Moonlight, Monsters & Magic

by Linda G. Hill

  “Besides, I wanted to come over myself to ask you …”

  “Would you look at the time!” the lady exclaimed, glancing at her bare wrist. Merryn wondered where the lady’s husband was, and why he wasn’t coming to her rescue. She seemed far more anxious now than she had been at the prospect of seeing Merryn naked—he could tell, and not just by smell.

  Ah well, there’s only one thing to do.

  He hissed, and all three horses reared up on their hind legs.

  “What the …” the lady said, going to the nearest stall, which was directly below him.

  He hissed again, and she looked up.

  “Damned cat,” she said. He caught her eye and his heart fluttered when she smiled.

  She turned to her visitor. “I really need to get some work done. Is there any—”

  “Marry me,” the man said.

  The lady froze. This was bad. What would her husband think? Unless she didn’t have one.

  “Since Carl died, you’ve been out here alone, fending for yourself,” the man said. That explained that, then.

  “And I know you’re lonely …”

  “I’m not, really.”

  “And defenseless …”

  “No, I’m—”

  “And you must be wishing there was a man who’d look after you the way a man should …”

  A few things happened: Dirk reached out for her face; the lady slapped his; and Merryn jumped off the edge of the loft, landing gracefully on the floor, thirty feet below, much to the humans’ surprise.

  “Is this man bothering you, miss?” he asked as he stood straight.

  “No, really,” said the lady, glaring at him.

  Dirk, on the other hand, seemed mesmerized by Merryn’s nudity.

  “You slu—” Dirk seemed to think better of that one before he finished it.

  “He’s my brother!” the lady lied.

  Merryn lifted an eyebrow at her but said nothing.

  “Let’s get you in the house and get you some clothes, shall we?” the lady suggested. “Dirk, I’ll see you later. Don’t worry about the tractor. Merryn will help me fix it.”

  “But he called you ‘miss.’”

  “Nickname. See you later, Dirk!” She tromped off toward the house and Merryn followed her, admiring her blue jeans all the way.

  Chapter Four

  The Giver

  Ivy let Merryn in the front door and closed it behind her. She leaned on it, panting, thankful there wasn’t a window in it. Merryn stood before her, naked as the day he was born. As tempted as she was to look down, staring into his leafy-green eyes had its own appeal.

  Shit, she thought as she heard the door of Dirk’s truck slam and the engine start.

  “Please don’t tell me I’ve traded the devil I know for one I don’t.”

  Merryn shook his head. “I’m not a devil. I’m a pixie.”

  Her heart lodged in her throat when he brushed his hair back over one ear, revealing its pointiness. His eyes sparkled with humor.

  “Are you going to hurt me?” Ivy asked, her hand on the doorknob.

  “No!”

  Merryn spread his hands to show his innocence, drawing her gaze to the movement. She blushed and turned her face away, squinting, unable to quite close her eyes.

  “Sorry,” he said, covering his privates with his hands.

  “I’ll go find you something to wear, shall I? Please stay here.”

  She walked past him and down the hall toward the stairs, only to turn back again. “You’re not going to steal anything or move stuff around, are you?”

  He raised his hands, guiding her eyeballs directly to his crotch this time. She heard herself gasp. His semi-erect penis was dark-skinned, a contrast to the rest of his porcelain, almost bluish skin.

  “I won’t touch a thing,” he said. He put his hands back and her eyes sought his: he was smiling.

  “Stay there,” she said and headed upstairs.

  She quickly flicked through Carl’s old clothes, thankful she hadn’t had time to get rid of any yet. The pants would be slightly big on him, so she grabbed a belt as well.

  Merryn hadn’t moved, true to his word. He stared at the belt buckle.

  “I can’t wear metal,” he said.

  Ivy sighed. “I’ll look for something else.”

  He took the rest of the clothes and glanced over her shoulder, down the hall to the kitchen window. “One of your curtain holders will do.”

  She swiveled her head to look at the window. When she turned back to him, he was still staring at the kitchen, his nostrils flared.

  “Are you hungry?”

  His face lit up and he nodded slightly.

  “Come on, then.” She turned to go and realized he was following her. “Get dressed first.”

  “Yes, miss.”

  “Ivy.”

  “Yes, Ivy.”

  Chapter Five

  The Thief

  In truth, Merryn had felt uncomfortable until he had something of the lady’s—of adorable Ivy’s—that was more personal than her deceased husband’s clothing. The curtain tie-back worked a charm. He hoped to take it back home as a souvenir, but that would depend on Gruffydd and how generous he was feeling when he brought him back.

  And Merryn was looking forward to getting back. He missed his companions—his brothers and sisters, friends, and lovers. This place, though interesting, was strange, especially with the odd relationship the lovely Ivy had with her … what was he? Merryn had to ask.

  He’d already told her as much as he could about how he’d arrived and when he’d be going back—any time Gruffydd saw fit.

  “Do you have the power to transport yourself from place to place?” Ivy asked over a lunch of noodles and the most heavenly cheese sauce Merryn had ever tasted. Something with the unlikely initials, “KD.”

