Tales From Mysteria Falls

by St. Giles, Jennifer

  “There is so much I want to say to you. To know about you, but it will have to wait until later. It’s time for my fingers to play the music that lets your voice soar.” He led her inside.

  She followed, feeling as if she were stepping though time into a magical world from another time. “Lord Daniels is already here?”

  “That’s his limo out front.”

  “Then I should go speak to him first. I know how much this means to him.”

  “Yes. He’s waited for years for you to do this. But do you think it would be better to speak to him after? I know he knows you’re not Anya, but I also know he’s sitting in that theater right now, remembering her and his loss. I’d give him the gift of hearing her opera first.”

  “You may be right.”

  “Let me know if you change your mind. He should be seated already. There’s a handicap section with special earphones to help those who have hearing impairments.” JD escorted her backstage. “Give me a few minutes to get ready. I’ll open the curtains from the orchestra pit. When I start the prelude, you come out.”

  She sucked in a deep breath. “Okay. I would feel better if we’d practiced this together at least once.”

  He bent down and brushed her lips. “You’re beautiful. It will be perfect.” He left her and a flurry of butterflies invaded her insides. Her palms went damp and her mouth dry. She found a small table with bottled water on ice and drank a little.

  The curtains opened and the deeply rich notes of the pipe organ playing the haunting prelude of Come Back to Me filled the auditorium. She made her way to the stage. Seeing the opera house in the day in no way compared to its magnificent beauty at night. Burgundy velvet, dark wood, gleaming brass, and glowing stained glass all culminated in a perfect setting for the massive chandelier of crystal and silver. JD sat at the pipe organ, playing with his whole heart.

  She looked into the theater and found Lord Daniels in the center about halfway back. She waved to him and the spotlights turned on, blinding her view of the seats.

  JD built to the opening crescendo and Krisana began to sing, her heart and spirit soaring with the music. Upon the heels of her first song, JD’s rich voice filled the auditorium, expertly singing the lover’s part. Her breath caught and her heart raced.

  The more he sang, the more the world around her spun in a crazy vortex. Images from her dreams whirled with new visions of a past. She matched her voice to his. The music and the passion melded them together, like lovers meant to be. Raw passion, deep emotion, and jagged pain tore into the recesses of her mind and spirit.

  Suddenly, she knew. She’d sung this before. She’d sung it many times as she wrote opera and had practiced it with…JD. Memories flooded her.

  The terror of the war. The unbelievable horror of the concentration camp. The death of all those she loved. The soldier who saved her. Jameson—James—who was an immortal being living among mortal men. Memories of them coming to the magical place of Mysteria Falls to build a life together away from the tragedy of her loss in Europe.

  Her song died on her lips and she cried out. “James! I remember!” she cried, rushing to the edge of the stage to look down at him. She knew without even asking that JD and Lord Jameson Daniels were the same. She knew that if she’d marched up to that wheelchair there’d be a mannequin behind a misting oxygen mask.

  Jameson stopped playing and stood to face her. His expression was agonized, his hands were shaking, and tears streamed down his shadowed cheeks. “If you remember, then how can you forgive me? You begged me not to go to the Phantom’s Council that night, and I did anyway. What and who I was, was more important than you.”

  At that moment she remembered the fire and screamed in terror. Jameson recoiled as if she struck him a mortal blow. She reached her arms out to him. “No,” she cried. “You don’t understand. It wasn’t you! It was him! Cruz the vampire. He came here that night after you left! He…he…oh, God.” She fell to her knees as the memories of that horrible night crashed down upon her.

  “What are you saying?” Jameson yelled. “Kris?” He leapt up the stage stairs and ran to her crumbled form. Falling to his knees before her, he pulled her into his arms. “Kris, please, tell me.”

  “He…he…came upon me while I was in the bath and attacked me. I fought him. He was crazed. He said you killed the love of his life and he’d make you pay forever. He tried to rape me, but I fought him and told him I’d burn in hell before I’d ever let him have me. That’s when he started the fires with his gaze, surrounding me with flames and watched as I burned.” She shuddered in Jameson’s arms, still feeling the agony of that death.

