“I didn’t mean to offend. Symba never explained that part,” said Quillon. He shifted uncomfortably where he stood.
“No offense taken,” laughed Treena. “As long as it’s my choosing, I can share with whom I want. In a gift of friendship, I invite you to know the touch of my wings.”
Quillon cautiously approached. In fascination, he delicately traced the intricate webbing of her wings. He felt her shiver, and he felt the heat and pulse that throbbed in his hand. He stepped back. “I can sense the power shared in such a touch,” he said. “Thank you, for such an intimate gift.”
Treena winked at him and gently closed her wings. “Okay folks, time for my rule.” She playfully rubbed her hands together.
The others chuckled, as the intimate moment was dispelled. Wings were re-furled.
“Let’s get a handle on our hand-to-hand fighting abilities.”
“The exercise room has lots of space,” said Quillon. “We can move some of the equipment. My sister took gymnastics into her early teens, so we have lots of mats to place on the floor for cushioning.”
“No point injuring ourselves as we train, although you can expect a few bumps and bruises,” warned Treena.
Back inside, they filled reusable water bottles to take with them. Quillon provided a change of clothing for everyone, and Brigid was delighted to find the exercise clothing was made of the same stretchy Lycra material she’d found so comfortable in her dress.
Once the room was set up, Treena led everyone in a warm-up routine. Satisfied that everyone had limbered up, she called on Symba for the first trial.
“Let’s see what you’ve got.”
The others stood out of the way and watched the two engage. Both were nimble, but Symba’s gift gave her an edge. Just as Treena’s foot swiped to knock her over, Symba caught her intent and agilely leapt aside. If Treena feinted with one hand, Symba could sense it was the other side she had to guard against. Treena’s strength, speed, and skill kept her on her feet, but Symba managed to get in a few powerful kicks and punches. Finally, they called a draw.
Treena extended her hand. “Well done!”
“You too.” Symba took Treena’s hand while stepping toward her.
In her relaxed position, Treena was unprepared for what happened next. Symba pivoted, bent, and threw Treena over her back. In astonishment, Treena tucked and rolled as she landed on the mat. A stunned silence was followed by a burst of laughter and applause.
“You’ll catch on that she’s a slick one,” Quillon chuckled.
“I had to learn to be quick, with all the pranks you and your friends played on me in school,” said Symba.
She turned to Treena. “I apologize. That wasn’t fair.”
“You think?” Treena grunted as she hauled herself up.
Symba tried to hold in her laughter, but the giggles began to spill out. “But it was so worth it! If you could have seen your face.”
“You won’t catch me again and, if you try, I suggest you be prepared.”
A few more snorts emitted from Symba as Treena turned to ask, “Who’s up next?”
Quillon held up his hands and the other two stepped back.
“What? None of you know hand-to-hand?” Treena shook her head.
“Brigid, you know a few defensive moves. Symba, could you test her out on those? Quillon and Evander, I’ll work with you two.”
For the next hour, they practiced how to break free from various holds. They worked on elbow strikes, stomps, finger gouges, knee strikes, and throat punches. Next, Treena had Symba demonstrate a basic throw. They went through it a of couple times until they were sure the others had a sense of the moves, both with regard to how to throw the other person and how to tuck and roll if they were thrown.
Treena assigned Symba to work with Evander and Brigid. She matched herself with Quillon; they were of a similar height. Quillon’s experience as a dancer meant that he picked up the moves readily. Treena enjoyed working with him. He respected her as a fighter and didn’t hold back when moving in to throw her.
Symba faced a greater challenge instructing Evander and Brigid: both were holding back for fear of hurting each other. She worked with them separately; then, she insisted they work with each other.
“You have to learn to deal with different sizes and sexes of opponents. We’ll switch up soon, and we’ll all be pitted against each other. This could be a matter of life and death, for you or for your teammates. Now stop holding back. Practice!”
