Unforgettable Heroes II Boxed Set

by Elizabeth Bevarly

  Until he’d spoken with his father, he hadn’t planned on being in town more than a few days, a week tops. He was now afraid he’d underestimated the situation. Figuring out what to do with his father once he was released would likely take time.

  The short walk and the three steps leading to the front porch took no effort, but digging for the cabin’s key within the deep pockets of his jeans, while juggling his load, took a little more. He set the suitcase down, looking at the homey set-up. Hand-carved chairs sat facing the railing with a small table between them on one side, and a porch swing took up the other. He rolled his eyes, wondering who in their right mind would vacation somewhere where the only view while sitting on the porch was trees. Not him.

  He located the key, unlocked and pushed open the door, retrieved his bag and stepped inside. Near darkness engulfed him immediately so he lowered the luggage again and felt around for a light switch.

  There wasn’t one.

  “You have got to be kidding me.”

  Though not prone to curse, a string of foul words fled his mouth as he set the bags down and returned to the car. He opened the glove compartment relieved to find the flashlight had batteries that still worked, grabbed his laptop, and returned to the cabin. He stepped over the groceries as he shined the light around the small room and his fear was confirmed when he saw the gas-chimney lamps and a large box of matches lying next to them on a nearby library table.

  “You have got to be kidding me!”

  Fury replaced disappointment as he lit one lamp after another. There was no way in hell he’d stay for more than one night. The groceries would no doubt go bad, and the drinks would be hot by morning anyway, so he didn’t have to worry about what to do with them once he returned to town. If mice didn’t dwell within the cabin he’d at least have chips and drinks tonight, then take the rest to munch on as snacks in the motel room once he got back to town. But the worst thing about what he now knew was a camping trip was he couldn’t play his game, and check it, and recheck it, to make sure there were no bugs left in the new system or in the new game. Not if there was no damned electricity!

  “Mr. Whitehawk, you had better plan to give me my money back!”

  Ryan closed the front door and was relieved to see it actually had a lock. He stood in the glow of the little cabin and cursed again. When he ran out of words, he carried one lamp as well as the bags to the small island that separated the lounging area from the kitchen. To his surprise the light showed a small upright chest that had a sticky note attached to its front door, indicating it was the refrigerator.

  Intrigued, he opened the small door and cold air hit him immediately. Curious now, he held the lamp up and moved it as far as he could around the box. There were no wires, but there was a hose attached to the back of it and he chased the hose. Ryan found it ran into the cabinet and then attached to the horizontal pipe leading to the vertical pipe of the sink’s spigot. He could only surmise it ran cold water between the box’s wooden exterior and the metal lining that would hold his supplies.

  “Okay. Now that’s pretty cool. But still not enough to keep me here.”

  The hard knock on the front door startled Ryan, and he yelped before pushing his glasses back up. Knowing he’d have to get a grip, and get it soon, he crossed to the door and moved a sheer curtain aside to look out the window. Fortunately, the person on the other side held a flashlight up so he could see it wasn’t a polite monster, but a beautiful blonde instead. Pleasantly surprised, he unlocked the door and swung it open.

  “Hi! I’m the Welcome Wagon.”

  She held up a basket filled with things, but Ryan couldn’t take his eyes off her lovely face long enough to look down.

  “Actually, I’m the niece of the guy who owns the cabin. My aunt Destiny texted me, because cellphone service sucks around here, and said I should check on you. She wasn’t sure Great-Uncle Frank told you about the plumbing and things. So how are you? I know it can be crazy scary out here when people come for the first time.” She stepped forward, and he stepped back. She went straight to the kitchen and then turned with a smile. “I see you’ve lit the lamps. That’s good. Did you see how to use the icebox? Well, it isn’t really an icebox anymore, since my dad made it into a water-cooled box. But same difference. You can’t leave the door open like that, though, or it won’t stay quite as cold. And you should probably close the front door. The temperature is dropping fast. It always does up here.”

