by Black, Regan
"He's just a greyhound."
Both dog and woman shot him perturbed glances. "He distracts people."
"If you say so." A ridiculous notion. "Just let me scan the area?" He waited for her consent before he opened the door, and then his senses, to the morning.
"Feel anything spooky?"
"No." And it bothered him. "You won't go far?"
She rolled her eyes before she agreed. "Guinness is too hungry to dawdle in the morning." She raised her hand as if taking an oath. "A quick walk."
He waved her out with a flourish and a prayer he wouldn't have to rescue her.
When the door opened and slammed closed again minutes later, he braced for battle, but it was only her friend. "Beautiful morning." She winked at him. "Morning, beautiful."
He backed away, bracing for a different kind of battle. "Did you see Amy?"
"Nah. But I didn't see any sudden onset orgies either, so she's probably fine." She strolled to the kitchen without a backward glance. "Told you she was safe here."
"Right. I'll just go check on her."
"You'll do no such thing. She's making omelets and you have to chop."
They were a bizarre, ignorant pair and he should just let them deal with the werewolf on their own. "You're feeling okay?"
"Sure." Maeve leaned back against the counter and tipped her head. "Runner's high and endorphins. I'm great."
He was trying to figure out why she was suddenly immune to the Matchmaker's power when Amy and her hound returned safely.
When the dog was fed, omelets served, and Maeve gone to clean up, Dare decided to broach the bigger issue again. "There's a great deal of magic in this town. Representatives from many races and species." He thought it might be why he couldn't effectively judge the shield he kept throwing around her. "A day alone at the beach really isn't the best idea."
"It's the greatest idea I've had for six months. I'm going." She poured juice and pushed a glass closer to him. "If you give me the overview on all these species I'll be more prepared."
For such a short acquaintance, his urge to throttle her happened too frequently. It hadn't been that way with Camille. Of course, he hadn't been there during Camille's immediate transition. "You are stubborn. Foolish."
She smiled with deliberate intent to annoy. "Tell me more about the old races. Please?"
"It's not that easy. There are more layers and politics in this world than you've ever known, M- Amy. You must prepare yourself for surprises."
"Surprises like strangers tearing up the office."
"That wasn't random," Dare said. "He was searching for the Matchmaker."
"Too bad I didn't know he'd found her. Me. Whatever."
"Another solid reason to leave the area quickly. He won't be giving up now that he knows you're in town."
"He didn't find us last night."
Dare shook his head. "That gives me little comfort."
"Do werewolves like the beach?"
He shrugged. "I wouldn't have thought he'd be hanging around a theater either."
"It's not like I did anything on purpose. He grabbed me!"
"That's just the point. You need to understand your power. You need to study, to learn the vast details available in the book."
"Fine. We'll go get it when I'm done at the beach."
"You're in danger!" He plowed his hands through his hair, wishing for the right words. "Your aunt is probably d – "
"Don't say that!" She jumped to her feet, startling him. "Don't say it." She gathered up the dishes. "I can't believe it. I won't!"
He understood the hurt rolling off her. His own heart was in a vise. Camille had been closer than a friend too. The whole situation was a nightmare.
"You don't believe it either." She pounded the countertop with her fist. The dog watched her, ears back, eyes wide.
"No. I don't want to believe it. I was her bodyguard. It was up to me to protect her."
"And you left her alone because she sent you to me." Her dazzling blue eyes went wide with shock. "I'm so sorry. I'm an idiot. A sorry, insensitive idiot."
"No." He went to her, taking her hands in his. "You're right. Orders or not, my absence made it easier for her enemies to succeed."
"My aunt had enemies?"
"The Matchmaker always has enemies." He gave her hands a squeeze, then let go to start the dishes.
"And you don't think you should start explaining some of these details?"
"I'll tell you what I know on the way to the book."
"No. Over dinner tonight."
The woman was impossible. "I can be more stubborn than you."
