Bell, Book and Dyke - New Exploits of Magical Lesbians

by Barbara Johnson, Karin Kallmaker, Therese Szymanski

  "Oh my sisters, I would not kill Mandy. I'm disappointed you would think that. But I can keep her in that coma or I can set her free. In any case, she should be removed as high priestess." She paused, then sneered, "Her ideas are old, leftover from earlier times. She's rooted in the ancient past."

  "You talk about Mandy as if she's hundreds of years old," Jacquelyn said, her voice high with panic.

  "Her spirit comes from the ancient ones. They have no place here."

  "That's not for you to decide."

  "Ah Judith, you are so much the protector. You think you can take Mandy's place, but you are not strong enough." Laughter again. "The only thing you can contribute is that unborn child. She will make a good witch."

  If the room could get any colder, it did. Lily felt the goose bumps rise on her flesh. The air seemed to crackle with charged electricity.

  "You will not get your hands on my child!"

  There was a surge of warm air, and the invisible binds loosened for a few moments. In a brief flash of light from the lamps, Lily saw the others stand as she did, their expressions pale and grim. Dressed in a flowing robe of black and red, Kathy stood in the north corner. Rage darkened her features. Lily caught a glimpse of Judith, whose rage was equally strong, before the room plunged once more into darkness and the binding tentacles again tightened around her.

  "I need none of you!" Kathy snarled.

  Lily cried out as the binds tightened further, and heard the others cry out as well. She struggled for breath. The pain in her lungs was excruciating. "Powerful Hecate, protector of those who serve, hear my plea," she whispered over and over again. As she began to lose consciousness, she could only say one word. "Rebekah."

  Then, just as suddenly as the pain had started, it ended. And she was free! The room blazed with light from every lamp and every candle. Dazed, Lily looked wildly around her. Some women were on their feet; others had fallen to their knees. And then all looked stunned as they beheld the scene before them.

  Judith stood tall, arms raised up, her expression severe and determined. Surrounded in a glowing light, she spoke a language Lily could not understand. Kathy seemed locked in place, her hands outstretched as she too spoke harsh, unintelligible words. Lily fully expected to see lightning bolts flash from both their fingertips. A tempest wind howled in the room, yet nothing was blown about. The light grew brighter. Lily shielded her eyes, straining to hear what the others were saying.

  "Oh dear Goddess!"

  "What is it?"

  "Look! Look!"

  "It can't be!"

  "Mandy! It's Mandy!"

  "Oh god... oh god—"

  "It's my mother! How can that be?"

  "And mine!"

  And they were surrounded by thirteen images, twelve of them of those long dead.

  "Rebekah," Lily whispered as she reached out, wishing she could touch her. Her modier's protection surrounded her.

  The battle of wills seemed to go on forever. Lily called upon her own powers, her fury giving them strength. She could feel the collective energy of the covens, both spiritual and real, as they fought Kathy's astounding strength. And then Kathy fell back, shrieking as she hit the floor, the energy around her breaking into shards.

  The room descended into darkness once more. The air felt cool, like a misty rain. Lily heard whisperings all around her and knew somehow it was the voices of those who had come before. She felt a touch, feather-soft.

  "Lily."

  Rebekah!

  The whoosh of a gentle wind, then silence as the lights came up. Lily looked eagerly for her mother, but she and the other spirits were gone. Tired beyond belief, Lily grabbed Blossom's hand. She, like Lily, had tears in her eyes.

  Shattering glass drew their attention as Kathy clawed her way back to her feet, knocking over a crystal vase. The rage and hatred in her eyes made those closest to her back away. "You'll pay for this," she hissed. "I will destroy all of you. Mark my words." Whirling away with the speed of a lioness, Kathy fled.

  Judith started after her. Clarissa put out a hand to stop her. "Let her go. She can't hurt us anymore."

  "She doesn't deserve to live!"

  "That is not our way, Judith. She will leave Rehoboth. There is nothing here for her now. Don't let her poison your mind."