  Ryan nodded and closed the front door once she took a breath and moved to shut the cooler. But before he could answer any of her questions, she started up again.

  “This is a nice cabin. Not nearly as far back as mine. I wonder why they didn’t send me here.” She frowned, looked at an oil lamp and then nodded. “Of course. The lack of electricity. I don’t mind being out in the boondocks, at all, but a girl has to use a hair straightener every once in a while.” She grinned at him. “You don’t talk much, do you?”

  He slowly shook his head, a little overwhelmed.

  She nodded, and continued. “Most men don’t as far as I can tell. My dad is really quiet, and so is Uncle Tom. He’s the owner of the cabin, by the way. My uncle Logan talks more than those two, but I think it’s because he’s a doctor and has to talk to people all day, so he’s more social. My dad mostly talks to his wood and to my mom, but he can get going sometimes when it’s just family around.”

  She pointed upwards to the loft. “That’s your bedroom if you haven’t already figured that out. I brought clean sheets and put them on earlier. My great-uncle would have done it, but I volunteered. He’s nearly as old as these hills but would have a fit, if he had fits, which he doesn’t, if I said so.

  “You do have a bathroom over there,” she said pointing again. “But only cold water. Unless you’ve kicked on the generator out back?”

  Ryan shook his head.

  “Figured not. You don’t look like you rough it. Anyway, no city water, thank goodness. Only well water out here. Runs from the spring. Great for drinking, but cold as an Alaskan’s snot to shower in, which is why it works so well to keep cold food cold.” She grinned.

  “Toilet’s good though. Has a concrete box in the ground. Can’t remember what it’s called, but it does the trick. For you know, catching things. But anyway, I’ll show you how to work the generator tomorrow, unless you want to shower tonight.” She grimaced. “I’m just afraid it may have spiders since nobody has used the cabin for some time. I hate spiders. Don’t you?”

  Ryan nodded.

  “Thank goodness. I was afraid you’d want to deal with that thing tonight. It isn’t hard or anything. Just really dark out there. Oh! I nearly forgot!” She pointed to the fireplace. “I’ve laid you a fire. All you have to do is light it. The matchsticks you used to light the lanterns will do the trick nicely, just put flame to the paper stuffed below the wood. Do you have any questions?”

  His mind whirling, Ryan simply stared at her. By the time he could think to ask her name, she was reaching toward his face.

  “You have an eyelash on your cheek.” She lifted it from his face and dusted her hands together. “Nice glasses by the way. Makes you look very scholarly. Are you a professor? Oh sorry, I’m being nosy.”

  Ryan was so jolted by her brief touch, he couldn’t tell her the lash had floated onto her jacket, rather than the floor. Once he found his wits and was about to tell her, she was hurrying toward the door. She opened it and turned to smile at him.

  “Sorry, I’ve got to go. In a bit of a hurry. But you have a good night. I’ll see you in the morning. But not too early, unless you need me here early. A girl’s got to get her beauty rest, you know?” She smiled again and pulled the door closed behind her.

  Ryan just stood there staring at the door until he heard the sound of a motor starting. That propelled him forward, but by the time he could reopen the door, all he could see were two tiny red lights entering the tree line, and he realized the whirlwind was riding a four-wheeler through the wood
s to go back to wherever it was she’d come from.

  Amazed he hadn’t heard her arrive, he closed the door back and exhaled, wondering just how much stranger his life could possibly get.

  ****

  Dia hurried back through the trail leading to her cabin, hoping she hadn’t been rude. She didn’t particularly like being out after dark, even though she’d grown up on this mountain and knew it like the back of her hand. But the darkness wasn’t her reason for hurrying. She’d left a new potion brewing on her stove, and she was afraid after the small explosion earlier she still might not have lowered the ingredients quite enough to prevent it from happening again.

