Blue Moon Magic

by Dawn Thompson

  “Where did you get this?”

  “You dropped it last night when you nearly fainted.”

  “I … I didn’t even remember having it.” Realization struck. “I had proof all along that I wasn’t lying! Look!” She dug out her cell phone.

  Rhys barely paid it a glance before he turned away, his expression hard. “I don’t need proof. I already believe you.”

  Why didn’t he want to look at it? You’d have thought she had just shown fire to a primitive the way he reacted. Determined to make him see she was telling the truth, she tugged his arm. “Look, it’s from my time.”

  Rhys gave it a grudging glance. “I told you, I believe you,” he nearly growled.

  She laughed. “Don’t be afraid of it. Here, the battery still has a charge.” She turned it on, ran it through a few of its ringtones then played a message from Jolie. Celine was giddy to have this proof she was from the twenty-first century. She brought up a picture a colleague had taken of her and Jolie, and shoved it in front of Rhys to show him.

  “This is Jolie. We work together at the museum.”

  Rhys didn’t want to look at Celine’s proof. Begrudgingly, he focused on the strange device she showed him. The picture glowed and was full of color—it didn’t look real to his eyes. In the picture, Celine stood next to another strangely dressed woman with copper and gold streaked hair. Celine was smiling happily, as she was now—a smile he hadn’t seen since he’d met her, not until she held this device from her own time.

  What if fate could be triggered by so simple a connection and snatch her back? She clicked a button and another picture came up. It was of Celine standing next to a portrait. Rhys felt unease roil inside of him as he saw his own likeness in the glowing picture. He gave her a hard look, wishing she would put it away.

  “I was thinking of your portrait just before it happened, I remember now. I was standing by the guardrail of the Delta Queen looking up at the moon. It was a Blue Moon. They’re rare you know. Do you think that could have something to do with it?”

  “Celine,” his voice was thick, making speech difficult. “Don’t think of it now.”

  “Is it a Blue Moon only when it’s night, Rhys? Or does it have twenty four hours? It could still be in its blue phase now couldn’t it?”

  Celine was beginning to believe she was onto something. “I was standing at the rail,” she began to recount again, “thinking of you. I spent so much time wondering who you were.” She drew a sharp gasp of discovery. “My mother’s pendant!” She held it up and stared at it. “I touched it as I stared at the moon and without thinking, I murmured a wish to discover who you are. It … burned me and then it happened. Do you think if I—”

  “No!” With a reviling snarl, Rhys snatched the jewel from her hand and tossed it onto the bed. He caught her by the arms. “Wish yourself home another day,” he growled. Then seeming to absorb the incredulous expression on her face, he closed his eyes and brought himself under control. “Celine,” his whisper was strained, “don’t leave yet.”

  “I don’t know if I can ever leave,” she said honestly.

  He kissed her then—a long and savoring kiss. She didn’t know whether she’d ever want to return to her time, but she wouldn’t tell him that yet. She was glad he’d stopped her. She wouldn’t tell him that either. Perhaps it wasn’t fate, but her wish to know him which had transported her here. And now that she knew him, if only this little bit, she wanted to know him more. Suddenly, she realized she wanted more than anything to take the risk of trusting Rhys with her heart.

  He ended the kiss, but tightened his embrace. “Give this a chance before you try wishes again. Promise you will?”

  Celine nodded, smiling against his shoulder. Discovering Mr. Gorgeous was the only wish she meant to make for a long time to come.

  * * * *

  Visit Jaquelin’s website at

  jaquelinlorin.com

  Blue Moon and the Warrior

  by Lee Roland

  “This place looks like Frank Lloyd Wright designed a gothic cathedral.” Allison glanced over her shoulder as she walked out of Iron Gate Academy’s glass and granite building. She’d worked there two years and still wasn’t used to its odd angles and ornate decoration.

  Nadia, Allison’s friend and fellow teacher, laughed. “Oh, yes, and the gargoyles prowl the admin office.” She pitched her voice low as if the gargoyles were listening, ready to ferret out whispers of treason.

