Paranormally Yours: A Boxed Set

by Alisha Basso

  Just a little while ago I had thought I was already on my path, but Rayne had just given me something far more precious than a place to live. I wasn’t sure I could accept it. Wasn’t sure I could ever fully let go of the bitter anger or the sense of betrayal Olivia had instilled in me during that awful day when I’d discovered her treachery and her dead body.

  Now I was on a different path. A path leading somewhere completely unknown. With both my past and my future unidentified, I left the roof and went downstairs to help.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Settling into Rayne’s beautiful home was easier than I thought it would be. The next morning I got up and looked out the window to the river below, stretching.

  It was six o’clock, and when I passed Flynn’s and Nock’s room, the both of them were still asleep. But I was restless, and the best thing for me to do was to cook.

  I tiptoed past Rayne’s room. I wasn’t sure if she slept in on Sundays, but I didn’t want to disturb her. Once in the kitchen, I pulled out my muffin tins and decided the Snickerdoodle recipe would be a good choice.

  I was just pulling a batch from the oven when there was a knock on the door. Setting the hot tin on the stove, I went to answer.

  Val smiled at me and I smiled back. “Good morning,” I said, “What brings you here?

  He breathed deep and his eyes went sly. “Breakfast,”

  “Oh,” I said,

  “Smells really good. Got that scrumptious coffee brewing, too?”

  I chuckled and led the way back to the kitchen. Val settled onto one of the bar stools across from me. He was dressed in tan pants and a black shirt today, his blond hair just as styled, but loose around his shoulders.

  I poured him a cup of coffee and set one of the just-cooling muffins on a plate.

  I heard a yawn and saw Rayne coming down the stairs in a soft, black silk robe. “Val, are you sweet talking Lily out of her muffins?”

  I flushed because it sounded so naughty.

  Val flashed me a wicked grin and laughed softly.

  Rayne bit her lip and then laughed, too, with apology in her eyes.

  “And her coffee. I think she’s ruined me for any other brew.”

  This time I flushed with pleasure.

  Rayne was about to settle when there was another knock.

  “Betcha that’s Fox,” Val said taking a bite of his muffin and a sip of coffee.

  “I’m not taking that bet,” Rayne said as she pulled open the door and revealed the gorgeous shaman dressed in a pair of faded jeans, and a beaded brown suede shirt. I noted he hadn’t worn a jacket, even though it must have been thirty degrees out. I swallowed…hard. His dark, silky hair was loose, and the draft from the door stirred it where it flowed over his broad shoulders.

  “Looks like I was late to the party.” His eyes collided with mine, and I turned away to gather my composure. Opening the cupboard and reaching for a cup, I felt him come up behind me.

  “You don’t have to wait on me, Lily,” he said softly, brushing against me as he reached for a cup, covering my hand as I hadn’t let go of it yet. For a moment his heat warmed me all the way through. “I got it.”

  I snatched my hand back. He sure did have it…and I was beginning to want it. Feeling like I was losing my focus, I backed up and away from him.

  He smelled like the wildness of the plains, the leather of makeshift bridles, warm horse flesh in the sun, the spicy scent of sagebrush and the trace of smoke from a fire.

  I turned back to my own cup of coffee, trying not to stare at Fox, and focused on Val. “What’s it like to be Realized?” I asked grabbing the first subject that popped into my head. “Is your past fictional life fuzzy?”

  “No, I remember that life. Everything written into me is as real as my life is now. Everything I did, my childhood, all my creator wrote for me. I met her a year ago. She was blown away. How many times does a writer get to meet her characters? We had lunch, and she told me all about how she came up with the idea for HellCross Slayers and how it was the most amazing thing she’s ever done. I just thanked her. In a way, I guess she was like my mother. I draw on my own story characterization for my job. I’m just lucky my creator wrote a little chaos into me. As a forerunner, it serves me well. Right, Rayne?

  She nodded, but she seemed more interested in watching me trying not to watch Fox. “Why don’t you tell Lily what you did in your fictional world, Val?”

