She put them off the kitchen where she knew she could better keep and eye on them and she could hire a nurse for each being. She knew if they were descendants of the Ripper Order, their lives were essential to helping to keep the Seven Realms from suffering unnecessary chaos. She knew she, Simon, Charles, Sophie and Nonny must do everything within their powers combined between them to keep these men alive. She could even teach the boys a little more about magic and why it so important to use wisely.
She knew the twins had a lot to learn. Each child was different when discovering and getting comfortable with their magical powers. Similar to someone having an inborn fear of heights or a being claustrophobic. The same was true with magic, some children embraced it without fear, others were more hesitant.
Tory was all for it. She remembered the horrible experience her parents suffered when she almost drank blood that was poisonous to her. She’d almost died. That’s why her father was so overprotective of her and fought to keep her safe in Magic and not out galavanting the world. Once she met Simon Drayton, who was a client of her designer extraordinaire brother, Alexandru, they eventually fell in love.
Chapter Seven
The next day Tory, Simon, Tory’s mom Sophie and dad Charles and Tory’s mother-in-law Nonny, sat next to the stranger’s bed and listened as he told them what had happened to him and his brother on their way to The Cave of The Rippers.
“I am Chaz Xanadu and he is my brother Troy Xanadu—from the Red Fire Pride. It was to be my birthright to lead the pack. Now I can never return. I’ve destroyed my own destiny and that of my dear brother. My brother warned me to stay close because of the bears that were known to live among the caves in the forest. But I wanted to show him I could shift into a raptor and soar into the air.
“What happened?” Tory urged. “Was it a bear that attacked you?” “Yes. It all started because I was fascinated by the trees and the little tree people that inhabited them.
“Look up Troy,” I told him. “We are surrounded by trees—a world of trees!” He looked up and said, “It’s beautiful here, my brother.”
“We had trekked many miles and were hungry, so we sat and had lunch. Our mother, Mara, had packed a delicious lunch of Steak Tartare, Blood Pudding and Black Bread—made from the giant black mushrooms in the woods that almost look like a spaceship. After we filled our bellies, we lay on the ground looking up at the Magic forest—filled with trees of every size—little, middle, giant. Tall, skinny and thick, some with broad leafs, others with narrow leafs. I became hypnotized, gazing at the trees. Rough barked ones, smooth barked others—bright green, dark green, one in a solid hue, another spangled or variegated with many-colors of fragrant flowers, ones that bore nuts, bore fruit, and even the shriveled up, seemingly useless trees, who were feeding the forest with their nutrient-rich debris. I couldn’t stop looking up, dreaming about being among the trees. We watched as the sunlight struck down in darts or flakes—formless and unconfined—dancing among the saplings.
“It was when I was looking for the light that I saw them. The itty-bitty tree people of Magic—some leaning their heads against one another, others working on the trees, pressing side to side, and a group of them pulling on endless vines looping through the forest—all of them looking as colorful and varied as the trees themselves, crawling, walking and flying amongst the branches. The tiny tree-folk had nests and houses throughout the trees—a tiny forest within a forest.
“Arrangements of sticks and forest debris they heaped between the forks of the trees. They wore tiny tree hats, hats made out of leaves, even ones made out of sticks. They pretty much stood upright, and when they moved about, they seemed to use their eyes so they could see things on top of the forest as well as the things around them.
“My brother and I lay watching their tiny world unfold before us. These were wonders we’d never seen in our part of Magic, where the forest is not as dense. We were in a trance. I wanted to get closer, with my horizon widened for the first time away from my pride—I wanted to go up higher. Watching them filled me with curiosity. I longed to get closer. Wanted to see the world from up top. That was the first time the hawk inside me spoke. For the first time, I realized I could fly.
“I put my Winchester down and then I shifted. When I flew off, Troy made his way to the stream to gather water. He was becoming frustrated because I was not as anxious as he to get to the Cave of the Ancients. I had finally begun mastering my hawk, I was absorbed into enjoying the feeling of soaring.