  Iron Gate’s Board of Directors, all Ivy League graduates, had decided that the exclusive California school for gifted students should clone their various alma maters. They hired the best prize-winning, modern architects with rather bizarre results. Allison and Nadia cut across the manicured lawn to the distant parking lot. The prize-winning, modern architects had been extraordinarily stingy with sidewalks.

  Allison suddenly remembered the conversation she’d had with Nadia in the cafeteria that morning. “So, it’s over for you and … what was his name?”

  “Harrison. Damn, he seemed so sincere.” Nadia’s latest adventure in the mating/dating game had ended in a spectacular crash and burn. While she and Nadia were both twenty-eight, Nadia still had a teenager’s perspective on some things.

  Nadia scowled and kicked at the grass as if it were the offending male. “How was I to know he—”

  “Five days, Nadia. You knew him five days. What did you expect?”

  “The truth.”

  “That’s what you got. He wasn’t the one for you. How much more truthful could it be?” Allison towered over petite, platinum-blonde Nadia and knew walking beside her friend made her look like a lanky, rawboned giant with unremarkable brown hair.

  Nadia sighed. Her eyebrows knit together in a frown. “Do you believe in love at first sight?”

  “You mean lust at first sight, don’t you? Hot fires burn out fast. Still, that first sight thing was what happened to my mom and dad, or at least that’s what Mom says.”

  “And your dad?”

  Allison laughed, remembering the sheepish look on her father’s face when she’d asked him. “Daddy just mumbled something about exaggeration. Then he said, ‘What me and your mom have only happens once in a blue moon.’ When she walks in the room, though, he still looks like someone punched him in the gut.”

  “I wish things had worked out for you and Rich,” Nadia said softly.

  Allison shrugged. She didn’t want to talk about her former boyfriend. They’d been together almost two years when Rich left. The day he walked out the door he’d said, “I’m sorry I’m not perfect for you. You keep looking past me like there’s someone else out there you might miss.” She’d denied it, but deep in her heart, she knew he’d been right.

  “Are you still going camping in Utah next week?” Nadia’s voice broke through Allison’s thoughts. “In the desert? Alone?”

  “Yes, alone. I like the desert and I like being alone.”

  They’d had the discussion before. Allison’s father was a hunting guide in the Idaho and Montana mountains, and her mother ran a survival school. She knew and loved the wilderness. Out there, completely self-sufficient, she controlled her own life. The massive natural cathedral of mountains and canyons filled her with powerful solitude. Nadia, who’d grown up on the streets of Los Angeles, considered empty wilderness with one person per fifty square miles, dangerous.

  * * * *

  Allison fought the steering wheel. The Jeep’s engine whined as it strained to push the vehicle up a crude dirt track and deeper into Capitol Reef National Park’s red and gold rock landscape. The grueling path wasn’t on her topographical map, but it gave her a way to get above the narrow canyons so susceptible to flash floods. An infrequent rainstorm thirty miles away could send a twenty-foot wall of water crashing through the rock walls.

  The arduous journey ended at a precipitous ledge overlooking the canyon, well above the danger zone. A hill rose to the west so she couldn’t see the sunset, but she’d still have time to set up c
amp before the dusk filled the canyons and spread across the mountains. She’d be on the hiking trail at dawn, searching the sun-bleached cliffs and gullies for rock paintings left by people who’d called the land home thousands of years before.

  Allison liked remote places she could get to with her jeep since she could carry everything she needed without a heavy backpack. The tent went up in a rare rainstorm, but she usually slept under the open sky. She built a fire with the wood she’d brought, cooked dinner, then settled back to listen for the forlorn coyotes to sing in the night.

  At least, here in the wilderness, her personal loneliness seemed right and proper, unlike living in a world crowded with people seeking and finding comfort in the presence of others.

  The full moon, the rare Blue Moon, rose at sunset. The silver disc on the eastern horizon painted the desert with a tapestry of shadow and light, creating a surreal and alien land.

