Oberon Boxed Set (Books 1-3) Welcome to Oberon

by P. G. Forte

  Ryan knew that once upon a time, Oberon had addressed the problem of maintaining order within the greenbelt by assigning cops on motorcycles to patrol the area. He was sorely disappointed to have arrived too late on the scene to have been a part of that. But despite their effectiveness, the patrols had apparently engaged in a few too many high-speed chases through the parks, running afoul of several members of the City Council, who eventually managed to get them banned.

  Now, apparently they’d come full circle. He shook his head in disgust. The bad guys rode wild through the greenbelt, and the cops went about on foot. But Ryan was a hopeful man. And it seemed reasonable to hope that, if this became a pervasive enough problem, the current City Council might be persuaded to reverse that earlier decision, and re-instate the patrols. If that happened, he’d be among the first to sign up.

  * * *

  “What the hell were you thinking?” Marsha demanded the instant they stopped in front of her house, practically falling to the ground in her rush to get off the bike.

  Sam glared at her. He was still shaking from this latest, and most terrifying panic, which had hit like a brick between the eyes. “Don’t you know?” he asked, furious to hear her deny any knowledge of whatever had been caused the attacks that had plagued him all week. “Didn’t you feel it?”

  She tore the helmet from her head. “Feel what, Sam? Terrified? Nauseated? Practically insane with fear?”

  “Yes,” he growled, caught between relief that he wasn’t the only one going crazy, and fury that she hadn’t told him what to expect. “Exactly. What’s it from? What the hell’s causing it? Why didn’t you tell me this would happen?”

  She looked at him blankly for a moment, and then a scowl transformed her face once more. “What caused it? You were driving like a fucking maniac – that’s what caused it! And what the hell do you mean, why didn’t I tell you? I did tell you! You knew damn well how a stunt like that would make me feel! How could you?”

  “No! I’m not talking about… I didn’t mean… Don’t you have any idea—” He broke off in frustration. And then tried again, biting out the words as calmly as he could. “Ever since the other night, when you gave me that... that amulet... thing. I’ve had these moments of, of panic. Or—” He broke off again, really frightened now. Afraid he was losing his mind. Afraid that whatever had gone wrong within him could not be reversed. “Jesus, Marsha, what did you do to me?”

  “Me? What did I do?” she stared at him as if he had just transformed into some alien creature the likes of which she had never seen. Maybe he had, he thought, in a flurry of nerves. Or maybe he’d just fallen off the edge of the paranoia he’d been skirting for weeks. Hell, it could even be that none of this was even happening. That all the events of the past weeks had occurred solely within the dark, convoluted recesses of his now-diseased brain. Certainly most of them were weird enough for that.

  He glowered back at her, resisting the almost overpowering urge to touch her, and reassure himself this wasn’t a dream. But the icy assessment in her glance as it chased the anger from her eyes was just as effective.

  Too late, he remembered the secrets he was trying to keep.

  “What is it you’re not telling me, Sam?” Marsha asked quietly. “Are you in some kind of danger?”

  “It’s nothing you need to worry about,” he told her, as calmly as he could as he backed the bike out of her drive and into the street. “I can’t talk about it right now. But I’ll call you when I get back from LA. I’ll tell you all about it then. I promise.”

  “Sam, wait.” She started toward him, and he knew he had to leave right then or stay and tell her everything. And risk losing her.

  “Good-bye, Marsha,” he said quickly as he swung the bike in a wide circle and headed off down the street. “I’m sorry I frightened you.” He took one quick look in the bike’s mirror, just before he turned the corner, and saw her standing, bewildered, at the end of her drive, his extra helmet still clutched in her arms.

  Marsha stared in dismay as Sam disappeared around the block. She felt as if a storm of every dark, chaotic emotion that existed had been loosed within her. Something was terribly, terribly wrong. That much, at least, was clear. But... it couldn’t be anything to do with the amulet she’d given him. Could it?

