by J A Cummings
Blood Roses
A Bermuda Triangle Monster Resort Tale
J. A. Cummings
Copyright Ⓒ 2019 Moonlight Writers Publishing
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
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First Printing October 2019
Chapter One
Rowena Glass stepped off the plane and into the ocean-scented air. She took a deep breath and broke into a smile while Grendel hummed to himself in his kitty carrier. This island resort was exactly the balm she needed, the cure for what had been ailing her for so long.
She never thought she’d be able to afford a trip like this, but she was an expert at creating opportunities out of ashes. Until last month, Rowena had been the proud owner and operator of Full Moon Rising, a metaphysical bookstore and crystal shop in Lawrence, Kansas. The shop was located in a beautiful haunted house on Elm Street, and she lived in the upstairs along with Gertrude, the irritable first owner of the place who had died in 1872.
She sold books, Tarot decks, greeting cards, incense, crystals, and Pagan supplies, and she did a pretty fair business. Then the neighborhood turned conservative, and when the pastor at the local Southern Baptist Church decided he was annoyed with her for turning down his sexual advances, he set his congregation against her. There had been picketing and graffiti, and the crowning glory came when some yahoo set fire to her house. The whole place, including her personal possessions and all of her merchandise, went up in smoke. She escaped with her familiar, her life, and her purse, and nothing else. At least she’d had lipstick in her bag.
Well, that was why humans had created insurance, and while the Lawrence Police Department sorted out the arson investigation, Kansas State Mutual gave her a check and a kiss on the cheek.
Good-bye, Full Moon Rising.
Hello, Bermuda Triangle Monster Resort: Human Free Since 1503.
Rowena didn’t consider herself a monster, but she was a witch, and she knew that in the eyes of the humans in Kansas, that was pretty much the same thing. She’d had hard times before - it was no joy living through the Burning Times in Europe, after all - but she’d always been a survivor. She hadn’t lived 1500 years for nothing.
“Well?” Grendel said, looking up at her through the mesh window in his carrier. “Now what?”
“We’re supposed to meet someone from the resort staff who’ll show us to our bungalow.” She grinned. “Can you believe that we’ll have a whole bungalow to ourselves? Our own stretch of beach, our own kitchen, our own barbecue…”
“...and nobody trying to roast you on it,” the grimalkin commented.
“Yeah. Nice.” Rowena chuckled. “Well, they learned like everybody else. I may be a witch, but I’m not easy to burn.”
“Let me out.”
“Oh! Sorry.”
She bent and unzipped the side of the carrier, and Grendel stepped out into the light. He emerged as a tiny kitten, but as soon as his paws hit the tarmac, he resumed his normal size, which would make a Great Dane envious. He bumped her hip with his shoulder, and his big green eyes caught the sun as he smiled up at her.
“Now that’s better.”
“Sorry, Del. I know you hate being treated like a mere cat.”
Grendel sniffed. “Darling, you should know by now that there’s no such thing as a mere cat. There are only cats who are underestimated.”
She bent to hug him. Grimalkins were shaped like cats, and looked like Russian Blues on steroids, but they were immortal, magical creatures who were imbued with more magic - and often more intelligence - than most humanoid witches. Grendel had been with her since she was seven years old and living in a little hut in Gaul. She’d been born into a line of Celtic witches with a Roman centurion father. Lassitus had died in battle with her mother’s cousins, which meant that she’d never met him. She’d heard stories, though, and as a result she’d always had a weakness for Roman men.
There weren’t very many real Romans around anymore.
A willowy blonde with a holly wreath on her head came out of the airport terminal, a beautifully turned walking stick in her hand. Mistletoe wrapped around the staff, and at the top was a dazzling piece of rainbow quartz that Rowena could have sold for $250, easy.
“Hello and blessed be,” the druidess greeted. “Are you Rowena and Grendel?”
The grimalkin raised his chin. “We are.”
“Excellent.” She smiled. “My name is Honey, and it’s my honor and privilege to welcome you to our island.”
“Thank you.”
Rowena and Honey clasped hands, and the druidess looked around. “Where is your luggage?”
She sighed. “I don’t actually have any, other than this.” She held up the purse that was slung over her shoulder.
Honey smiled. “Well, we have plenty of stores and shops here on the island, so if you want to go shopping to get resupplied, you’ll have no trouble.”
“That sounds amazing.”
The druidess turned to Grendel. “Welcome, great one.” The grimalkin nodded his gray head to her, and Honey smiled. “Well, if you’ll follow me, I can take you to your bungalow.”
Rowena and Grendel followed Honey into the terminal and out again on the other side. A cart pulled by a team of golden-fleeced rams waited for them just outside the door. Honey sat on the cart’s bench seat, and Rowena sat beside her. Grendel sat in the back of the cart, stretched out on his side with his tail swaying contentedly.
Honey reached into the pocket of her robe and pulled out one of the brochures for the resort. Rowena accepted it and looked at the colorful map.
“Druids created this island, and it’s protected from the outside world by the storms that surround it.”