  Once in a Blue Moon, her father had called the life-long love he shared with her mother. She hadn’t found it in Rich, no matter how hard she tried. She was as lonely with him as she was without him. She carried her isolation around like a backpack, setting it aside occasionally, but always picking it up again.

  “Hey, moon,” she said softly. “If you got my mom and dad together, how about doing something for me?” Allison drew her sleeping bag around her and fell asleep as the fire burned down to twinkling embers.

  A sound woke her. When she opened her eyes, the Blue Moon stood directly overhead. It bathed the rock around her in silver light, but for some reason, the canyon, the trail, even her jeep, were still shaded in darkness.

  The sound came again and she strained to listen. Music. Rhythmic notes that rose and fell in the cool night air. Had she come this far only to camp over the hill from drunken revelers?

  Curious, Allison sat up and shoved her feet into her boots. The music grew louder, but it sounded tinny and strange. She pulled on her vest and slipped her flashlight into her pocket. It wasn’t exceptionally chilly, so her jeans and shirt should keep her warm.

  When she’d camped earlier, the hill appeared to be a hundred gently sloped feet to the top. To her surprise, she found herself climbing and clinging to the rock in places. At least she found level ground to stand straight when she reached her destination.

  Her mouth dropped open in shock. “I’m dreaming,” she said.

  Before her lay a carnival, tucked in the concave hollow of a mountain. Vibrant, multicolored lights flashed on a Ferris wheel and a carousel filled with horses turned as if it were the center of the world and all creation moved around it.

  “Dreaming,” she muttered again.

  All logic, all her education, told her it should not be. Had her travels actually brought her closer to a town or had her sense of direction, always keen, failed her in the desert? She had to go down, had to see. People walked among the tents and booths set around the two rides, so it should be safe.

  She walked down the hill, a far easier slope than the one she’d climbed to get there.

  A tall, thin man dressed in overalls sat on a wooden stool at the carnival entrance, which was nothing more than a path between two posts. Parchment skin stretched across his sallow face, and his black eyes picked up the glitter of the lights.

  Allison slowed and stopped ten feet from him.

  He laughed, a surprisingly deep and melodious sound that didn’t fit his appearance. He held out his hands. “Ah, yes. A bit of caution is always wise, my lady. I am the Gatekeeper. Will ye not join us for a while?”

  Allison stepped closer, still drawn by the music. “How much does it cost?”

  “‘Tis free to enter, Cailin.”

  “Cailin? My name is—”

  “No!” He shook his head. “What you give here, you leave here. What you take is yours forever. Remember that. Leave your true name at your own peril.”

  A part of Allison’s mind screamed at her to run away, but another part, filled with curiosity and wonder, urged her on. She passed between the posts and followed the path into the carnival.

  People moved around her, but they ignored her as if she were a ghost walking among them. Except one. He stood waiting for her like a prince waiting for his subjects to fall at his feet and serve him.

  Much too handsome, he had broad shoulders and a powerful, well-muscled body. Long, midnight hair hung on his shoulders and gleamed in the surrounding lights. No male magazine model could make jeans and a denim shirt look as good as they did on him.

  When she stood before him, Allison suddenly found she’d lost the power of speech.

  He reached out with a graceful hand and his fingers brushed her face with the gentleness of a sparrow’s wing. “Welcome, Cailin, I am Cahir.”

  She quivered under his touch, still unable to speak. His eyes were strikingly blue, and there was no guile, no subterfuge in them. Or at least she didn’t want there to be. She wanted him to be real, not a dream.

  “Come.” Cahir grasped her hand. “You have much to see.”

  He led her into the heart of the magical carnival. Had there ever been a dream like this?

  The carnival had an aura of another age, even though people moving through it, gathering at booths or entering tents, were dressed in casual modern clothing. Some young, some old, all were paired into couples who held hands and occasionally kissed like lovers. They talked and laughed, but…

  “What is it?” Cahir asked. He drew her hand close to his chest as if he’d sensed her hesitation and wanted to reassure her.