  Jameson wrapped his arms tighter around Krisana as fury erupted inside him. He didn’t know what in the hell this was about, but Cruz was going to burn for an eternity in the Chasm of Torture, just as soon as Jameson could bring the depraved bastard to justice. He focused on Krisana before he went mad. “Dear God. I’ll never forgive myself for leaving you—”

  She raised her mouth to his, silencing his agony with a kiss.

  He met her kiss with his whole heart, his whole being, and his whole soul. And only when she’d met her heart, being, and soul to his did the kiss end.

  “How?” she whispered. “How did you arrange for me to be born again?”

  “You weren’t born again. Anya’s spirit was born within you. As for how you have Anya’s memories, all I can think is that her ghost has brought them to you from the spirit world.”

  Krisana gasped and her heart wrenched as her mind raced. “The only way for my spirit to be reborn was if…” She forced him to meet her gaze again, and she saw the truth in his eyes along with his burning love for her. He’d given up everything for her. “That’s what you did, isn’t it? That’s how you brought me back. You gave up your immortality. You gave up being a phantom for me?” Tears burned her eyes. “James,” she whispered. “Oh, James,” she brought her mouth to his reverently. The depth of his love awed her, wrung her inside out.

  Jameson brushed the tears from her cheeks. “Dear Krisana,” he said, shaking his head. “How can you be crying for me? Don’t you know that being with you is worth any price? I love you.”

  She drew in a shuddering breath, realizing for the first time to the very depth of her soul how much he really did love her. “I love you, too.”

  “Bravo!” Cruz’s chillingly familiar voice sneered from the rafters, and a giant man-bat swooped down to the stage, power oozing from his blackened flesh. He landed about ten feet away, towering over them as he flapped his leathery wings and twitched the razor-like claws.

  She shuddered, remembering what Cruz had done to her before. Jameson shoved her behind him as he faced Cruz. “You’re going to suffer in ways worse than you can imagine.”

  Cruz threw his head back and laughed. “I don’t think so. If I’m not mistaken I just heard you’re mortal now? And you gave it all up for her? You’re a fool and now you’re both going to die. We didn’t meet by accident during the war O Mighty Lord Daniels. The Paratribunal’s errand boy. I hunted you down and waited for you to find the love of your life. You arrested my wife, the Countess of Bathory, and took her to the council. They stripped away her immortality. I came back from the Outer Realms to find she’d grown old and ugly. She died at my feet.”

  “You’re the Count of Bathory? Your wife tortured and murdered hundreds of children.”

  “You phantoms and your self-righteous judgments. She drank young blood. Vampires drink blood. It’s how we survive. What is your excuse? How much blood is on your hands? You don’t even need it to live, but I bet hundreds have died in your drive for justice. Paranormals are the superior race and the death of humans is unavoidable. Humans kill life that is inferior to theirs, even annihilating their own kind whose race or religion is perceived as being the lesser.”

  “You’re sick if you can justify any depravity from the evil doings of others. You will burn in the Chasm of Torture if it is the last thing I do.” Jameson’s body s
hook from his fury.

  Cold fear wrapped around Krisana’s spine, and she pressed herself to Jameson’s back, looking up as she prayed to God for help.

  The chandelier glittered overhead…hundreds of silver stakes… silver burned vampires.

  Backing away from James, Krisana edged her way to the end of the stage, hoping Jameson would realize she had a plan.

  “Kris, don’t worry. Stay with me,” Jameson said, not looking her way. “Count Bathory is forgetting one thing, being mortal doesn’t mean being stupid.”

  Krisana had already slid off the edge of the stage and didn’t turn back. She went directly to the hydraulic panel that controlled the chandelier, wishing she’d paid more attention to mechanical stuff in school. She opened the panel and stared at the controls. She had a clear vision of the stage on a monitor in the orchestra pit. Cruz—Count whatever—appeared even larger, making her stomach churn. Her button choices were, up, down, off, and on. She needed a deadly drop.

  “Looks as if you’ve been abandoned,” Cruz snarled. “I will give her your regards before I personally see that she joins you in death.” Baring his fangs, he flew at Jameson.

  She panicked, then remembered what was unusual about her cross and jerked the blade free of its sheath. Hitting the down button on the hydraulics, she sliced into the cable. Thick pink fluid spurted, as if she’d cut an artery.