  “I was special in the manga. When rifts opened between hell and my world, demons passed through. I was part of the fighting force who faced them. I sealed the gates with sound.”

  “With bells on,” Fox said, smiling. “Even as the demons came through,” Fox leaned nonchalantly near me, his enticing masculinity distracting me. “He was right in the line of fire.”

  I took a breath. “Wow. Demon slayer.”

  “HellCross Slayer,” he said, grinning.

  “She created you, as you said, but what about how you apply yourself to this reality. This world?” I asked.

  “Creation is a powerful thing, Lily, whether you’re born or realized. Someone made you from scratch and that, sweetheart, is magical. When I first came here, I was a little lost, but luckily for me there’s a welcome center in Animetown. They give you clothes and food—that was a strange concept at first, but after my first bite, I was hooked—and helped me to figure out what I wanted to do. As soon as I heard about the OS and forerunning, my path was set.”

  After breakfast, I walked Fox to the door. Before he left, he said, “An invisible thread connects those who are destined to meet, regardless of time, place, and circumstance. The thread may stretch or tangle. But it will never break.”

  For the rest of the day, as I settled in and did my laundry, I couldn’t stop thinking about what Fox had said.

  When I was folding my last load, Rayne came into the laundry room and hiked herself up on the washing machine, watching me fold. Slipping her arms around her knees, she perched her head there, her dark hair sliding against her pale cheek.

  I gave her a puzzling glance as I grabbed for a pair of sweat pants. Feeling her switch from casual interest of my folding to speculation, she said, “You have a thing for Fox?”

  I started at her direct question, the sweat pants slipping out of my hand. I dipped down to retrieve them and started all over again. “No…yes, but I’m not sure what I’m going to do about it.”

  Silently, she raised her eyebrows. “Why?”

  “That fae, the one with…”

  “The red hair,” she said. She tilted her head with a shrewd smile.

  I winced. Was it that evident? “Yes, him. He and I have a history. It’s not going anywhere.”

  She straightened. “You fooling around with a fae? One who’s in the FDA?”

  “I know. It’s stupid.”

  “Monumentally. But, I know about that,” she said wistfully, but when I waited for an explanation, she didn’t say any more. Finally, she said, “Fox is wonderful. Just be careful, Lily. Shamans are a risk. They are trying to transcend.”

  “I know.”

  After seeing my expression, she hurriedly said, “He can refuse. It’s something which is within their will. So it’s not a lost cause. I just think he’s committed to it. So, it’s possible he won’t be around even tomorrow if his time comes and he’s deemed worthy. But, he’d be worth it.”

  “Have you…?”

  “No. I’m not interested in either him or Val that way. I just wanted to say something to you about him. Not necessarily chase you away, but he’s my teammate, and he’s one of the most amazing people I know. He and Val are my friends and comrades. That’s all.”

  “I appreciate it, Rayne,” I said wearily, But, I don’t think I’m ready for anything just yet, even though I do find him deliciously attractive.”

  “They both are.” She looked down, her dark lashes veiling her remarkable grey eyes. “So-o-o-o. You can do charms and stuff, too. Being a witch, right?” She was twisting a ring on h
er finger, nervously, one that looked like vines.”

  I glanced at her. She sounded different. Hesitant. So far, Rayne had never been uncertain.

  “Sure,” I said cautiously. “I’m a fully practicing witch, but I’m a bit rusty on the whole Craft stuff.”

  “Oh. How about…uh…something like a love charm?”

  I studied her and she fidgeted. “A love charm?” I said. “You want a love charm?”

  “No.” she said quickly. Too quickly. “I was just asking. That’s all.” She pushed off the washer. “Want to go get some lunch at Mary’s Diner?”

  “Sure,” I said, dumping my clothes into the basket. “Give me a minute to take care of these.” Up in my room, I had to wonder at just why Rayne had offered me this amazing set up. I suddenly felt unsure of what price I was going to pay, especially after her simply wacky request about my ability to produce charms. I retreated a bit into myself. I didn’t like being manipulated at all. So I would have to see what was up with her and be guarded. While I put my clothes away, my heart beat hard. Okay, so I didn’t really need her to tell me Fox was great. I already knew that. I needed to convince myself, though, it wasn’t smart.

