should be relieved or terrified.

The evidence...

The evidence in Cincinnati and Nashville proved to be much the same as Pittsburgh. It had been two days since Jedd and I had any sleep so I decided we should honker down in the tunnels for some shut eye before moving on to Memphis. The Gnomes adapted their plans as well. They decided they would push forward and scout out as many of the remaining cities as possible. It was decided that if they turned up any significant leads or evidence of Shy's presence in any given city we would return to the place in question together after Jedd and I were fully rested.

"This reminds me of when we used to put up a tent in your backyard and camp out for the night when we were kids."

Jedd smiled at me from the other side of the narrow tunnel. We were nestled in our sleeping bags with only a dim flashlight to illuminate the space between us.

"Sleeping in a dark, musty and dank hole in the ground reminds you of our camping adventures from when we were little?" I asked with chagrin.

Jedd laughed nervously. "Well, sort of... you look a lot different now. You're much... taller."

Taller... he was going to say something else and changed his mind, but what?

"Jedd, why are you here? Why do you want to be a part of this? Don't get me wrong. I think it's a noble gesture, but I don't understand why you want to take responsibility for something that isn't your problem."

I had to be very careful how I worded my questions. Jedd is very sensitive to this topic and I didn't want to have a fight with him. I just wanted to understand his part in this.

"I'm not being noble, that's for sure. I'm being entirely selfish." He whispered so low I could barely hear him. I waited for him to continue, his words confused me. "This is my problem, Liv! Can't you see that?" he pleaded with me to understand. I didn't. "It's you! It's about you..." he exploded in frustration. Then he rolled over and turned his back to me. "I want to help you. I want to know that you're safe. Is that so hard to understand?" His voice was meek and shallow again.

Several moments of silence passed and I didn't know what to say. So, I just whispered, "Thanks Jedd." How lame...

He turned his face toward mine and very wryly smiled, "You're welcome..." and we both laughed and fell into slumber land.

Rise and shine...

It felt like I'd only been sleeping for minutes when I felt Gert's short stubby fingers jostling my shoulder. I forced my eyes open to take a peek at my watch. It was two o' clock in the morning. Jedd and I had been asleep for nearly six hours in the tunnels below Memphis, TN.

"What? What's going on?" I heard Jedd mutter in a sleepy voice.

Nort and Mo were attempting to pull him out of his slumber.

"Grrnt! The Daeva! Grrnt! It's the Daeva!" Gert ranted.

"What about Shy? Where is he Gert?"

My mind was crystal clear and my sleepy demeanor vanished as I pulled myself out of my sleeping bag and pushed myself up off of the dirty ground.

"Grrnt... he's right above us! Your Daeva has made himself a pack of Aengels and they're terrorizing the streets of Memphis right now!" Gert snarled. "Grrnt, we must go and kill the Daeva... now!" he ordered.

With his last commandment we were bound above the ground into the dark wee morning hours of an empty street in sleeping Memphis.

As we rounded the corner of an abandoned warehouse, Shy's most popular choice of location for dining, we heard canons of shrill human screams in the distance. They were feeding and we had no time to waste. Tiny Gert strapped a cumbersome Jedd, the only human in our convoy, onto his miniature shoulders and we flashed across the pavement at lightning speed. I thought for sure this would rattle Jedd, but he wasn't the least bit fazed.

Nort and Snert kicked in the windows, shattering the glass into itty bitty fragments and alerting Shy and his minions of our arrival. Shy's eyes grew wide and then narrowed again in hatred. Shy dropped the human shell whose soul he had just devoured and stepped toward us.

"Would you like to join us for dinner?" Shy smiled directly at me.

What a pompous ass! His body was radiating with the energy from the human he had just sucked the life out of.

"Sorry to crash your party, Shy... but it's time for you to die!" I screamed and plunged toward him with my blaze at the ready.

My rage was all consuming. It is one thing to observe an empty shell, void of a soul, and entirely another to witness a soul being stolen and consumed by a monster. Just that quick, all hell broke loose. The only saving grace, in their distraction, the Aengels managed to allow the remaining humans to escape. Shy and I stood face to face while Jedd, the Gnomes, and the Aengels paired up for battle. Whoa... what? Jedd! Jedd isn't supposed to be part of this equation. In my momentary distraction Shy lunged for me but I quickly dodged his blow. I swung the blade as hard as I could, targeting his heart, but he feinted out of the way at the last second. While Shy recollected himself I scanned the run down space for Jedd and spied him near the corner of the room defending himself against two Aengels.

"Gert!" I screamed bloody murder. "Help Jedd, now!"

Gert opened a fault line in the old concrete floor and the mother Earth sucked the demonic soul into her belly. In a flash, Gert darted to Jedd's side. I had to admit Jedd was defending himself quite well. He had taken the blaze I had given him, intended solely for defensive purposes only, and was skillfully skinning Aengels into dust. Just as Jedd killed one Aengel another would thrust itself toward him. Gert was doing his best to dodge the demons away from Jedd, but as soon as he would take one down another would counter the attack. Geesh, how many were there, nine... ten?

Meanwhile, Shy was back in the game. By this time I was in no mood for fighting fair. I focused all of my strength into my affinity for Earth, I opened up the concrete floor below Shy's feet and watched him... evaporate into a disgusting, black, misty gas and float away? What the hell? In that instant I heard a blood curling scream from a voice I knew all too well. My heart filled with terror as tears welled up in my eyes. I turned to face my best friend paralyzed in fear. Gert speared the last Aengel only a split second before it finished devouring Jedd's soul.

Pesky dreams...

I bolted up straight from my sleeping bag with tears in my eyes and strangled screams emanating from my throat. When I opened my eyes I found five large round pairs of brown eyes and one set of beautiful steely blues staring back at me.

"Are you OK, Liv?" Jedd asked hesitantly.

I slapped him in the face as hard as I could.

"Don't ever do that to me again."

"What the hell, Liv?" Jedd complained.

The hurt was sincere in his eyes. I stood up and stalked down the narrow crusty tunnel alone into the darkness. I needed to get as far away from Jedd as I could. What just happened? I leaned against the earthen wall and slid myself down to rest on the muddy floor. I knew I was getting filthier by the minute but I didn't care. I took in my surroundings. To my right lay the pathway to a labyrinth of tunnels, to my left was a single tunnel leading God knows where, and in front of me was the pathway I'd taken away from Jedd and the Gnomes. I could hear them whispering in the distance but couldn't quite make out their words. I knew they were talking about me because I heard my name mentioned several times and something about dream traveling... Was I dream traveling? No, I know what dream traveling feels like and that wasn't it. Besides, I dream travel to the past not the future. Was that all it was, a bad dream? No, a really, really bad dream.

Jedd and the Gnomes were still gazing after me with worried expressions. I should go apologize to Jedd and put an ease to their concern of my sudden mental break down. I picked myself up, dusted myself off and retraced my steps back to my sleeping bag. Jedd and the others watched me warily and silently. I suppose it is time to break the ice.

"Hey..." I said in a small voice. I could feel my embarrassment settling in.

"Hey." Jedd whispered back lamely.

So, it was going to be like that...

"I'm sorry I slapped you Jedd. I don't know what came over me. I was really freaked out and... I'm sorry, it won't happen again." I forced the words out.

"It's OK... what were you so freaked out about anyway?"

I could literally see and feel the tension in Jedd melt away with my apology, which only made me feel guiltier.

"I had a nightmare. I wasn't dream traveling, but the dream was really awful. I don't want to talk about it right now, if that's OK?" I wasn't ready to relive the moment yet. They didn't seem to mind, at least they didn't object. "So, you're back, Gert, what did you find out?"

I turned toward the Gnomes expectantly.

"Grrnt, Memphis, Tulsa and Albuquerque were as uneventful as our previous investigations. Grrnt, your Daeva has been and gone leaving a wake of shells in his departure." Gert explained.

"Before you, uh, woke up... we were discussing our plans for Las Vegas. Gert thinks we should..."

Jedd was gearing up for the final destination in the quest.

"No!" I blurted before I'd realized it. Six confused faces whipped in my direction.

"What's the matter, Liv?" Jedd worried.

"You're not coming along this time Jedd. I can't let you go." I said firmly.

My nightmare would not become reality, not in Memphis, Las Vegas or any other city. Jedd was going home.

"What are you talking about, Liv? We only have one more stop. We can't quit now." Jedd argued.

"I say we can!" I fired back.

"Grrnt, Liv it is really important to finish the quest. We could take the boy home and return, but doing so could set us back. Grrnt, we're so close to the Daeva. Grrnt, I can feel it." Gert insisted.

"You see Liv? We've got to go. Look, I don't know what you saw in your dream..."

Jedd pushed the wrong button, I snapped.

"I saw you dead, really dead, as in no after life! I watched an Aengel devour your soul, Jedd! Do you fully understand what that means?"

Jedd's face blanched and Gert and his brothers ducked their heads in shame. Good, now I've got their attention.

Silence...

"So, if you just die, your soul passes on to the next life in the Spirit World?" Jedd finally found the courage to speak. I only nodded. "Well, what happens to your soul when a Daeva or an Aengel consumes it?"

Well, he asked... "A soul consumed by a Daeva or Aengel will know what hell feels like for all eternity. For as long as the Daeva, or soon to be Daeva exists, the human soul remains trapped inside, completely powerless to escape. The Daeva feeds off the human soul again and again, raping it of its strength and warmth. I would suspect being confined within the body of something so demonic would be pure torture. A torture to endure seeing, hearing, feeling and watching the sadistic inner workings of a monster day in and day out, forever."

This time Jedd stood up and strode away from me into the darkness of the tunnels.

"Grrnt, how about this Liv, we continue to Las Vegas but we leave Mo in the tunnels with Jedd. Grrnt, he will remain safe and we can finish the quest." Gert suggested an easy enough compromise to the dilemma, but would Jedd be agreeable?

"Hell no!" We heard Jedd's voice booming deep inside of the tunnel. Of course, he would have to make this difficult. Oh well, he's already mad at me.

"That's the deal Jedd, or I am taking you straight home. Do you want to help or hinder this quest?" I was unfairly testing his loyalty.

Jedd's entire face was chagrined as he stepped in front of me. I would have felt badly if it weren't for the fact that I was desperate to keep him safe. As reality set in Jedd's disbelief transformed into anger.

Boys...

