by Calinda B
“How can I do that? I didn’t really give much consideration to magic until lately. This is rather stunning news. I guess I’ve been too busy trying to make the world a safer place.”
“You’ll figure it out.” He turned, then paused. “Oh. Keep an eye out the window. You never know when you’ll be needed tonight.” He winked, spun on his heel and trudged from the room.
“What did you say?”
“You heard me.” Further down the hall, he lifted his hand in farewell.
She stared at his retreating back. Why can’t I accept his kindness? She glanced at her bound foot. “Well, he said he did it out of care, not machismo.” She sighed and settled back on the pillows. “Thank you,” she called, too late, as the front door snicked closed. “Sort of…”
Chapter Nineteen
Chia stared out the window at Hung, skiing toward the Haunted Bear glacier, no doubt using my skis and my friend to pull him. “I thought you were going to shift. No sir, you’re going to rely on my loyal friend, Cecil, and not take a chance at shifting. Bastard.” She glared at the picture of her grandparents hanging on the wall. “Why didn’t you tell me you practiced magic?” She shook her head. “I get it. You probably didn’t want my parents to know you talked to me about such stuff.”
Her parents, mostly her mother, often fought with her maternal grandparents. Her dad tried to stay out of the fray by simply staying away. One conversation in particular had always stuck in her mind. They’d driven out to the old house for her mother to make her final goodbyes to Charming, Alaska.
“We’re not going to take part in your superstitious nonsense,” her mother shouted at her grandfather.
Her grandmother had tried to soothe her mom. “There, there, honey. You’re simply overwrought. It’s the endless darkness that’s getting to you.”
“No,” her mother had said, whirling to throw something in her open suitcase. “It’s not the endless darkness. It’s the endless superstitious conjecture. I believe in science. I believe in an evidence based reality.”
“There’s evidence everywhere to support the mystical world,” her grandfather pleaded. “Magic is nothing more than the understanding and manipulation of energy. How much more scientific can you get? It’s all about atoms, cell structures, and systems.”
“While waving around rattles and chanting in tongues? Wandering through forests with elk horns strapped to your head? Puh-lease. You’re nothing but an old fool, you know that? I’m taking Chia and we’re moving to New York to be with Mark. He’s got an apartment and a job, based in reality.”
She never had a chance to chat with her grandparents about that topic. After that, Chia found herself in New York, missing the wilds of Alaska and small town living. Charming ran through her soul. It pumped her passion, gave meaning to her life. She cajoled and argued, fought and rebelled until her parents let her move back to Alaska to “stay with her heathen grandparents.” She never regretted moving back. And the one time she asked her grandpa about magic, he’d replied cryptically.
“Magic is in the eyes of the beholder, sweetheart. Look. It’s all around us every day.”
She thought he was being vague and mystical. Maybe the guy had a point, she thought, eyeing the blips of energy she now knew as sprites. And as usual, Hung’s right—now that my earlier upset has worn off, vamp communion is a full on, mega-tripping color and light show again.
Her mental state now overtaking her physical state, she pushed aside the warm throw and slowly eased from her bed, careful to not move her body abruptly and set off the shoulder pain. Standing at the window, she gazed at the glowing wilderness.
In the distance, barely discernable through the weird energy shield of sleet, the Haunted Bear glacier appeared to have a gold waterfall of sparkling energy rolling down the valley. It spread across the frozen lake. Puffs of the golden-hued vibration billowed in the air. She puzzled for a moment. That must be the spell cast by the shamans. Why would they do such a thing? They live among the shifters and accept them. Many of them are shifters.
Her attention moved to her yard. The big, bright shapes of the Fae drifted above the shifters. Her ghosts had moved outside to be with them. Even the newbie ghost, the one she’d named He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not, seemed interested in play. The other ghosts kept it from its quest, however, darting and dodging in front of it as it sought the swirling, pleasurable communion her counterparts were engaged in.
