Flying Fawna

by Rose Smith

  Oscar peeked into the tiny windows of the plane and saw the passengers stilled in motion. “They’re not sleep.”

  “No I have them suspended. They’re not aware a maniac took over their vehicle on the way to Paris and tried to crash it into the ocean.

  “Why?” As big and powerful as Oscar was, his heart was as gentle as a child’s. He could never conceive of evil in anyone. Chaz Xanadu wished more of mankind had the tender soul of this gentle giant. “I wish I knew, my friend. I’ll have to contact your sheriff to have the man arrested. Maybe he can get to the bottom of his motives.”

  Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. In popped The Fates—Nonny and Topper—descendants of the famous Warehausen family of witches, and Sophie and Tory, all who’d telepathically heard the SOS by now. Chaz Xanadu filled them in on what happened, then went to get the sheriff. He left the passengers as they were.

  Once Chaz and the sheriff had Brock off the jet and behind bars, they focused on what to do about 207 passengers running amok in Magic. The Fates suggested they call an emergency meeting of the townsfolk. Once they all came to Oscar’s, they decided to pitch in and offer lodging to the passengers. Each family took three to four passengers each—keeping families together.

  The Fates decided they’d bring the passengers to and let them know what happened. Chaz wanted no part. He made plans to get back on a plane in Albuquerque, headed back to Chicago to await his next assignment.

  The Fates decided they’d hide the jet by poofing it onto Kirtland Air Force Base in Albuquerque as one of the models in the Base Aviation Museum once all the passengers were off. They were afraid Oscar might accidentally step on it if they left it in his yard and they needed it to transport the passengers back into the Earth Realm with their magic.

  “Oscar, we need your help,” Topper told the giant. When we bring the passengers around, we need you to cup them in your hand and put them on the ground. Oscar was delighted.

  The Fate Sisters removed the passengers from suspension and explained to them they were in Magic, New Mexico as guests because someone tried to crash their plane. They were all in shock. Once they gathered themselves, some were more than a little grumpy they didn’t make it to Paris and would be delayed for awhile. Just like humans, thought Topper, someone saves their lives and all they concentrate on is being inconvenienced.

  “Now we can’t get you all down by using the emergency exits, you’re going to have to let Oscar help you off the plane.” She pointed out the window.

  They gasped at the giant with the big afro.

  A man further back in the plane whose neck was as red as a tomato with leather-beaten skin shrieked.

  “Oh, my word! Is that God? Are we dead? He gasped, pointing to Oscar. His wife eyes—whose redneck and leather skin matched his were as wide as his open mouth. “I’ve been a redneck all my born days! He exclaimed.”

  “Oh, that’s just Oscar.” Topper told them. “But if I were you—I’d rethink that redneck thing… you never know when you do meet your maker, who he’ll be.” she warned. “Or who she will be,” chimed Nonny, her sister whose hair, which changed colors several times a day was flaming red.

  Chapter Seventeen

  To this day Fawna still didn’t know how she got the gift of books appearing when she needed them, but she sure was glad Single White Female, materialized. She had never read the book, but she saw the movie. That’s what gave her the idea to pierce Brock’s hand with her stiletto. He’d backhanded her good, but it was worth it to see him let go of the wheel and wince in pain. What happened next confused the hell out of her. She remembered a huge lion bursting into the cabin before she passed out. Now that they were in this Enchanted Realm of Magic, Fawna knew it probably was not her imagination. No one had time to tell her more about the stranger who’d saved their lives. All the townsfolk were busy preparing their homes to welcome their guests.

  The residents of Magic came together and solved the problem of what to do with 207 human strangers running around the town in spectacular fashion. The Beatles would’ve been proud. Whenever the 60’s band belted out Come Together, Right Now, they would have been talking about the town of Magic.

  Kevin was proud to be from a family of Garden Trolls for about the first time in his life. He hated dirt and was usually jealous of werewolves for their sexual magnetism. But about 20 people in the crowd were vying to be taken in by the Garden Trolls just to learn more about xeriscaping and gardening tips. They ended up taking the woman who swore her thumb was so ungreen, she could kill a cactus in the middle of the desert with no water requirement. Her and her husband and two teenage daughters. Va va voom. …was he happy about that!