The trip to Las Vegas proved to be as valuable as the rest. Had Shy been there? Yes. Was he still hanging around? No such luck. Between the seven cities we'd counted over eighty shells. I'm sure there are more which will surface later, and we will have to send the Nature Spirits to tend to their burial when they do. Making matters even worse, Jedd is angry with me and refused to speak to me for the rest of the journey. When we left the Gnomes in Gaea's meadow he bid them farewell and good luck, then trudged off without as much as a glance in my direction.

He's continued to ignore and avoid me since we returned to Queens. Today is our last day of exams, the last day of school before the summer vacation. How long will he continue to shut me out?

Needless to say I was very surprised when I finished my last exam and found Jedd waiting for me outside the class room door.

"Hi." I said warily.

"Hey, I'm sorry I've been a jerk for so long? Can you forgive me?" he half smiled, half pouted his apology, which was pretty lame.

"Maybe..." I contemplated.

I know, this is my chance to forgive and forget, right? Well, that is easier said than done. He's going to have to try harder than this.

"I'm still mad at you, you know?" he complained.

"Well, now I'm mad at you too." I snapped in annoyance.

"What do you have to be mad about?" he challenged.

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that you haven't spoken to me for entire week without any explanation." I sneered sarcastically.

"What explanation do you need? You black balled me from the quest and you know it!" he accused.

"If you are referring to the way I saved your ungrateful ass from your own delusional death wish, then I suppose you are correct!" I fired back.

"Fine, you know what? Why do I even bother?" he glared at me.

I saw a flash of something more than disappointment in Jedd's eyes. I was frozen in shock. Jedd had gone too far this time. His words were hurtful and cruel, he was being so unfair. I could feel the tears welling up behind my eyes and I refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing he had made me cry. When he turned his back to me, I took the opportunity and I bolted to the parking lot and further beyond. I just kept running. I ran to get as far away from Jedd as I could. I only paused to glance back once. I spied the remorseful slump of Jedd's frame in the distance, but this time something inside of me shielded my heart, forcing me to pick up speed once again and carry on. I was gone...

The End
About Amy Maurer-Jones...

Amy Jones is a 1993 graduate of The University of North Carolina at Greensboro where she received a Bachelor of Science degree in Dance Education. She has seventeen years of experience in education and currently teaches Dance and Theater Arts to high school students in southeastern North Carolina. Dancing, acting and writing are all forms of communication. Each form requires exceptional creativity and passion to inspire and impress an audience. Amy has enjoyed a passion for reading, writing, and the arts since she was a child. As an adult she enjoyed having the opportunity to share her passion for the arts with children. It only seems appropriate that delving into the world of young adult fiction would be the next logical step in her life.

In addition to being a writer and a teacher Amy is a loving wife and mother. She enjoys spending her spare time with her husband and soul mate, Kelly, and their two beautiful children, Olivia and Keaton. Amy also loves her furrier family members, Duke and Odie, the two most spoiled dogs on the face of the Earth.

You can learn more about her at http://amyjonesyaff.blogspot.com or http://www.soulquesttrilogy.com

The Dark Angel

By

Tiffany King

Prologue

When you have walked the earth as long as I have and watched humanity struggle through their turbulent lives, you begin to treasure those that are different than the rest. I am blessed that my duty is to oversee those with the purest souls. I have always understood the importance of my vows and know that The Light considers me one of his most important Archangels. He assigned me the honor of presiding over the angelic order, and for many earth cycles, I have carried out my assignment faithfully. I delight as the bonds between the guides and protectors mature, and honor those lost in service of their celestial duty. I could spend all my days watching the souls of the guides, seeing their purity make a difference in the lives of humans that have given up all hope.

The guides do not belong to me they belong to their protectors. I am not jealous of this for I am an Archangel and I am not part of their world. Archangels do not feel human emotions. Anger, jealousy and even their version of love is lost to us. We love everyone in the same capacity, that is what we were made for, and yet there is one who has changed all of that for me.
Chapter 1

"Victor, can you hand me some extra juice to throw in the beach bag?" I asked my significant other.

"Give me a minute Jenna, can't you see I'm a little busy right now?"

My heart tugged a little at his tone. Today was supposed to be a fun day. We were finally home again with our children after completing a rather difficult task in the Middle East. Victor had been on edge since our return and I felt a slight unease because of his odd behavior. Each assignment lately seemed to take a greater toll on him than the other protectors. I had been meaning to talk to Haniel about it, but never seemed to get the chance. Haniel's visits have been sporadic lately and I missed talking to him.

Shaking off my unease, I left the half-packed beach bag on the table and walked up behind Victor and placed my hands on his shoulders. He jumped slightly at my touch as he closed down the computer. I could feel the tension and mixed emotions that had been swirling around him since our return the previous night.

I had hoped that the mixed emotions would disappear once we returned home and got to see Harmony and Mark again, but after a brief reunion with them, he had closed himself up in his office.

"What's wrong with daddy?" Mark had asked, confused at his father's standoffish attitude.

"Daddy's just a little sad after our last job," I said, trying to ease his confusion.

"Will you fix him?" He asked as I tucked him into bed after blowing raspberries on his belly, making him giggle in the sweet way I loved so much.

"Yes, mommy will fix him and tomorrow we will go to the beach and see all our friends," I said, amazed that even at the tender age of three, Mark somewhat understood the uniqueness of our bonds.

"Krista?" Mark asked, distracted about the promised beach trip.

"Yes my sweet, you will see Krista there," I said returning his smile. I did not resent his attachment to my dear friend's little girl. It was the way it should be. One day they would grow up and they would marry each other. They would spend their youth as the best of friends until they reached their teenage years where they would discover the far deeper love they felt for each other, just as Harmony would with Mason. It was what we were created for.

"Now go to sleep and have the sweet dreams I know you will have," I said kissing his chubby cheeks one last time.

But I didn't have the chance to "fix" Victor by the time both kids had been put to bed. He had already retired for the night.

To my dismay, Victor's mood was not much better the next morning. Trying to ease his tension, I massaged his shoulders gently, mustering a small bit of peace and tranquility together inside me and prepared to send it his way. Before I could cast it toward him though, he stood up and pulled me in his arms.

"I'm okay. Don't waste any more of your emotions. You need to recoup," he said, finally sounding like the man who held the key to my heart. "I'm working through it and will be fine," he added, reassuring me with a quick kiss on my lips. I tightened my arms around his neck, aching to deepen the kiss. It had been weeks since we had any significant alone time and I craved his touch.

"Momma, I can't find my Spiderman swim frunks." Mark said plaintively behind me. "And Harmony's swimsuit is broken, I fink," he added, making me smile. I just adored his lisp, it was so cute. Pulling away from Victor reluctantly, I turned around to assist my two adorable munchkins.

I had to laugh when I saw that Harmony's swimsuit did indeed look broken with the way Mark had tried to put it on her. He had looped one of the armholes around her neck leaving a missing armhole for her tiny left arm.

"Let mommy fix that," I said, kneeling down in front of the little bundle of sunshine in front of me. Harmony smiled at me in her usual way and waited patiently while I righted her swimsuit. I brushed her long locks of golden hair off her narrow shoulders so the strap wouldn't get tangled in it.

"There, all fixed," I said, still hunkering down in front of her. "You ready to go play in the sand?" I asked her.

"Sand," she said, her bright blue eyes shining.

"Yes, sand, my silly honeysuckle girl." Harmony's fascination with the sand on the beach was one that had kept all of us entertained. She would play in the sand for hours, sifting it though her tiny little fingers and watching it cascade down. She had no use for the vast ocean, but the sand on the beach was by far her favorite destination.

"Are you ready to go, Jenna?" Victor asked coming down the hallway with an oddly sullen Mark trailing behind him.

"Yep, just about. What's the matter sweetie?" I asked Mark.

"Daddy said I don't need my Spiderman frunks," he said with uncharacteristic tears welling up in his eyes.

"Why not?" I asked a little confused.

"Because the plaid ones are fine and he needs to start learning that he can't have everything he wants. He also needs to learn to curb his tears," Victor said in a harsh voice that shocked me.

"Of course he can wear his Spiderman trunks," I said intervening. "I know exactly where they are and there's no reason he should go without." We had never argued about the kids before. Raising the next generation of guides and protectors was an honor; the fact that they were all good-natured and happy made the job all the easier.

"You're right," Victor said, switching gears. "I just couldn't find them and was a little frustrated. I'll go load up the car," he added, leaving the room abruptly.

The panic and misgivings I had been trying to keep at bay reared its ugly head as I blinked away sudden tears. I was going to have to talk to Haniel; something was clearly wrong.

***

By the time I loaded the kids into the car, Victor seemed back to normal and was joking with the kids about catching a wave to Hawaii. Mark was quiet and withdrawn at first, but by the time we pulled into the crowded lot, he was giggling at Victor's jokes. Placing my panic about his sporadic emotions in a file to be analyzed later, I joined in with their silly bantering.

Our friends pulled in the lot shortly after us. I hugged Kate, Rachel and Melissa though I had just seen them the day before. Being away from each other wasn't something any of us liked and barely a day would pass where we did not get together for at least a little while. I helped Kate unbuckle Shawn and Krista from their car seats and loaded them up in one of the four oversized wagons we brought to the beach with us. Rachel set Sam in the wagon with Shawn and Mark clambered in next, setting himself next to Krista. Harmony waited patiently in my arms while Chris unloaded the next wagon out of the back of his and Rachel's car. Once he placed it on the ground, I sat Harmony in it next to Mason and Lynn and Robert filled in the last two spaces. The last two wagons were loaded down with our beach towels, umbrellas, sunscreen and sand toys for the kids.

I grabbed the handle of the wagon with Harmony in it, while Kate took charge of the one with Mark. Melissa and Rachel trailed behind us making sure everyone remained sitting down. The guys brought up the rear with the two remaining wagons and two oversized coolers on wheels.

Having kids has definitely changed our beach trips, I thought ruefully as we made our way down the slanted path, but we definitely had it down to a science.

"So, how's Victor this morning?" Kate asked quietly beside me.

Though I was close with everyone in our tight-knit group, Kate was my best friend and I had confided my concerns with her during our last assignment.

"He snapped at Mark this morning," I said, quietly glancing behind me to make sure no one could hear.

"What?" She asked, clearly baffled.

"I know. It was so out of the blue and over something completely ridiculous. I just don't know what to do."

"Is he still blocking you from his thoughts?"

I nodded my head miserably.