  "I agree with Judith. She is dangerous. We have to stop her," Lily said.

  Clarissa shook her head. "I promise you, she is no danger to us or anyone." She smiled. "Those who came before us have given us their protection."

  "Our mothers," Sage said.

  "And Mandy. How was she here?" Gwendolyn asked.

  Sarah leapt to her feet, visibly shaken. "Oh no, does this mean Mandy is dead? Was that her spirit?"

  "No my dears, I am very much alive."

  "Mandy!"

  Lily wasn't the only one with tears in her eyes as they one by one embraced their high priestess and mentor. In all the excitement, no one noticed a black and white tabby slip out the door.

  "I guess all was quiet last night," Jany said as she and Lily snuggled in bed. "I didn't even hear you come in."

  "No, everything went well," Lily said.

  "Kathy just accepted being asked to leave the coven? No argument?"

  "Well, she wasn't too happy, but she got the message that it was the best thing." Lily kissed Jany's cheek. "Someday, I'll tell you the whole story."

  Jany traced her finger along Lily's jaw. "I'm glad. You seem so much more at peace now."

  Lily smiled. "I think you're right."

  Jany noticed the silver chain around Lily's neck. "Where'd you get that? I don't think I've ever seen it before."

  Lily pulled the necklace out so the pentacle dangled in plain view. "It was gift from Rebekah," she said. "She gave it to me one night."

  "But you were a baby when she died."

  Lily ran her hands through Jany's hair, then kissed her. "She came to me in a dream. But I don't want to talk about that now. I want you to make love to me."

  Jany pulled her down eagerly. "Gladly," she said as she untied the laces of Lily's nightgown.

  Later that night, Lily felt the same warm sensation that had heralded the first dream of her mother. She stirred, feeling the heat of Jany's body against her.

  "Lily."

  "You came back."

  Rebekah caressed Lily's cheek. "I never truly left."

  "Will you help me? I want to make you proud. I want to be a good Wicca."

  "You will be."

  Lily sat up and looked into her mother's brilliant blue eyes. "But I allowed my anger to fuel a thirst for vengeance."

  "It is something all humans have to deal with at times. But this time, your anger was justified." Rebekah frowned. "It is not right for a witch to abuse her powers and harm others."

  Lily shivered. She grabbed her mother's hand for comfort, then raised it to her cheek, feeling the softness of Rebekah's skin. "I am still afraid. What if Kathy comes back?"

  Rebekah took Lily into her arms and stroked her hair. "You needn't worry about her. No, her offenses have been added up, and the payment taken by the spirits who pursued her."

  Lily enjoyed the comfort of her mother's arms. It was something she'd not had growing up. She let her thoughts slip away to what her mother had said. Lily didn't like to think about what might have happened to Kathy. Was she in some sort of hell? Did those same spirits exact some retribution of their own? Despite what Lily had endured, once her anger was spent, she could not wish ill on anyone.

  As if reading her mind, Rebekah said, "You are a good person, Lily. You will make a fine witch." She looked over at Jany's sleeping form. "And you have someone who loves you with all her soul—a powerful force indeed." She gently pushed Lily away. "But now I must go. Hecate, our protector, calls for me."

  "No, please..."

  Lily felt her mother's light touch, then she was gone.

  Awakening briefly from her dream, Lily reached
out to touch Jany, then rolled over to go back into sleep. As she turned, a glimmer of white at the foot of the bed caught her attention. Blinking sleepily, she noticed a black and white cat sitting on the footboard, watching her. I must still be dreaming, she thought drowsily as she drifted off into sleep.

  By the Book

  Therese Szymanski

  Prologue

  Screaming, he charged me with his sword raised. I back-flipped off the wall and landed neatly behind him. He yanked his sword out of the wall, from the spot where my neck had been only moments before.

  I ran to the far wall and yanked a sword out of the display just in time to whip about and counter his thrust. Metal clanged as we danced through the well-choreographed moves of our duel. Our swords flashed under the hot lights.