  Both teens listened in awe when he told them the story about how his mom thought she’d discovered a brand new type of bush in the garden that grew huge.

  “Come have a look.” she told us. “I think I’ve discovered a new type of plant!” We all rushed out to the edge of the mountain to see it. It was so soft and curly and it was the most beautiful sable brown color.

  When my mom went to clip it, the ground beneath us started to shift. We all ran. We thought it might be an earthquake. Then we saw a huge hand burst out of the ground and out came the rest of him.

  It was Oscar and what we thought was a soft bush was the top of his afro. He’d buried himself up to his hairline in the rich Magic, New Mexico clay to keep warm while he hibernated.

  “We were the first family he met.” Keven bragged with pride. “All the townsfolk were happy to have him as a neighbor, especially when fall came and he blew all the leaves into a bag. The days he blew the leaves were designated No-Walk Days because residents out and about just might get swallowed up and put into the friendly giant’s bag. It took them days— sometimes a week to climb out.

  And every Halloween, we all gather at his house and have Oscar Appreciation day. We get to dress in dashikis and some of us wear afro wigs and honor his heritage. And the best thing we get to do is to do the flash mob with him while he plays Thriller on his giant TV. He loves Michael Jackson. We do that to thank him for providing the fireworks every fourth of July. He uses magic from his fingertips which means we don’t have to hear the loud pops from commercial grade fireworks. I can tell you, my dog, Apollo really appreciates not having to hear the loud sound.” The teenage girls sat in awe listening to stories about the townfolk. Kevin felt special, like he had some of the magnetism from the werewolves he’d always envied.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Fawna managed the last few yards up the steep face of The Magic Mountain toward the little cabin perched at the top. When she was in elementary school, every morning before school studies began, she’d put her hand over her heart and sing, America The Beautiful. She used to wonder what a purple mountain looked like and she wondered what,’‘purple mountain majesty’ meant. Looking up at this mountain, she finally knew. With the tip of the purple shaded mountain kissing the copper colored sky tinged with swirls of clouds colored in magenta, purple and turquoise the only appropriate word she could come up with was majestic.

  She was panting from her unaccustomed exertion and heat in the dead of November, causing her round bosom to rise and fall beneath her ribbed shirt, open at the neck with her heavy breaths. Her sky-blue knit shirt and black Spandex yoga pants hugged her curves underneath the riding breeches she’d bought at the She Shed in Magic. Unfortunately, there was no one there to get a glimpse of the tantalizing sight.

  Fawna was two for zero in that department. Romance just wasn’t in the cards. She turned, huffing as she pulled at the reins of her horse, limping up the trail behind her. As she bent forward to grasp the leather thongs better, the superb breasts almost popped over their covering.

  She’d come out to explore the mountains of Magic to escape the gawking of the families that were on the plane with her. She’d heard of No Travel Zones where remote areas with delicate environments were no longer welcoming untidy tourists, who’d get too drunk in their bars only to urinate on in their un
polluted lakes or rivers and litter the ancient streets.

  Not long ago, she’d read a story in Gawker Magazine about an American couple who’d gotten married at a sacred Greek church and taken a picture with the bride simulating having oral sex on the groom with the church as the backdrop and posting it on social media. It went viral. Even with their bridal garb on, the picture was crass and the church threatened to ban couples from ever marrying there again.

  That’s how a few of the hordes of passengers were treating Magic. The majority were respectful. A handful, however, were getting drunk, throwing trash in the streets, and acting as if they had absolutely no home training. Fawna was anxious to get away from the passengers who’d descended on Magic like a hive. And even though most were nice and appreciative of what the residents had done to accommodate them—such as doing a little thing like saving their lives, and providing free lodging at a moment’s notice for over 200 unannounced guests—like her parents often said, all it takes is one rotten apple to spoil the whole bunch.