"I was thinking I would call his sister, but I know her band is on another assignment. The Middle East mess is keeping all of us on our toes," I said. I really would like to talk to Haniel the most, but he's never around anymore."

"Yeah, it is strange that Haniel is spending so much time away from us. As of right now, we're the youngest active band. I'm surprised The Light has him stationed elsewhere," she said. "Of course, the fact that we kick butt at our assignments might be a small part of it," she added, trying to lighten the mood.

I couldn't help but smile. Not that we were cocky, but she had a point. Our group had exceptional success rates in the field.

"I'm sure it's just the stress of keeping you safe," Kate said quietly as we reached the hard packed sand.

"I hope so," I said as I dragged the wagon across the sand with the help of Rachel pushing it from behind.

"I say this spot's good," Melissa said, panting at the rear of Kate's wagon.

"Sounds good to me," I said, massaging out the sore muscle in my arm.

Within fifteen minutes our beach day camp was set up and the kids were running around squealing in delight. Victor seemed completely normal as he played touch football with his friends and I began to relax. Kate was right. Being a protector was a stressful job and he just needed to recuperate from our last assignment.

After a little down time everything will go back to normal, I couldn't help thinking already feeling relieved.
Chapter 2

The next few days were uneventful as we settled into the routine of being back home. As each day passed, Victor lost his odd mix of feelings and seemed almost normal again. He still kept his thoughts blocked from me and kept our intimacy at arm's length, but I didn't press the issue. I knew he would eventually come around. Intimacy had never been an issue for us and though I craved his warm touch, I gave him his space.

On the third day of our return home, I was sitting on the living room floor folding Harmony's cute little jumpers that had just came out of the dryer, watching the news when a booming knock sounded at our front door.

Squealing in delight, I jumped to my feet knocking the stack of freshly folded clothes over. I would know that knock anywhere. Throwing the door open, I threw myself in the arms of the 7' Archangel standing in front of me.

Haniel was used to my exuberant nature and didn't seem surprised that I had hugged him. I knew that usually guides and protectors refrained from hugging him, but I loved him. He was like family to me. I loved his stodgy attitude and his booming voice, and though he rarely showed it, I loved his sense of humor. He was like the brother I never had.

"Hello Jenna, it's nice to see you looking so well after your last assignment," Haniel said stepping into the living room.

"It was a piece of cake," I said, making light out of the volatile situation we had been placed in.

"I'm sure it was," he said dryly, making me giggle.

"Where have you been Haniel? I've missed you."

"I have been busy. It's a tough job keeping all my guides and protectors in order. Speaking of which, where is Victor?"

"He had to run some errands, but shouldn't you already know that?" I teased him.

He merely raised his golden eyebrows at me, making me giggle again. I couldn't help teasing him about the fact that I thought he should know everything.

"The Light does not share everything with me Jenna," he said, responding to my light laugh. "Though he did send me here today, but I assumed it was to chat with both you and Victor," he said, sounding unusually mystified.

Apprehension welled up inside me. The Light obviously had picked up on my misgivings and had sent Haniel to counsel me. I felt the stirring of embarrassment blossoming up inside me that I had made a small nothing into a mountain.

I sunk down on the edge of the couch. I kept my head down as I willed the embarrassment back.

I felt the sofa dip down beside me as Haniel settled his massive frame next to me.

"Jenna, it is not unusual for protectors to struggle after a tough assignment. Though they have their guides to help protect them from the hostile emotions they come in contact with, some of the negativity is bound to slip by," Haniel said, picking my thoughts from my head.

I cringed that I hadn't blocked my thoughts from him. A few days ago I had been dying to talk to him, but having my misgivings out in the open seemed irrational now.

"Jenna, this is what I was made for. It is my job to give you the support you need. Never hesitate to come to me when you are troubled. It pains me to see a soul as beautiful as yours struggle with doubts."

"He just seems so distant anymore Haniel. I feel like I'm losing him, but that's impossible right? I know protectors can't leave their guides. I'm just being silly, I know that," I said, standing up to pace back and forth. "I know a protector can't leave his guide, but can he fall out of love with her?" I asked as my heart clenched at just the thought.

"Jenna, he hasn't fallen out of love with you, it would be impossible. Your soul is like the heavens opened and filled with life," Haniel said in an oddly choked voice.

Startled, I looked up at him, but his face was as passive as ever with no signs of any other emotion. I shook my head at my imagination. What could Haniel possibly be choked up about? We were merely his assignments.

"I will be gone for the next few days, but when I return I will counsel with Victor and lend my assistance," Haniel said, breaking into my thoughts that I had thankfully remembered to block from him as he strode toward the door in his normal abrupt manner.

"Thank you, Haniel."

"Don't worry Jenna, all will be well," he said, closing the door softly behind him.

***

My talk with Haniel eased my fears and by the time Victor came home, I was happily humming in the kitchen while I finished the last few touches on our dinner. The kids had been fed and were tucked firmly in their beds.

"Hi, honey," I said, greeting him as I set the table.

"You look cheerful," he said, flashing me my favorite smile I hadn't seen in a while.

"It was a good day," I said, standing on tiptoes to brush a kiss along his hard jaw line.

"Really, why is that?" he asked, pulling me into his arms.

"Oh you know, hanging out with the kids," I said, deciding to keep Haniel's visit quiet until Victor met with him himself. "They're so cute and clever," I added, linking my arms around his neck.

For the first time in weeks, he didn't draw away. Testing the water, I gently nipped on his jaw again and felt his arms tighten around me the way I liked. Smiling against his neck, I worked my way up and nipped his ear next. He pulled away and I prepared to fight back my disappointment when he reached up his hands to cup my face. Sighing with pleasure, I parted my lips as his descended on mine. After weeks of barely any contact, his kiss was like aloe balm on sunburn skin, instantly soothing my soul that belonged to him. I kissed him back with abandon and moaned with delight when he pulled me even closer to him.

"The kids?" he asked, finally breaking the kiss.

"Tucked away in their beds," I said breathlessly, knowing exactly what he was asking.

Smiling slightly, he dragged me back in for another kiss. I gripped his broad shoulders as he scooped me up in his strong arms and carried me back toward our bedroom, all thoughts of dinner forgotten.

Chapter 3

The next morning I awoke confused.

For the first time in my entire life, my sleep had been void of any dreams. Feeling sick from the absence of our shared dreams, I sat up abruptly looking for Victor, but saw that his side of the bed was empty. Something was terribly wrong. I had never heard of a guide or protector not dreaming of each other. It was one of our greatest gifts from The Light. It was what gave us strength and peace. My head whirled as I tried to process what it could mean and I yearned to talk to Haniel.

Settling on the next best thing, I reached for the phone to call Kate, but dropped the receiver when Victor bustled into the room.

"Oh, good you're up. Haniel came by and we have a new assignment," he said pulling on a clean polo shirt.

"Really? I thought we were going to have some down time?" I said surprised.

"It's local. Some drug lord has set up shop in some abandoned warehouses on the outskirts of town and is using teens to distribute, which is why they're sending guides in."

Still a little confused, I pulled on my robe. Usually we had more time to prepare for an assignment. "Is Haniel still here?" I asked, wondering if I would have time to ask him about the dream.

"No, he already headed out. He left all the details with me." Victor said, pulling on his white crew socks.

"Oh," I said, swallowing my disappointment. "Did he say anything else?" I pried, hoping maybe Haniel had at least taken the time to counsel Victor like he had promised.

"No, why would he? We're adults and can handle an assignment without any handholding," he said, sounding annoyed.

"Oh, I know that. I was just curious," I said, trying to pacify him. I approached him from behind sliding my arms around his midriff hoping to reignite the magic from the night before, but he pulled away from me.

"We have to hurry," he said, pecking me on the cheek, sensing my confusion.

"Why the rush?" I asked as I pulled on a pair of dark jeans.

"Haniel wants us to get there before the dealer can hand out the new shipment he got in last night."

"What about the kids?" I asked, wondering if Lacey could make it over on such short notice.

"I called Lacey and she and her friend Sabrina can watch all the kids at Melissa and Daniel's house since they have a bigger playroom."

I swallowed back my surprise, glad that he seemed excited about this assignment. Lately each assignment seemed to drag him down and I was usually left making all the arrangements.

I finished getting ready and headed out to the living room to pack a bag for the kids. Harmony was in her highchair munching on dry cheerios while Mark sat at the counter on a bar stool eating a piece of toast.

"I get to see Krista," he said happily munching his toast.

"I know sweets, are you excited?" I asked, placing juice and snacks in a bag.

"Hi, sunshine," I said to Harmony placing a kiss on the soft locks covering her head. She lifted her chin and placed her tiny sticky hands on my cheeks to pull me in for a smacking kiss. She loved exuberantly loud kisses. I smacked my lips loudly against hers making her giggle with delight.

Within a half an hour we were in the car on our way to Melissa and Daniel's. I felt flustered from our mad dashing around. Normally we had a few days and an airplane ride to prepare for an assignment. I was really surprised Haniel was throwing us in so quickly. I guess our success rate had moved us up.

I glanced at Victor hoping to get a gage on how he was feeling, and was surprised at the giddy joy that seemed to be flowing through him. It had been ages since I had felt so much happiness in him.

I should have been happy at the change in him, but everything seemed off kilter. He had yet to mention the void of our dreams from the night before, and I was afraid to mention it myself. After this assignment, we were going to have to sit down and discuss things. It was important that we worked on strengthening our bond. Perhaps Haniel could work with us and show us tricks to work it out. Relieved that I had a plan, I settled back in my seat and watched the scenery pass by the window while Mark and Harmony chattered away in the backseat.

Everyone was at Melissa's house when we got there. I was relieved that Sabrina, Lacey's friend, was helping her babysit. All the kids were good, but watching eight kids could still be tough.

Before we left, I knelt in front of Harmony to give her a light kiss. "I love you honeysuckle, you be good," I said sternly, making everyone laugh. Harmony was the happiest, most good natured little girl ever. She had a smile for everyone and I could count on one hand the number of times she had cried in the two years since she was born. Everyone loved her and loved being around her. She was like the sun coming out on a dreary day.

Mark was too busy playing to be bothered with goodbyes, so I blew him a kiss from across the room.

I felt the normal pinch in my heart as we headed out. Although the kids were pro's at handling our absences, I always worried leaving them behind.