  I kicked a lamp into his path, but he was unrelenting in his pursuit. I leapt over the coffee table, flipping around to keep facing him. I didn't dare let him at my back. I let my body act and react, keeping my motions fluid and fresh.

  He laughed and grabbed the table in his beefy hand and tossed it aside. It was all theatrics on the part of the big, bad man, but it bought me time to readjust my weight and grip.

  I dodged to the right, hurdling the shards of the coffee table, but he swung his arm around, striking me across the back and sending me tumbling forward.

  Fucker. He hit me and it hurt! But I had no time to dwell on such things. I rolled off my shoulder to land on my feet. I had to focus and concentrate, or I could get hurt. I flipped over the futon, still holding onto my sword, and ended up on my knees on the far side. I blocked his blade just before it met the soft flesh of my neck.

  I looked up at him. I grabbed the tip of my sword and used the full length of the blade to throw him back, leaving me room to somersault forward on my shoulder and swing my weapon just across the backs of his knees. After all, I wasn't in a position to deliver a killing blow.

  But just before my sword struck, I hit instant migraine, with a terrible pain drilling my skull. I lost control of my body and dropped my sword, fell forward onto my face, and ... ... / knew my parents were dead.

  "Cut!" the director yelled. "Ty, are you okay?"

  Chapter 1

  I stood at the edge of my parents' grave and dropped a blood red rose into it, watching as it fell to earth, just as my parents had fallen out of the sky and down to the ground when their stunt went oh-so-wrong.

  My best friend Christie squeezed my hand and wrapped an arm around me, offering me a warm shoulder to lean against.

  I watched the rose fall, unbuffeted by breeze or wind, and thought of it as happening in slow motion. Maybe it was my showbiz mind thinking it would be slo-mo on film that made it seem so, or maybe time really does slow at those crucial moments in one's life.

  "It's fine to hold the steering wheel like that in regular life, Ty," Mom said from the passenger's seat as I made a right-hand turn. "In fact, I believe in driver's ed the dictated hand-over-hand method requires such measures, but remember if you're doing a car crash scene, never hook your thumbs over the wheel like that—keep your hands entirely on the outside, or else you might break your thumbs."

  One of the coolest things about having a stunt person Mom was that she was supervising my driver education quite calmly—not grabbing for the "oh-shit" handle of the car or jamming the invisible passenger-side brakes. Plus, well, she was always imparting knowledge about what would likely end up my career.

  "I’ve never broken my thumbs, thank goodness, because a lot of things become more difficult when you've broken your thumbs—and I’ve seen people struggling with such." She leaned into the turn as I followed a curvy road. "After all, opposable thumbs are one of the things that set us apart from other animals. And Ty, dear, remember speed limits are not mere suggestions, but actual laws."

  "Uh, Ma? We're practically in the middle of nowhere, and I need to work on my fast driving as well."

  "You don't want to waste all your karmic bonus points on not getting tickets. So you can drive up to nine miles over the limit—when you're older. The cops aren't as lenient with younger drivers, so until you're no longer a teenager, just drive the speed limit. Unless you're at work."

  "C'mon, how bad can the Canadian cops be?" Dad and Moth were working in Vancouver during my summer break.

  "You don't have your U.S. driver's license yet. I probably shouldn't even be letting you drive here, so don't go getting us into any more trouble."

  "Okay. Fine. So where are we going anyway?"

  "Hank's working, so I thought we'd just go to this cool place I found years ago—before I had you. It's very calm and peaceful and it has a gorgeous view. I thought you might enjoy it."

  "Cool."

  "So. Tyler. After this job—"

  "Mom, can't I ever just go through an entire school year at one school, without interruption?"

  "Tyler. Keep your eyes on the road. And you have attended a single school for an entire year."

  "Yeah, when you stick me with strangers while you two go running all over."

  "Tyler Black, I do not appreciate that tone, and unless you can keep your eyes on the road and hold your temper, we will have to pull over and I will not be pleased. How can I trust you to drive in L.A. and crash cars if you can't keep your focus?"

