Frozen: A Winter Romance Anthology

by Melange Books, LLC

His gaze shifted back to the far table with the magical wings potion. There was a slight layer of dust on it, a direct result of his frustration with the damnable thing. It wasn’t the potion, which was straightforward. Like so much of magic, it was the ingredient list that had him at a standstill. Because making wings was next to impossible—unless you had access to demon blood.

  Don’t waste time thinking about that now. You’ve got to work on that spell for Cassandra. She’s worth more than some dream of flying that’s only going to last one night.

  Alaric let out another sigh, went to his small bookcase and began taking down tomes.

  * * * *

  The New Year came and went with no sign of Cassandra. Alaric’s efforts with the potion hit a temporary standstill in January, but by February 1st, he managed to get a workable version of Lifegiver—a potion/cure that was said to be able to save any plant that was dying and get it to flourish. Throwing caution to the wind, he put the deep green liquid in a large red Tupperware container and drove over to Cassandra’s home that following Friday night.

  There was a steady snow coming down, and the roads were covered, forcing Alaric to go slowly. Before he felt fully prepared, he was pulling up in front of her house. Mustering his courage, he parked his SUV in front of her closed garage and went up to her front door. He walked carefully not for fear of falling on late winter ice, but because there wasn’t any sign of winter here at all.

  Cassandra’s entire porch was not only empty of ice and snow; it was adorned with hanging baskets and large pots, all overflowing with happily growing greenery. Posies, pansies and petunias were nearest the stairs, with herbs of every kind in the remaining containers. Several glowballs lit the night, floating above the flowers, giving off a pale white hue. When Alaric climbed the stairs, he felt a slight resistance, then a wash of warmth as he passed into the flower domain.

  Clearly, a force field, and a powerful one, to not just contain but also generate its own heat. Cassandra said that doing her magic exhausts her. How much is it costing her to maintain her personal summer in the middle of brutal winter?

  Alaric rang the doorbell, prepared to just hand over the gift if she had company. But Cassandra opened the door herself, looking tired. She was wearing gardening gloves and an apron. Potting soil or some kind of mulch stained her fingertips.

  “Hi,” Alaric said politely. He offered the Tupperware container of Lifegiver. “I made this for you to help with your flowers.”

  “Thank you,” Cassandra said wearily, making no move to take it. “But I’m capable of making my own Garden Blessing, thank you.”

  Alaric felt his rage building. After all I did, she doesn’t even want to accept it? “This isn’t anything as mundane or simple as Garden Blessing,” he managed tightly. “It’s Lifegiver.”

  “Then it had to have frozen on the way over here unless you kept it warm,” Cassandra replied. “Once Lifegiver is frozen it loses its potency.”

  Alaric resisted the urge to throw his carefully crafted potion at her, pot and all. “It didn’t freeze, Cassandra,” he said icily, removing the top so she could see the bright green liquid. “It’s still good. But if you don’t—”

  “No,” Cassandra said suddenly. Her eyes had gone huge, staring at the Lifegiver. She reached to take it with shaking hands. “Are you sure this is Lifegiver?”

  Alaric nodded.

  She took the pot from him and darted upstairs, the rapid thumps of her feet receding. Alaric shrugged, then entered the house and shut the door behind him, hanging up his coat on the nearby unused rack. Then carefully, he began snooping, hoping to find more hints of ways he could make Cassandra see him as a friend rather than an enemy.

  Cassandra’s home was simple, and more than a little messy, with plants crowding for space in front of every window and piles of gardening equipment here and there. The air was warm and humid and filled with the fragrance of the blooms and moist earth. But amidst the mess were also remnants of some other life. A stack of quilt squares sat in a basket, a half-finished quilt gathering dust nearby on a table. Several rolls of yarn were in bags hanging from the back of a door along with a set of needles and a piece of crocheting. Books were on four bookshelves in the living room, along with a TV, all with a layer of dust.

  A noise came from upstairs, then some light swearing. Carefully, Alaric climbed the staircase in search of the witch.