We piled into the passenger van Chris and Kate had rented on their way over. I climbed toward the third row, sitting next to Kate and Melissa. Rachel, Nick, and Daniel slid into the second row and Victor claimed the passenger seat up front. The ride was loud and boisterous as the guys bragged about being sent into an assignment so quickly.

"I'm telling you, Haniel knows we have crazy mad skills," Daniel said, high-fiving it with Nick.

"Yep, we're the "unbeatable eight," Nick said, full of confidence.

"You ok?" Kate asked me quietly as the guys got louder and more outrageous in front of us.

"Yeah, I'm just trying to work through some issues. Maybe tomorrow we can grab a cup of coffee at the park and talk."

"Sure, sounds good to me. The kids love the park and Krista will be thrilled to spend the day with Mark again." I laughed at her words. The kids all shared bonds, but Krista and Mark's bond was already quite developed.

Our conversation was interrupted when Chris pulled into an empty parking lot riddled with potholes behind a huge industrial warehouse. He pulled the van into a spot near the back of the lot in the shadows of the trees that was encroaching the space. Victor hopped out and opened the door for all of us. I grasped Nick's hand and stepped onto the uneven pavement.

I used my emotional gage to get a read on the building, but was surprised when I couldn't pick up on a single emotion. With teenagers involved I had been expecting to encounter several different emotions, ranging from animosity to despair.

Puzzled, I turned to my friends to see if they were getting the same kind of reading, but saw all of them were engaged in their pre-assignment rituals. All of us had our own rituals before we entered an assignment. Kate and Chris always shared a passionate kiss as if it was their last. Nick and Rachel would quietly discuss a strategy, while Daniel and Melissa would hold hands and connect their minds. Victor and I used to have our own ritual, but several assignments ago he had expressed that he thought they were silly and we should be focusing on the task at hand.

My feelings were hurt, but I downplayed them so no one else would know.

Finally when everyone was ready, we quietly headed toward the vacant warehouse in front of us. The protectors walked in front of the guides shielding us from any threat, but the closer we got to the warehouse, it became obvious that the building in front of us was empty. Maybe Haniel had mixed up the days or maybe Victor had written down the wrong address.

I exchanged looks with my fellow guides who shrugged their shoulders with as much confusion as I had.

Victor pulled the heavy warped industrial door open. The metal groaned in protest and we all paused cautiously. After several moments, we proceeded into the building cautiously. The interior of the building was dark and smelt like death, the only light source was the narrow dirty windows at the top of the structure; it took several moments for my eyes to adjust. Finally, my eyes adjusted, but the smell was another issue all together. I placed my hand over my nose and mouth trying to block it out.

"It's from the bums that camp out in here," Nick said, seeing my look of disgust.

"It smells like it," I said, my voice coming out muffled behind my cupped hand.

The warehouse broke off in three different directions at the end of the cavernous room.

"I say we split up," Victor said, pointing down the three different hallways. "Jenna and I will stay here as lookouts."

"That sounds good man," Nick said, grabbing onto Rachel's hand and leading her down the hall on the right.

Kate and Chris took the hallway in front of where Victor and I were standing, while Melissa and Daniel headed down the far left. I watched their retreating backs, uneasy about the whole situation. Something just seemed off.

I glanced at Victor to see if he was getting the same vibe. I was surprised to see him studying me intently.

"What's wrong?" I asked confused that he was watching me and not being the lookout as he had suggested.

"I have dreamed about this day for years," he said, sounding gleeful. "Well, the dreaming I do that you don't monopolize that is," he added sarcastically.
Chapter 4

"What?" I said again as ice cold dread began to fill me. What was he talking about?

"All of this. The end of our bonds and unfair links," he shouted, suddenly sweeping out an arm, pointing to the dark hallways that had engulfed the others. "Can't you feel it? Our bond is broken."

Everything spun out of control as his words began to register. I reached out with my emotions trying to find the loving soul in him that belonged to me, but came up empty.

It was gone.

My emotions snapped back to me and I gasped out loud in pain. This was impossible. We were created to be together. How could our bond be broken?

"Didn't you wonder why our dreams were blissfully empty last night? I'm surprised you abstained from mentioning it this morning. I was all prepared to ward off your questions, and yet not a peep."

"I was waiting until this assignment was over," I said, sinking to my knees as reality crashed in on me. "Is this even an assignment?" I asked brokenly, already knowing the answer.

"It was an assignment for me. It was time I took back what I was never given, which was my own freewill. Of course, I had to make a bargain with The Dark One in order to gain my free will, but it was for the better anyway."

"What bargain did you have to make?" I asked as bile rose up in my throat.

"Our friends of course, though I'm sure given the opportunity, the other protectors would have gladly joined me. Being tied to an individual is unacceptable. Why should we die because you're too weak to protect yourselves?" he asked, all but spitting the words at me.

"What have you done?" I asked choking back a sob.

"Just put it this way, there are no more bonds in this building," he said, flashing an unfamiliar smile my way that turned my blood to ice.

Backing up away from him, I turned and raced down the hallway that had swallowed Kate and Chris, using my god given speed to outrun the monster behind me. Tears blinded my eyes as I finally skidded to a stop at the doorway in front of me. Placing my hand on the knob, I opened the door softly and stepped inside and peered at the horror in front of me.

Swallowing a sob, I knelt at the sides of my friends. By the angle of Kate's head, it was obvious her neck was broken. I collapsed on the ground beside her.

As Victor approached, I could feel a tangible evil that was stronger than I had ever sensed. How had he been able to hide this from me?

"How could you do this?" I asked in a whisper. "Why them?"

"Because they stood in the way of making my vision a reality. I have plans for future generations and their interference would have hindered it."

"What do you mean future generations?" I asked, rising to my feet on wobbly legs.

"Our children of course. I have high hopes for how they will turn out after my little experiment."

The thought of him harming our children turned my anguish to rage. I used my fist to pummel against his rock hard chest, but my attempts were feeble next to his strength. After all, strength was not my virtue, emotions were. Before I could back away, he placed his hands on my shoulders making my skin crawl as my eyes welled up sending warm tears down my cheeks. I wept for our children. Who would protect them from this monster? What kind of life would they have without us? His hands moved to my throat in a seemingly light caress. I stared into the darkest blood-red eyes of the man who I had loved my entire life, hoping for any sign of grace that wasn't there.

"I love you," I said as his grip tightened around my neck. And then, everything went black...
Epilogue

I broke a commandment by loving the soul that I carried to heaven that day. Her soul belonged to another, and yet I coveted its beauty, breaking my vow. I would later rationalize that I loved her soul because it truly did not belong to The Dark Angel, but in truth I can't help wondering if I was somehow responsible for missing the signs that one of my protectors had crossed.

I see her soul often in heaven and I watch her from afar, staggered by her beauty that shone brightly on earth and was even more spellbinding in the heavenly realm. I dream about one day being free from my duties so that I might claim her soul as my own. For now though, I must protect the young ones left behind without care that were forever altered that fateful day.

The End

About Tiffany King...

Hi, my name is Tiffany King the author of the Paranormal/Romance YA novel "Meant to Be" and I'm practically a native Floridian. My family and I have been here for the last fourteen years and have gotten quite used to the mild winters and scorching summers. I went back to school when I turned 31 and will finish up this spring. I wrote my book "Meant to Be" two years into my degree program and put it on hold while I finished school. Of course my degree has nothing to do with writing *drat* but that doesn't mean that I'm not going to keep writing. During this process with "Meant to Be" I discovered just how much I love to write and I have many story ideas tucked away.

The Woman in My Dreams

By

Nicole Williams

You know that love at first sight notion people frown upon, or vehemently argue doesn't exist—that childish, contrived phenomenon that is more hormone driven than heart driven and has about as much staying power as a snowflake in the palm of a hand?

I'm here to tell you they're wrong.

I'm living proof that love at first sight abounds and can endure after that initial spark has dimmed. For me, it has endured nearly two hundred years, and it will endure two hundred more, and two hundred after that, and . . . well, you get the idea. Two centuries I've devoted my life to her—two centuries of proving those naysayers wrong.

Love at first sight isn't just alive and well, my friends, it's thriving, waiting for you to lower your wall of skepticism to experience all it has to offer. Waiting for you to march open minded in its direction until you meet it face-to-face. The moment you go from a believer to a partaker. The moment you realize it's all over for you.

My moment came decades back, when a woman came to me in my darkest night, illuminating it in such a way I've never been the same since. A woman who made me want to be a better man, and so I became one. A woman I fought family, friends, and perhaps even fate itself to hold onto. A woman lost in time, who I'd scoured the world ages for, never giving up hope that I'd succeed in my quest.

This was my other moment, the other half that would complete what the first had started. For those individuals fortune tends to favor, they have the honor of meeting the one that made love at first sight a personal experience, but not me. The girl I was insanely in love with didn't know I existed.

This was the moment that was going to change.

"I saw her," Joseph hollered, jogging towards me. "She's taking her sweet time to get here, but she's definitely on her way."

My mouth went dry, surely a side-effect of the nervousness, yet up until this point in my life I'd experienced little of it firsthand. "So . . . ?" Of all the questions running through my mind, this served as the summation of them all.

Joseph skidded to a stop in front of me, his eyes sparkling. "Let me just preface my response by saying I love my wife and she's the finest creature to ever roam the earth . . ."

"Duly noted." I nodded, attempting to remain patient.

"She's gorgeous, William. Pick-your-jaw-off-the-asphalt gorgeous," he said, gripping his hands over my shoulders and squeezing. "I mean, I never thought I'd one day be saying this, but you're going to be the ugly one in the relationship."

"Thanks for the brutal honesty. Always appreciated," I said, giving him a half-hearted glare, which he mirrored back, frown line for frown line. Other than a few years and a couple inches, my younger brother Joseph and I could have been twins.

"I'm already all too aware of how, Cora aside, she's the finest creature to roam the earth," I offered, humoring him, "But how did she seem . . . temperament-wise?"

I wanted to be prepared for whatever waited for me, and while I hoped to find her smiling and eager, I guessed it was more likely she'd trend in the opposite direction, given everything I'd orchestrated leading up to tonight.

You know that worldwide, ages-long quest to find her that I mentioned? The instant I discovered she was a student at Oregon State University, I couldn't get here soon enough—I'd crossed two state lines before realizing I'd forgotten to throw on a shirt in my haste. Arriving on campus a few days back, my intentions had been to watch and observe her from afar until an opportune moment arrived for me to introduce myself.