  Her dad would have a fit if she destroyed a third stove. As would her uncle if she burned down his ancestral home. But it was finally spring, and the weather was already showing signs of warmth. Soon she’d be able to move her experiments back outside, into the cauldron her mother gave her as a housewarming gift when she’d moved in. Thank goodness, Great-Uncle Frank said the cutie had only rented the place next door for a month; otherwise she’d have to be more careful. The last thing she needed was someone around to hear her noisy failures—and get nosy.

  She grinned as she sailed over a boulder that suddenly appeared in the path she was taking. They often made up the launching pads she loved to fly over. For those brief seconds she was airborne, and the feeling of freedom was as exhilarating as it was brief. One day, and she hoped it was soon, she’d find a spell that allowed her to fly for real.

  She couldn’t wait.

  Dia pressed her lips together, trying to not let annoyance set in that Sapphire was the one who’d inherited the celestial gifts. Her sister, oldest by only a few minutes, didn’t appreciate her own power, had denied it for years, and even now barely acknowledged it, as far as Dia knew. Not that she’d seen much of Sapphire since last October. She was too busy with her new husband and their pack of Lycanthrope to devote time to Cavanaugh family matters, which was just fine. That meant Dia could work toward creating magic without her sister’s constant judgment and condemnation.

  Darkness aside, Dia loved the smoothness of the trails she always found while riding the four-wheeler. Since moving into Uncle Tom’s one-room cabin all those months ago, she’d gotten to ride often while out looking for the wild growing plants she tested once mixed together, with the hope of finding just the right things to cast spells, or alter and create things. It always surprised her that such rough terrain allowed for such smooth travel given the thickness of the pines, and the rockiness of the acreage covering the mountainside.

  She spotted the glow from the windows of her cabin and slowed as she passed it to reach the little hidden shed her father and Uncle Tom built for her experiments. She parked in the little carport they’d added at its side to keep her generator and transportation out of the elements. Thankfully, the generator was only necessary for the shed’s cook-stove and the lighting within. Like she’d told her delicious new neighbor, a girl needed real electricity in her dwelling.

  Dia hurried into the shed and breathed a sigh of relief. Her potion was still simmering, the aroma light and pure. She shivered, as the room had grown cool in her absence, and then gasped as an eyelash floated down, landing in the pot of potion she’d so painstakingly concocted. Dia lifted the sterling silver ladle and tried to capture the lash, but it disappeared into the gently bubbling brew, and no amount of stirring brought it back to the surface. Disappointment flooded her, but she’d have to hope no more of her lashes dislodged, and that the one that had didn’t make any difference.

  Biting her bottom lip, afraid she’d now ruined the day-long experiment, she nonetheless stirred the rosebud, honey, and wine brew she’d mixed with a peppering of the other lesser but still important herbs, then grasped a small vial with her tongs. She poured the brew into the test tube and swirled it gently. Smoke rose in a twirling rope-cloud, puffed, and eventually formed a shimmering valentine heart. Excitement caused her to shake so hard she nearly spilled the vial, so she poured what little remained back into the pot.

  Have I done it? Did I really create a love potion?

  Nerves skittered across her body, sending goose bumps over her skin. What if she had? What could she do with it? She couldn’t tell anyone, if indeed she’d been successful. At least not until she tested it. But how?

  Her mother would tell her to destroy the potion immediately and try something else. To mess with someone’s will was taboo. Though not exactly dark magic, it bordered there as far as her family was concerned. Which meant she’d have to keep this a secret. Or destroy it. But how could she do that if she’d finally found success after so many failures? The one and only time she’d thought she’d succeeded had turned out to be a farce. Her attempt to make gold out of wood had ended up being a material that crumbled after only a few hours of looking like gold. Her family, mostly, had celebrated her finally doing something with magic, but that hadn’t made her feel better at all.

  Torn, but unwilling to throw out what might be her first real step into becoming the White Witch she wanted to be, Dia set the potion off the burner to allow it to cool. Once it had, then she’d decide what to do. Of course, there was nothing the mixture could do without a personal item from the one the spell was meant for, coupled with speaking aloud the centuries-old incantation her ancestor created and recorded in her short diary.