  "Fm focused here. Tm all with the focus on both the driving and what you're saying and I’m holding my temper."

  "Yeah, right. You might be the best actor of us, though. Pull over here."

  I parked and got out of the car. She was right. The view was incredible.

  She put her arm around me. "Ty, what I was saying was that after this job, your father and I would like us to take a little trip to the Michigan house—turn right here, and just keep to the right—there's no tenants at the moment, and we want to check the place out. Plus, we can stay there since there's no tenants."

  At least they always kept me abreast of plans, contracts and obligations. But it wasn't like I had any say in anything. "Okay. It's near Detroit, right?"

  "Yes. And, by the way, Ty? Your Dad and I are planning on you staying with us for your last three years of high school—and that you'll be at the same school for all three years."

  I turned to her and wrapped my arms around her. "I love you, Mom."

  Ever since I'd discovered my folks died I'd been having nightmares that left my sheets soaked and my heart hammering. Sometimes they weren't terribly horrifying, but they were vivid. And they always told me I had to move back to Mom's old house.

  They died on my thirtieth birthday. If my life was a movie, the music would swell and fade as I thought that, because it had to mean something. Anything. They couldn't just die on my birthday and it mean nothing.

  It was my choice they shared a grave. They always seemed so meant for each other—like they belonged together forever plus a few years. Or millennia. A few forevers plus a few more. They'd love that they went together. They'd also love that their final stunt made it to film. (Obviously, only the DVD would have the entire stunt on film. For the actual movie it was cut early, so people in theatres wouldn't see my parents plunge to their deaths.)

  The rose hit Mom's coffin and bounced, somersaulting into the air.

  I knew everyone at the funeral by face, name, and association with my folks and myself. But my folks had each other while I was alone.

  They were gone and would never be back.

  They were all I'd ever had.

  I looked into their grave, at their caskets, and wondered if any of the many people gathered around me were truly friends to me or my folks—or were they just associates} People who were here, with me, at their funeral, just because we were in the biz and any chance to be seen was considered a good P.R. move?

  Even Christie, who held my hand, rubbing her thumb lightly over its back, sending tingles throughout my body, had gotten every acting job she'd ever had through me, because of me. She'd been by my side ever since I'd found out they we
re dead—helping me get the bodies through customs, pick out the coffins, arrange for the service and all the other details of death. She was there, by my side, with me, for them.

  And she was here with me now, holding my hand and scanning the crowd, as if assessing who was present and what they could mean to her or do for her. Among the many other thoughts rampaging through my brain was the growing one that I had been in this town too long.

  Christie was lovely—beautiful even—and nice, and my best friend. It would be so easy to love her. But she was straight, and she wasn't The One. But she was here with me now, and I was grateful for her support. But did she look out for me just because of what I could do for her?

  I was born and raised in sunny SoCal. I belonged here and couldn't imagine living anywhere else. I was following in my folks' footsteps and that was as it was meant to be. Or at least I had thought so, until they died jumping out of an airplane.

  I suddenly realized there wasn't much keeping me here now. The folks had left me with a wealth of stocks and insurance payoffs so I was now rich and never had to work again. I could just up and leave and move to the house in Michigan Mom'd left me—just like I'd been dreaming I ought to. But I'd always done what I'd wanted. And what was I without my work? Who was I?

  I loved getting beaten up on a regular basis. I loved pushing my body to its limits. I dug running with scissors, taking candy from strangers, jumping out of perfectly fine planes and off totally respectable cliffs. We—my parents and I—did stupid shit and got banged and bruised and hurt and kicked when we were down. It was what we did.

  But now they were dead.

  My world was built on topsy-turvy and crazy. I'd always known I could die at any time, but I didn't really believe it. The rules had changed suddenly, however. Now I knew that I, too, could die at any time.

  I'd been taking gymnastics, fencing, and martial arts all my life. I honestly couldn't remember learning how to ski (water, downhill or cross country), because I'd been skiing, skydiving and jumping off cliffs for as long as memory.