Prior to finding her, I'd never had a problem with patience, but now—not more than seventy-two hours in the same zip code as her—I doubted if I had the smallest fraction of it left.

Unable, or refusing, to patiently observe and bide my time, I pulled a few strings, called in a few favors, made a considerable donation to the campus, and one thing cart-wheeled into the next, right up to the present moment where I stood waiting in the shadows of the OSU common's building, posing as a transfer student. A transfer student who was brazen enough to request a campus tour for a Friday night, reason being I'd confirmed the four other members of the Welcome Wagon committee had plans, leaving her with me. Leaving me with her.

At last.

A weak, lame, absurdly unoriginal cover I knew, but I was a desperate man, and I'd discovered that when an opportunity presents itself, no matter how inadequate, a desperate man doesn't go looking for another alternative.

"Okay, so other than way out of your league, how did she look?" Joseph mused, stroking his chin, taking his sweet time to answer. "I don't know. She was walking all the way across campus, in the dark, in the cold—without a jacket. You wouldn't be skipping to the beat of your whistling either, would you?"

I had to tell myself twice not to run to her, anxious about her walking alone through a night so dark it could disguise the evilest of monsters. The need to protect her was suffocating, making it impossible to think about anything else. I had to remind myself she'd made it nineteen years without me at her side, ready and able to vanquish whatever might threaten her, she could make it another few minutes . . . although I doubted if I could.

"Was she alone?" I swallowed, asking one of those questions I didn't want to for fear of the answer. Up until a couple of days ago, I didn't even know her name, let alone if she had a significant other.

Joseph looked back at me, his all-out grin igniting. "Yeah, no boyfriend in sight, no heart-shaped jewelry around neck, no ring on that one finger on her left hand you've staked your claim on," he said, nudging me "And if I know you, I'd bet my Mark Newson board"—my eyebrows tilted for clarification—"Yes, the nickel-plated one, that you already have a ring picked, purchased, sized and on hand for when the first opportunity arises to ask her to become Mrs. William Hayward."

I grinned, nothing abashed about it. "It's irritating how well you know me," I said, casting a look behind him, half expecting to see her ghosting through the fog, smiling and beckoning me towards her like she did in my dreams.

"Yeah, well I hope you've put as much thought into what you're going to say to her tonight as you did on that diamond ring. Let me guess . . ." He closed his eyes, spacing his fingers over his head like he was conjuring up a psychic reading. "Round-cut, flawless, three maybe four carets—not too small so as to give her reason to doubt your love, not too large she'd think you were trying to buy her love." He opened his eyes, his mouth curling up. "How am I doing so far?"

"Incredibly irritating," I said under my breath.

Shrugging, he said, "It's a gift."

His impish grin faltered as my expression went rigid. "What should I tell her?" I sighed, my voice as heavy as the thoughts mucking up my mind.

"You really don't know what you're going to say?" he asked, stunned, and rightfully so. I always had a plan, a detailed plan, for everything. Chalk strategic planning up, right below patience, as yet another quality rendered useless in this woman's presence.

"I've gone through a few hundred possible greetings, dozens of explanations as to who—what—I am," I rambled on, squeezing the bridge of my nose, "none of which felt right, or genuine, or unworthy of her taking out a restraining order on me if verbalized."

Joseph nodded, squinting like he was searching for the right words of advice. "Just tell her the truth."

My mouth dropped, sure I'd heard him wrong. "Sure, that's a brilliant idea. I can just see it now. Hi, Bryn Dawson, love of my life"—my heart rushed saying her name—"My name's William Hayward. I've spend the last two hundred years as an Immortal being, living in a clandestine world that's as ancient as the universe, having random visions of you in the midst of my foretellings, which—by the way—portray visions of Mortals dying. I love you, I'd die for you, I want to spend all of eternity with you. Will you spend the rest of your life with me?"

Joseph didn't even try to hide his smile at my tirade. "You're right, whatever you do, don't tell her the truth."

My jaw clenching in frustration was my only response.

"Will you calm down? She's going to take one look at you, fall in love . . . and then you two can figure out what to do from there." Joseph said, the note of cautious optimism in his voice one I'd heard plenty of as of late, in reference to the precarious situation I was in.

Bryn and I were from different times, different origins, different upbringings . . . different everything, but it was my hope that the love I had for her, and the love I prayed she'd one day reciprocate, would be our common denominator, cancelling out the glaring reasons we shouldn't be together. Number one on that list of reasons why we shouldn't be together, and a non-negotiable in the world I was from, she was a Mortal.

That designation and I had parted ways centuries ago, and there was no way for me to go back. But I would have, for her. I wouldn't need a moment's deliberation if a genie showed up at my door, granting me the opportunity to go back. Fifty years as a Mortal, despite knowing death would be the period in our love story was worth more than an eternity alone. What was an eternity without her anyways?

Hell was the word that came to mind.

"How can you be so sure that: a—she's going to talk to me, b—she's going to like me, c—liking me will grow to loving me, and last but certainly not least, d—put all that I am aside and want to spend her life with someone . . . something like me?" I asked, finding my confidence—another part of me I'd never had issues with before this night—taking a hiatus. If they kept escaping me at this rate, I wouldn't have a single positive attribute left by the end of the night. I now understood why they said love made fools of men.

A dimple drilled in Joseph's cheek from his cockeyed smile. "Because every woman falls in love with you. Like moths to a flame."

"Are you guys talking about me behind my back again?"

And our happy duo was no more.

"Patrick," Joseph and I muttered in unison, more in exasperation than welcome. In addition to his fitting the classic younger-brother role, he had an irritating way of showing up whenever the timing was at its worst, his gift of teleportation only aiding him in it some of the time.

"So the rumor-mill back at Townsend Manor is right. For once," he said, looking around us in answer. "When I heard a couple of his Enforcer meat-heads talking about you hanging around a college crawling with Mortals,"—he wrinkled his nose before flashing a smile—"I knew if it was true, I simply had to be a part of it."

"I know this is going to blow your mind, Patrick," Joseph said, crossing his arms without giving it the seriousness he'd intended. The youngest of the Hayward brothers could no more look angry than a frolicking puppy. "But William and I are doing just fine without you."

"That's unlikely," Patrick answered, loosening his tie. "Highly unlikely. William getting a date unlikely. A woman looking at me without swooning unlikely. You beating me in a—"

"With you gone so much these past few years, I'd almost forgotten how obnoxious you could be," Joseph interrupted, shoving Patrick aside. "Why don't you make rebel spy your permanent profession and Townsend Manor your home-base?"

Patrick fell to the side, overdone and dramatic. "What? Are you jealous of my mad skills to pull the wool over the eyes of the Lucifer of Immortals?" Patrick jeered, spreading his arms wide at his sides. "I don't know why William comes to you for advice all the time. You're the perpetually disillusioned one in the family."

I knew, from decades of experience, these two were just getting warmed-up and could keep this battle going strong all weekend. "Hate to interrupt you two, but I brought you purposefully,"—I eyed Joseph—"and you inadvertently"—I scowled at Patrick—"because I need some advice."

"What can I help you with?" Patrick asked, crossing his arms and propping a fist under his chin. I had to work at not smiling at his attempts to strike a serious pose. Serious was a word no one who'd spend more than a minute in Patrick's presence would use to describe him.

"There's this girl," I began, proceeding with marked caution, not about to tell him this was the girl, namely because I wasn't ready for anyone else to know, and the rule of thumb was, if Patrick knew, everybody knew.

"You've come to the right man." Patrick shouldered Joseph away as he was opening his mouth. "Step aside little brother. I'm about to give William advice someone innocent and happily United shouldn't be exposed to."

Joseph threw his hands in the air. "Oh please, Patrick. I'm more carnally aware of a woman than you are as a mere review of the color of my eyes versus yours will attest to." His sapphire glared into Patrick's pale blue ones as they rolled to the side.

As if we weren't freakish enough, all Immortals are reborn with pale blue colored eyes, remaining that way until they are United . . . in more ways than one, with their mate, where the pale shade is permanently replaced by a sapphire blue.

"Details, details," Patrick said, flapping his hand dismissively. "Besides, you've only been with one woman. I've been with hundreds, save for that tiny, last step."

Joseph crossed his arms, standing taller. "Trust me, once you experience it, you won't be calling it tiny."

"You like to rub that in my face every chance you get, don't you?" Patrick asked, his mouth drawing into a fine line. "And I'm sure in reference to you, it is tiny." His eyes hinted at what he was referring to. "Thankfully, it doesn't run in the family."

"I'm leaving. You guys have fun," I scolded, backing away from them. I hadn't made it this far to be caught in between two bantering brothers who sounded like a couple of junior high boys caught up in locker room talk.

"Good luck, Romeo," Patrick hollered, right on my heels. "I'm going to pitch a front-row seat tonight because this is going to be a great show. Too bad it won't last long since you've got the romantic height of an aardvark."

I stalled, knowing Patrick was right. I didn't have a clue what to do, or what to say for that matter; grade-school aged boys had more experience asking a girl out than I did. I hated when he was right.

"Are you going to give me some valuable advice, valuable being the operative word, or will you be continuing your stand-up comedy roast of your brothers?"

"Both, of course." He shrugged his shoulders, folding his hands into his pockets. "This is me we're talking about."

I wanted to scowl, but a smile won out. This is why he did so well with the fairer sex, he was impossible to stay angry at.

"What time are you meeting up with our fair lady?" he asked, stifling his grin.

I looked at my watch-free wrist, more out of nervousness than habit. "Five minutes ago."

"Good. Good. Keep her waiting. Make her sweat a little."

I had an image of her coated in sweat which did things to my body that didn't help it calm down. Virtuous chivalry—cross that one off the list, too.

"If there's one thing you learn from me today, one thing you take with you, remember this. Girls want what they can't have. That's Female Psych 101. Make her think there's no way in even her hottest, steamiest, far-reaching dreams she can have you, and she'll come panting at your door."

I was a far cry from experienced, but even a rookie like me knew this wasn't sound advice for wooing a woman. "That's insane. Besides, that won't work on this girl. Trust me."

"No, no. Trust me—this works on any girl with a pulse," he said, glancing towards the building. "Where are you meeting her?"

"Inside there." I glanced through the window, scanning for her anxiously.