  Unlike his smaller home, Cassandra’s home had three bedrooms. All seemed to be filled with plants. He finally found her in the last by following the cursing.

  Cassandra was on her knees in front of a large potted fern that looked like it had long ago given up the ghost. The fronds were a sickly yellow, and the tips were brown and dried up. The soil in the pot was a vibrant green from the Lifegiver, which Cassandra was liberally applying.

  “The spell said not to put on too much,” Alaric cautioned hesitantly from the doorway. “Though it didn’t say what would happen if you did.”

  “Probably uncontrolled growth, a broken pot and then being back where you started,” Cassandra muttered. She finished smoothing the green liquid on the fern, then wiped her hands on her apron and put the lid back on the container of Lifegiver. Alaric noticed that only a little had been used, to his relief.

  Cassandra stood, then offered a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry. You must think I’m a mental case.”

  “Actually I was wondering what the UPS man thinks when he brings you a delivery,” Alaric quipped, catching her gaze with his own.

  This time Cassandra smiled back at him. “He doesn’t think anything because he can’t see the flowers. He just sees an empty porch, though he always does remark on how leaky the house must be to make the porch so warm.”

  She has a glamour on top of the other spells. No wonder she looks exhausted. “The spell for Lifegiver said it would take at least an hour to work.”

  Cassandra looked a little ill at ease, her eyes sliding away from Alaric.

  She wants me to go. This has all been for nothing. “I should probably let you get back to your plants,” Alaric said, forcing a smile.

  “No,” Cassandra said, locking her stare with his suddenly. “I’m sure you want to see if it works as much as I do.” She bit her lip. “It’s just that I have nothing to offer you to eat or drink. It’s been a long time since I entertained.”

  Why didn’t I put a bottle of wine and some crackers or something in the car? It would have been the perfect opportunity for a romantic moment. Jerk! Alaric’s brain worked furiously. There’s nothing nearby, and the highway is probably closed.

  “I know that the roads are covered with snow from the latest storm,” Cassandra ventured as they stood outside the kitchen door. “The only thing I have is some Reduced Fat Cheez-Its and some diet root beer.”

  Alaric chuckled aloud. “Saving them for a special occasion?”

  Cassandra echoed his laugh, the moment of levity making her paleness suddenly radiant. “Something like that.”

  “Then haul them out,” Alaric said, sitting down at the kitchen table expectantly. “I’d love to indulge with you.”

  * * * *

  The hour passed as if it were a few minutes, though Alaric reluctantly admitted that the diet root beer was not to his liking. Cassandra was surprisingly easy to talk to, with none of the usual arrogance that sorceresses of her power usually possessed. She liked her work at the florist and enjoyed the delight that her creations brought to people. “Everyone is happy to get flowers,” she said brightly. “It’s rare that anyone is disagreeable or complains, unlike in some businesses.”

  “What about funerals?” Alaric mused. “Do you ever have to create flowers for them?”

  Cassandra seemed about to say something, then stopped. “Not usually, no. But I’m talking too much about myself,” she admonished. “I heard somewhere you work at the local college?”

  “Yes,” Alaric replied. “I work in the biology department, in the plant sciences building.”

  “I’m sur
prised that’s your field, given your attitude toward flowers,” Cassandra quipped.

  “I like flowers in their right season,” Alaric corrected gently. “They need to have a break sometimes, just like humans. Everyone needs their time to recharge.”

  “That sounds really good to me,” Cassandra said, stretching her arms above her head. “I’m beat.”

  Though a lot of impulsive words came to mind, Alaric stifled them all in favor of chivalry. “What say you and I look at the fern, then I head home? You should get some rest.”

  Cassandra shot him a grateful look, then got to her feet. “Let’s see how good a sorcerer you really are.”

  They climbed the stairs together and went to the fern. It was as if a miracle occurred. Where the fern had been yellow, it was now a deep healthy green. The brown dried ends had fallen to the floor, replaced with new growth.