Grendel snorted, and Rowena said, “Flying through it was a treat.”
“A necessary evil,” Honey shrugged. “I hope it wasn’t too bad. We try to give our guests herbal remedies against air sickness.”
“I made my own, so I was all right,” Rowena assured her. “It was just… exciting.”
Honey laughed. “I’m sure it was. But now you’re here, and there’s nothing you need to do except relax.”
“And go shopping,” Grendel added.
Rowena laughed and turned her attention back to the map in her hand. The druids who had created the island had made sure that every climate but arctic was represented. There were creatures indigenous to all of those habitats, and with the druids’ thoughtfulness, any monster who came to the resort could find the climate where they could be most comfortable.
“Where is my bungalow going to be?” she asked. “I’m so excited to see it.”
“You’re going to be here, along the eastern shore of the temperate forest.” Honey pointed to a spot on the map. “There are hotels there, and clubhouses where communal events will take place, in addition to some of the amenities.”
“Like shopping,” Grendel pointed out.
Rowena glanced at her familiar with a fond smile. “I get it.”
Honey chuckled. “Sounds like someone wants to make sure you get some retail therapy.”
Grendel always had her best interests at heart, which was part of why she loved him so much. “He’s worried about me. Our house bu
rned down and we lost everything. That’s why I don’t have any luggage. I had nothing to pack.”
The druidess’ pretty face creased in a sad frown. “Oh, no! I’m so sorry to hear that! Is there anything I can do to help, other than show you where the stores are?”
“No, that’s pretty much the extent of what you can do, unless you want to buy me a new wardrobe,” she teased.
“Ooh, sorry. No can do.” Honey laughed and urged the rams into motion. The cart rolled forward.
The island was stunningly beautiful, and the relatively slow pace of the ram-drawn cart gave her the time to look around. Rowena saw evidence of the druids’ work in the lush plants, beautiful rock formations and clear blue sky. The buildings were elegant, from luxurious hotels to quaint and enticing neighborhoods. It was like paradise.
“Do people live here year-round?” the witch asked her guide.
“Oh, yes. We have many permanent residents. Most of us work for the resort in some capacity. Many of us started out as guests but didn’t want to go back out there where the humans are.” She shuddered. “The rest of the world can be so… people-y.”
Rowena sighed. “I know what you mean.”
The rams pulled the cart onto a picturesque street lined with mature trees, their boughs joining over the road like a living arch. The leaves were a hundred shades of green, and the scent of flowers rose from carefully tended gardens around the houses that they passed.
“This is the section of the resort where your villa is. You indicated that you prefer a temperate deciduous forest area, with plenty of trees and wild-growing herbs. Was that correct?”
“Absolutely.” She nodded. “I’m an herbalist, partially, so I want to play around with potion making while I’m here.”
Honey smiled. “Excellent. There are potion brewing supplies, including a microstill, in the kitchen of your villa. We have a bookstore with excellent volumes on all forms of occult lore, so you should have no trouble finding a grimoire you can use.”
“That would be good. It’s sad for a witch to be without a grimoire, and you lost yours in the fire.” Grendel sat up and put a paw on Rowena’s shoulder. “The sooner you start to rebuild, the happier you’ll be.”
“I know,” she nodded. “I just get tired of rebuilding sometimes.”
Honey looked at her sympathetically. “Have you had a lot of trouble with humans?”
“Off and on, yes. It was getting better for a while, but then my area took a severe hard turn to the right, and they decided I was too evil to live.” Rowena pursed her lips. “There were personal parts to the issue, of course, because there always are. But yes… I seem to have human trouble pretty regularly.”
“You’ll find that many of our guests have similar stories,” the druidess sighed. “I’ve been here on the island since we first started terraforming the different environments. I don’t think I’d ever want to go back out into the human world.”
“Take my advice,” Rowena told her. “If you can avoid it, then do. Stay here.”
The rams pulled the cart around a corner and into an even shadier lane, one that twisted and turned and ran along the shore. Tidy bungalows stood at well-spaced intervals, giving the guests who were renting them plenty of privacy. Rowena could see the ocean from the street, and the sight of the seabirds flying overhead made her feel free.
“This place is gorgeous,” she sighed.
Honey smiled. “Thank you. We’re very proud of it.”
They reached a place where the trees stopped shadowing the lane, allowing brilliant sunlight to dance over the wildflowers that bloomed in unconstrained meadows on both sides of the road. A trio of bungalows sat by themselves on a hill overlooking the sea, and when the rams headed directly for them, Rowena could hardly believe her luck.
“This is it?” she asked. “This is where I’m going to be staying?”
“Yes, ma’am.” The ram team stopped in the circular drive, and Honey dropped the reins. She fished a key out of her pocket and smiled at Rowena. “Come on in.”
The druid led Rowena and Grendel into the little house that would be her home for the duration of her stay at the resort. It was cozy and simple, with a single room and an open hearth just like she’d always had in the Old Days. A cauldron was already hanging on one of the fireplace cranes, ready for stews or potions. The most common dried herbs already hung from the exposed rafters, and there was a double bed behind a screen. The main room had a comfortable-looking couch, a dinner table and chairs, and a sophisticated stereo system disguised as a music box.
