The Sorcerer King and the Fire Queen

by Ana Lee Kennedy

  Vehicles crammed the parking area. I found a vacant spot, parked the vehicle and shut off the engine.

  “What are you doing?” Maureen asked.

  “I have to pee,” I snapped in irritation. “And I want to change my clothes.”

  The look I gave her would’ve silenced any other person, but not Maureen. She hopped out of the Jeep and followed me around to the hatch where I’d stashed my suitcase. I rummaged in it until I found a change of clothes. I shut the hatch and collided with Maureen’s built-in air bags.

  “Oh, for God’s sake, will you put those things away!”

  “Has anyone ever told you that you’re not only rude but crude too?” she said in a wounded tone.

  “Yep. Many times.” I stuffed my clothing and purse under one arm and sidestepped Maureen. She was the epitome of a tag-along little sister who wouldn’t let you have a moment of peace, but I still felt rotten for going off on her like that. Sometimes I reminded myself of my father, and that scared me worse than my powers did.

  One woman in her late thirties used a squeegee on the outside plate-glass windows of the visitor’s center. Sweat trickled down the sides of her face, and large ovals of perspiration stained the back of her uniform and underarms. In the picnic area, under the shade of oaks and maples, families ate from coolers. When I reached the bathroom, I ducked inside and nearly sprinted to a stall.

  Moments later, Maureen’s voice cracked through the air. “Ruby?”

  I bit my tongue.

  Louder, she called out again, “Ruby?”

  “What?” Silently, I thanked God the restroom seemed empty. I didn’t know how much more I could take of the woman without losing my temper.

  “Just checking to see if you were in here.”

  “Judas Priest and cherry Popsicles!” I whispered. Had I left my common sense in Columbus? I still didn’t understand why I’d allowed the woman to ride with me.

  I struggled out of my sundress and slipped on the fresh clothes. “I swear I’ve never met anyone who talks as much as you do.”

  “Talking is how you get to know people,” Maureen replied.

  Frustrated, I shoved the stall door. It flew open on loose hinges and struck a woman—or rather an Amazon—on her way to the sinks.

  “You stupid bitch!” She glared down at me through heavily kohled eyes. Her lipstick matched the bright red hair escaping from under a skull-patterned bandana, and she wore motorcycle attire.

  Although I’ve always been considered tall, the woman towered over me. A bright yellow pigment flashed in her eyes, and for an instant I thought I saw elongated pupils. Shocked, my heart kicking up to warp speed, I stumbled back into the toilet stall. Danger radiated off the Amazon, and the overpowering urge to claw an escape route through the block wall assailed me.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Fear coiled in the center of my chest, the sensation tight, piercing. Heat boiled up out of my gut and surged into my torso, down my arms. No! I had to contain the power, keep it from frying the woman and scaring the hell out of Maureen and anyone else who might walk in. Swallowing hard, I struggled with the sensation and managed to snuff it out—barely.

  In a shaky voice, I added a little louder, “I d-didn’t realize the door was loose.”

  The woman turned away from me as another thought somersaulted through my mind. Is she one of the bikers from this morning?

  She didn’t even wash her hands. With another glare over her panther-tattooed shoulder, her eyes normal again despite her anger, she muttered, “Fucking bitch.”

  She stormed out of the restroom, her large black boots thumping along the floor. If I followed the chick outside, I’d probably see her straddle a motorcycle behind a huge, tattooed dude wearing a mini machine gun strapped to his crotch.

  Once the door swung shut again, the overwhelming urge to cry hit me. Tremors seized me, and shaking uncontrollably, I picked up my discarded clothes and exited the stall. I sucked in a big breath and looked around for something to use as a punching bag.

  Maureen exited the toilet stall. She blinked. “What?”

  “Nothing,” I mumbled. Something about her seemed different, and I realized she’d changed her high heels. “What was wrong with your sandals?”

  “The others were hurting my feet.”

  “So put on some sneakers.”

  “I like high heels.”

  “They make you look stupid.” Oh, shit. I hadn’t meant for my words to come out so mean.