  Unlike many of the diaries her family owned, which had been passed down through generations of Cavanaugh women, Camellia Cavanaugh’s thin diary was little more than a pamphlet of simple spells. Dia knew her mother must have either forgotten it was within the pages of the thick tome she had given to her youngest daughter, or she hadn’t realized it was there. All either of them had expected from the gift was Dia would learn about the local plants and all their uses in her quest to create magic of her own.

  Dia had spent days debating confessing she had it and then decided it wouldn’t hurt to try one of the simple spells within before giving it back. Since there was no danger of this spell working until she had something personal from the person who the spell was meant for, she knew there was no danger in reading the words aloud either.

  Besides, she just loved to recite the little spell:

  Three hearts of the precious wild growing rose

  Beneath the sun and starry sky, grows;

  Three silver drops of honey so gold

  Awaken the mysteries of bold, and old;

  Three silver spoons of blood red wine

  And thee shall be mine;

  Thee shall be mine;

  Until by will I set thee free

  This is my will, so shall it be.

  Though no longer on the heated coil, the brew went crazy, bubbling and boiling over the sides, sending smoke throughout the room. Startled, Dia ran to the doors and threw them both open, and stood outside coughing until her lungs cleared. Trepidation skittered down her spine as she watched the smoke spiral through the trees in the direction of the rented cabin, its form nearly that of a snake on the hunt.

  “Damn, damn, and double damn!”

  She wiped at her irritated eyes as she made her way back inside, hoping the guy had gone to bed and wasn’t calling the fire department instead. Disappointment filled her, as it did every time she thought she’d made a breakthrough only to realize nothing had changed. She stared down at the pot. Her potion was now nothing more than glimmering crystalized rosebuds. As pretty as they were, she lifted the pot and threw it across the room, shattering the three little buds on the far wall. Dia watched them float down as red glitter to cover the pot that had hit the dirt packed floor.

  Fury overtook her with a vengeance she’d never before experienced, and though her mind rejected the emotion, her mouth took on a life of its own.

  “You win!” she screamed, as tears formed and fell from her eyes. “I’m done! I’m never going to be a witch, okay?” She ran outside and shook her first at the star-filled sky. “Did you hear me? I get it! I’m done! You win! I’ll never again t
ry to cast a spell! Ever!”

  Once she caught her breath and could make herself reenter the shed, Dia walked over to pick up the pot. She extinguished the electricity feeding the stovetop, since she’d forgotten to in her earlier excitement, and placed the strangely clean pot on the same cold coil as before. She looked at the glitter left behind from the boil-over but didn’t have the heart to deal with it yet. She surveyed the little room and wanted to cry, knowing all she’d done to make it her own special place had been a waste of too much time and effort.

  Overwhelming sorrow weighed on her as she returned the small bottles of herbs her family had helped her gather and stock to their rightful place on the shelves her uncle had built. Everyone had pitched in from her mother, to her aunts, to her cousins, and even her uncle Tom.

  Everyone, that was, except Sapphire.

  Dia groaned, knowing her oldest sister would be the only one who wouldn’t mourn with her over the loss of her dream. Of course, Sapphire wouldn’t see it as a loss. She’d told Dia more than once, “You can’t lose something that was never yours to begin with.” And now, finally, Dia had to accept her words as truth. But that didn’t mean she didn’t want to sock her sister in the jaw just once. The only thing stopping her was Sapphire could now transform herself into a wolf, and she’d probably been waiting for a reason to bite Dia for years.

  Having no idea what is was that had always caused such friction between them, Dia lifted the diary she’d spent the last few years filling with each exciting experiment and subsequent failure. This time there was no need to write down her concoction or its results. She was closing this chapter in her life, and she wouldn’t look at the little book ever again.

  Reluctantly, she locked up the shop for the last time and went to turn off the generator before heading to her cabin to get what she needed to prepare for bed. Tomorrow, she promised herself. Tomorrow she’d search for the gift that was her birthright, and she’d accept whatever fate had thrown her way.