"I doubt that." She plucked an apple from the fruit bowl and tucked it into her beach tote. "Hey. If I'm the new Matchmaker, don't you have to follow my orders?"
"Nope." Now that befuddled expression was worth the blurring of the truth. "I'm not actually your bodyguard." His confidence nearly wavered under her intense study.
"But she sent you to me."
He nodded, quick and sharp. "To deliver a letter."
She glanced over at Camille's letter, still on the table near the flowers. "Did you ever have the book?"
What was she thinking? "Of course not! It would be a breach of trust for anyone other than the Ma – " He stopped himself just short of insulting the woman he'd protected for years.
"She shipped it. That must feel like a breach of trust too."
"Do you teach English or psychology?" He didn't try to hide his mounting frustration with her, her aunt, and all the Campbell women in general.
She laughed a little. "Some days it feels interchangeable. There's a lot of psych in…" she stopped the lecture and frowned at him. "Staying on point, tell me about the book. Please," she added when he muttered in Elvish.
It was wrong, but every minute he kept her here was a minute less of her at risk on the beach. "The Matchmaker's book is a powerful text. It is considered a record of matches made, barters and conditions agreed upon. It is reputed to list the rules for the Matchmaker as well as the limits of her power." He cleared his throat. "As well as the secrets for containment."
"Containment?"
He nodded.
"Which is?"
"None of my business as I'm not the Matchmaker."
"You didn't sound so snotty before." She'd resumed breakfast cleanup, wiping down the table. "Are you mad at me?"
Dare gritted his teeth. "Not mad." Something was interfering with his magic. "There are histories and arrangements you'll need to learn when you have the book. It's important you know how to avoid mistakes." He felt sick again as if something had hold of his stomach and was wringing it inside out. "Give me a minute." He sipped the orange juice she'd pushed his way and tried to breathe.
"You can have more than a minute. Take the day for yourself. Anywhere but the beach. I bet it's been a long time since you took any R & R."
"R & R?"
"Rest and relaxation. Do you need guides or brochures? Maeve's got some great books on the area."
He thought of Lily and the sunflowers and the wise old oaks on the Battery. "I'll find something to do."
"Great. We can meet back here for dinner."
"Great."
"Dare, we're both weary and worried about Camille. I'm not stupid. I hereby vow to be my very best, most unnoticeable self today."
"You're taking the dog?"
"Of course."
He hoped it would be enough. It had to be. "Don't forget your sunscreen," he said. "You can still burn in January."
"I'll reapply often," she promised, patting her tote.
"Good," he muttered at the closed door. The woman was going to be a pain in the ass for someone. Conversations like this one made him look forward to the day he handed her off.
It went against his every instinct, but he'd honor her wish to be alone at the beach. Besides he'd added a shield spell to her sunscreen that should mute her effects on humans and protect her from irritated werewolves. Or worse.
An hou
r later, he experienced the rare sense of freedom as he wandered the city with no agenda, just traipsing wherever his feet carried him. How many years had he been at Camille's service, walking in the shadow of her destiny?
He didn't regret a moment. Honestly, he resented this current lack of duty more.
But today was about letting go, looking forward. Amy was right about the R & R thing. He was in the oldest city in the area and the history tangled with the roots under the surface made his steps light.
So what if he was looking for a rogue, marked werewolf to satisfy his thirst for combat, his need to burn off some of the frustration? Everyone had a different definition of relaxation.
His gait long and easy, he strolled down to the Battery. Here where the ocean battered against the sea wall, humans walked in awe of the powerful views. He understood the ocean's tug on them. They were fragile and it was unyielding. For Dare, the ocean was fine, but the story told by the trees was infinitely more interesting.
He circled the park, taking it all in, the cannons, benches, gazebo, horse drawn carriages, tour buses, and people. It wasn't so terribly crowded on a cool, winter Saturday, but he imagined it would be packed on a warmer day. Above the whole scene, like the venerable guardians they were, the massive live oaks reached out toward each other.