He nodded, examining the common's building like it was a heavily guarded enemy fortress. "I'm going in. If either of you knew what you were doing, I'd say cover me, but since you're the polar opposite of female cat-nip, stand back, observe, and learn." Sparing not another word to clarify, he jogged towards the commons, combing his fingers through his hair, and adjusting his smile just so. I've seen that smile before, many times before, and it's been deemed far and wide as the Lady-Killer.

"What in the world is he doing in there?" Joseph asked after a few minutes passed by. I couldn't see Patrick, but I had a bad feeling about whatever he was brewing up inside. If most sane, responsible people approached a blaze with a fire hose, he charged into it with a barrel of gasoline and a crate of dynamite, because what was the use of a fire if you couldn't have a little fun with it?

"After two-hundred-and-fifty years, I've stopped trying to guess," I answered, right as Patrick burst through the door, loping towards us with the Lady-Killer adjusted down a few notches, settled into the Victory.

"I got a whole herd of them in there waiting for you. Hook, line and sinker,"—his eyebrows jacked sky-high—"Patrick style, so you know they're goners. You can thank me later."

I stared at him like he was speaking a foreign language, Joseph gaped at him like he was speaking Martian.

"How is it I'm related to you two?" He rolled his eyes. "Just go in there, plant yourself in the middle of those foxy college co-eds, act like me, and when said female sees you, she'll be slapping her way through bronzed cheekbones to get to you. She'll be mad for you before you can open your mouth and screw it up," he finished, sliding into a devilish smile.

"Mad as in insane mad?" I asked, not sure I'd heard him right.

Patrick shook his head into his hands. "That's it, I demand DNA testing to confirm blood relation between us because it simply can't be possible," Patrick ranted, dodging Joseph's shove. "No, not insane mad, mad as in hot and bothered, take-me-to-your-lair-mighty-god-of-love, mad."

"That's the most ridiculous thing I've heard," Joseph said, not able to take it anymore. He put himself square in front of me, locking eyes "Just. Be. Yourself."

"Terrible idea," Patrick shouldered Joseph over, replacing himself in front of me. "Don't be yourself. Trust me on this. I love you, brother, you know I do. But your game plan can't be 'just be yourself' or else we might as well call this game on account of weather right now because I predict a cold front, with a high chance of icy expressions and hurricane-force shutting-you-down if you go in there acting like yourself."

He hitched his arm around my neck, steering me towards the common's building. "Here's your theme, your motto, your marching song. When you find yourself under heavy female fire, just ask yourself, What would Patrick do?"

"Yeah, you should ask yourself that if you want to get slapped in the face and black-listed by every female three generations deep." Joseph hustled up to us, blocking the door just as Patrick was preparing to launch me through it. "Be yourself," he repeated. "It will be enough." Joseph's words were sincere, the kind of sincere that had his eyes glassy.

"Yeah, yeah, blah-blah, kumbaya, and whatever else you flower-wearing, peace loving hippies chant." Patrick hip-checked Joseph away from the door "I'll deal with you and your nonsense later little brother, but right now, it's show time." Patrick threw open the door, shifting a perfume heavy breeze at us, along with a few dozen female heads.

None of them were hers, but whatever Patrick had said or done to pump me up was working a little too well. Some looked as if they were nearing salivation level. "One more thing, don't go in there planning to get a mile from her, this is a marathon not a sprint. Your mission tonight, should you choose to accept it, is to get an inch. Not even the square kind, the linear will be just fine."

"An inch?" I repeated, feeling the crease between my brows deepen.

"Oh, great," Joseph grumbled, kicking a pebble. "The inch lecture."

"It's a proven theorem for weaseling your way into a woman's heart." Patrick snapped back.

"But it's about as stable as nitroglycerin."

Patrick made a face, waving away Joseph's comment, before leaning towards me. "If she gives you an inch . . ." he lowered his voice, like this was top secret information, "that's your in, that means you're golden."

"An inch," I said again, minus the inflection.

He arched a brow. "Women don't give guys an inch unless they're interested in going a mile," he said, nudging me like he was waiting for me to get it. "And here's one more thing to keep in mind, if she gives you a mile right off the bat, run and don't look back." The corners of Patrick's eyes wrinkled from some memory as he shuddered. "Been there, done that, still paying off the shrink from the damage done."

"Super," I growled. "Here's what you two have so readily and capably equipped me with: What would Patrick do?, just be yourself, play hard-to-get, I'm in if she gives me an inch, which, by the way, I have no clue what that means. Anything I missed?"

Patrick's mouthed snapped open, no doubt about to enlighten me as to just how much I'd missed, but my look of death aimed at him snapped it shut just as quickly. "This is going to be a train wreck," I muttered, knowing I couldn't waste any more time.

Something about showing up ten minutes late for an event you've been waiting for every second of every day just didn't equate. "I'm going to do my best to erase your 'advice' from my head, and pretend the last ten minutes didn't happen. I'll catch up with you guys later." My voice actually broke, like it had when I was twelve-years-old. I was that nervous.

Patrick pinched at my shoulders, like he was preparing me to go ten rounds, before shoving me towards the flat-ironed, glossy-goopy lipped women. "I'll be right here if you need me, trying my hardest not to double over laughing as I watch you woe unnamed vixen."

"You're staying?" Before my face had a chance to fall, Joseph came to my rescue.

"Let the man work his magic," Joseph said, pulling on Patrick's suit sleeve. "We'll get the highlights later. No need to make him any more nervous than he already is."

I sent my silent thanks to Joseph before he spun away with Patrick in tow, who was already in full sulk mode. That was another classic younger brother thing, if he wasn't busy being annoying, he was sulking.

"Thanks for all the brotherly advice," I called out to them, a twinge of sarcasm lacing my words together. "It wasn't confusing or contradictory at all."

Joseph shot a thumbs-up behind his back, a firm arm still guiding Patrick in the opposite direction of the common's building.

Right before they were swallowed by the night, Patrick hollered back, "Remember, What would Patrick Do?"

"Words to live by," I shouted after them, a roll of laughter their only response.

The company, or distraction, of my brother's gone, the gravity of the situation hit me. I'd been equipped with two opinions as conflicting as they come . . . things were clear as mud.

I was more uncertain of how to proceed now than I was ten minutes ago. I needed more time to figure out how I was going to make a first impression that would "impress" her enough to one day want to spend her life with me. Despite being an Immortal, time wasn't a luxury I had at present, and I tried not to feel shafted by the irony.

Sucking in a deep breath, I breezed through the doorway, heading towards the group of woman that were looking at me like I was something edible, if for no other reason than I didn't know where else to go. On one shoulder, I had a little Joseph angel singing, Just be yourself, and on the other shoulder I had a Patrick devil cackling, What would Patrick do?

"We've been waiting for you," the brunette wearing an outfit that made me blush said, running her hand down my arm. Like I was a pin-ball, she shot me into the swarm of woman, sending me bouncing against them until I landed in the middle.

Another one wearing something so slight it could have classified as a swimsuit brushed against me.

"Your friend really talked you up," she said, and despite the heavy dose of perfume she'd showered in, it couldn't cover the cigarette smell that leaked off her. The smell was hideous, so much so it took a gallant effort to keep from curling my nose.

"Was your debut album really the number one record in Europe for two years straight?"

"Just how long were you imprisoned for starting a riot in Tunisia?" Another one asked, elbows shoving through the sea of girls.

"How many polar bear shelters are you building in Long Island so they'll have somewhere to live when the glaciers melt?" the blonde behind me asked—perfectly straight-faced—rubbing her body against me to the beat of her words.

The questions kept firing at me, one right after the other, all as sensationalized as untrue as the first. Tall Tale creator . . . a new title for Patrick. The roar around me was suffocating, this was no job William "just be yourself" Hayward could handle. The evil Patrick devil won out when I finally opened my mouth.

"Ladies, ladies," I said, raising my hands. I barely recognized the voice coming from my mouth, it was so Patrick—in that amused, cocky, kind-of-way—I half expected to find him standing beside me. "One question at a time."

This calmed the crowd, somewhat, but only long enough to prepare to unleash another wave of questions.

"Perhaps you can help me," I said, rushing to get my words out first. "I'm supposed to be meeting someone here, but she's already ten minutes late." The words were no more out when I felt something. Something I'd only imagined, never sure if it existed, ever would, or what it would feel like, but experiencing it now made it seem familiar, like it had always been a part of me, I'd just forgotten about it.

My eyes shifted to a spot like a compass needle to north, not able to see her thanks to the teased hair and six inch heels surrounding me, but knowing she was there. The room quieted to silence, the flapping mouths of the girls around me freeze-framed mid-question, the backpack-laden students lumbering up the stairs froze. There was nothing but the sound of a breath, a breath that had started an acceleration, along with the movement of air as she advanced towards me. I was hyper-aware of her and oblivious to everything else.

A shiver crawled up my body, and as if fate were confirming this, the ocean of girls parted.

I didn't need to scan the room to find her, my eyes glommed onto her as if they'd been trained to find her, which, I suppose they had. I'd seen her countless times in my dreams with a clarity and realness that makes you question the dream state, but seeing her now was like seeing her for the first time. And she didn't disappoint.

She was beautiful of course, stunningly so as everyone doing a double-take in passing could attest to, but from the clothes she wore a size large to the way her shoulders curved down, it was apparent she was oblivious to the affect she had. But it wasn't the shape of her body—that made my pulse quicken, or the cupid's bow of her upper lip—which had mine trembling, or her cheeks that were flushed—that had mine flushing a shade deeper, that held my attention. Make no mistake, they all caught my attention, but it was something else that held my attention.

It was her eyes.

Eyes I didn't only see my past in, but my future in as well. Eyes that had opened in the midst of my darkness, creating a light I held onto like my life depended on it. Eyes that pulled me back from the brink, planting me on solid ground. Eyes I'd seen warm and welcoming and loving and comforting, but all the dreams I'd had of her, two hundred years worth, I'd never seen the emotion in them that was staring back at me now. That was glaring back at me.

I wouldn't have thought it possible, but my nervousness ratcheted up a few levels.

Just be yourself, Just be yourself, Just be yourself, I repeated. Well, just be yourself was getting me nowhere, rooted where I was, gaped mouthed and wide eyed. She was never going to go for me if she thought I was an immobile mute. An immobile mute with a staring problem.

It was then that a reminder sounded in my ears, What would Patrick do? I could almost feel the Patrick devil on my shoulder poking me with his trident.