By mid-afternoon they were covered in sweat as they took turns fighting each other. Their water bottles had been refilled twice, and they were ready for a break.
“We’ll do a cooldown routine and a few stretches to keep you supple,” said Treena. “Let’s take a break to refuel. Then, Quillon can teach us about guns before it’s time for cardio. Sometimes the best defense is to run.”
The others groaned but followed her lead.
When Brigid arrived in the kitchen, Treena was already slicing and arranging fruit onto a tray. Brigid opened the fridge and saw a block of applewood smoked cheese; it would go well with the fruit. As the others filtered in, and the tray of food was quickly devoured.
Quillon had a screen on which he brought up pictures of guns. He described the difference between rifles, handguns, automatics, and semi-automatics, and how they were used. Then, he placed a gun on the counter.
Brigid cringed. “I don’t want to touch it,” she said. “It feels wrong.”
Treena curiously extended a hand to examine it.
Quillon halted her. “Always treat a gun as loaded,” he warned. He directed the gun’s muzzle toward the ground. “Always keep the gun pointed in a safe direction and never point it at anything you don’t intend to destroy, including yourself.”
Evander shook his head. “It doesn’t feel to me as though guns fit with our prophecy.”
“It’s helpful to know about them and how they’re used, but I believe we need to find other ways to resolve what’s happening in this world,” Brigid said.
It was agreed they’d seek non-destructive ways to move forward. Quillon suggested they head outside for their cardio as there was a trail that extended around the inside perimeter of his property which was suitable for running.
“I volunteer to start making supper,” declared Symba.
“I’ll assist,” Brigid offered immediately, not at all sure she wanted to run.
“We all need the cardio. We don’t know where this prophecy will lead us, nor the challenges we may face. We need to be prepared for every possibility,” said Treena firmly. She wasn’t going to let them wangle their way out of this part of training.
“Fine, we’ll run,” Symba mumbled. “But I prefer dancing.”
Quillon ran regularly to support the cardio demands of dancing. He and Treena offered tips to the others, such as warming up with a brisk walk, settling into a comfortable stride, and watching their body alignment. They guided them through an alternating walking and running routine to help their bodies adjust.
Thirty minutes passed and Brigid’s legs began to express their displeasure. She thought she’d had trouble adjusting to horseback riding; this was worse. Just as she felt she couldn’t endure any more, Quillon called for a cooldown walk.
As they tromped through the kitchen to seek out showers, Symba took a moment to stick her head in the fridge to consider options for their dinner.
“Hey, Brigid, there’re steaks in here that I could marinade for an hour and then cook on the grill.” She hauled them out onto the shelf. “There’re also lots of fresh greens and veggies for a salad. Could you get that started after your shower, if I take care of the meat?”
Brigid nodded her agreement as she stumbled upstairs to shower. When she returned, the two worked companionably around each other.
“You and Treena are long-time friends?” asked Symba as she chopped peppers for the salad.
“Treena moved to my hometown when we were both seventeen,” Brigi
d said. “She was like a breath of fresh air. My healing gift developed at a very young age. Because most fairies experience their gift in their early teenage years, I was considered strange, even as a child. I was sent away to study in a place with no other youth. When I returned, I felt so different that I had trouble fitting in. Eventually, I stopped trying. It was a lonely time. Then, Treena arrived in town. She was considered an outsider too. We were drawn to each other and we’ve been fast friends since.”
“Is it okay if I ask if you were ever more than friends?” said Symba.
“We’ve always been very affectionate with each other,” said Brigid, smiling at Symba. “I can appreciate you wondering. However, our sexual orientations are different, so we never shared that type of intimacy.”
“I’ve noticed a certain attraction between you and our hunky priest,” said Symba, raising an eyebrow.
“That obvious, is it?” Brigid sighed.
“The air seems to sizzle between you when you’re near each other.”
“It feels like that on the inside too,” said Brigid.
“I feel a ‘but’ in there. Care to talk about it?” Symba passed the chopped peppers to Brigid to toss in the salad bowl.