  No, she almost moaned the words aloud. Not again. Please don’t let this be something I caused.

  Maybe she should have used a red bag for the amulet after all. Red was the traditional color for such things, but there was a precedence for utilizing black, as well – especially in a case like this – and besides, she had never been one to slavishly follow tradition.

  She had also taken a calculated risk by including the eagle totem. Sure, obsidian was a good protective stone, and a logical choice, given his obvious affinity for black. And, she meant what she told him; the eagle totem did provide a nice balance for the hellebore. But she’d known damn well that eagle energy – the ability to see clearly and far –combined with obsidian’s power to enhance the wearer’s natural talents for reading the thoughts of others, made that particular piece especially useful as an aid for scrying.

  She’d known it. And she’d suspected that the untapped, intuitive powers she’d sensed within him would attune themselves to the stone. But she’d given it to him, anyway.

  He hadn’t asked her for an amulet. He hadn’t asked for any of this. But as usual, she had waded right in, meddling in what was none of her business. Probably making another huge, ungodly mess in the process. You’d think she would have learned by now, but clearly she hadn’t. And she had a nasty suspicion that the price she’d have to pay for this lesson would be extremely high.

  Lost in thought, she didn’t notice the car pulling up in front of the house until she heard Jesse’s voice loud and excited.

  “Mom! Was that Sam? You didn’t tell us he had a motorcycle. Aw, man, that is so tight! Can we get a ride sometime?”

  Marsha focused on her sons with difficulty. Jesse’s eager face was bright with enthusiasm. Frank, eyebrows raised in dubious surprise, stared at the helmet she’d forgotten she was holding. “Mom? You were riding on it, too?”

  “Oh, very nice, Marsha.” Alex’s voice was colder than ever; and she felt all the negative emotions that swirled around within her begin to vibrate faster in response to it. “What wonderful, new image are you cultivating for yourself now, love?”

  “Don’t start, Alex,” she sighed. “Not now. Please.” She was just not up to dealing with any of his shit right now. She couldn’t even begin to find the strength to calm herself. Why was he even here? He was hours earlier than he was supposed to be. If he had any sense at all, he’d leave before he made her any more angry.

  “A thug with a motorcycle. Why am I not more surprised?”

  The storm of emotions grew stronger. “Please... just... just get out of here, Alex, would you? Now? Just go away.”

  “Mom, are you okay?” she was vaguely aware of Frank asking her, his voice seeping in from somewhere beyond the darkness that had begun to obscure her sight.

  “I really think you’d better go now, Dad,” Jesse urged.

  But Alex paid no attention. “That is precisely the sort of low-life I would expect you to attract, after all. Probably has tattoos, and teeth missing, and no doubt a few scars of his own. Tell me, is he an ex-convict, by any chance?”

  “I said, not now!” Marsha’s hand slashed through the air, in a wide, sweeping gesture. Too late to stop it, she felt the violent, bitter energy as it flashed down her arm and out through her fingertips. It bridged the several feet that separated her from Alex, and slammed into his solar plexus with enough force to knock him back several paces.

  She didn’t wait to witness his reaction. Spinning around, she headed for the house, aware that the boys had followed only when she heard Jesse’s low, approving chuckle.

  “Wow. Way to go, Mom.”

  And then Frank. “You think you could teach us that trick?”

 
Perfect, Marsha thought. Eleven years of preaching pacifism wiped out by one, thoughtless action. She was really racking up the karma this week. Maybe that was the lesson she was supposed to have learned from the mouse? Keep screwing things up, and next lifetime you too can come back as a rat.

  * * *

  “Hold still!” Lucy snapped, as she attempted to disinfect the scrapes on Dan’s face. He’d been seated on the toilet seat for some time now as she tended to his wounds. “How on earth did you manage to do this much damage to yourself?” she asked for what had to be the third or fourth time.

  “I told you. It was an accident,” Dan answered tersely, squirming away again from the towel she insisted on pressing to his face. “Stop making such a fuss, will you?”