“While I was still high up in the air, I heard a desperate cry. I sped down and saw the grizzly's hook marks where he laid into my brother. I could see this before my eyes, yet it felt like it was far, so far away.
“I saw Troy grab his chest and look at the blood in shock. The mighty bear raked his it open with one blow of his long claws. He had to be in the vicinity of 800 pounds. There was a big glob of blood on the ground and the bear had torn the earth up something fierce. Blood, hair, flesh spewed all over hell. As I flew toward him, blood shot over me—gave me the chills just looking at him so helpless.
“He tossed my brother’s rifle downstream. I transformed back into my human self, grabbed the gun, but it jammed and that’s when he charged. I screamed as a sear of boiling pain knifed up my leg as the bear held me then tore into my calf. I passed out from the pain. When I came to, the bear had gone. I crawled over to the fallen tree, thinking I could pull Troy in and we could hide inside of the log in case the bear returned. I passed out several times before your boys heard my cries for help. They saved me.”
“They saved your brother, too,” Nonny said in a sympathetic voice while she patted his head with a warm washcloth.”
“You mean, Troy’s not dead?”
“No. He was near death, but Tory got you both here just in time. It took some powerful magic, but he’s going to be healed. So are you. You both need lots of rest.”
Chaz Xanadu smiled up at each of them. “Thank you. From the bottom of my heart—I thank you.”
“Rest now,” said Nonny and weaved a spell over him that like his brother, put him into a deep healing sleep.
After a few weeks of magical spells cast upon him by The Fates Sisters Nonny and Topper, along with lots of help from Tory, and Charles and Sophie—Chaz Xanadu was again well.
He knew he’d soon need to leave and make his way back to the deep forests of Magic to find the Ancient Cave of the Rippers and begin his training. He felt like he’d found a new family.
They knew all about him and the order of Rippers. They each did what they could to heal both him and Troy. He knew since his brother had almost died from the attack, he would need many more weeks of magical spells to heal his wounds. He knew he’d be leaving him in good hands.
Chapter Eight
Fawna had gone from the secure feeling of being back in the comfort of her own, home—soon to be making love to Stephen in her own bed after the limo ride to feeling like she was sitting atop Mt. Everest blowing in a cold, forceful wind. A tiny speck of nothing on the largest mountain on earth. One she knew she was in no way equipped to climb. She felt as if she was standing in a large, empty stadium—all alone.
Then the room she was in became small as her fears and insecurities loomed, like angry monsters, towering over her. She felt lost. She hadn’t even considered that Stephen was not interested in her because she is female. If anything, she thought he’d be with another woman—not ever did she even consider he’d been sleeping with a man. The shock went through her like a bolt of thunder. More was on the way.
As Stephen put on a woman’s blue robe over his lingerie, he spoke to her in one of the coldest tones she’d ever heard from him. It was as if he’d been performing a role as her husband. Something he’d done in a calculating manner. Just like the family image he played for his company. All a facade.
“Now, there’s not a bit of use of your flying off the handle, Fawna. You’re not an infant, or ingenue. You’re not even young and inexperienced, as a
writer-type would put it. You’re a grown woman living in the Twenty-First Century. You’re nearing 30, and you have to have known something was up. I haven’t touched you in a while. I didn’t want you to go through the drama of finding out this way. If I had my way, I didn’t want you to find out at all. You — ”
She halted him, feeling absolute anger and betrayal. “Those are all flimsy arguments, Stephen. How could you? In our home? In our bed? Why the hell did you marry me if you knew you were gay?”
He snatched the size eleven red woman’s high heels he had on the side of the bed, walked over to the closet and tossed them in, then went back over to the bed and sat.
“I thought you married me because you loved me. I’m a person who has feelings—a woman.”
“I know, dearie, therein lies the problem,” he said glibly. “And anyway, everybody knows marriage is the death-knell of romance.”