Brigid pondered the gift of a new friendship. She could feel Symba’s genuine interest and care. As she washed up potatoes to roast in the oven, Brigid decided to take the risk and accept Symba’s offer. She shared what she’d experienced with Evander—the confusion she felt as she tried to also stay cognizant of their mission.
Symba was an attentive listener and didn’t interrupt as Brigid poured out her thoughts and feelings.
“I’ve been attracted to Evander from the moment I met him. I’ve had trouble in the past with relationships because I sense so many of my dates’ issues—sometimes a lack of respect, sometimes other stuff—and it never seems worth the effort.”
“But now…?”
“Now, I feel the attraction and respect is mutual. I’ve sensed a hint of jealousy when I interact with Quillon, but it doesn’t feel obsessive. I worry about our mission. If I explore this relationship and it goes wrong, will that affect the team?”
Symba paused in reflection and then asked, “What do your instincts tell you?”
“Even though this feels scary for me, it also feels like something special that I shouldn’t pass up. What do you think?”
“I think you should listen to your heart and not to what anyone else thinks.” Symba reached her arm around Brigid and gave her a side hug. They’d just finished putting potatoes and a squash into the oven, when the door opened.
Evander walked through. “Need any help?” he asked.
“You could set the table,” Symba said.
“Sure,” replied Evander. “Maybe I’ll root around and see if Quillon has ingredients for a chocolate mousse. I’ve a hankering for something sweet.”
Symba grinned enthusiastically at the suggestion. She told him there was a cold storage room and a wine cellar in the basement if he wanted to dig through those areas too. She invited Brigid to join her exploring the wine stock. They spent a fun twenty minutes hauling out different varieties of wine and debating which would best compliment their steak supper. They returned with a Malbec and a Cabernet Sauvignon. As they entered the kitchen, the aromas tantalized their senses.
“I can’t remember the last time I was so hungry,” said Brigid.
Symba found a corkscrew and handed it to Brigid. “Let’s open these and give them some breathing time, while I throw the steaks on.”
Symba opened the patio doors onto a back veranda. She stepped out and fiddled with a tank under a black metal stand. She opened a lid and flicked something in her hand, and then closed the lid again.
“What are you doing?” Brigid pulled out the last cork as she watched Symba.
“I was just firing up the barbeque.” Symba gave her a strange look; then, it dawned on her. “You don’t have barbeques? It’s a cooking grill that uses a propane tank for fuel.”
“We have wood-fired grills,” said Brigid. “But nothing like that.”
Symba took her out and showed her how it worked. Evander was curious too, so he set aside his preparations to watch the demonstration. Soon, the steaks were on and sizzling. The wine was poured, and the rest of the team gathered with them.
Evander lifted his wineglass. “To new friends and new skills.”
Everyone joyfully joined in the toast.
Dinner proceeded with stories and laughter as the new friends got to know one another better. The steak was tender and the marinade Symba had created was delicious. The salad was crisp and refreshing; the potatoes dripped with butter and parsley. Evander’s dessert left everyone calling for more. Brigid dipped her spoon in for one last bite. She slid it into her mouth, savoring the bite of the chocolate and the velvety smooth texture of the mousse. Evander’s eyes caught her attention and, suddenly, it wasn’t just the dessert that was making her mouth water.
“Brigid and I will take care of the dishes,” Evander volunteered.
Quillon wanted to go check the computer for responses to his earlier messages. Symba invited Treena to the entertainment center to try something called a Wii. Everyone took their dishes to the shelf as they left the kitchen. Brigid found containers for the leftover salad and extra potatoes. In minutes, the table was emptied, and most dishes were stacked in what Symba had explained was a dishwasher. Evander had his hands in a sink full of soapy water.