  “James,” she yelled, turning to the stage.

  “Kris?” He stood at the edge of the stage staring down at her.

  She blinked, confused. “Where’s Cruz?” She glanced at the screen, amazed to see the vampire lying on his back and unmoving. “How did you manage to do that? You don’t have your powers anymore.”

  “I do. Giving up my immortality didn’t zap my strength. But I can’t believe you missed my heroic moment.” He frowned. “I nailed him with one fisted blast. He’ll awake shorty to find himself chained and on his way to justice. What are you doing down there anyway?”

  “Silver kills vampires.” At that moment a loud scrapping sound rang through the opera house. “The chandelier,” she shouted.

  Jameson jumped into the orchestra pit. Looking up, they saw the chandelier come crashing down upon the stage, impaling Cruz with hundreds of silver stakes. The vampire’s body erupted into flames and he writhed in pain, unable to escape.

  “Silver severely weakens, burns, and tortures vampires, but it doesn’t kill them.” Jameson drew out his cell phone, and Krisana gathered from the conversation that paranormal authorities were on their way to get the imprisoned vampire. “Remind me to stay on your good side,” he said.

  Krisana sheathed her cross. “Which of my sides would that be?”

  Jameson smiled seductively and slid up behind her, placing a kiss at the nape of her neck. “I can’t remember. I guess I’m going to have to try all the positions from every angle before I can tell you.”

  “I’m in the same boat,” she said, tuning to face him.

  “Not sure which side is my good one?” he asked, turning his head one way and then the other.

  “No,” she said. “I’m going to need multiple rides to decide which phantom is better. You or your bike.”

  She expected an outraged brow. Instead he gave her a mysterious smile. “I do so love a challenge. Come with me,” he urged her to the door that led the way to their lover’s lair at the top of the spiral staircase.

  She shivered with anticipation everywhere. By the time they made it to the room she was burning with need. This time everything in the room was as she remembered from the past, including a very large iron bed. She turned to Jameson and wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing her body flush to his. “I love you, James.”

  “And I love you. Always and forever, Kris-Anya. Blue eyes blazing, he kissed her deeply and took her on the phantom ride of her life.

  DOROTHEA’S WIZARD

  Dorothea and the Great OZZ meet and…find a happy ending.

  “Well, Yodo, this isn’t Kansas or New York.” Sheltering her toy poodle from the drizzling mist with the edge of her cherry-red jacket, Dorothea Davenport tentatively followed the shimmering gold road leading to Dr. O. Zexton Zinclair’s residence. It was Valentine’s Day and she was on a mission. Armed in an iconic “Lady in Red” dress, she was determined she wouldn’t leave until she got what she wanted.

  All of her well-thought-out plans to meet the author of Pleasure Potions hadn’t included rain in the scenario. So instead of looking the femme fatale, she was sure she resembled the drowned-rat appearance of her poodle. But she’d come too far to runaway now. A flat tire on her rented Jaguar, courtesy of a well-placed nail, and one dead cell phone for show would hopefully gain her entree into the recluse’s home. She didn’t want to make use of her bodyguard-driven limo waiting in town.

  She was glad she had someone she could trust close, though. She hadn’t realized the town of Mysteria Falls would resemble an adult Jumanji of the unexpected. Since arriving a short time ago, she’d seen a dog twice the size of a wolf lurking at the edge of the forest, a bed and breakfast named Blood Moon, and at the Merry Mermaid’s Resort where she’d stopped to get directions, there was a lobby full of women wearing hopeful expressions and Victoria’s Secret’s best—a brothel no less.

  Droplets of water dewed her skin and dampened the silk of her dress, giving her an eerie chill that stood at odds with the increasing, sultry heat. She’d noted the change in temperature the moment she’d passed through the gargoyle-studded gate. At first, she attributed the warmth to her nerves and exertion, but now she wasn’t so sure. It was February, and she was in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia. She should be freezing, not dying to take off her jacket.