Rowena was delighted. “It looks just like the cottages I grew up in.”
Honey beamed. “We do our best to make our guests as comfortable as possible.” She went to the mantel and pulled down a leather-bound book. “This is a list of all of the amenities that are available to you during your stay. Everything is included, so you don’t need to carry money except for shopping. There’s massage, Tai Chi, a sauna, beach activities like paddle boarding and scuba… and you’re just in time for our Masqued Ball.”
“Masqued Ball?” she echoed, intrigued. “I haven’t been to one of those since I left Europe.”
“It’s tomorrow evening at the main hotel. It starts at 6 p.m. and runs until dawn, and it’s always a wonderful event. The music, the food, the endless drinks…” She sighed. “And it’s so romantic. I actually met my future husband at one of our Masqued Balls.”
“Congratulations. When is the wedding?”
“On Beltane next year.” Honey smiled. “He’s rather traditional, considering he’s a puca.”
“Well, that’s wonderful! I’m very happy for you.” Rowena put the empty cat carrier on the floor while Grendel jumped up onto the bed. “I was involved with a man, but he wasn’t the one, you know?”
Grendel snorted. “He wasn’t even the two.”
“Hush.”
Honey chuckled. “Maybe you’ll meet the love of your life at the ball, just like I did.”
“I don’t know,” Rowena sighed. “I’m less Snow White and more the one handing out the poisoned apple.”
The druid shrugged. “A villain is just someone who hasn’t told their side of the story. And some princesses deserve to choke on poisoned apples.” She handed Rowena a more detailed map of the island. “This section here is where the shops are. You’ll be able to find everything you need there.”
“Even a ballgown?”
“We’re in the business of making monsters’ dreams come true,” Honey smiled. “Of course you’ll be able to find a ballgown. In fact, I think you’re going to find the most beautiful ball gown you’ve ever seen.”
Rowena shook her head at herself. She must have been crazy. “Which store?”
“Madame Millicent’s,” she answered, pointing to the appropriate spot on the map. “And right next door is a shoe store, and across the street is a perfumery and cosmetician. Everything a young witch needs to find Mr. Right.”
She had to hand it to her; Honey had good sales skills. “I don’t know if Mr. Right even exists,” she admitted. “But I’m willing to try looking. Del, do you want to come along?”
On the bed, Grendel groaned and flopped onto his side. “No. I’m sleeping.”
Honey laughed. “I’d be happy to take you to the shops if you’d like.”
Rowena nodded. “I would like that very much.”
Chapter Two
Rowena left Grendel to nap in their bungalow and headed out to explore the resort. Honey and her ram-drawn cart dropped her on the street in front of Miss Millicent’s dress shop. As she climbed down from the cart, the witch asked, “If I wanted to get transportation to the different climates, how would I do that?”
“There are always porters ready to take you anywhere you want to go. Just go to one of the concierge stands in the hotel or here on the main street, and they’ll arrange a ride for you.”
“That’s wonderful! You really thought of everything, didn’t you?”
“We tr
ied.” She nodded to her. “Have a wonderful stay.”
The cart drove away, and Rowena took stock of the street and the beings who were roaming it. She saw fairies, boggans, a zombie or two, and a very normal-looking young man with long blond hair and a silver moon pendant. She guessed he was a werewolf. It was astonishing and gratifying to see all of these people, normally so abused and oppressed by humanity, feeling the freedom to walk the streets openly. She could see why monsters who came here didn’t want to leave.
Her stomach growled to remind her that it had been hours since her last meal. There was a deli just down the street, and the thought of a nice pastrami on rye was enticing. Rowena made her way down the street and walked inside.
The monster behind the counter was putting their tentacles to good use, multitasking like a champion. The place was packed, and the only seat she could find was at the lunch counter. She sat down and smiled at the tentacled counter creature and waited for them to have time to serve her.
A gruff voice to her left said, “Hey, lady. Hi, lady.”
She looked at the speaker. A creature that looked like it was part dog and part human sat on the seat next to her. It scratched at its scaly skin and sparse hair.
“Hi,” she said. “I’m Rowena.”
“Chester.” He offered her a clawed hand, and she shook it. He smiled. “Bet you don’t see many chupacabras back where you’re from.”
“Nope,” she admitted with a smile, grateful that he had identified himself and saved her the awkwardness of having to ask. “You’re my first.”
“Hey! Another chupie virgin. I’m really racking them up on this trip.” He saluted her with his soda.
She laughed. It had been a long time since anyone had accused her of being a virgin anything.
The tentacled server put a glass of water in front of her, then scuttled away. Rowena looked around. “There are no menus, and no menu board.”
“Nope.” Chester put his empty glass down, and it was stolen away and replaced by a refill. “Elliot here is telepathic, and he just knows what you want. You don’t even have to order. He’ll just get it to you.”
