All my love, Dad
“RAFI, I THINK MY FATHER is still alive!”
“I can’t wait to meet him, love.” Rafi smoothed her hair and pointed towards the back door. “Topper said she left something. Go look.”
Sylvia looked by the door; seeing nothing there she pulled it open to look outside. With a little shriek, she jumped through the door and into the huge, free-form swimming pool. She rolled and dove, leaping from the water before splashing back, casting diamond water droplets into the air. She surfaced, beaming, complete.
Rafi let her joy flow over him as he watched her play. I am where I’m supposed to be. Turban flying, he flung himself into her water, surfacing and reaching for her fingertips, pulling her into the rest of time.
Epilogue
“I healed your body, Pirro. There is conflict within your spirit.” Haseya sat next to her fire, calm eyes on Pirro, who had just complete a series of shifts to test his healing.
“Thank you, Healer,” he replied, “but my spirit is beyond your realm and is of no concern.”
“I keep the balance, Pirro. Your assumption that there is only divine and human blinds you to this power and its place in the creation. Stay and learn with me. Heed the call to Pause and Clarify.”
“You are beyond your place, Healer.” Pirro’s disdain filled the hut.
“Your spirit no longer grows when trapped in the cessation of learning, Pirro. Here is new knowledge, beckoning. Choose to stay.”
His swirling smoke, shooting out of her hut, was his answer.
The End
Thanks for reading “Swimming for Air”!
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Want more? Read on for a taste of Book 3 in the Messing Up Magic series!
“Raining Magic” will be available March 19, 2019, in ebook and paperback.
Missed out on Book 1? I included an excerpt of Messing Up Magic, Book 1, so keep reading!
About the Author
Winnie Winkle is a fabulous Central Florida broad who swills bourbon, likes dogs and cats, and practices yoga, but not with any degree of grace. Supporting live local music is a passion, so if you pass a gravestone that admonishes, ‘Go see the band and hit the tip jar’, it’s probably hers. But, since she’s not dead yet, she’ll keep penning fun stuff to rock your reading chair.
A 30-year transplant to Florida, Winnie splits her time between South Daytona Shores and the Mount Dora area. She prefers writing beach-side as much as she can because, if we’re baring our souls here, the ocean is a mighty muse and there’s only so much you can expect from coffee.
Winnie writes for the series “The Worlds or Magic, New Mexico” in the paranormal romance/sci-fi romance genres. She also writes speculative women’s fiction and fantasy.
Guess what? Winnie loves to sign books at local Florida venues and conferences and to visit book clubs!
Contact her at [email protected] to schedule an event.
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Excerpt:
Raining Magic
Messing Up Magic - Book 3
By Winnie Winkle
Prologue
BUFFETED AND NEAR EXHAUSTION, a bird fluttered, its red wings and long multi-colored tail catching the updrafts before landing hard on a hill of rocks, its heart space a weak red glow in the New Mexican desert. I have to stop. I feel it’s close, but I don’t have another five hundred yards, let alone five miles left in me. Hoping for solitude, perched high among in the rocks, she tucked her head and slept the sleep of the dead.
Zac slowed his bike in the waning sunlight, sensing magic where before there was none. He whirled his hand, rising and spinning, looking across the desert, stopping his spin to float towards the faint red glow. It’s a bird with a glowing heart. Whoa. The bird is a benny for sure. Rad magical. I bet it heard Magic calling and headed this way. I’ll toss a protection spell on it ‘til it wakes up and figures out what it wants to do. Might be a Firebird. Bitchin’ feathers. I’ll let Theo know it’s here.
Chapter 1
PIRRO STEPPED OVER the bodies, maintaining a half-solid half-smoke form, blue lightning crackling across the ship’s hull and through him, stopping anything that moved.
“Are you ready for a conversation yet?”