  “No,” he answered. “We all have different abilities. Mine isn’t near as helpful most of the time.”

  “What is it?” she asked, her blue eyes warm and interested.

  “I have the ability to smell things that are largely undetectable to most.”

  “So, could you, for instance, tell me what spices I have in my cupboard?”

  “Oh, that’s easy.” He named off a few, including parsley and salt. “But I can also smell fear—most emotions, in fact. I sensed a great distaste from you for your … Dirk? Is it? Your repulsion for him quite equaled his lust for you.”

  She shuddered visibly. “Yes. I don’t want to marry him.”

  “Then don’t. His lust, you know, isn’t entirely for you. He wants your possessions as well.”

  “You could smell that?”

  Merryn smiled. “No, I got that from what he said. What is he to you, anyway?”

  “Just my neighbor.”

  “So, he’s not your friend, or brother, or lover?”

  “No! What would give you that idea?”

  “Could I be your lover?”

  She looked at him strangely and he smelled a slight fear where there had been the sweet scent of desire.

  “Forgive me. We pixies don’t have relationships like humans do. My companions are all brothers and sisters and family and lovers to me. There is only one relationship we revere above all others, and that is ‘mate.’ What you would call ‘husband and wife.’ It is a never-ending bond. Rare. The only reason to reproduce.

  “I am sorry you lost your mate.”

  “Meh. He wasn’t very nice.”

  Merryn’s jaw dropped. “Then why did you marry him?”

  “Same reason I’m still thinking about marrying Dirk—it makes logical sense.”

  “But, you don’t marry for logic!”

  “Maybe you don’t.” She sighed. “But we humans don’t have a choice sometimes.”

  They sat quietly and ate for a while.

  “Are you married?” Ivy eventually asked.

  Merryn shook his head. “No. I have not found my true love yet. If I ever do, I shall never leave her side.”<
br />
  “How old are you?”

  “Let me see …. I was born in the human year 1838, so 180.”

  “Wow.”

  “Our longevity is why we take so long to mate. England would be overrun with us otherwise.”

  “But you said you have lovers.”

  “Yes, my family and friends. All but my parents.”

  At her shocked expression, he went on. “But we don’t make love in the way humans do. When we do, we … connect. It’s hard to explain. But all it really requires is a touch. So I must warn you, do not touch me unless you wish to experience it.”

  Ivy shifted in her chair and leaned her arms on the table. “Have you ever made love like humans do?” She blushed prettily and her scent warmed, as it had when she’d stared at his genitalia.

  “I’ve never even spoken to a human the way I have you, my lady Ivy.”

  She stared into his eyes for a while, and then suddenly she stood.

  “I have a tractor to fix. Do you know anything about mechanics?”

  “Unfortunately, no. But I can muck out your stalls and care for your animals.”

  “Great. Let’s go.”

  Chapter Six

  The Lost

  As Ivy worked on the tractor and listened to Merryn talk to the horses in some foreign tongue (probably Welsh), the feeling that she’d lost something niggled at the back of her mind. That he’d stolen something from her, despite his promise not to. She didn’t think he’d taken her sanity, though that might have made sense. She had, after all, accepted that he wasn’t human.

  No. What he’d stolen was her resolve. She’d been almost prepared for Dirk’s proposal, and might have considered it this very morning, if it hadn’t been for Merryn’s presence. Meeting him had made her believe, on some level of consciousness, that maybe she didn’t have to settle. Even though up here in an abandoned mining town where there was nothing for miles except rock and the occasional field, she hadn’t met another human being in years.

  And she still hadn’t, apparently.

  ~~ * * * ~~

  Night had fallen by the time Ivy finished putting the tractor back together. She found Merryn shaking out a bale of straw in the corner of an empty stall.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Making myself a nest for the night. Unless you’d rather I go back to where I started when I woke up …”

  “No, you don’t have to do either. Come up to the house. I have a spare room.”

  He turned to fully face her, and she was struck by the sight of her husband’s clothes hanging on the slight figure of someone she could like, or love. Someone beautiful.

  Merryn frowned. “Are you sure? I didn’t get the impression your suitor would like that very much.”

  “To hell with Dirk.”

  “So, you won’t marry him, then?”

  “It’s complicated,” she said as she turned to go. He followed.

  Chapter Seven

  The Helper

  A week passed during which time Merryn had become accustomed to the enchanting Ivy’s strange routine. From the vile concoction she drank to wake herself up in the mornings, to the early-morning feeding of the animals, and back inside to break their fast with unhatched chicken eggs (which weren’t too bad) and—gasp—cooked pig that Merryn couldn’t bring himself to consume.

  Then back out to harvest fields of hay; repair fences; muck out stalls; run errands in town, miles and miles away; and return to the house to fix dinner and talk into the night.

  Merryn learned that poor Ivy had lost her mother in her early childhood and had grown up caring for her father and her younger brother, right here in this very house. Her brother had moved away years ago and rarely came home, which was why she’d gotten away, she thought, with telling Dirk that Merryn was he.

  Her father had died a year after she married Carl, so they moved back to her childhood home. Their marriage had ended when Carl contracted an infection through a simple cut on his arm.