What would Patrick do? I'd seen him in action enough to have it singed in my mind. I can do this, Patrick, Patrick, Patrick, I thought, concentrating. And suddenly, he was there, as if controlling me via a remote controller.

The corners of my mouth pulled up, slower and smoother to be any genuine piece of myself. Giving over to Patrick wasn't just affecting my mind, but my body. From the smile that was too Lady-Killer, to the way my shoulders rode low, in that indifferent, too-cool-for-school kind of way, I'd just become the dark-haired version of him.

I wasn't able to process, nor correct, just how unnatural it was playing Patrick before something that looked like shock, or surprise, flattened out the former wrinkles of anger, although a remnant of the glare was still present.

Her body trembled, likely caused by the cold-soaked night she'd just emerged from. I don't know if it was Patrick or me, but seeing her chilled, uncomfortable, I broke free of whatever shackles held me frozen and moved towards her. My only concern was to ease her discomfort, with my jacket, a warm drink, or maybe, fate-willing one day, my arms.

How would she receive any of these offerings from a stranger? I didn't know. But I didn't care. Like a vital organ, I needed to make right whatever ailed her to keep myself functioning.

As I took my first steps toward her, it hit me that my decades old role of searching for her had changed in a crease of time. My search was over, to be filed away, my eternity would now be spent protecting her.

I'd loved her longer than I could remember, like trying to recall a first memory. It was such a base level memory it had been lost to the recesses of my mind, and I would continue to love her, whether from near or far. That was all up to her, although I wasn't above begging, groveling, or spending exorbitant amounts of money on jewelry to shift the tables in my favor, but I knew this wasn't the kind of currency that would catch this woman's attention. True love, passion, unconditional love, 'til death do us part . . . overused phrases, underused practices, but these currencies of the heart were the only kind of wealth that would attract her. I knew that without actually knowing her.

Her narrowed eyes didn't leave mine as I crossed the final few feet I'd been chasing down for so long. Before I could let the fear that tonight might be the night I both found and lost her strangle me, she slid backwards a few steps. It was painful, like a knife thrust through my gut, watching her balk away from me.

I waved at her, motioning her to wait, preparing, if need be, to barricade the exit with my body. I was sure my eminent insanity would have ensued if I had to watch her drift away in real life like she did in my dreams. There wasn't enough heart left to break for that.

She stalled, and I rushed my last few strides towards her, using my Immortal speed a temptation. I came to a stop, wanting to pinch her or myself to ascertain reality. In all my experiences as an Immortal—innumerable battles, witnessing sunrises and sunsets from every continent, presiding over the thousands of births I had in every unnamed piece of soil in-between the dots on a map, watching man take his first step on the moon–I'd never come close to feeling my body react like it was now.

I didn't think it was possible to feel the acceleration of my heart, the air hitching up in my lungs, my stomach feeling like it was taking a beating from the inside out, these were physical hallmarks of a Mortal. But this woman I loved, who had already proven to me miracles exist, was affirming a few more.

"I've been waiting for you," I said, the words falling out of my mouth in the midst of my nostalgia, because a simple Hello or How are you? wouldn't have sufficed. Patrick was right. I was as smooth on the female front as curdled milk.

Not thinking it possible, her eyes narrowed even more, nearing the slit stage. Time to stop being myself—immediately—if I wanted to see the full shape of her eyes some time tonight.

An eyebrow arched. "Just how long have you been waiting?" she asked, the sharpness of her voice not penetrating me the way she'd intended. This was the first time I'd heard her voice, and the only way I could respond was with a softening of my eyes and a wide smile.

"Too long. I've been waiting for you far too long."

I let my smile pull up a tad higher on one side, crossing my arms to keep them from reaching out and touching her. I didn't need Patrick's assurances to know this would put me into major creep status if I put my hands on her—even if it was just to ascertain reality—and any chance I might have with this woman would vanish.

"You looked like you were well attended to while you had to wait a whole ten minutes for me," she said, more edge, but in addition to intimidating me, I found it extremely attractive. Grit your teeth and shudder attractive.

I held the shudder at bay, but had to reply back through clenched teeth. "Yeah, but they're not you. My very own tour guide for the night, or for however long it takes." I winced internally, realizing how ridiculous I sounded.

"I'm sure your fan club would have no problem giving you a tour of our illustrious campus," she said, pointing her eyes over my shoulder. "Perhaps even an in-depth study in the classroom anatomy is taught." I guessed she was referring to the team of women Patrick had assembled, but I didn't look back to confirm. In fact, I wasn't taking my eyes off of her until absolutely necessary. I wouldn't have minded if "absolutely necessary" never came.

I combed my fingers through my hair, a nervous habit that would have resulted in premature balding if I hadn't been cemented in a twenty-two year old body. "You're feistier than I thought you'd be," I replied, no qualms showing my approval. I'd held no expectations, no desires, for what she'd be like, I knew whatever she was, it would be enough. And I'd been right.

"Sorry to disappoint," she said, purposefully avoiding my gaze.

"On the contrary. I'm pleased," I said, willing her eyes back to mine, at least until I'd memorized every grey line contrasting through the deep blue of her eyes, counted the flecks of gold circling her pupils, followed the arch of her eyelashes . . .

"I can die knowing I fulfilled my calling in life." She crossed her arms, drawing them tight into her ribcage. "I've pleased a man, my life's sole mission."

I knew the sear that reached my cheek was about as instant as it gets, but hers might have beaten mine to the surface. She was flustered, so much so I could tell she was thinking about making another go for the exit.

Forcing re-composure, and showering myself in an imaginary cold one, I said the one thing I knew without a moment's hesitation Patrick would have tossed back, probably with a wink, although I wasn't that confident. "Pleased a man indeed." I even managed to mimic his tone that came out like a caress, but my answer, and letting my mind wander farther than I should have, accentuated the flames burning under my skin.

Her only response was a circumnavigation of her irises, glancing forlornly at the door.

"Shall we?" I said, moving to open the door for her. If she was still thinking about making a quick escape, I was following her.

"Why don't we head to the cafeteria first so we can go over what classes you're taking? We can do the tour after."

She looked down a hallway which I presumed led to the cafeteria. I wasn't sure if she'd suggested this because this was how she normally did things, or maybe she was scared to be alone with me. I guessed her father had likely told her to be leery of strange men, I would have told my own daughters the same if I'd ever had any—followed up by arming them with a holster and a .45—but it was hard to accept that I was a stranger to her when I felt anything but.

I started to extend my arm to her before I caught myself. Smooth, William, real subtle. "You're the expert. I'm your humble liege."

Her response of looking like she was gagging confirmed I needed to put Patrick on a shorter leash. This conversation was starting down a trail of self-destruction I wasn't sure I could return from.

Not another word, she started for the cafeteria. "It's brutal to lift their hopes only to let them down," she said when I came up beside her, tilting her head back in the direction of the lobby area.

I didn't know what she was referring to, but even if I did, my speech was incapacitated by the curve of her neck as it wound back and the gentle scents coming from it, like fresh-picked vanilla bean and sun-warmed tangerines, put me into a semi-hypnotic state.

"Surely you didn't miss the effect you had on every one of those girls back there," she added, not missing my state of hypnosis.

At last, the first glimmer giving me hope I'd conjured up something in her other than irritation. "Did I have the same effect on you?" Her head snapped forward, her expression ironing out.

"It takes more than a smile and a schmooze to make my heart go pitter-patter."

I wasn't versed when it came to the ways of women. Other than my two sister-in-laws that were more sister than in-law, I'd had about as much female interaction as an inmate on death-row, but I wasn't oblivious to a person giving a blasé front. She was hiding something, and I could only hope whatever it was would be in my favor.

"That," I said, stifling most signs of exhilaration, "I did expect."

"You know," she said, picking up her pace. "This whole egomaniac thing you're trying to sell doesn't fool me."

Okay, my birth-date was going to age me here. This was a term I was unfamiliar with, and from her tone alone, I deduced it wasn't a compliment. "Ego-maniac?"

"E-G-O-maniac as in cocky, conceited, full of oneself, afraid to show the teensiest bit of vulnerability," she began, sounding like she didn't believe I had no concept of the term, "so on and so forth."

If this conversation wasn't going south at an alarming speed, I would have let myself enjoy the adorable way her hands moved with agitation.

"Isn't that what women want? It seems I've heard somewhere that nice guys finish last. Besides, you're one to talk," I said, finding it hard to keep my voice level. Passion was everything I'd heard it to be—volatile, "With your quick witted answer to everything. You've had a chip on your shoulder before you even met me from whatever preconceived ideas you had of me. So, who exactly do you want me to be?"

I could only hope she'd answer me honestly, because my Patrick act, complete with pieces of William falling through, was not working.

"You could never be anything like what I want," she said, her tone as scalding as her words.

Her pace quickened in a way that said she didn't want me anywhere near her, but I'd never been a skilled translator of the female dialect, and I wasn't going to start now. I shouldered back up to her, trying to keep emotion at bay.

"So you must be one of those people who believe in soul mates, love-at-first-sight, that whole bit, right? That lovely rose-tinted glasses idea that there is only one person out there made just for you."

So much for keeping emotion out of my voice, but having said what I needed to—but probably shouldn't have—I waited long enough for her reply to come in the form of a sealing of the lips.

"Stop me if I've got it wrong," I pressed, feeling hope rising.

Her lips stayed sealed, but I found my answer as her eyes fell in resigned confirmation. If I was nothing more than another admirer trying to hound their way into her heart, she could have flat-out disagreed with me. It was as simple as replying, you've got it all wrong, or even turning and walking away disgusted. But she was still here, flushed and fumbling for a response. Even though she hadn't made a verbal agreement, everything non-verbal had. Go ahead, call me a glass-half-full guy—I was used to it—I had to be to find her.

This was my inch, she'd given one to me, which if I accepted Patrick's relationship-truisms as the gold standard . . . meant that she wanted to go the distance. An inch tonight, a foot next week, a mile next month, and, dare I dream, the end of this journey facing an altar with her on my arm, only to begin a new journey.

I lowered my head until my eyes looked into hers, letting mine flood with the emotion she was keeping out of hers.

"Lucky for us, I'm one of those people too."

Pulling the E-brake, she came to an abrupt stop, gaping at me as I strolled up to the end of the cafeteria line. I made no apology of staring at her as a careful smile pulled at her lips.