Chia found herself rooting for the recently hatched energy blip, silently cheering it on. “Come on, little ghost, find your passion.” She jerked, startled, when one of the Fae darted to the window. Hovering inches from her face, it seemed to be looking at her with aqua-green eyes of arousal. “Go away. Shoo.” She waved her hand at it, trying without success to not look at it with her own hungry, sex-starved eyes.
It leered at her. Its shimmering, rainbow hued, see-through arms moved along its sparkling, see-through body. It appeared to be a male, although she now knew they could be either sex at any time. As it stroked its body with slow, languorous touch, Chia felt her own heightened arousal. Not wanting to participate with a foreign, unknown creature, she staggered back against her bedpost, but the pressure of the wood poked her wounds. She shifted to the side to rest against the cushiony mattress.
The Fae made a gesture indicating she should open the window.
Chia shook her head back and forth, vigorously.
The Fae nodded his head up and down with equal exuberance.
Arousal and curiosity winning the moment, she took a few timid steps and pried open the sash. Cold air gushed into the warm space. “What do you want with…” She didn’t have a chance to finish her sentence.
The Fae sped into the room and wound itself around her like a thick, vibrating snake.
Completely flooded with sensation, she fell back against bedpost once more.
The fairy undulated around her. It felt like smooth, weighted silk. It cackled and cooed, uttering strange sounds and sensual murmurs.
Overwhelmed by this strange occurrence, she pushed at it, trying to get it off. Her hands simply slipped through the creature, causing it to burble with strange laughter.
It began vocalizing to her, but she didn’t understand it. “I…I don’t understand Fae or whatever it is you speak.”
It cocked its head, its beautiful face looking at her questioningly. It tried again, speaking in a different dialect or something.
Again, she shook her head.
“You,” it said, slowly enunciating.
The word vibrated and warbled in the air.
“That’s what I heard when I saw the dying elk,” Chia said, excitedly. “The same sound!”
“One.” It said, stroking her cheeks with translucent fingers.
“I’m the One?”
“One of the Ones.”
The words shimmered, reverberating against the walls.
“Come,” the fairy said.
Strong, invisible arms guided her toward the window, as far as the ankle cuff allowed. She stared, delighted, to see the Snowy owl circling near her open window.
When it saw her, it flew high in the air and rocketed toward her window. Hung said to be wary, but this time she yielded. This time, she didn’t flinch. The impact, however, caused her body to stagger against the bed and fall, her torso supported by the mattress, one leg dangling over the edge, the other ensnared by the metal cuff at an awkward angle.
The fairy took advantage of her prone position, rubbing against her body like a huge, see-through cat.
The beautiful bird circled and sailed from the room taking her vamp connected mind high above the shifters, the dog pack, the Fae and the wee sprites, into the crisp, starry night, toward the glacier. Exhilarated, aroused by the fairy, she felt once more invincible, like pure energy, a goddess in her own right.
Marveling at the nightscape, they flew swiftly toward the cave. When they reached the energy barrier of sleet, she spied the prone form of Hung, mouth slack, laying
deathly still. “Wait,” she conveyed to the owl’s mind. “We have to go back for him! He couldn’t get through the barrier as a human.”
The bird kept up its swift flight with Chia tethered to its mind.
“He’s going to die! He’s going to go into hypothermic shock and die!” The bird kept climbing the currents, swaying, soaring, and bobbing. It seemed to wrestle with the golden energy streaming from the cave. The owl persisted, deftly working the air as it sought its destination. Below, she spotted the brown and white husky, crawling up the mountain on trembling legs.
Whimpers, whines and yips could be heard from Cecil’s husky form as if he had to cheerlead himself.
“Come on, dawg-man, you can do it,” she wanted to yell to him, but since her mind was embedded inside the owl, speech proved impossible.
The dog lifted its head, and spied the owl. He gave several feeble wags before proceeding up the mountain, his legs shaking, his feet slipping on icy surfaces.
The three men left behind to guard the cave sat or stood near the opening, appearing bored, smoking, or toying with their guns.
“Did you hear something?” one of them asked.
“All I hear is that damn chanting coming from the shitheads, on and on and on,” another answered. “I’m going to lose my mind if I have to keep listening to it.”