  But I already knew I could be a stupid, stupid witch.

  #

  The next morning as Rayne rushed around getting ready for work, I calmly cooked. I wasn’t expected to keep regular hours since I was a consultant. When they needed me, they would let me know.

  It wasn’t long before Val and Fox showed up, one after the other with a lame excuse about picking Rayne up for work.

  She gave them skeptical looks. I poured the coffee and set out the muffins. I had a feeling this would be a common occurrence.

  Not long after we had started on breakfast, Rayne received a call from Deangelo. Her terse conversation galvanized us.

  “We have to go in, right now,” she said as she set her phone down. I felt the tension in her. What had happened?

  We left the building and got into her car. “Do you know why we’re being called in early?”

  “No, he wouldn’t say, but I think it’s bad.”

  Arriving at the OS, we quickly headed upstairs. Deangelo looked…tense, yet he still moved with the same eerie grace. His brow was pinched with worry. I caught the scent of ash and black earth, distinctive smells which were more pronounced on an agitated vamp.

  I went still, as still as I could in the face of a predator. Fear trickled through me and my stomach knotted.

  “Lily, if you’re going to work with me, then you’re going to have to lose your fear or at least mask it. I can hear your heart beating from here,” he said, turning those mesmerizing eyes on me.

  I swallowed and tried to calm my raging heart and my nerves.

  His mouth curved. “That’s a start,” he said. “My office.” Then he was gone as if he hadn’t even moved. Vampire-morphed right out of the room.

  Rayne was already halfway across the office before I even started forward. When I reached the open door, she was already seated. I entered.

  “What is it? She asked.

  “I want you to go talk to Wilding, but, for bite’s sake, be diplomatic.”

  Startled, I was absorbing this information when Rayne said, “I’m always diplomatic.”

  “Yeah, he means try being diplomatic without breaking bones or causing any blood loss.” Val said walking into the conversation. Fox entering right behind him.

  Rayne didn’t react to Val’s ribbing, her grey eyes and focus remaining riveted on Deangelo. “What’s changed?” she ground out, tension tightening her voice.

  Deangelo’s eyes flicked to Val. Then back to her, the tension in the air thickened. “Connolly’s team—”

  “Bastion is on Michael Connolly’s team.” Val’s tense voice was totally devoid of any humor and, reacting to the grimness Deangelo projected, hushed.

  Deangelo’s expression pinched even more.

  “What happened?!” Val demanded, striding forward, everything about him going deadly and dangerous. It was a side of Val I hadn’t seen before, another facet of Val I was getting to know.

  Jaw clenched, his pupils expanding, he growled. “They were ambushed after checking out a tip about the rogue mage…”

  “Bastion?” Val, his face scored with his concern, spoke volumes with his eyes.

  Deangelo’s phone rang and he answered it tersely, then said, “Thank you.” After he hung up, he rose and said, “They’re bringing him up now.” He started out of the office and we all followed. “He’s the only one who made it out alive—barely. He’s being taken up to the healing unit. Fox—”

  “I’m going now.”

  Suddenly we heard faint screaming, then it got louder. It was coming from the elevator, its occupants ascending floor by floor as the sound chilled me to the bone.

  Deangelo didn’t bother with the elevator, he shimmered and was already gone, and we hurried after him.

  By the time we made it to the healing unit, they were loading Bastion off the elevator. Fox rushed by me as he raced toward the man contorted with pain. “Flit,” he said and the hummingbird, trailing blue fire, materialized and streaked alongside the big shaman.

  Bastion Kane was covered with blood, his uniform shredded with long gashes, droplets of blood trickling behind the stretchers wake. His dark, flowing hair was matted with it, hanging limply and trailing along the floor.

  The smell of blood was heavy, with an underlying metallic scent of fear still lingering. A dark, ugly black mist clung to his skin and the smell of ozone was strong as a fresh lightning strike. Two more wardens dead, and this team member...Val’s friend…barely hanging onto life.