She’d never wanted to strike anybody in her life, before this, but his ‘don’t blame me because I’m gay’ attitude was too much. She knew this was the day and age homosexuals were applauded for coming out of the closet, but walking all over her to do it was something she hadn’t signed up for.
Marrying her when he knew he couldn’t really love her, and then him and Jeffrey both being so disrespectful about what she’d just walked in on! As if she were the one in the wrong for catching him. He was cheating on her with another man. And somehow, it was no big deal? At last, she knows? That’s what Jeffery had said before walking away from her like she’d just committed some crime. She couldn’t wrap her mind around what was going down.
She walked toward the bed with one hand gripping the champagne bottle. Stephen reared back and protected his face with his hands, fearing what she was about to do next.
She plunked it down on his nightstand. “Seems like you guys need this more than I do since you’ve got a celebration going on.” Then she turned around, walked down the steps and out the door and got into the waiting limo and gave the chauffeur the address to her sister Nell’s house.
Chapter Nine
“He’s an ass.” Her sister met her at the door with a hug and a mug of hot chocolate.
“Thanks, Sis. Oh, Nell!” Fawna sat her mug down then gripped onto her sister with both her hands—feeling the sadness coming in and overtaking her like a tsunami just before she collapsed into a ball of sobs onto Nell’s couch. She felt like someone had robbed her soul. Nell massaged her sister’s back while letting her get it all out. Her sister’s pain killed her inside—making her want to scream. She rubbed her soft curls and handed her a tissue from the box of Kleenex sitting on the glass and brass coffee table instead.
Later, Nell’s wife, Nancy, crept into the living room and hugged Fawna, telling her how sorry she was this was happening. She kissed her spouse and went to bed to leave the two siblings alone in the living room.
“You know I’m the last one to go against someone coming out, but dammit, he used the hell out of me. He all but admitted it. He knew he was incapable of loving me, but he married me. How does anyone think that is right? I don’t think anybody should have to hide who they love—but using me to hide behind is despicable! What would anyone be saying if he were cheating with a woman? They’d think he was a louse.”
“Fawna, he is a louse! He’s a jerk. Don’t let him guilt you into thinking because he’s gay—it’s somehow OK to cheat. It’s not. You know I’ve never liked Stephen. I stood behind you and was delighted to be your maid of honor because you seemed so happy. But he’s always been a controlling jerk. It doesn’t surprise me he has to have control of this narrative as well,” Nell sighed.
“What do you mean?” Fawna looked up, her eyes rimmed in red. “His public relations manager has already left four messages on my phone. He’s saying they need to talk to you because they want to get in front of this thing for the sake of Pace Industries. Stephen is a real suck-face. They called me because Stephen thought you’d be heading over here.”
Fawna yanked her phone out her coat pocket and glanced at the screen. Both Stephen and his public relations manager had left several messages. She couldn’t hide the surprise and disappointment in her eyes from her sister. She rode over thinking that somehow, this nightmare couldn’t be real. That by the time she got to Nell’s, Stephen would be waiting for her, carrying a dozen roses, maybe two—Rhapsody of Roses, to apologize and convince her she didn’t see what she saw. She just knew the shock she’d witnessed in her own bedroom couldn’t be real. It couldn’t. Once again, her heart sank like the Titanic.
“I admit I have been a fool for love—like most women, I acted the part. I loved and believed in him. Until I met him, my record was without spot or blemish. Probably because I devoted myself to my career at such a young age. I didn’t fall head over heels in love with any man I dated—until Stephen. He was a man of the world, he understood how to handle me. I was swept off my feet—‘literally’ (they both said in unison—Nell well familiar with the story of how they met) by his sexual skills and all of his romantic gestures. In me and my trust and malleability, he found an easy victim.”
“He’s an ass-wipe. Not fit to wipe yours!” Nell grumbled. She hated to see the devastation in her sister’s eyes. She knew how hard Fawna had worked all those years to provide a nice living for the family. She often had to flat out refuse Fawna’s offers to buy her a home, a new car. She never wanted her sister to feel she had to provide for her. She often encouraged her to enjoy her own money more, but Fawna seemed to be waiting for someone to enjoy it with. Fawna had always been sort of a wallflower. No social life. That changed when she’d met Stephen.