  The further she went, the stranger her surroundings became and the warmer the air turned. She might as well be on a tropical beach at high noon. Patches of lush flowers in deep pinks and brightly colored yellows nestled amid the trees and a tangy scent of salt and sea flavored the air. Her heartbeat doubled to the click of her red stilettos as she turned a corner, and a dark, spire-ridden mansion appeared ahead.

  Yodo yipped in protest, and she brushed a comforting hand through his dark, curly fur. “It’s okay, boy. If there had been anything unsavory about Dr. Zinclair, I’m sure Dr. Susan wouldn’t have mentioned him. And she wouldn’t have praised the successes he achieved in his clinic before he dropped off the face of the earth.”

  Then again, Dr. Susan claimed Dorothea’s anorgasmia was a self-imposed response to her material-rich, emotionally-bankrupt life, like a patient with hysterical blindness or anxiety induced panic attacks. Deep inside, Dorothea supposedly didn’t believe herself worth loving and couldn’t accept a man’s love.

  The sexual dysfunction had cost her a marriage and two other relationships. She wasn’t going to give her heart again until she conquered her inability to have an orgasm…no matter what. She was determined to find the answer before her thirtieth birthday ended, which, according to the ruby studs on her watch, gave her twelve hours to get the elixir the AMA—not the FDA—had banned and make her day.

  Clutching Yodo and her red purse closer, Dorothea quickened her pace. The blending of stone, iron, and eerie gargoyles in the mansion’s facade made for a monolith filled with forbidding shadows. She didn’t slow her pace or turn and run because the cloud over her life was darker and more threatening. Somehow, she’d find a way to be a normal woman, even if it killed her.

  As she neared the massive doors, the faint strands of a seductive tune vibrated in the air, indicating someone was home. Drawing a deep breath, she marched up the steps and rang the doorbell, nearly jumping from her skin when the theme music to Jaws surrounded her.

  She swung in a circle, catching herself looking for an approaching menace of yawning teeth before stopping and sighing with self-disgust. Undeterred, she rang the bell persistently, following each ominous sound bite with a firm rap on the lion-faced brass knocker. “See, Yodo, how’s that for courage.”

  Sweat now beaded
her brow, adding to the dampness of the humid rain. The temperature near the house was like that of a steam sauna, forcing her to slip off her jacket or grow faint from the heat. Droplets of warm rain hit her bare shoulders and slid beneath the halter-top, dampening her breasts. After five attempts to rouse someone from the mansion, she decided to follow the music. Her heels sunk into the grass as she made her way around to the back. A ten-foot, solid wood fence blocked her view. Rather than call out and be ignored, she went to the gate and pushed through.

  Fecund earth gave way to diamond bright sand that immediately swallowed her heels as the sight before her boggled her mind. A vast, misty playground of turquoise pools, lush vegetation, and waterfalls stretched for acres.

  “Beware, beware, beware.” The squawking warning came from a large green and gold parrot perched on a nearby cushioned lounge chair big enough to pass for a bed. Yodo yipped and squirmed to be let down.

  Realizing that any forward motion would be impossible in heels, Dorothea set Yodo loose and sat on the lounge-bed. She kept one eye on her poodle as he sniffed a circle around the wary parrot while she took off her heels. The two pets seemed to be sizing each other up, more curious than antagonistic, so she decided to let Yodo walk. She stuffed her jacket and heels in her bag. It was so warm, she could go naked and be comfortable.

  The music played softly over some sort of surround stereo system, providing her little help in locating what she hoped would be Dr. Zinclair. As she moved down the beach, the rain turned to mist, then stopped. It wasn’t until she reached the edge of a steamy pool with Yodo close behind, that she saw him.

  Naked and sun-bronzed, he stood beneath the spill of a soft waterfall less than ten feet to her left with his back to her—a scarred back. The whitened skin of many lash strokes crisscrossed his torso and whipped across her heart.

  Dear God, what had happened to him? Who’d carried out such a barbaric punishment upon him and why? She clenched her fists as the urge to soothe his pain coursed through her, making her almost forget why she’d come to him. His muscular arms held onto a bar over his head. As she watched, he pulled his lean body slowly up, lowered himself, and then repeated the motion several more times while rivulets of water poured through his dark hair and down his tanned body. He moved on to another exercise, where he had to shift the bar he hung from higher and higher along an upward incline.