Pirro’s voice boomed, bouncing off the corridor’s metal walls, drowning out the groans of the dying Morducks. These scaly alien creatures thought they could capture and control a Djinn, the masters of all the interdimensional planes? Fools. He float-walked around a corner into what he assumed was the bridge of the spacecraft, coming face to face with twenty Morducks, the last of the ship’s crew. One, wearing a translator, nodded and spoke.
“Are there many beings on earth like you?”
“Enough.” Pirro cracked electricity into the floor, making several Morducks cry out in pain.
“We seek entities from your planet that suspend natural law. These powers are valuable.”
“What you seek as a commodity is a way to make magic. You cannot do so. Magic is not replicable. You’re born with it, or you aren’t. Your mission, as you call it, is flawed.”
“Then we enslave and force them to be our soldiers!”
“Ah, yes. You saw how well your ‘enslaving’ worked on me. You bring a child’s solution to a God. Your little group here is all that remains alive, and if I wished, you’d be dead before your next breath. Try again.”
The Morduck captain glared at Pirro, seeing complete disinterest, and worse, laughter in his eyes. I’m defeated and I know it. Whatever this being is, he’s evolved beyond our species and technology. So, why is he here? Why play with us if he can kill us with impunity? What does he want?
With sudden understanding, the captain spoke. “You desire something from the Morduck nation. I don’t think it’s the pleasure of killing us. You remained on the ship because there is a service you require. Talk.”
What a surprise. One of these creatures has a brain. Pirro sat cross-legged in the air, floating like a demented Buddha, his long copper hair fanning out around him in a curly fire-halo. “I desire to right a wrong, and I need expendables. Your race will do. From what I saw, you are fearless and unafraid to die. This pleases me, since I care not if you live or die either. You’ll tie up resources and keep them busy while I accomplish my objective.”
He floated closer to the captain. “On earth, there is a concentration of magic. Since you were spying on them, it’s obvious you know this. When magical forces combine, it is, shall we say, less than optimal. That magnified power interferes with my crusade against the humans. I have chosen you to help me.”
“What do we get out of this deal? Prisoners? Knowledge?”
Pirro flicked a smoky finger, sending a blue bolt into the floor. The Morducks shrieked and bounced. Pirro floated over them, his energies filling their blood, threatening to explode their veins. His laughter echoed as he released them. The Morducks lay scattered across the floor, panting and trembling,
“You get to live.”
ZAC FILLED HIS CAMELBACK water backpack and strapped it on before stepping out onto the back porch. He pointed at his red and yellow surfboard which rose and leveled out in front of him. Sure miss the blue. He waved a second spell at the sand behind the house, and it undulated, forming waves. Jumping off the porch, belly first onto the board, the wave of sand lifted him as he sprang to his feet. Surfing the swirling sand, he rode out to the hill of rock as the sun pushed against the grey, rising toward the horizon’s edge, ready to break and warm the desert.
The bird watched the odd sandstorm barreling towards her perch. I’ve never s
een such a low dust cloud, it’s not even as high as this hill. Still, she prepared to lift off if it came her way. The sand rippled and rolled towards her, a sea of tan and brown. Is that... is that a man? Riding on the sand? What a hoot! I must be close to my destination.
The sand suddenly subsided, whooshing to the earth as the surfboard settled, rider still standing. I miss wiping out; it’s not the same ride. But, after the cactus incident... Zac looked up, squinting, at the bright plumage above him, peering down with interest.
“Hey there, Birdy. I’m Zac.”
Should I shift? She stepped up onto a rock to see him better. He looks like a California surfer who took a wrong turn. She lifted off, flying in a slow circle around him to check him out before landing on a jutting rock about halfway down the hill. Closer, but safe.
“You a Firebird? You looking for the town of Magic, New Mexico?”
Ooh, that’s helpful. He’s cute. But, I have to stay focused. It’s not safe and I’ve got to get this message into the right person. She cocked her head and shook her wings out.
“Awesome, Dude. I’m taking that as a yes. You can follow me. Oh, almost forgot.” Zac pointed his finger at her and she felt the shift. Did he put a spell on me?
