by Jane Tara
Finn stepped forward. “It’s my girlfriend’s birthday and she wants a unicorn crystal. I heard this is the only shop in town to stock them.”
“You heard right.” Rowie unlocked a cabinet and removed one of the pieces. The whole shop was immediately warmer, brighter, lighter, such was the crystal’s power.
Taran gave Calypso a heated stare. “I feel like a moth being drawn into a light.”
She ignored the innuendo and checked her manicure. “Careful, you might get burnt.”
*
Taran couldn’t keep his eyes off Calypso. He was mesmerized by the sheen of her skin, the tilt of her eyes, the way her hair curled at the nape of her neck. He tried to engage her in a private conversation, but she’d simply smile politely and ask the other two for their opinion as well. For someone who’d never had to even try to win a woman over, Calypso Shakespeare’s indifference fascinated him.
He couldn’t get her out of his mind, so the following day he returned to Second Site with a trumped up excuse about a gift for his mother. One hour later he left with three hundred dollars’ worth of books and a massive crush on a woman who still hadn’t noticed him. Oh sure, she was polite and helpful, but Taran was used to women throwing themselves at him. Calypso was so disinterested that she kept calling him Darren.
The following day it was his grandmother who needed some books, despite the fact that she’d been dead for ten years. He bought ol’ Phyllis a book by Deepak Chopra, for no other reason than Calypso recommended it; the Tibetan Book of the Dead, which was probably right up Phyllis’s alley; and John Edward’s Crossing Over – which was the only way he’d get to deliver it.
Afterwards, Taran was furious with himself. He now had nearly four hundred dollars’ worth of books he’d never read and the start of a huge inferiority complex. He’d tried everything. He’d made jokes, which she laughed at – it was like someone had let the sunshine in when she laughed. He threw in a few, in his opinion, intelligent remarks, which she politely responded to. But other than that she appeared to be completely disinterested.
On the fourth day he marched into the shop, and announced that he was taking her out for dinner that night. Calypso looked at him with an amused light in her eyes.
“Does that mean you’ll be returning the books?”
“You knew? And you sold them to me anyway?”
“Business is business.”
“Just for that, you’ll also be having lunch with me tomorrow.”
“I would’ve anyway, Darren.”
“It’s Taran.”
Calypso grinned. “Yeah ...”
*
“Oh Calypso, you’re wicked.” Gisella laughed. “Did you like him?”
“I was hugely attracted to him,” Calypso admitted. “But felt rather uncomfortable about it all. I certainly wasn’t going to make the first move, but Rowie made me promise to go out with him if he finally found the courage to ask me.”
“So we went for dinner,” Taran said.
“Which turned into breakfast,” Calypso added.
“We spent every night together for the following week.”
“And then went away for the weekend.”
It was like a tennis match. Gisella and Franz turned from Taran to Calypso and back again, occasionally exchanging gleeful glances as they did.
“Martha’s Vineyard,” Taran explained. “It was great.”
“Taran painted me.”
“That’s right, I did.”
“I ended up staying with him back in New York.”
“And then to cut a long and lovely story short: I told her I had feelings for her, went and hopped in the shower, and when I got out … she was gone.” Taran looked around, smiling. “Got to say, it was a blow to my ego.” Slight pause. “But I’m getting used to it now.”
Calypso looked guilty and then all four started to laugh.
“You owe Taran an apology,” said Franz.
“Oh believe me, I’m getting one,” Taran chuckled. “But I’ve only got two days apparently.”
Calypso glanced at the clock. It was past three a.m. They’d had such a wonderful night lost in conversation that she hadn’t noticed the time.
“One and a half.” She giggled. “But I’ll make it memorable.”
Chapter Fifteen
Sprinkle periwinkle under your bed for wild nights of passion
Taran woke and immediately felt the bed beside him. She was still there. It was ridiculous how happy that made him feel. She stirred and turned to him, lifting her face slightly. He lowered his chin and their lips met. Their kisses were leisurely and sleepy. Unlike the urgent clawing of the night before, this morning they felt like they had all the time in the world, which they didn’t. He was aware of that.