  She pouted, which transformed my shame into fresh irritation, neither of which mixed well with residual fear.

  “No, they don’t,” she insisted.

  “Sorry,” I mumbled. Turning on a spigot, I splashed cold water on my face, hoping I could wash away the memory of the encounter I’d just had. Maureen handed me a wad of paper towels.

  “You’re very attractive, but you do look rather frightened.” Maureen studied me in the mirror. “I bet you turn a lot of heads.”

  A chill swept over me. “What makes you say that?”

  “You’re long-limbed, tall, and have dreamy eyes and pretty brown hair with red highlights. Men love women like you.”

  Her comment sounded sincere, but it embarrassed me. I slung my damp dress over my arm and motioned toward the door. “We better get going.”

  “Yeah,” she shrugged into her backpack, “we need to eat.” She glanced at a big clock high on one wall. “It’s nearly eleven. We could have an early lunch.”

  Outside, I could’ve sworn we’d stepped into a sauna. Throwing uneasy looks every direction, I walked to the concession shack with Maureen and bought us Coca Colas and some Lifesavers to suck on once the sodas were gone.

  “There’s a family restaurant down over that way.” Maureen pointed. “Let’s get something to eat.”

  I debated whether or not to flop down in the parking lot and enjoy a good temper tantrum. Why did I get the feeling this woman was going to sponge off of me too?

  She offered me a pleading look.

  Fine. If fed her, I could probably leave her at the restaurant. Maybe some other poor, unsuspecting soul would give her a ride instead.

  Side by side, we strode to the Jeep. A motor roared to life, and I stopped dead still, heart knocking so hard it wouldn’t have surprised me if it had snapped a rib.

  “Ruby?” Maureen grabbed my arm. “What’s wrong?”

  Another engine rumbled then another and another. The thunder of motorcycles assaulted the moist air and reverberated over the mountainsides.

  A full-sized van with sleeping quarters backed out of a nearby parking spot. Hidden by the big vehicle, several Harleys lined the sidewalk. Two to a space, some with one rider, some with two, they each roared to life. Every hair follicle tightened on my body, and the word DANGER screamed in my brain. It couldn’t be the same biker gang.

  I counted. One, two, three....eight, nine...twelve, thirteen.

  Each rider, whether male or female, stood well over seven feet tall. I scanned the bikes for the thirteenth rider, but didn’t see him.

  The Harley chick from the restroom swung onto the back of one of the motorcycles and settled behind a big, burly man in full leather, a coal-black beard and mustache clothing his face.

  “RUBY!” Maureen shook my arm.

  Her abrupt voice shattered my paralysis. Blinking, I stared at the rest area. Harried mothers ushered sweaty children back to RVs and minivans. Attendants picked up litter, their shirts dotted with perspiration rings.

  “What’s wrong with you?” my hitchhiker pressed.

  “Nothing.”

  ****

  For once, Maureen sat quietly in the passenger seat. Every couple of minutes she’d look over at me. I said nothing. All I wanted was for the adrenaline to stop zinging through my nervous system and my heart rate to return to normal.

  I concentrated on the traffic coming and going through the rest area as I maneuvered the Jeep toward the road leading to the restaurant.

  The August h
umidity hung in twirling clouds over the steep West Virginia mountainsides. I couldn’t wait to reach Florida. I loved the ocean, loved the aroma of brine and the way the sea breeze tugged at my hair.

  However, I hoped I didn’t have to buy a plane or boat ticket and travel farther than Florida.

  Most of my family vacation memories centered on Florida and The Keys. Those were great times. Well, they were until my powers surfaced.

  I drove along the narrow, winding lane to the diner. A graveled parking lot encircled the rectangular-shaped building called The Million-Dollar Cafe. Across the road, opposite the restaurant, sat a gas station and a souvenir shop.

  A two-lane road cut through the area and twisted up the mountainside to parts unknown. I parked my Jeep amongst several pickup trucks. A chain-link fence lined the back of the brick establishment to catch rocks that might tumble from the steep incline. On the right side of the property, in an area riddled with murky puddles filled by unexpected thunderstorms, a rusty garbage dumpster crouched like a large, misshapen troll.