“Quirrup!”
“What? Oh, that. I saw you last night and dropped a protection spell on you to keep the predators away. You looked like you needed the zzzzs.”
Huh. If true, that was thoughtful. Stay alert, though, Tashi. You’re up against true evil.
Zac waved, and the sand rose. Running with his board, he flung himself into the sand waves, popped up, and started surfing back to the town of Magic. Behind him, Tashi rose, the sunrise glinting of her feathers, highlighting the deep reds, coppers, and hints of blue and green. Staying high, watching for trouble, she followed the sea of sand into Magic.
“MORNING,” THEO DRAWLED, pouring coffee into an old crazed mug that said ‘World’s Best Brother’. He’d recovered from proving that point, which hadn’t been fun. When he’d got back from Florida, he’d asked Topper put a spell on the mug to make it unbreakable. Some things mattered, and the mug was one.
“Dude,” Zac said, nodding at the coffee.
Theo rolled his eyes and gestured at the pot. “Help yourself, Zac, and there is no reality where I’ll answer to ‘Dude’. It’s Theo or Sheriff. Get used to it.”
“Awesome!”
Cross California off my list. Zac’s the nicest warlock I’ve run into, but the surf stuff got old five minutes in.
“So Du..., er, Theo, the bird I mentioned last night was still there and I think it followed me here.”
Theo set his mug down, rose, and walked out the back door, looking around. Nothing. He walked around the side of the Sheriff’s office and looked at the front of the building, eyes moving up to the roofline.
“Quirrup!”
“Morning. You looking for Magic, New Mexico? I’m Theo, and I’m the Sheriff here. You are welcome and safe in our town of those with, er, unexpected abilities. If you want to come in, I’ll leave the door open.”
Theo headed back to his coffee, dropping his dusty boots on his desk and taking a long swig.
“You catch it?”
Warlocks and their power moves. Theo shook his head, letting the silence stretch out.
“Oh, yeah, Sentient. Autonomous. My bad.”
Is he ever going to ditch the surf-speak? My patience is headed to zero.
Tashi landed with a ruffle of feathers and stepped into the office. It’s that surf guy, Zac. He’s better than cute, he’s super hot! And that sheriff, I’m getting a good vibe off him. He’s something else. Maybe he flies like me. She looked around the office, seeing several white shirts hanging on pegs in the hallway leading towards the back door. With a flutter, she rose, snagged a shirt, and landed.
Theo looked at her, understanding dawning. “You’re a shifter?”
Her beak full of shirt, she bobbed her head.
Theo rose, moving at half-speed, and stepped towards her, reaching a long arm over and opening the door to the bathroom. “Sorry about the mess, Ma’am.”
Tashi bobbed again, hopping around the shirt to get into the little bathroom and yanking the shirt in after her. She shifted, tossing the shirt over her body. Good thing that Sheriff is tall. This shirt is long enough to cover the important bits if I act like a lady. No dancing, Tashi. This will do for now, but you need to set up a base if you plan to stay. Her hair rose, bits of it sliding out the doorway, tugging. Dammit. Grabbing her hair in both hands, she twisted it and jammed a pen she found on the edge of the sink into the twist. Stay put! I have to conduct some serious stuff here. Her hair wiggled in protest. Be still and we’ll have a fire-dance soon, ok? Hair settling down, she stepped from the bathroom.
“Whoa,” Zac said, and Tashi’s eyes, one green, one blue, turned to take him in.
“I didn’t think you’d be such a babe,” Zac said, leaning forward and laying a goofy grin on her that lit up her insides.
This one is F-I-N-E fine. Wonder what he is?
“Ma’am,” Theo interrupted, dropping a side-eye on Zac that would have melted most, and Tashi liked that it sailed over Zac’s head.
He is oblivious. Ha-ha! Total free spirit. My kind of guy. “Sheriff, I need to talk to someone. I’ve flown a long way to get here; I hope you are that person.”