Brigid intentionally brushed against him as she stepped to the drying rack. The towel, hanging from a hook on the side of the counter, was damp. Soon, it was too wet to use. She bent around Evander, letting her breasts press against him as she reached toward the drawer containing dish towels. She could feel his muscles clench in response and smiled in delight at her newfound feminine power. The dishes seemed to be piling up in a hurry as she stood back up.
Brigid stretched up to place the wine glasses on the top shelf of the cupboard.
“Leave the pots to drip dry,” said Evander as he grabbed Brigid’s hand. “Let’s go for a walk in the garden.”
He dragged her through the veranda door, down the steps, and he strode briskly along the pathway.
As soon as they were out of sight of the house, he stepped under one of the large oak trees. He leaned against its trunk and deliberately drew Brigid toward him. His grip was firm but loose enough if she had wanted to break free. She eagerly stepped into him and placed her lips on his. His lips moved under hers. His hands began to stroke up and down her sides, caressing her hips and up under her breasts. Brigid’s hands gripped the muscles of his back in anticipation. She opened her mouth and their tongues collided. The earlier warmth between them flashed to fire again.
Evander’s fingers brushed her turgid nipples which strained against her top. She slipped her hands under his shirt, needing to feel his skin. Evander’s mouth left hers, to trace a line of fire down her throat. He languidly opened one button at a time of her blouse, pressing kiss after kiss to her hot flesh. His fingers released the front clasp of her strapless bra, a necessary design for fairies, as his tongue swirled over the mounds of her breasts. His hands delighted in the weight and shape of them.
“You’re so beautiful,” he moaned as he bent his head to draw a plump rosy nipple into his mouth. He nipped and pulled gently with his teeth and Brigid felt her core tighten.
Her hands slid down to stroke and clasp his firm buttocks. She pulled him solidly against her. His rigid erection pushed against her pulsing core.
“I want you,” she said. Her hands restlessly clenched Evander’s flesh.
Evander lifted his head and kissed her passionately as his fingers continued to arouse her breasts.
“I can’t seem to do anything but want you, Brigid.” Evander’s voice was hoarse with desire.
She slid her hands to clasp his shirt and pull it off. She leaned in to lightly bite and lick his nipples.
“What’s stopping you? We have no idea what
tomorrow or the next day will bring. I want to feel you as part of me.”
Brigid unfurled her wings, letting her blouse and bra drop from her arms.
Evander let his wings unfurl. Their fingers caressed the contours and unique webbing of each other’s wings. A heightened level of connection pulsed between them. Brigid’s breasts grew heavier and she could feel the wetness building between her legs. She stepped back and unzipped her jeans, and drew them down her legs. Standing in lacy panties before him, she proudly let his gaze devour her. Evander’s jeans and boxers fell to the ground.
Brigid reached to encircle his heat with her hands. Slowly, she caressed the length of him. He moaned his response. His fingers feathered underneath the lace and swept into the wet core between her legs. Sparks from his fingers caused her vulva to swell. Evander quickly hauled her panties from her. Brigid begged him to fill her. He grasped her around the waist and lifted her to him. Brigid wrapped her legs around him as they joined together. Golden sparks thrummed around them and within them. Their wings glowed and the golden topaz of Brigid’s necklace deepened in color. They stretched out the wonder of the moment for as long as they could, until their bodies took over. Evander’s thrusts became more powerful. Brigid clasped him tightly, squeezing and lifting herself, feeling the stimulation everywhere their bodies connected. Brigid felt the spasms within begin to radiate out through her entire being. Every cell felt alive. She felt bathed in light as her body tightened one last time. Evander’s muscles began to quiver with the need for release. One after the other, they gasped their sense of completion.
Brigid collapsed against Evander as he lowered them to the ground. He hugged her tightly to himself, his hands gently smoothing up and down her back.
When Brigid raised her head, he spoke.
“I’ve never experienced anything like that before. Did you feel that connection between us?”
“It was incredible.” She tenderly stroked his cheek.
“We’re all connected with this mission, but what we share feels like something more.” Evander’s fingers played through her hair.
The Prophecy Page 12