  She glared at him. “A fuss? You think this is a fuss? Just you wait until next Saturday, if you want to see someone make a fuss. You’re gonna look just terrific in Nick’s wedding pictures, Cavanaugh, let me tell you. And don’t think I’m gonna be the only one to notice it, either.”

  “Yeah, and I’m really worried about that, babe,” he drawled sarcastically. “Especially when your cousin’s gonna—”

  Shit. He broke off suddenly, remembering that he didn’t exactly want to get into a discussion with her about what the groom would be looking like next Saturday – or who might be responsible for it. Still, he couldn’t help grinning at the thought. Damn, they would be a sight, all right.

  “When my cousin’s gonna... what?” Lucy asked suspiciously.

  It was time to end this discussion, Dan decided, as he reached up and pulled his wife down onto his lap. He gave her his most persuasive smile. “Lucy, don’t you know yours is the only opinion I care about? You’re not really mad at me, are you?”

  She sighed. “No. But I’ve put a lot of work into this wedding, Dan. And I’ve already got enough people trying to screw it up. I didn’t need this on top of the rest.”

  Dan looked at her curiously. “You’ve really been enjoying this, haven’t you? All the planning and everything, I mean.”

  Lucy reached up to brush the hair back from his forehead. “Yeah, I am. Or, at least, I was.”

  He was immediately contrite. “Ah, Luce. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to mess things up for you like this again.”

  Her hand froze in mid stroke and she narrowed her eyes at him. “What do you mean again? Is there something else you’re not telling me about?”

  “Well, first I cheated you out of your own fancy wedding, and now—”

  Angry all over again, Lucy sat up, twisted around, and resumed dabbing at his cheek with the disinfectant. “Come on, Dan, we both know that couldn’t be helped. It was more my fault than yours, anyway. And besides, you’re the one who feels cheated, I think.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Me? Why would you think that, babe? I never wanted a big wedding.”

  “Maybe not,” she answered, angling her chin up at him. “But I bet you didn’t exactly dream about being forced into marrying me, either.”

  Forced? Dan stared at her aghast. “Lucy, Jesus, why would you even say something like that?”

  “Well, I’d always hoped it wasn’t the case, but last night when I told you about Scout, it was pretty obvious that—”

  “No! Shit, that had nothing—” Dan grabbed her and held her very, very tightly. “My God, woman, you know how much I wanted to marry you. Have you forgotten about that? You were the one who wasn’t sure. Who wanted to wait. Who said we ought to think about it.”

  “Dan—”

  “And you can’t tell me it wasn’t the right thing to do, either. Christ, who do you know who’s been happier than us? No one, that’s who!”

  “Yeah, but Dan—”

  “No. No buts. Just, please. I don’t ever want to have this discussion again.”

  “But Dan—”

  “I’m serious, Lucy.”

  She squirmed in his arms. “Yeah, I can tell. But you think you could maybe get a tad less serious about how tight you’re holding me? ‘Cause I’m having trouble breathing, here!”

  “Get used to it, babe,” he advised her, even as he loosened his hold, just a little. “Because I got you and I won’t let go.”

  Lucy snorted with sudden laughter. “Quoting Sonny and Cher now, are we? That’s rather a departure for you, isn’t it, Cavanaugh?”

  He shrugged sheepishly. “Hey, I take my inspiration where I find it. But I mean it, Luce, I’m not letting go.”

  Amusement glinted in her brown eyes as she peered up at him. “You’re not, huh? So... does this mean we have to spend the rest of our lives in this bathroom?”

  “If necessary.” He leaned his back against the wall and closed his eyes. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

  “You’re nuts, Cavanaugh,” she murmured tenderly, and he smiled to himself as he felt her relax into his embrace. “You do know that, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, I know it,” he said, sighing contentedly as he rubbed his chin against her hair. “I’m nuts about you.”