  She could see why the town of Magic was anxious to get the passengers back home. The Fates had said something about needing to get them back into the time wrap within six days so as not to through the Earth’s timeline out of wack.

  Not only did she want to get away from the crowd, she wanted to ground her nerves after her ordeal with Brock. The first time they’d made love, he’d told her that he wanted her to be with him forever. She had no idea that he meant smashing into the ocean together!

  She heaved a heavy sigh. He wasn’t at all who she thought he’d be. Not only did he try to kill her and everyone on board the aircraft—she was beginning to think her taste in men was jinxed. “Do I have horrible taste in men or what?” She cried to Jangles, the horse she’d rented as she walked alongside him. “I thought that book, Alexandru’s Kiss meant Brock was the one, but I guess I picked the wrong one to kiss. I wish I knew more about the mysterious power I have to make books appear out of thin air. Sometimes, like Single White Female, the meaning seems clear as glass. Other times it’s more vague. I wish I knew someone who could help me figure it out.” She suspired and moved on.

  Turning toward the cabin once more, she stumbled up the rough trail, the riding boots she’d purchased in Magic were built for style but not for heavy use, causing her to wince at every step. She came to the door and knocked. At once there was a response inside; a chair scraped followed by footsteps.

  He flung open the door and she feasted her eyes once again on the man who’d burst into the cockpit and kept Brock from beating her senseless and sending them all to Kingdom Come. By the time she came to in the co-pilot chair, he’d disappeared. She looked for him when they landed in Albuquerque, but never saw him disembark. She thought maybe she’d dreamed him, or like she did whenever she empathized with someone, imagined him in one of her visions. What went on in the plane was still somewhat of a terrifying blur.

  She felt like she’d landed slap in the middle of a Head and Shoulders commercial with the most delicious man she’d ever laid eyes on as the hair model. At that moment, she swore he was moving in slow motion while his gorgeous hair was blowing in the breeze. More than six feet of virile manhood greeted her, deeply bronzed from life in the open. Fawna found herself looking up into stunning hazel eyes, his irises rimmed in ebony— not altogether unfriendly, but guarded. He had a firm chin and long, chestnut locks that rivaled any long thick locks she’d seen on her hundreds of hair shoots. And even though his hair flowed past his shoulders like a waterfall, he was all man. She compared the solid breadth of shoulder, and his rippling muscles, with the physique of her ex-husband Stephen. If this one turned out to be gay—oh, what a crying shame.

  “Yes?" said the man in an almost vibrating baritone. “I—I'm lost,” began Fawna in an unsure voice. “It’s getting dark, my horse fell and lamed himself and I saw your cabin here, so I thought I'd take a chance and see if you could show me how to get back to the town. I was just out on a ride, but I wandered too far from Magic.” The man looked at her with an appraising gaze. His eyes swept over the unmistakable swells beneath her low-neck blouse, over the trim curves encased in expensive riding breeches.

  “You must be cold, when the sun goes down around here, it gets chilly pretty quick,” he stated. “Step inside and sit before the fire. I’ll see to your horse.”

  “Thank you.”

  Fawna brushed past him, his rock hard forearm pressed against her round shoulder. A tiny shiver of delight ran through her at the contact. She picked up a chair and moved it before the fire, sat and warmed herself before the roaring flames. Outside she heard the man going down the trail and speaking soothingly to Jangles. A few minutes later he entered the cabin.

  “Who are you?” he asked in an ‘I don’t like strangers’ tone.

  Startled, Fawna turned her wide green eyes up to him. "Fawna Zanobia, Wal. she stopped. Just Fawan Zanobia. What’s yours?”

  “Not that it makes any difference,” he sounded sour, “I’m Chaz Xanadu. I notice your horse carries the Lazy 8 brand on the saddle blanket.”

  “That’s right. I rented him from the Lazy 8 Ranch just outside of Magic.”

  “I'm sorry, but I haven't time to baby-sit a stranger. I have some important business to attend. The folks in town know me well, I’m sure they didn’t intend on you showing up at my door today. I’ll show you the trail down, and you'll just have to take care of yourself."