I didn't need hindsight to recognize that, up to this point, today was the greatest day of my existence, nor did I need it to know this was the greatest moment of this day as she advanced towards me, in the same assured, hurried way I'd been advancing towards her for years.

If ever a man loved a woman, it was me. If ever a moment was made of perfection, it was right now.

The End
About Nicole Williams...

I'm a wife, a mom, a writer. I started writing because I loved it and I'm still writing because I love it. I write young adult because I still believe in true love, kindred spirits, and happy endings. Here's to staying young at heart *raises champagne glass* . . . care to join me?

Nicole loves hearing from her readers. You can contact her at nwilliamsbooks@gmail.com.

Bonus Interview with the Authors

Question: Fisher Amelie, you write such sweet, romantic story lines. Where do you draw your inspiration?

Everything inspires me. Everything! Anything beautiful can spur my imagination. Sometimes it can be a book or film but my official muse is most definitely music. The right song can cause me to spill a thousand words onto paper and there is absolutely nothing like the sensation of creating scenes worth stealing your breath. Music takes the scenes between my characters to heights I couldn't write without it. Nothing can make my chest ache the way a song can. They are my inspiration.

I think it also helps that I keep my characters as sincere as possible. I make it a priority to keep them genuine so there is no mistaking their intentions for the other. It makes it very easy for me to write them romantically and sweetly when I know for sure where their hearts lie. Nothing is more inspiring than an earnest love.

What is one thing that no one knows about you?

I wanna be a Roller Derby chick so badly! It just looks like a heck of a lot of fun. Seriously, if I could, I would strap on a pair of pinks and fishnets and glide onto the smooth wood track where I could kick some butt and take some names. I've thought about this a lot and I'm leaning towards the name, 'Ophelia Payne'. (Don't you dare steal that or I'll introduce my elbow to your face!) (See what I did there? Wouldn't I be a perfect roller derby chick!) I'm a terrific skater, too. I just lack the time, money, aggression...and guts? Okay, listen, I'm gonna be honest with you folks, I bruise easily and as we all know things can get kind of brutal out there. Remember, I have to keep the face in good shape. My fans demand it. All three of them. I'm not saying I'm scared because I'm not. It's just, I can't risk the hands. They're my money makers and...oh, dash it all. I admit, I am a bit scared. Those girls are intimidating. But oh so cool. Jealous.

Question: J.L. Bryan, your stories are chilling. Do you glean ideas from dreams and nightmares? How do you tap into that mindset?

I think there's a lot of horror in human life, a lot of evil that's difficult to understand or process. This brings not only the question of why people act in a way that makes others suffer, but also how human beings can cope with these kinds of situations. I'm particularly interested in myths—religious, political or other—which can be used to convince people that what should be obviously evil is instead of virtuous, noble or sacred.

Any horror in my stories is an elaboration or exaggeration of real human situations.

I also think darkness provides a contrast that can bring out what it truly noble or beautiful. So I look for the precious grains of beauty, deep feeling or enlightenment in the darkest situations.

What is one thing that no one knows about you?

I'm kind of obsessed with shopping at local farms or farmers' markets. I really enjoy eating eggs that were just laid by the free-range chickens I just saw, or vegetables that were alive in the ground an hour before they're on the table. I definitely prefer the environment of a farm better than environment of a grocery store, and I look forward to taking my son to farms when he's old enough—what a great teaching opportunity.

Farmers' markets are great because in a way they're so classic—people have been doing this for ten thousand years, coming together to trade whatever they've produced. At my local market, that might be heirloom tomatoes, little artisan cheeses and yogurts, homemade candies and jellies, arts and crafts. It's always a kind of festive environment, and I just like this idea of an open space where everyone can offer their little thing that they've created. There's a much greater sense of human connection in a free-form market like that, compared to a corporate shopping center, and you can really observe how society spontaneously creates itself out of thin air every day.

So, yeah, I'm fascinated by those things, and I don't think my farm-related obsession is common knowledge.

Question: Courtney Cole, several of your storylines are based on historical events or mythological legend. How much research do you do in writing these novels? How true to the original legends do you stay?

I do sooooo much research. Hours and hours and hours and I end up collecting way more information than I actually end up using. I try to stay very true to the actual myths and legends or history itself. There are times when I have to twist something to suit my purpose (I write fiction, after all), but if I do change something, I note it in the back of the book.

I think it is so much fun to use myths in my books—I've been fascinated by mythology for as long as I can remember. Sometimes, a lot isn't known about a particular myth (or even a historical figure, like Cleopatra) so I put my writer's brain to good use and make up something interesting. Or if I don't like a particular thing...for example, the personality of Ares the god of war. He's supposedly ruthless and bloodthirsty. But it didn't work for my story. I wanted him to be ruthless when need be, but to also be funny, witty and loving the rest of the time. So, that's how I made him in the Bloodstone Saga. What woman doesn't love a bad boy with good guy tendencies?

What is one thing that no one knows about you?

Um. Hmm. Being born and raised in Kansas, I tend to talk way too much, so there probably isn't a lot that I haven't already revealed about myself. Wren Emerson and I grew up in the same little Kansas, incidentally. But you probably already knew that.

I wish I had something really cool to tell you, like I have webbed toes or an extra finger, but I'm not cool like that. Let's see....

Oh, here's something. I have an extremely heavy foot while I'm driving. I've had more speeding tickets than I can even remember. I had like...6-7 in one year or something a few years ago and had to carry high-risk insurance for awhile. Boo! I try to watch that now so that my husband doesn't kill me.

And speaking of feet, I have huge ones. I mean, I'm 5'10" so I guess I should expect that, but seriously. My feet are enormous. I wear a size 11 shoe. My dad used to tell me that God couldn't make me perfect, so He gave me big feet. Thanks a lot, God. Shoes aren't nearly as cute in a size 11 as they are in a size 8. Also, I have a snaggle toe. My second toe is longer than my first one. No amount of pedicures can fix ugly.

Question: Wren Emerson, everyone struggles with writer's block from time to time. What do you do when it happens to you?

I don't usually deal with writer's block during the writing process since I work from an outline, but I do run into problems sometimes while creating my outlines. I find it helpful to use mind maps to explore new directions.

There are times that I get distracted by ideas for other books. When that happens I give myself permission to write down all the ideas I have for that project. Knowing that the idea is waiting for me allows me to let it go for awhile and concentrate on what I'm supposed to be working on.

Something nobody knows about me...

This is tough because I'm pretty much an open book about most things. Hmm... Ok, here's something random. When I was in the Army I had to take a test that covered everything we learned during Basic Training. I scored 100% "first time go" on it. I was also awarded PT patches for maxing my physical training tests. I wasn't very career oriented toward the Army so that's about as much distinction as I managed to earn.

Question: Amy Jones, what inspired the Soul Quest series?

Soul Quest was inspired by a really weird dream. My hubby is a night owl and loves to stay up late watching the History Channel. I had this dream about a little boy standing in the middle of mirrored room. The little boy looked just like my son when he was 3 years old. He had cute chubby cheeks, curly blond ringlets and beautiful hazel green eyes.

The little boy was watching images flicker on the mirrored walls in the room. The mysterious mirrors showed images from historical disasters such as Hitler's dictatorship, Martin Luther King Jr. and Kennedy's shootings and Nine Eleven... you get the gist. Anyway, it had a major impact on me. The next day I asked my husband what he was watching on television the night before. He said it was a special episode on the History Channel dedicated to the worst events in history. He acknowledged all of the above mentioned tragedies were a part of the episode.

I suppose as a mother the dream was symbolic of the wrath of the world posing a threat against my children. So, I decided to turn it into a positive thing. In this effort my little boy became Hala, the Great Spirit. Hala is a being as old as time, a spirit who resembles a child in physical form. Before I knew it, a quest for justice against evil began. Since I work with teenagers it was only natural that they became the heroes in the plot. The basis of the book is good versus evil but I tried to weave into the underlying tone that life is about choices, good and bad.

What is one thing that no one knows about you?

I have two rare and strange diseases. They are both connective tissue disorders, Ehlers -Danlos Syndrome and MASS (Mitral, Aortic, Skin, and Skeleton) Phenotype.

One in five thousand people may be diagnosed with a connective tissue disorder. Lucky me, I inherited two. My father's side of the family blessed me with Ehlers - Danlos Syndrome and my mother's DNA contributed MASS Phenotype (a subtype of Marfan's Syndrome).

A connective tissue disorder can manifest its self differently in each type and person but the similarity in each disease involves a defect in collagen.

On a positive note, this defect has benefited me athletically. The abnormal limberness of my muscles and the hyperextension in my joints has allowed me to excel in the art of dance, one of my most treasured passions in life.

Question: Tiffany King, your Saving Angels series is appropriately named, since it is about angels. Do you yourself believe in angels?

The funny thing about this question is that my hubby and I recently got into a conversation about ghosts and whether we believe in them. At first I answered with a resounding YES, but the more I thought about the question, the more I realized my response needed to be modified. I believe that there are some kinds of celestial beings that represent the good that we see each and every day. I also believe the same goes for evil, which is why I first answered yes to the ghost question. In my mind, ghosts and demons are one and the same. I have always been a huge believer in good versus evil and that one day both will come to a head.

What is one thing that no one knows about you?

The answer to this question ties in with the subject above. The reason I believe so strongly in angels is that I believe they are responsible for my well being. What most people don't know is that I spent the majority of my childhood homeless, moving from one state to the next. I've witnessed and experienced the worst that cities in this country have to offer. I believe it is through some kind of greater force that I am here today, happy and healthy!

Question: Nicole Williams, what is your favorite part of writing Young Adult fiction?

I know this will seem like a cop-out, but because it's true . . . everything. I love everything from the early stages of novel conception to the final edit and all the bits and pieces that fall in between. I love the YA readers, too, young and old. I find most people who are drawn to YA fiction look at the world and see things the way they could be instead of the way they are not, and this probably goes without saying, but they are also hopeless romantics that never give up on their dreams. Those are the kinds of people I write for and the kind of person I strive to be.

What is one thing that no one knows about you?

I made it through my entire grade school education without getting the dreaded "name on the board" infraction. That may have a bad case of "brown nose" written all over it, but it had more to do with me being painfully shy, but I broke out of my shell in my high school years and even skipped three classes my senior year which the powers that be didn't even deem worthy of a truancy or an afternoon in detention. I know what you're thinking . . . what a rebel, right?

In related news, I've always disliked that saying that well-behaved women seldom make history . . .