They spent time slowly exploring each other, an unhurried melding of two people totally in tune physically. Afterwards they showered and headed out for breakfast. Taran had been to Vienna once before, but didn’t know the city well, unlike Calypso, who had spent a lot of time there. Experiencing Vienna through Calypso’s eyes was like seeing the city for the first time. The city that Taran had always thought of as dull sprang to life in an explosion of delicious sights, sounds and tastes: the coffee houses and konditorei, side by side with elegant boutiques and glossy stores selling objets d’art. The pedestrianised streets were filled with outdoor cafes and buskers, and of course the Danube wound majestically around it all.
They headed to Naschmarkt, where they spent time walking the passageways filled with fresh produce. Small wasps danced around their faces. Flowers in pails and newly picked fruit laid out on stands scented the air. Calypso knew some of the vendors and was welcomed with warm hugs and strangely muddled conversations about herbs and plants, all carried out in a mix of English, German and sign language. Calypso sniffed flowers, rubbed leaves, and asked questions about when certain things had been harvested.
At one stall she bought some herbs: red clover blossoms, rosemary, nettle, red raspberry and peppermint. She followed her nose to another stand and found walnuts and asparagus. She bypassed stall upon stall of fruit until she found the freshest strawberries, the juiciest oranges, the finest raspberries and figs.
She led Taran through a maze of passages and into a small shop. It was a dark little cavern, and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust. The walls were lined with shelves, overflowing with jars and pots of herbs and potions difficult to find anywhere else in Europe.
Taran spotted a jar of eldercorn aspamatus. He didn’t consider himself that well versed in herbal medicine, but all young witches were raised on stories of the powers of eldercorn roots and how the plant was now supposedly extinct.
Obviously not, thought Taran.
And then, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a glowing jam jar, perched on the highest shelf. He moved closer, mesmerized.
“It can’t be,” he whispered.
Calypso smiled. “It is. A development company was building on top of a fairy mound in northern Austria. The woman who runs this shop met with the Fey folk and agreed to relocate them somewhere safe. It’s amazing that that whole world fits in an old marmalade jar.”
“Goes to show how time and space are relative.”
“Exactly.”
“But why move them? Can’t they just shift onto a higher vibration?”
“Normally that’s what happens. But more often than not now, these development companies come in quickly and completely destroy the energy in an area. The Fey folk didn’t have time to alter the vibration they existed on.”
The energy shifted as a third person entered the room. “Gruss gott, Fraulein Shakespeare. I vas expecting you.”
Taran turned and saw a very old, rather hunched woman gazing warmly at Calypso. There was a sparkle to her that suggested faerie blood.
Calypso gave the old woman a kiss on each cheek. “Gruss gott, Madam Linzbichler. Are you well?”
“Yes, yes. My brews keep me healthy. They just can’t keep me young.�
��
“This is my friend, Taran Dee.”
“Of course it is,” she said, giving Taran a quick pat on the arm, before ambling toward her counter. “I have a gift for you, Calypso.”
She handed Calypso something wrapped in faded newspaper. Calypso unwrapped it and found some wild yam and – very exciting – false unicorn root. It was quite a find considering that it was an endangered species.
“You always know exactly what I need.”
“It is my job to do so.”
Calypso rewrapped the herbs and tucked them into her bag.
Madame Linzbichler shuffled over to a small hotplate and placed a teapot on top. She lifted the lid and tossed in some water and a handful of mixed leaves and herbs. Then she placed some cups in front of her guests and a few minutes later poured them both a cup of tea.
“Delicious,” sighed Calypso as she took a sip. “Quite a mix. Ginger, mint, jasmine, red rose, among other things.” She savored her second sip and then grinned. “Aren’t you naughty? Is that a hint of apple I detect?”
The old woman chuckled. “You are good, Calypso.”