  Maureen and I rolled up the windows, got out and locked the Jeep. We passed between a Chevette on the left and a dark green Ford 4x4 on our right. Behind me, Maureen wobbled across the gravel in her heels.

  A dog lunged upward from the Ford’s truck bed. I spun on my heel, inadvertently facing its snapping, foul-smelling maw, the dog’s paws planted on the pickup’s side. He strained toward me. Maureen screamed and yanked me back. We collapsed against the Chevette, clutching each other’s arms, our heels digging into the gravel.

  I fought to control the heat burbling up out of my gut. It traced my ribs, skittered beneath my breasts, and oozed down my arms toward my fingertips. Brightness surrounded me, and Maureen gasped, closing her eyes and turning her face away. Terrified at what I might do, I whimpered and battled the power.

  If I didn’t stop it, someone would have a barbecued dog.

  Chapter Four

  “Ruby? What’s happening?”

  Maureen’s grip tightened, her touch both oddly familiar and disconcerting. I wanted to push her away, but feared making any sudden movements lest the dog break its tether.

  Prickles raced along my skin, nausea landed in my belly, and my fingernails turned from natural pink to light orange. Squeezing my eyes shut, I concentrated on controlling the energy threatening to burst free.

  The monster’s barks rang out over the lot. They were deep, angry barks that could inspire fear in a Kodiak bear. My insides grew hot, as if I’d swallowed lava, and my legs shook so hard I knew if I took one step I’d fall face first.

  “I’m afraid to move,” Maureen whispered, her eyes still shut against the light radiating from my body.

  I forced the power down, shoving it back into the darkness where it resided. Finally, it succumbed to my will. The molten sensation obeyed and quieted, the brilliance around me faded. Shaking, I leaned against the car, my legs feeling as though someone had replaced the bones with mush.

  Maureen blinked rapidly, her eyes full of amazement and curiosity. I blinked back at her.

  Why wasn’t she afraid of me?

  “Why were you...? How did you...?” She stared at me in wonder. “What or who are you?”

  Ignoring her question, I wheezed, “What kind of idiot leaves an animal like that tied in the back of a pickup?”

  “Hang on, ladies!” someone called.

  Thankful for the distraction, I turned toward the sound of footsteps on the gravel.

  A big man pushed between us and the snarling canine. He grabbed the leash with a meaty fist and pulled the dog off the truck’s side. “BUFORD, DOWN!” He cuffed the animal over the ears. “Get down, you dumb mutt!” He pointed at the bed of the truck. “Lay down!”

  With a last low grumble, the dog obeyed his master’s commands. The sound imbued me with unease, and the image of the demonic motorcycle came to mind.

  The man turned. “Sorry about that. Buford’s really protective of my pickup. I’m a trouble shooter for the mines, and he goes everywhere with me.”

  “What would you do if he attacked someone?” Maureen asked.

  A dark shadow flitted across his face, but an apologetic grin quickly replaced it. A billed red-and-gold hat with Coal Miners Do It in the Dirt embroidered across the front shaded his piercing blue eyes. Jet-black hair and high cheekbones hinted that he might have Cherokee blood running through his veins. His gaze slid over Maureen first then he appraised my body before his attention came to rest on my face.

  Something slithered through my soul. This guy is bad news.

  “I reckon I’d have a lawsuit on my hands,” the man finally answered.

  “Thanks for coming to our aid.” I sidestepped along the Chevette and tugged Maureen with me.

  As we passed, the man grabbed Maureen’s elbow. She let out a squeak.

  “Why don’t you gals let me buy your lunch? It’ll be my way of apologizing.”

  “That’s not necessary—”

  “Oh, that would be so nice!” Maureen chimed in over me. “I’m starved.”

  A big grin spread across the man’s face. “Good, it’s settled.”

  “I don’t think—”

  “Aw, come on, Ruby.” Maureen pulled on my arm. “He’s trying to make amends.”

  Her green eyes looked so childlike, and I wondered at the lack of common sense behind them. My gaze met the man’s. He seemed harmless enough, but something whispered not to trust him.