  Merryn told his story as well, of staying up all night, dancing and drinking, and sleeping most of the day. Staying awake with the sun in the sky was by far the hardest thing to get used to.

  He explained that what he referred to as his brothers and sisters were likely cousins, aunts and uncles, since a mated pair only had one offspring. His mother and father were older than the hills, he told her, and would likely die soon of exhaustion.

  “We don’t live forever,” he said. “We can die from accidents and disease just as a human can, but we’re much more resistant.”

  When it came to tell the wondrous Ivy about his favorite lover, Vennyn, she seemed uncomfortable, and she turned sour with a scent he’d never encountered before. He wondered if she had begun to get attached to his presence. That wouldn’t do, for Merryn had no choice in his leaving.

  On the other hand, spending time in the enticing Ivy’s presence had become addictive. It made him warm inside—a feeling he’d never experienced.

  ~~ * * * ~~

  On the eighth night since he’d arrived, Merryn paced the house from front to back, restless and somewhat anxious. The unavailable but still captivating Ivy had retreated to her office to write a letter.

  So Merryn went out to the barn with a bottle of whiskey to talk to the horses. He was halfway through the bottle and listening to a buckskin mare complain about the salt in the hay smelling something awful (Merryn commiserated), when a vehicle pulled into the driveway. Merryn peered out and saw Dirk’s truck. The man got out, carrying a bunch of flowers and smelling like he had dunked himself in a vat of vinegar and pine sap. It was no wonder the luscious Ivy didn’t want the man, Merryn thought as he self-consciously sniffed his armpits.

  He didn’t really want to hear what Dirk had come for, but he found he couldn’t help himself. He snuck out of the barn and hid in the shadows near the house.

  Chapter Eight

  The Dreamer

  Ivy had realized the moment she settled on the sofa in her home office to write an e-mail to her brother that she was exhausted.

  A knock on the front door woke her from a vivid dream of Merryn saying goodbye. Which wouldn’t have been so bad except in her dream, she had fallen in love with him.

  She wiped the tears from her eyes and agonized over the desire to stay awhile, to exist in the euphoria of her dream. But then the knock came again. This late in the evening, it had to be important.

  She stifled a groan when she peered out the window and saw Dirk’s truck. Out of habit, she looked through the peephole in the door. No one was there. She saw why when she opened the door.

  Dirk was on one knee, holding a bunch of wildflowers in one hand and an open ring box in the other. By the dim outside light, she thought she saw a diamond.

  “I’m not giving you a chance to avoid me this time, Ivy. I’ve got to know. Will you marry me?”

  She opened her mouth to make an excuse, but he held up his hand and went on.

  “Now, we both know it makes the most sense. I can sell my place and use the money I don’t give my kids to fix this place up. Mine hasn’t been in the family as long. And it would give you some company because God knows I worry about you all on your own here. And …”

  She didn’t know if the dream decided her or if it simply gave her courage, but she cut him off with a “No.”

  He simply stared at her. But it wasn’t an accusing look, nor an angry one. It was worse. His eyes held a heavy sadness.

  “It’s not just those reasons, Ivy. I feel a … an affection for you.”

  It might have been the growing distance from the dream or it might have been the realization that it was only a dream, but she made the decision to give, just a little. Even though she felt deep inside that it was the wrong decision.

  “Can I think about it?” she asked. “Just give me a couple of weeks.” Some time to spend with Merryn—and some time to get over him, she thought. He’d hinted often that he could go any time, though that revelation had gone from de
light to worry.

  “I can do that,” Dirk said with a smile. He hauled himself to his feet and handed her the flowers. “I’ll be back with this,” he said, snapping the ring box shut.

  “Goodnight, Ivy.”

  She watched from the open door as he got in his truck and started back down the driveway.

  “I should probably go too,” said a voice behind her, making her jump.

  “Merryn, don’t scare me like that. What do you mean you should leave?” she asked as she turned. “I thought you had no say in the matter.”

  “I’ll stay in the cave until Gruffydd collects me. I’m obviously intruding on your life.”

  “No! You can’t.” This time she knew it was half the dream and half that she’d become attached to his presence.

  “Right,” he said, misinterpreting her. “The clothes.” He began to strip.

  Ivy watched as he undid the buttons on the shirt she had given him. Before he took it off, he started on the curtain tie-back knotted around his waist. Her gaze lingered on his marble-like chest and his rippled abs, both devoid of hair. Only a thin line of dark blond began at his belly button and disappeared behind the knot that was giving him trouble. Something about him standing with his blond head bowed, picking at the knot, made her want him with the same intensity as she had felt in her dream.

  “Don’t go,” she whispered, so low, she didn’t mean for him to hear. But he did. He looked up. And waited.

  “Please stay.”

  “You must do what is best for you, my pretty Ivy. Gruffydd will surely take me back soon, and I will not return. I have my life in England. You have yours here.”

  “But I won’t live. If I marry him, I may be taken care of financially. And I may have someone to help me out around the farm. But I won’t be alive.

  “Stay. Let me live while you’re still here.” She did something she hadn’t dared to do before. She reached out and touched his arm.