“Be careful, Taran, she’s trying to bind us together in love,” she said with a wink.
Madame Linzbichler gave a snort. “You don’t need tea.” She smiled at the two young lovers, before becoming serious again. “Did you speak to Adelein, Calypso?”
“I did, and he said he’d be more than happy to take them.”
“Gut, good. I worry what will happen to them once I’m gone.”
Calypso lightly touched the older woman’s arm. “You’ll be around for a long time yet, but at least they’ll be safe now.”
Madame Linzbichler stooped and found an old box and a small carry bag. Then she picked up a stool and carried it to the far corner, clumsily stepping up onto it and reaching for the jam jar. Taran went to help her, but she shooed him back.
She packed the faerie world into the box and cushioned it with tissue paper. And then, after placing it gently into the bag, she handed it to Calypso. “I know it is safe with you, child.”
“I’m honored to be of help.”
The two women said their goodbyes and Calypso made her way toward the door.
Taran held his hand out and Madam Linzbichler took it, but instead of shaking it, she pressed a small packet into his palm.
“Take this. Put it away safely,” she whispered, out of Calypso’s earshot. “You’ll know when to use it.”
“What is it?”
“Sylph dust.”
Taran shoved the packet deep in his pocket. Christ almighty, what was this woman giving him Sylph dust for? Sylph dust was only for the most experienced shamans to cross over to the Summerland, and often even they couldn’t find their way back. And now he had some in his pocket? Was she mad? But one last glance in her milky grey eyes told him she wasn’t – and that he would need it one day. It chilled him to think about it.
Calypso and Taran waved goodbye to Madam Linzbichler and headed back into the sunshine, although it did little to ease Taran’s concern. He had a bag of Sylph dust in his pocket and Calypso had a whole faerie world in her bag. So much for shopping for some fruit.
“Hold on tight to that bag, Callie.”
“It’s safe with us, Taran.” Calypso’s secret cargo obviously didn’t stress her out at all.
“What if we get mugged?”
“Then some poor thief will have the wrath of a displaced faerie community upon him.”
Calypso slipped her hand into Taran’s. “See that coffee house, Café Central? Trotsky plotted the revolution there.” Calypso sighed sadly. “Full of tourists now.”
Taran marveled at how easily she moved on. Pity she couldn’t do the same when it came to her ex. But while he was still clutching tightly to his pocket, Calypso was quite blasé about what she was carrying in her bag. She was so courageous in all matters except of the heart.
They wandered for hours, hand in hand, Calypso pointing out local haunts on the way.
“That was Gustav Klimt’s favorite watering hole. Oh look, Café Griensteidl. Arthur Schnitzler apparently came up with the idea for La Ronde in there,” she said. Sometime later they passed Café Landtmann. “Freud and Jung were regulars.”
They strolled Vienna’s charming streets, talking and laughing. She was enchanting company: well traveled, well read and … well, simply gorgeous to look at.
“Feel like some cake?” she asked.
“Sure.” She could ask him to sell his soul to Santa and he’d say yes.
She led Taran toward Kartnerstrasse and into the Sacher Hotel. “You know when I said I never do touristy things? Well I lied. I love this place.”
The Café Sacher was an opulent room filled with deep red lounges and crystal chandeliers. The musk-pink walls were plastered with gilt-framed sketches and paintings of long-dead Viennese.
Calypso ordered them some Sachertorte and coffee and they relaxed back into the sofas. “This is the original torte in Austria. The recipe is a secret.”
Taran wasn’t sure whether it was the cake or the company, but it was a mouthwatering experience. Lashings of cream accompanied one of the most delicious chocolate cakes ever to bless his taste buds. He was tempted to propose to Calypso immediately, simply for being the type of woman who knew where such a cake existed.
“I’m sold,” he sighed. “I could die now, a happy man.” He stared at her over his coffee cup. “You love Vienna.”
“I love many places. This is one of them,” she said. “What about you?”