“You heard the boss. We stay put until he returns.”
“No, I swear I hear something. It sounds like a dog or something. I’m going to check it out.” He got up from his crouch and took a couple of steps, slipping on the icy ground. “Hey, it’s one of those sled dogs.” He lifted his rifle to take aim.
“No!” Chia cried in the owl’s mind.
The owl folded its wings and hurtled at the man.
“Fuck!” He batted at the owl, losing his footing and falling.
The other men stepped to where the first man lay, struggling to get up.
“Damn owl clawed at my face.”
“I don’t see an owl. I think you slipped, dipshit. Where’s the rock climbing dog?”
“I don’t know, he ran behind a boulder or something.”
“You been hitting the hooch?” The male lifted his hand and pretended to pour a drink.
“Fuck, no.” The fallen man got to his feet. He took a swing at the other man.
Chia peered through the owl’s eyes, watching Cecil the husky slink around to the other side of the cave. Still trembling with fear, the husky belly crawled toward the opening.
Good boy, Chia thought.
The owl dipped down to get a better look.
“Stop fighting, you two,” the third man yelled, prying them apart.
Cecil crept into the cave.
The owl ghost-landed at the opening, peering inside.
Chia gawked.
The shamans appeared exhausted. Chained to the wall, they kept up their chants, eyes sunk in their skulls, faces drawn with fatigue.
Cecil the husky kept up his belly crawl, slinking toward the magic men. He grabbed one of the chains in his mouth and tugged without effect. He turned to look at the cave opening, saw the owl and whined, perhaps hoping for guidance.
“Hey!” One of the men yelled. “There’s the owl. Jordan was right.” He lifted his rifle and took a shot at the bird as it lifted in the air.
Shocked and frightened, Chia’s mind boomeranged into her bedroom, landing with a snap inside her body. Several Fae coiled around her, feasting on her body with lust. Her ghosts spun overhead, their expressions appearing bewildered or perhaps betrayed by the Fae’s inattention to their needs. Chia roared. “Get off of me! Go away! Fun time’s over.”
The Fae took flight, soaring from the room.
Chia sat up, distraught, aroused by Fae, still high on vamp, scared for both Hung and Cecil. “There’s no one to fix this but me. I’m it.” She eyed her bound ankle. “I may not be able to break this metal band, but I’ve got practice getting out of bindings, thanks to my roommate and his duct tape fetish.” She wiggled toward the pillows, pulled open the drawer of her side stand and retrieved her bottle of Silky Stuff lube. Pouring a generous glob on her ankle, she twisted and tugged. “Think small.” She pulled and wrenched. “Damn!” She glowered at her ghosts. “Any advice? No? You’re useless.” She tugged until her skin became raw. Tears of rage flooded her eyes.
“Damn, damn, damn! D’Raynged,” she yelled. “Are you here?” She cocked her head to listen. Nothing. “Trinity! Neo! Where are you when I need you? What do I do?” Overwhelmed by despair, swamped by grief, the only thing she could think was to chew and claw off her foot, like a fox in a leg trap. She truly understood what it must be like to be caught by a piece of toothed metal. At least her bindings were smooth and rounded.
Chapter Twenty
The same fairy who sexed her earlier, doing God knows what while her mind was away, returned, perhaps summoned by her pleas. “You,” it said, shimmering before her. “One of the ones,” it slowly enunciated, in its warbled, melodic voice.
“A lot of good it does me. I’m one of the trapped ones.” She sat, slumped, hands laying listless between her legs, not caring whether or not her shoulder throbbed. “Why should I even care? The townspeople don’t care.”
“One of the ones,” it repeated. It reached for her hand but slid right through her flesh. It frowned, looking consternated. “Come.”
She looked at it sadly. “Can’t go anywhere, fairy. I’m as stuck as the shifters outside. Hung’s the only one with the key and he’s probably dead by now.”
“Come,” it said again, beseeching her with a watery gaze from its translucent eyes.