  * * *

  Marsha sat cross-legged in front of the small altar she’d set up on her bedroom floor. Her eyes were closed and in her hand she clutched a small stone totem. The sound of drumming reverberated through the room from the CD player on her dresser, and the scent of sandalwood filled the air. But Marsha was aware of nothing that went on in the room. The drum had carried her mind far beyond the boundaries of ordinary consciousness. She drifted through a familiar landscape, following an invisible, spiraling path that took her through rock and under water, and into a realm where dream and reality merged and became one.

  She stepped through a door and emerged in the clearing outside her cabin. She paused there, hesitant and uncertain. She had not come here tonight to intrude, or to pry, she reminded herself. She’d done enough of that, already. She had come only to assess how much damage she might have done, and to learn if there was any way to correct her mistakes.

  She made her approach cautiously. Peering through the dining room window, she caught sight of Sam; packing files and what looked like pieces of a computer into a black leather duffel bag. She scanned his aura for signs of the panic he had talked about earlier, but other than an elevated amount of nervous tension, and an increased sensitivity, she saw nothing hugely amiss. The energy that surrounded him was as bright and clear as it had been the very first time she’d seen him.

  She watched for several moments more, the desire to reach out and merge with him again, to slip once more inside the boundaries that kept them separate, growing stronger and stronger. But she would not give into the temptation. Not this time. When she saw him begin to glance around, as though distracted by something that wasn’t there, she knew it was time to go.

  Perhaps this time she had lucked out, she allowed herself to hope. Perhaps it was not the amulet that was affecting him, after all. Certainly she didn’t sense any unusual influences, or foreign entities hovering around him now.

  As if he were aware of her thoughts, his gaze traveled across the room. Tracking it, she saw the small black bag she had given him, sitting on the table. No wonder she hadn’t noticed its influence, she thought, feeling unutterably depressed all over again. He wasn’t carrying it. But that didn’t mean it hadn’t been affecting him earlier... or maybe all week.

  She could no longer deny that her motives for giving him the scrying stone had not been altogether pure. She hadn’t wanted him to think of her as just a friend. No matter that friendship was all she had been willing to offer him, at the time. She’d wanted him to be aware of her as a woman again as well.

  She’d wanted to be seen. She realized that now. She’d wanted him to see her as clearly as she saw him. So she tricked him into accepting – as a gift – something that would make that vision possible.

  She had as good as seduced him! The realization came even as she watched him cross the room to pick up the amulet. It had been a seduction on a purely psychic level, to be sure, but no less despicable for all of that. And she
simply could not let it continue.

  She pulled her consciousness out of the room, abruptly. At the last minute, she saw him pause, and turn a startled glance toward the window, but she didn’t wait to see any more. She willed her spirit up to another dimension.

  And in a place that was no place at all, in a time outside of time, her mind met with the shadow of a jet black bird, and urged it to withdraw its influence.

  It was the least she could do, she thought sadly. To help restore things to the way they should have been. But at this point, it was also the most that she could manage. Her emotions had begun to cloud her awareness. Guilt and doubt pounded away at her judgment. She thought she felt acquiescence insinuate itself into her mind, but she couldn’t be certain.

  The rhythm of the drum had altered now. The pre-programmed recording had initiated the callback sequence. Marsha found herself drifting back the way she had come, her appearance altering with her awareness until both had returned to what she had come to consider normal.

  She stirred and opened her eyes. Everything in the room was as it should be, as it had almost always been. Maybe just a little more empty-seeming than usual. With an impatient sigh, she reached for the phone. It was halfway to her ear before the silence struck her. Damn. Too soon again. She waited several beats, allowing herself to recover her composure. “Hello?” she sighed wearily.

  “One of these days, you really have to show me how to do that.” Sam’s warm chuckle cascaded through her. “It’d make for a great party trick.”

  “Well, you know me.” Her own voice sounded harsh and brittle to her ears. “Always up to some kind of trick or another.”