  “Oh, all right,” I conceded. Somehow, someway, I knew I’d regret accepting his offer.

  With a flourish, the guy motioned toward the café and walked with us. “Name’s Wayne Blacktree. Are you two just passing through?”

  “Maureen Galbraith.” She nodded at me. “She’s Ruby Nutter.”

  “Where are you from?” he asked.

  “Ohio,” I answered. His interest bothered me. What difference did it make where I was from?

  “How about you, Marilyn?” He looked at Maureen.

  The way his gaze traversed her body reminded me of a guy about to jump into a sports car and take it for a spin. I felt like stepping between them and telling him to keep his lust-filled looks to himself. Worse, however, was that Maureen seemed to be doing the same thing to him. I could almost smell the pheromones wafting between them.

  “It’s Maureen, and I’m originally from Indiana.”

  Wayne laughed and opened the café’s door. “A Hoosier, huh?”

  “Sort of,” she grinned up at Wayne, “but I wouldn’t say it’s an official tag since I haven’t lived there for more than six months at a time.”

  He motioned us inside. “I’ll make sure the waitress gives me your bill. I’ll be back for supper before I leave town so I’ll settle my tab then.” He tipped his cap to us. “Enjoy your meal, ladies.” He spoke to a waitress and quickly left the café.

  As I glanced around the eatery, my gaze landed on a head of snowy hair and a set of wide shoulders in a green polo shirt.

  My albino.

  ****

  The classy style of The Million-Dollar Cafe surprised me. A shellacked oak surface ran the length of the bar. Small antler chandeliers hung throughout the establishment, their golden illumination cheery and bright. Philodendrons twined across the ceiling and down the walls of the café. Oak tables gleamed in a high-sheen gloss.

  The early lunch rush kept the waitresses hopping from one crowded table to another. A server managed to oust a young guy from his table where he joined my white stranger at the counter. The waitress ushered us to our seats. Every pair of eyes in the place, whether male or female, watched Maureen sashay across the room. The albino noticed the whispers and pointed looks and turned, his pale eyes widening in surprise as his gaze connected with mine.

  Again, something unnamable passed between us.

  I thought about hiding under one of the floor tiles, but instead, I gritted my teeth and waited for the server to clean up some dirty dishes and wipe the table. What must he think of us? Espec
ially when Maureen looked like the town trollop.

  Oh, that wasn’t nice. More shame whizzed through me. Where did I get off being so mean? It’s easier to deliver the first stab than it is to be on the receiving end of one. Many others besides Cindy Sansburg and Jody Kefferstine had taught me that lesson, and I was a quick study.

  I sneaked a glance at the man. How many hurtful remarks had he endured? How many cruel jokes had been played on him?

  Everyone wants to be different...unless they are.

  Maureen and I sat at the table. I was grateful for a menu to hide behind while the heat faded from my cheeks, but I still sensed his curious stare. Who was he? Why did he affect me so profoundly?

  Studying Maureen over the top of my menu, I wondered if she’d cause a stir everywhere we went. If so, I’d have to figure out a way to ignore the unwanted attention or dump her off somewhere.

  “Ruby? What happened out in the parking lot?” asked Maureen.

  “You were there. You saw and heard the dog.”

  “No,” she said. “The other thing.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You know,” she insisted.

  “Maureen, are you all right?”

  Playing dumb was the only thing I could think of to derail her. The last thing I wanted was a confrontation about how I’d glowed and nearly blew up a pickup and the dog in it. I was lucky no one else had seen what happened, so maybe if I feigned ignorance, she’d have second thoughts about what she’d seen.

  Maureen regarded me for a moment, her gaze too perceptive for her baby doll appearance. I squirmed, praying she’d let the matter drop.

  “I’m famished,” she said.

  Guilt hit me again, and I wished I hadn’t been so grumpy with her earlier. “When’s the last time you ate?”

  She blinked, and a blank expression settled over her face. “Yesterday, I think. I helped some guy out, and he paid me back with a burger and some fries.” She met my gaze, blushed pink, and shifted her attention back to the menu.