Tour guides and carriage drivers could recite all the tales they'd learned, but for Dare, the trees knew the truth. Observant, neutral in the human bid for power, they held a wealth of wisdom for those who would sit still long enough to listen.
Dare chuckled at himself. He didn't often wax so nostalgic. As the wind off the bay ruffled the small leaves, he wandered on, gathering the images of events long past.
Violent storms – natural and manmade – had disrupted life often on the peninsula. In accordance with the connection between elf and nature, the history depicted by the trees imprinted on his mind, merging as effectively as if they were his own memories.
He gazed at the branch over his head and it was a blend of imagination and history that had him seeing a hanged pirate.
Dare shivered, blinking the vision away. It was the first time he'd been so affected in a populated area. He glanced around, hoping he'd not made a fool of himself somehow. No one around him showed undue interest so he strolled along, soaking up the comfort of the earth sheltering roots buried deep beneath his feet.
The bracing wind sweeping in from the ocean cleared his mind. He still didn't know the best course for handling Amy, but here the issue was just one more trivial drop in the vast well of time: past, present, and future.
Feeling restored, thanks to Charleston's checkered history, Dare made his way to an oak in the center of the park and settled himself near the massive trunk. Leaning back, another memory flashed over his vision, flitting through the spark of sunlight off the distant water.
A wand-slim girl played within a circle of trees, pale hair flying as she danced and spun until she dropped to the ground. Dare felt her joy in the dizzy sensation, her laughter bubbling like a spring in his ears. He laughed with her. Closing his eyes, he watched the memory play out, eager for the moment when that joy-filled girl would smile up at him with eyes of the softest blue.
Dare lurched away from the tree, shocked and startled by the sudden onset of pure dread.
Those eyes were from the sweetest fantasies of his youth. More recently, he'd seen those same eyes full of suspicion when handing him a vase of sunflowers.
No. It couldn't be the same girl, his dream grown into the reality of Lily. He studied the park, searching for answers. This couldn't have been where she'd played, the trees weren't aligned correctly, but he felt certain the clearing must have been close by.
Maybe. More likely he was just losing himself in the rich ambiance of old trees who liked to gossip with the rare elf tourist.
Getting to his feet, pacing away didn't change his gut feeling. He'd known that memory since childhood, had always thought he'd recognize her in real life. She'd been his first love, the only female to capture his heart. No matter where his eye roamed, he was always looking for her. When he'd reached adulthood without finding the woman with those eyes, he'd set out with the Matchmaker, hoping she waited for him elsewhere in the world.
Dare struggled with the thoughts rushing though his mind like an autumn wind tossing and swirling fallen leaves. How had he not recognized her in the shop, over those sunflowers? How ignorant of him that he didn't know her in the churchyard.
He smothered a bitter laugh. Once he'd asked Camille what his childhood dreams meant. Though he'd done his best to be vague, he knew she'd seen through him to the heart of his questions. It was one of her more powerful gifts. She'd never given a real answer, only encouraged him to stay alert and open-minded.
Alert. What a joke.
His mind, his childish dreaming mind, must have cast her as an elf to soothe his prejudice. Yet, even if he went to her now, her breeding would be the least of the obstacles ahead of them. He'd seen her mark. Lily had been pledged to another; might already be in love with someone else.
Please not the lovesick werewolf. His heart clutched and his stomach rolled at the thought. Every fiber of his being screamed against such an injustice.
She'd been his dream, the ideal he'd clung to in every dark moment of his life.
He'd been with Camille long enough to know any romantic pursuit to alter her affections would eventually fail. Dare's stomach twisted again and he finally recognized his mysterious illness for what it was: Fear.
After fighting and hiding and guarding against all nature of enemies and threats, the sweetest dream of his heart rendered him helpless as a sapling in a tornado.