  “I don't understand!” Fawna exclaimed. "I've heard a lot about Western hospitality, but the example you’re showing me isn't very memorable."

  “I'm sorry,” he stiffened. “I've a serious purpose right now. The townsfolk are quite aware and I’m sure once you’ve gotten down the trail, someone at the Lazy 8 Ranch will make accommodations for you.

  “Actually, I’m staying with Sophie, Charles and ….. tonight. I told you, I just got lost, then my horse….”

  “You people seem to think you can just show up here, uninvited and we must all roll out the welcome mat. Some of you act as you would at a country club, and get away with it. You’re all very lucky nothing worse happened,” he interrupted.

  “Look, I know you—whoever you are—whatever you are—saved all of our lives. I’m quite grateful. I suppose your horse never fell because know, how to handle him. Well, I didn’t, and mine is injured. I couldn't expect to be as expert with a horse as you are. I never would have bothered you otherwise.” Fawna said cuttingly.

  He stared down at her. She rose, stamped to the door, her big riding boots making her look childish. There goes these big ass clodhoppers of mine. For an instant she thought she detected the man’s eyes softening, a tender glow, but when she looked at him once more he was impersonal, distant.

  “You’ll need to leave your horse here for the night then send someone up from The Lazy 8 for it. The trail down the mountain is easy to follow, and if it gets dark, don't be frightened. I'm sure you wouldn't want to worry Sophie and her family. In fact, I’ve contacted Sophie. She’s feeding Tory’s twins, but said she will come up to trial to meet you as soon as she can get away. You won’t be by yourself but a few minutes. He pointed out the well defined path down the mountainside, in the opposite direction from the one Fawna had walked to come up to the cabin. A blaze of angry fire flashed in her eyes as she started down, stamping her boots into the red earth as though working off her annoyance.

  “Thanks, a lot” she flung the words over her shoulder, “I'll send you a check for your services.”

  “Just what I might expect,” he shot back. She understood she’d shown up out of the blue, but dammit, her feet hurt like hell. She just wanted to rest a bit. The last thing she wanted was to keep her uncomfortable boots on, let alone walk back to Magic. As she continued down the trail she was determined not to give the brute the satisfaction of seeing her every step ached. She turned under an arch of trees that shut her off from his sight. All at once she felt small and frightened in the cool darkness of the mysterious woods. In the sha
dows she couldn’t see where she was going. Before she realized what was happening, her ankle turned on a loose stone. An excruciating pain shot up her left leg. She remembered she let out a piercing scream before everything went black.

  Fawna struggled up out of the mists of unconsciousness and looked around. She found herself on a rude bunk against one wall, and a second glance assured her she was back in Chaz Xanadu's cabin. But something peculiar was happening. Firm masculine lips were passion-pressed against her own. Masculine arms were holding her tight, but ever so tender. In the moment it took her to collect her wits, Fawna found herself responding, almost against her will, to his eager mouth on hers. His caress felt simultaneously strange and familiar. In spite of herself, she knew little shivers were chasing up and down her spine.

  Chaz, seeing she had recovered consciousness, drew back immediately. Fawna pretended she was unaware of what had happened, and even managed the tried and true expression, “Where am I?”

  “It's all right,” the man said in a soothing tone. “You sprained your ankle walking down the trail. Thank goodness I heard you scream. I carried you back here and attempted to fix it up as well as I could.”

  Thank goodness? Fawna was baffled. One minute he wanted her out of his hair—his gorgeous hair—she couldn’t help noticing as she looked at him, the next he’s glad he rescued her. How strange he behaved. Fawna glanced down. Both her boots were off and both her feet were bare. Around her right ankle he’d wrapped a mass of tape, applied with the skill of a surgeon. Just who was Chaz Xanadu and why was he out here, determined to be all alone?

  “I thought at first you had a broken ankle, but I guess you'll pull through all right. I had to cut your boot to get it off—your ankle was about twice its ordinary size by the time I got you back here. I’ve already let Sophie know you’ll be staying here until your ankle gets better and you can ride again. She said she’s glad you’re safe.”