  “There are no children.”

  “Children do not come here. Their needs are different.” He tilted his head and smiled like a little boy in class, up to some mischief he wanted to hide. Urging her forward, he said, “Come, let Sybil tell your fortune.”

  They entered a side tent filled with soft light, though Allison could see no direct source. A woman dressed in a multicolored robe sat at a worn wooden table. Her gold necklace, far too large for comfort, held a walnut sized ruby between her ample breasts. She stared at Allison with dark, gypsy eyes.

  Cahir guided Allison to a chair, then stood behind her. She sat staring at the fortuneteller, but remained stiff, ready to bolt. If she had accepted the fantastic carnival, why did this make her so uncomfortable?

  “Do you fear the future?” Sybil asked. Her deep, almost masculine voice, sounded amused.

  Allison shrugged. “Everyone is a little afraid of the future. That’s why they go to fortunetellers.”

  Sybil laughed softly. “But not you?”

  “No. There aren’t any sure things in life.”

  “You’re right. Nothing is certain until it happens. But let us look at the possibilities; there are lessons to be learned.” Sybil laid a deck of cards down and fanned them across the table into a perfect arc. “Choose five.”

  What nonsense. Paper cards spread on a table could not predict the future. To please Cahir, though, she would play the game.

  She slid one card from the center of the deck and turned it up.

  “The hermit,” Sybil said. “You are alone.”

  No revelation there. Allison chose another card.

  “Strength. Courage.” Sybil sounded pleased.

  The next card Allison picked came from the end of the arc rather than the middle.

  “The ace of wands. A new beginning. Go on,” Sybil urged.

  Allison turned another card.

  “The tower. Discord. Danger.”

  Allison’s fingers turned up the fifth card.

  “The lovers.” Sybil smiled and leaned forward. “Give me your hand.”

  Allison started to offer her dominant right hand, but at the last moment held out the left.

  Sybil grasped it gently. “The heart rules the left hand.” Her fingers traced the creases in Allison’s palm. She frowned. “There is a garden filled with flowers. You care for them and help them grow.”

  Allison thought of her students, but she said nothing.

  “A new flower will bl
oom,” Sybil said, “but that one is in great peril. You will have need of all your courage to protect it.”

  Sybil released her. “I wish you well.”

  The fortuneteller’s words, while moderately interesting, were not going to hurtle Allison into the future with a fresh sense of direction. She breathed a sigh of relief when Cahir led her out of the tent. Allison glanced back, expecting to see the fortuneteller still at her table, but the tent’s interior was black as the night sky.

  Totally attentive to her, Cahir held her hand as if she were the only woman who had ever been or ever would be. He stopped at one booth where an enormous man with ruddy cheeks smiled at her and gave her cotton candy on a paper cone. When she thanked him, he winked at her and gave her a grin that made her feel like a slightly naughty girl.

  Allison and Cahir ate the fluffy confection together and when they finished he kissed her fingers, licking the sweet candy from them. She stood close and breathed the scent of him, felt the strength of his body.

  In another time, embarrassment would consume her at such an intimate gesture in a public place. Here, strangers moved around them, locked in their own worlds, their own reality, blind to everything but themselves.

  “Come,” he said. “You can touch the stars.”

  Allison smiled at the excitement in his voice.

  The carnival’s sound faded as they made their way to the Ferris wheel. It grew in size as they approached, a great spider web of light, whispering into the night as it slowly spun, skimming the earth with each turn. It slowed as they came near, then stopped and waited for them. There were no passengers, no attendant to raise and lower a bar across them as they slid into the soft leather seats.

  “Cahir?” Allison snuggled against him as he draped an arm over her shoulder. “Am I dreaming?”

  “Perhaps.” He kissed her forehead.

  Was that sadness she heard in his voice? Discomfort edged through her. Much as she wanted to be with him, her practical teacher’s mind wrestled with the strangeness of the place.

  The wheel carried them into the sky, backwards, then up and forward over the arc.