He could almost hear Camille's rusty laughter rolling over the campfire as it often did when she navigated matrimonial challenges. "I miss you, my friend," he whispered.
Dare skirted the white gazebo, crossing to the sea wall once more, letting the wind buffet him. He'd learned the local history from the trees, knew precisely where to find the fully grown, real life version of his first love, his only love. Now, he just needed the courage to find her and apologize. And possibly eliminate a werewolf suitor.
So much for rest and relaxation.
~*~
Amy let the sun beat down on her, happy to be with Guinness, her book, a cooler, and the whole of the ocean stretched out before her. She used the cover of her dark sunglasses to confirm the absence of brooding wood elves.
It wasn't that she didn't believe Dare was a man – elf – of his word. He had a way about him, glamour or not, that implied a wisdom beyond the youthful features. And she had enough confirmation of his loyalty if she reconsidered the rather cryptic letters from her aunt in the context of new information and recent events.
No, she just wanted to be away from it all. To experience the simple escape of reading a good book in the sunshine on the beach when normally she'd be trapped in front of her fireplace with a stack of mediocre essays on Dickens. She should really move that unit to a different time of year.
On that mental note, she opened her book, the latest historical romance by one of her favorite authors, and threw herself into Regency England, a grand salon and the horrible dangers of destructive gossip.
For a lovely bit of timelessness it was just the tang of sea air, the steady breeze on her face, the peace of Guinness lounging beside her, and the heart beat of the ocean as the waves bumped against the sand.
In January! It was bliss.
She'd chosen her spot carefully, determined not to ruin this precious day by setting off a mass display of intensive public affection.
Occasionally, other brave beach-going souls wandered by, but Amy didn't seem to have any effect on them. Had Dare been making up that love potion business? Maybe he was the problem and she wasn't the real threat to humanity after all.
Eager to experiment, she got to her feet and with Guinness at her side, she headed off in the direction of the more populated pier. Along the way, not one person threw t
hemselves at another and no one wandered into the ocean declaring their undying love for a mermaid. No children were embarrassed by overly affectionate, beach combing parents.
"It was him," she muttered to herself. "He didn't shield me, he magnified me." That thinking was dangerous as it showed she was buying into the Matchmaker myth. Staring out at the ocean, she forgot the machinations of the novel while she contemplated the best way to confront Dare. She would not be manipulated for any cause. Which only implied that she believed he had magical powers.
But she couldn't deny her odd eyes in the mirror, even when Dare wasn't around, and the ghosts last night had been as real as the sand squishing between her toes now. No matter. Believing she was the Matchmaker didn't mean she believed all the woo-woo stuff he was spouting.
Aunt Camille's rare visits had never incited the neighbors to get frisky on the way to the mailbox. Dare claimed it was because she'd mastered her gifts. Amy had to wonder. She'd intended to draft a comparison study during her time here in Charleston and she wasn't ready to give that up just yet.
Guinness hesitated as shouts rang out on the pier above her and footsteps rushed like distant thunder toward the ocean.
Amy blinked several times, certain she was imagining the lovely woman bobbing in the surf. No one else was swimming so it wasn't one of those polar swim club things. There wasn't a boat nearby and this wasn't the beach surfers frequented. And yet a woman seemed to hover as the waves broke around her, hair streaming in coral cords over sun-kissed bare shoulders. She looked far too bright for the cold ocean.
Mermaid was Amy's first thought and based on the shouts overhead, other beach goers agreed.
While everyone on the pier was surely staring and snapping pictures of the beauty in the ocean, said beauty was glaring straight at Amy. The hateful intensity was unmistakable, filling Amy with an undeniable urge to run away – and stay away.
She followed Guinness, scrambling back from the foam nipping her toes, putting as much sand between herself and the rising tide as possible.
Fear was a vise around her throat and Amy wished for enlightenment and ignorance in equal measure. Did she really want to know what caused that kind of hate bobbing out there?