  “You did it!” Cassandra exclaimed. She turned and hugged Alaric who quickly hugged her back, marveling silently how her lush body fit against his almost perfectly. “I’d tried everything I could think of, and nothing was working.” She paused. “Thank you, Alaric. If I can ever repay you—”

  “You can call me Ric,” he replied softly, looking into her moist blue eyes. “I’d like that.”

  “Then you can call me Cass, Ric,” she said, looking up at him hopefully, her teeth once again nibbling her lip.

  I have a better use for your lips. Alaric reached down and cupped Cass’s face with his hands. Then he slowly brought her lips to his. The first touch was like an electric shock that spread, the feeling expanding to fill Alaric with warmth. Cass was still for just a moment, then she kissed him back, her lips moving against his, then opening slightly, her teeth nibbling on his lower lip.

  His desire for her enflamed, Alaric pulled Cass close, his arms going around her, sliding down her soft body to mold her to his. He expected her to pull away at any moment, for her to tell him to stop. But she didn’t.

  The kiss lasted a full minute, until Alaric tore himself away to breathe. Damn stuffy nose. But he didn’t let Cass go. He hugged her to him, loving the feel of her small body in his arms. How fragile she seemed at this moment, even though he knew her real strength.

  Cass was still in his arms, as if waiting for something.

  With something like shock, Alaric realized she was waiting for him to take some kind of next step. He cleared his throat, then moved back from her, letting her go from his embrace. “I should go,” he said, taking her hand in his and giving it a squeeze. “But I’d really like to see you again. Maybe tomorrow night?”

  Cass looked paralyzed with fear for a split second, then she seemed to decide something, nodding her head once. “I’d like that. Do you want me to come to your house for dinner tomorrow?”

  “Dinner?” Alaric stammered. “What do you like?”

  Cass looked at him solemnly, then began laughing. “Sorry,” she managed. “I just wanted to see if you would offer to cook or not.” She kissed his cheek gently. “I’m fine with takeout, and I’m happy to bring it, too. It’s the least I can do after your help tonight.”

  Should I kiss her again? It’s probably not a good idea to rush things. Alaric forced himself to take a step back from her. “That sounds great. Anything you want to bring is fine.”

  “What do you like on your pizza?”

  “Cheese and pepperoni,” he said immediately, then felt a flash of worry that she would say she was a vegetarian.

  Instead of a frown, Cass just smiled happily. “How is seven?”

  I have to risk another kiss. I just have to. “It sounds ideal,” Alaric answered, then leaned forward to kiss Cass once more. She returned his kiss with equal zeal, and once again, they clung to one another until Alaric regretfully broke the embrace.

  “If I don’t go now, I’m not going,” he said in a light tone.

  “Then you better go, bad boy,” Cass teased wickedly, lowering her eyelids and peering at him from under them sexily. “I’m too tired tonight to miss sleep.”

  Alaric managed some light response, then returned to his car. He drove home in a state of shock, thrilled at Cass’s last words, and thinking that tomorrow night couldn’t come soon enough. She wanted me, really wanted me. How long has it been since something like that happened? Since never, actually. But that didn’t matter anymore, because Cass wanted him now.

  * * * *

  Saturday dragged on interminably, the passing of time hastened only by Alaric’s hurried rush to clean his house to be ready for Cass’s visit. Halfway through the chores of vacuuming and dusting, it occurred to him that after seeing her house, cleanliness was probably not a factor that could be counted against him in her book. But I want to make a good impression, he thought, renewing his efforts at a window. She really matters to me.

  At seven promptly, Cass was at the door, looking stunning in vibrant green and blue, her long blond hair carefully brushed and styled, pizza in hand. She had also stopped off at the store and gotten a small chocolate cake to go with it. But least surprising was a small container of soil with a tiny vibrant green fern poking up out of it.

  “Thank you,” Alaric said, taking it. “Please come in.” He set the fern on the kitchen counter next to the window, figuring that was the spot that he would be least likely to forget to water it.

  “I thought you probably needed some green in your home,” Cass said, setting down the pizza and cake on the counter, then taking off her coat. “Oxygen is good for you, you know. I hope you have something to drink?”