“Zac, this is official business, so I need you to leave.” Theo could tell Zac didn’t want to go. “It would help if you could head over to Topper’s place. Ask her if our guest can stay there and if she’d be willing to help with clothes and whatnot.”
Zac held Tashi’s gaze, lost in it. “That what you want?”
She nodded, grateful, and he rose.
“I’ll be back in a bit.”
“Not necessary. We’ll come to Topper’s when we’re finished here. Thanks for the assist, Zac.”
Theo gestured to the now empty chair and Tashi tucked the tail of the white shirt under her butt and sat on it. The wispy hair around her face, Theo noticed, moved with unease.
“Well?”
Tashi pulled in her breath and looked into Theo’s ice-blue eyes. Huh, those seem sort of otherworldly. Oh well, I’ve got to tell somebody. Time to take a chance.
“I was in Hawaii. I have a friend there, a Kupua, and we were hanging out, being drunk and disorderly spirits. One night, after a lot of Koloa rum, we were passed out in a tree when this, oh hell, I don’t know what he was, but he was bad news, showed up. You ever been to Hawaii, Theo? There’s a lot of magic on those islands, so the signatures are fuzzy. I think he didn’t realize we were there, and that saved us.”
Theo listened, a tiny disquiet in his gut growing louder. “What happened?”
“That, whatever the hell he was, attacked a group of campers, and...” Tashi shivered, her eyes flashing a sudden red. “He killed them by twisting their bodies. He became the wind, and killed them, one at a time, holding the others in place, making it last, like it was a sport. When they were dead, he twisted the nearby trees to make it look like a natural event, then he turned into smoke, rolling down the mountain.”
Theo leaned forward, gut hollering. “Did you see him in a human form?”
“Yes.” Flicking her arm, feathers appeared. With her other hand, she plucked one and released it to the air. Closing her eyes, the feather drew a three-dimensional image, in colored light, into the air of the office.
Theo’s eyes narrowed as the feather etched out a tall, muscular body with a head of long, tightly curled copper ringlets hanging halfway down the man’s back. The lips curled with disdain, the face haughty with self-importance.
“Crap.”
“You know this being?” Tashi’s eyes flashed red again, ready to attack if she’d misjudged the lawman.
Theo sighed and leaned back, giving the angry red eyes a thoughtful look. “His name is Pirro. He’s a Djinn, a genie who went rogue. He damn near killed me a while back.” Theo’s long pointer finger traced
the writing on his mug. “He’s bad news, Ma’am.”
The red faded as she met his look. “Call me Tashi, and you aren’t telling me anything I don’t know. My friend and I remained in bird form and followed the smoke. He reformed, and I overheard him mutter something about Magic, New Mexico and settling a score. I flew here as fast as I could, but that demented genie is days ahead of me. I bet he moves a lot faster than a hung-over Firebird.”
AUTHOR NOTE:
“Raining Magic” releases on March 19th, 2019. Find it at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Apple, and many other great bookstores.
Excerpt:
Messing Up Magic
Messing Up Magic - Book 1
By Winnie Winkle
Chapter One
A green-tinged glow emanated from far side of the rock-strewn hill. Zayn moved towards it, catlike, quiet, but curious. Flying was an option, but tracking was second nature and Zayn liked hunting. The act of stalking while wrapped in darkness, placing his paws with silence and purpose, fed his nature in a way that quick and easy never would.
Kids camping in the desert were Zayn’s favorites. The rush of their fear and the shrieks of the women were a feast. Zayn liked terror. He loved discomfort. Scaring the piss out of humans made his whole night.
Close, he paused, belly fur touching the dust, sniffing the air. Scents filtered and sorted in his mind. He knew everyone in Magic, New Mexico. Zayn’s ear flicked at the familiar wolf scent, tinged with a new smell. He prepared to pounce. Crouched, Zayn skirted a pile of rocks, edging towards the glow.
Pain sliced through his head, blinding him, the green fading to black.
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