She shook her head. “I wish I could, believe me.”
The fairy tried again to take her hand. “Give.”
“Why? We’ve just proved your kind and my kind are not the same stuff.” She thought about her earlier recollections of her grandparents’ and parents’ last interaction. Magic is nothing more than the understanding and manipulation of energy, her grandfather had stated.
“Come,” the fairy said for what seemed like the millionth time.
She lifted her head to snap at him, when she saw her ghosts actually listening to him.
The fairy rested his palm on her sore, scraped ankle, and repeated the word to the ghosts. “Come.”
Her ghosts fluttered toward her ankle, paying close attention to the fairy. It spoke in rapid Fae or whatever, and they listened, apparently understood, and slipped under the metal ring.
Chia watched, amazed, as her ankle blurred, surrounded by ectoplasm, then disappeared. Startled, blinking rapidly, she jerked it away from the ghosts. It slid free of the metal. “Holy cannoli, we did it! Thank you,” she said, but the ghosts—all except number seven who tried in vain to find a place in the group—had already begun to twirl around the fairy, as if hypnotized or totally turned on by it. “Thank you,” she said to the fairy, as it floated from the room. She got to her feet, wincing from the pain in her back, spied her pain meds and poured a couple into her palm. Washing them down with water, hoping they didn’t interact in a bad way with the lingering vamp high, she moved as quickly as she could, putting on socks and warm clothing and heading toward the door.
Outside, many of the shifters had bedded down for the night, bunching together for warmth. Others sat, alert, watching. She lifted her hand in greeting. “I’m still trying, guys and gals.” She made her way to the back of the barn. She pulled open the big barn door, the one that allowed her grandfather’s farm machinery to pass in and out, and trudged toward her neon green and white Arctic Cat Sno-Pro snowmobile.
She made a quick pass by the gun cabinet and retrieved her Nosler 26 and her Glock. Securing the Glock in her shoulder holster and the eight-pound rifle across her back, plenty of ammo in her pockets, she donned her goggles and climbed aboard.
She drove slowly out of the barn, allowing it to progress along the dirt floor and driveway before she reached snow, hopefully without much damage to the belts or the carbides. Once s
he hit the snow, she gunned the engine, getting it up to 118 mph.
Turned her head a split second to see her ghosts streaming like smoke behind her, riding the currents like a boat wake. She ignored the pain in her shoulder blade, the jostling ride, the vibration between her legs, focusing instead on the glowing terrain and the glacier ahead.
She arrived at the sleet barrier, searching frantically for Hung. “Damn it! Where did he go? Did he already die, and a night critter got him?” The thought sickened her. After making a few passes with the Cat, she zipped through the barrier and headed for the glacier, her heart heavy. One down. I missed my opportunity with him. I hope Cecil’s okay, at least.
The once golden energy streaming from the cave now appeared sickly and stagnant, like a slow moving pond, overflowing with water weeds, mossy slime and bacteria. It even carried a foul smell, making her gag. She pulled her wooly winter scarf over her mouth and nose, and continued on.
She sped toward the Haunted Bear, zooming across the frozen lake with as much caution as she could allow. Once she reached the bottom of the glacier, she stared up toward the cave, listening intently for sounds of owl, dog, chanting, or men with guns. The entire area seemed smothered in silence.
She started to climb toward the cave, the Glock at her side, the Nosler 26 strapped to her back, but pain got the best of her. She slid into a crouch, whimpering softly. A familiar, welcome smell, one that had eluded her for days, tickled her nose. “Hung?” she whispered.
“What are you doing out here, woman?” he said softly, ghost-walking behind her. “Breaking the rules?”
She pivoted her head to look at him.
Bundled in fur and animal hide snow gear, he gave her a sweet, saucy smile that melted her heart.
Who is this soft, mushy guy? “I thought you were dead. I saw your body at the barrier.” Her words came out all breathy and weird, not to mention muffled from the scarf. She hunched forward, not wanting him to see her vulnerability.
“Yeah, I couldn’t get through the barrier. I had to…take other measures.”