  “Do you like red wine?” Alaric said, opening an upper cabinet and taking down an opener and two wine glasses.

  “Sure, but not too dry. Where are the plates?”

  “Over the stove, to your left.” Alaric went to the counter wine rack and got out a merlot, then twisted off the top and began to pour.

  In little less than a half hour, Cass and Alaric had eaten most of the pizza and were deep into the chocolate cake. It was then that Cass switched the topic to the Lifegiver potion. “What did you put in it?” she said quizzically, twirling a lock of blond hair around her left index finger. “So that it didn’t freeze, I mean. Mine always freezes solid before I can use it in the winter. And trying to heat it up either magically or physically vastly decreases the potency.”

  “You just don’t use the cold water it calls for,” Alaric said. “You use lukewarm water mixed with a little cooking oil with a touch of salt and a little gelatin.”

  Cass stared at him, clearly disbelieving. “You sound like you’re baking something.”

  “What are potions but recipes?” Alaric commented, taking another forkful of cake and chewing. “Sometimes you have to substitute.”

  “But substituting in ingredients will mess up the spells. Won’t they?”

  “Sometimes,” Alaric admitted. “Depending on what kind of effect each ingredient plays in the spell. That’s the key, really. Once you know that, you can put something else in there that can give a similar effect, though sometimes with a little more work.”

  Cass was still staring at him. “How did you figure this out?” she murmured. “And what else have you substituted in a spell?”

  “Practically everything that’s animal based,” Alaric answered, eating his last bite of cake. “I don’t like to kill something so I can use one of its eyes in a spell. And stuff that is harder to get, like demon blood.” I’ve never shared this with anyone. But I want to share it with her. He paused, then plowed ahead, throwing caution to the wind. “For there to be any spell, someone had to experiment at some time with different things, trying to get a desired result. So why are some things used for a lot of spells, and some aren’t? Because they work better, sure, but who says there’s only one way to do something? Who said because someone wrote it down and shared it that it’s the best way? Most of the time when I’ve tried other ingredients, I can find something that works not only just as good, but better.”

  Cass watched him, considering.

&n
bsp; “What?”

  “That’s really impressive,” she said slowly, her tone respectful. “It’s really amazing to me that you were able to do that, and it worked. You’re beyond a practitioner Alaric. You’re like an original alchemist, doing magical research.”

  Alaric’s smile deepened with his pleasure at her praise, but his eyes couldn’t meet hers. “There are some that would say that was cheating.” That was what Alexander had said; the single time Alaric had mentioned success with substitution in a spell to him.

  “No one that really cares about magic and uses it practically would say that,” Cass stated, her tone and expression irritated. Her stare intensified. “Who have you been working with, Alaric? They sound stuck on themselves.”

  Odd as it was, Alaric felt a need to defend Alexander and didn’t want his friend to look bad to Cass. “There aren’t many people around here that practice magic. There are a lot of pretenders, some of whom I know. And the few that actively do small spells on a regular basis rarely really create the effect they were looking for.” Not like you...or me.

  “Well said,” Cass allowed, pouring herself another half glass of wine.

  “I’m going to put the cake leftover in the refrigerator,” Alaric said, glad to change the subject. “Unless you want more?”

  “No,” Cass snorted. “I’ve already had more calories tonight than I would in two days of meals.”

  Alaric chuckled as he put the cake away. “So I should be the one to pack on the pounds, is that it?”

  Cass rolled her eyes, then took a sip of wine. “Why are you putting it in the fridge anyways?” she asked. “The cake, I mean.”

  “To preserve it,” Alaric said, giving her an odd look.

  “Making it cold takes away the taste,” Cass said. “Better to finish it for breakfast.” She moved away into the living room, where she sat down in his one armchair, facing away from him.

  Alaric shot Cass another look as he put their plates to soak in the sink and the last pieces of pizza in the fridge. Is she drunk? Did I say something wrong? “I’ll have it for dinner tomorrow, since I can’t convince you to take it. I don’t want the frosting to melt.”