Nell was uneasy about him from the start. Something rubbed her the wrong way. Still, it wasn’t at all what she expected. Stephen was gay. Like Fawna, she had no idea.
“And you said he had on lingerie?”
“Yes, and the bastard looked pretty ridiculous in it,” Fawna snarked—knowing it was mean of her but saying it anyway.
Nell roared. “Didn’t you say he had on high heels?” She frowned at the image planted in her mind.
“Well, he didn’t have them on, but they were on his side of the bed.”
“Jesus! The man has to be 6’3” at least! I can’t picture him in lingerie. And women’s shoes, high-heels, no less!” She continued her peal of laughter at the thought.
“Let me tell you, it wasn’t pretty!” Fawna exclaimed as she kept giggling. “Remember how I used to complain about how unattractive the shoes look in my size, eight and a half, while they look cute as hell in a size five, the size shoe stores display to pull you in? In my size, that same shoe looks more like a boat. Imagine him in a size eleven!”
She had a mind pop. “Now I know what the funny look on his face was whenever I tried to seduce him in lingerie—envy! He wanted the lingerie for himself!”
They both snickered until their sides hurt. Soon after spending this precious time with her sister, her best friend in the whole world, the tears streaming down her face were ones of laughter, not pain. That was the first inkling that she’d get through this. Bruised and battered maybe, and questioning her femininity, but she’d get through it. She was so glad Nell was there for her.
The next morning she went to the florist and ordered a luxurious bouquet of yellow daisies, purple irises, red and pink roses, white alstromeria, blue delphinium, orange gerber daisies and bright reddish yellow sunflowers and had it sent to her sister. She wrote her thanks to Nell on a beautiful card along with the flowers that had a sentiment by writer and poet Donna Fargo that said:
Sisters carry each other in their hearts forever and always. As she signed the card, she thought of an incident that happened many years past that bonded them like no other—one that was cemented in fear.
When they were both children, Fawna and Nell’s father worked as an Air Force sergeant when they were growing up. He worked in the 58th Weather Squadron, performing maintenance for various Air Force helicopters. Since his duties required him to be
a part of the flight crew, he was away a lot on missions.
They moved frequently because he was reassigned to different bases throughout his lifelong career. When they were youngsters, they’d move every two and a half to three years. When they moved to Leon, France when Fawna was seven and Nell five, they experienced an adventure that could’ve gotten them both killed.
With their father away on a flight assignment, she’d talked Nell into following her to a path that led from the Air Force base housing area to the woods just over the fence that separated the base from a country area in Leon where there were a few farms scattered over the landscape. Since their father was gone, they didn’t think they’d get into trouble.
Their parents had warned them several times not to ever climb over the fence because many of the French farmers did not want the American base there in the first place. Fawna was angry she had to take care of her mother, who was bedridden with the flu, so her decision was due to the little rebellious streak she’d been born with.
“You know if Dad ever finds out, we’ll be grounded forever,” Nell told her. Throughout their lives, she typically served as their voice of reason.
“That’s why we’re never gonna tell anyone. We can be back before Mom wakes up if we hurry.”
Nell looked at her sister with doubt in her eyes, but relented and followed her over. They ventured down the fence line, then wandered out when they saw trails that led to backs of some of the farms, where they could view cows, baby goats, even some mules. Thinking they’d get in trouble after they tried to throw some berries to the goats to coax them closer, Fawna said they ought to be getting back home. They’d been gone a little over an hour.
All of the sudden, a tall man charged toward them—running from one of the barns.
“Sortez! Sortez! Sortez!”
Fawna didn’t know it at the time—but that was French for get out. Frightened, they turned and started running back to the trail. He waved some sort of object in his hand—silver and oddly curved and sharp looking.
Flying Fawna Page 3