Taran thought for a moment. “It’s hard to choose. India is inspiring. South Africa. I have a soft spot for Bangkok. But my favorite place is Australia. Especially Sydney. Have you been to Australia?”
Calypso’s eyes clouded over and he felt her tense.
“Yes,” she admitted. “My last serious boyfriend was Australian. We spent a great deal of time there.”
He searched her eyes, silently pleading for her to not close down again. “Your mother mentioned how wary you are of relationships. Your last relationship ended badly, and you were deeply hurt.” Taran attacked the last of his cake with the fork.
“I see. What else did my mother say?” Calypso added an extra emphasis to “my mother” and it was obvious that poor Batty was going to get a verbal lashing over this later.
“She didn’t say much else.”
Calypso nodded, but remained silent.
Taran had had enough. “From where I’m sitting, this is an issue we need to confront. Whoever this idiot was, he left you and you’re still not over it. I’m here. I want to be with you, which is more than I can say for this – what’s his name?”
“Scott,” said Calypso quietly.
“Scott, who’s obviously a sandwich short of a picnic if he leaves a gorgeous woman like you. Don’t you agree?”
Calypso was silent.
“What was so bloody special about him?”
“Does it matter, Taran? Why is anyone special? Others might have thought him quite ordinary, but to me he was extraordinary because he was destined to be so. He was my first real love. My only love … that’s all.”
“What type of man was he?”
“You really want to know?”
“Yes,” Taran lied.
Calypso’s eyes glazed over at the memory. “He was fearless,” she whispered. Brave, bold … reckless at times. He was always trying the latest, greatest new thing. Abseiling, bungee jumping, riding rapids – he even base-jumped a few times until I begged him to stop. But he really grabbed hold of life. We’d walk into a bar and by the time we walked out, he knew everyone by name. Every country we went to, he’d stumble and struggle through the language, trying his heart out to speak to locals, despite the fact that English is so widely spoken. He said it was ignorant to expect people to speak it.”
“I have to agree with him there,” Taran grudgingly admitted.
“He had an incredible voice, a musical gift. He could play the guitar
…” Calypso sighed, the weight of heartbreak still apparent on her beautiful features. “We were young,” she said simply.
“Would you take him back?”
“No.”
There was something so absolute about her answer, yet it didn’t comfort him. The darkness that lingered behind her words did quite the opposite.
“I still think he’s a complete nut-job for leaving you.”
“There have been times when I couldn’t agree with you more.” Calypso motioned for the check. “Let’s move on, shall we?”
Taran nodded, but wondered if she ever would.
Chapter Sixteen
Apply yarrow leaves to alleviate a toothache
Taran watched from Birdland’s door, beer in hand, as the sun set over Stephansplatz. In one day he’d fallen head-over-heels for Vienna. It helped that his tour guide was the woman he was falling head-over-heels for.
He felt closer to Calypso than ever before yet he knew she hadn’t really told him anything. Admittedly, he now had a clear picture in his head of her ex-boyfriend: a blond, bronzed, Aussie Adonis with a sportsman’s body and a cheery disposition. Oh yeah – he could also sing. But it was the things she didn’t say that bothered Taran more: the dark veils that drew across her eyes when she mentioned her ex. The tightness around her mouth. Taran could only imagine the hatchet job this Scott had done on her heart.
The strains of a Strauss waltz drifted his way. Vienna’s streets were filled with buskers. Mozart, Haydn, Beethoven, Schubert, Mahler, and Brahms were among the many musicians who’d made their home in Vienna. The city inspired some of the world’s most famous music, and its streets had rung out with it ever since.
Taran smiled. He was enjoying himself. He wished he could share this with his brother. Up until their falling out they’d spoken daily, and Taran was used to giving Finn regular updates. He’d love to hear about Vienna … and Calypso. But first Taran had to be certain that she wasn’t going to do another runner. He pushed thoughts of Finn to the back of his mind. He missed his twin, but if things panned out like he intended, then Finn would be back in his life very soon.