  The injured warden struggled, moaning in pain and shock. But Fox laid his hand on Bastion’s forehead and started to chant. Flit moved around him, the little hummingbird making soothing, sad noises as he worked. Val was there, gripping the stretcher. He looked down into Bastion’s eyes.

  “Mike…Nayah?” the injured Realized managed in a pain-filled voice.

  Val’s jaw clenched, the muscles moving under his skin. His large eyes filled with grief. “I’m sorry…”

  Bastion cried out in agony…his voice broken and hollow, “No-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o!” His harsh sob echoed into the hallway galvanizing me as the stretcher disappeared through the white swinging doors.

  Deangelo turned to look at us, and this time I couldn’t mask the primal fear running through me. One minute he was standing by the white doors, looking as though he wanted to drain someone, the next he was in front of us, his voice threaded with anger.

  “Go, Rayne, take the witch with you. Find out what you can and fuck diplomacy. Find out what he knows!”

  There was total silence in the car while we drove to St. Paul’s Cathedral, the headquarters of the Order of the Third Eye. With the influx of otherworldly denizens into St. Paul, the dumbstruck clergy took their ministries over to Minneapolis and abandoned the cathedral. That left the structure available for occupancy, and the Order of the Third Eye had found the church an ideal place for instruction and living quarters for their acolytes, adepts and mages.

  “Mike and Nayah?” I asked, feeling sick. I wanted to know who he had worked with. Who they had been. It was important, so important.

  “Mike is…was human and the shaman, Nayah, the forerunner. She was a fae. They were both…very good wardens…good people.”

  I nodded my throat tight. “Then we’ll have to get some answers.”

  With her eyes fixed on the spire of the cathedral in the distance, she said, “We’ll get some answers.”

  We pulled into the cathedral parking lot and I marveled at the architecture. The first Catholic priest in the area had built a log chapel and dedicated it to Saint Paul. Its humble log cabin beginnings had long ago been replaced by this soaring steeple and impressive stone. It now housed one of the most powerful mages on this plane.

  We parked and made our way into the building. A man stood in what had once been the sanctuary. The altar
and all the trappings of the church were gone. In their place were banners with the symbol of the Order: a backwards C with a dot above it and a teardrop hanging off the bottom and, in the center, an eye with a triskelion as the pupil and a lightning bolt across the eye.

  The triskelion…my hand went to the symbol hanging around my neck. They were identical, and I stared at the symbols on the banners, shaken. It was probably just a coincidence. Frustrated to discover I didn’t have anything in my mind to reassure me it was a coincidence, I focused on the guy speaking.

  “Thank you for applying to the Order of the Third Eye. New young recruits are always welcome and must include their test MPTO score by the Mage Power Testing Organization. Once you’ve filled out your application, you may leave. You will be contacted for an interview at a...”

  I tuned him out as a tall blonde woman approached us.

  “Hello, and welcome to the Order of the Third Eye. The morning session is just ending, but we do have an afternoon session beginning just after lunch. Do your children have their MPTO score already?”

  “We have no children and we’re not here to apply for the order,” Rayne said. “I’m Warden Rayne Parish from the OS and this is our consultant, Lily Starbuck.”

  Her eyes widened for only the briefest of seconds and then she shuttered them.

  “What may I do for you?” she asked, her warm tone now cool.

  “We would like to speak with the Archmage.”

  “The Archmage? Do you have an appointment?” She looked incredulous that we thought we could see him at such short notice. She was well aware we didn’t have an appointment.

  “No. We have questions which are part of an official investigation. I’m sure you wouldn’t want to interfere in an OS investigation.”

  Nervously she said, “Of course not. Please follow me.”

  She escorted us to an office much like a lawyer’s library, with bookcases on three walls, an oversized mahogany desk, burgundy leather tufted sofa, and luxurious, multi-hued rugs. I’m not sure what I expected, but probably something more akin to Merlin’s tower.