by Jaye Shields
Her aunt’s voice was too damn chipper when it arrived in the vicinity. This boat was too damn small. “What did you say, Sparrow?”
“Sparrow thinks we are over our capacity for this ship,” Rowen answered. “Perhaps you and I should stay behind together, Morgana.”
Her aunt chuckled in response. “I wouldn’t want Sparrow to be jealous.” She heard her aunt lean in and whisper to Rowen. “You know, I think she has developed quite the crush on you.”
His response was dangerously low, a barely muttered oath. “Quite.”
Sparrow shook her head so hard her head nearly spun. She tromped downstairs to her room and tried not to slam the door. The last thing she wanted was a family intervention. But acting happy was just something she couldn’t do right now. She laid down on her bed. From the corner of her eye, she saw a giant stack of folded blankets on the floor. Damn him.
And then she cried.
• • •
The rest of the trip was torturous enough. Sparrow went above to hang with everyone when she wasn’t busy “fighting a migraine.” She did her best to act happy and even flirt with Sodor when she could. She hoped it burned beneath Rowen’s thick immortal skin. When she sat on Sodor’s lap during Hvergelmir hour, Rowen had looked dead calm, and she realized that she was more lost to him than she thought. He was seriously over it.
Now Sabin was bidding adieu to Tera at the door of her home in San Francisco. They were taking their sweet time, and Sparrow could hear their murmured “I love yous” all the way from her bedroom. Turning to her computer, she clicked on her media player and started to blast some White Stripes. She sighed, letting her long-time infatuation with the guitarist steal away her sorrows. As the grungy blues guitar took over her senses, she gave herself to rock and roll, and gazed at the picture of Jack White on her ceiling.
A knock at her door infiltrated her fantasies. “Sparrow,” the voice was her mother’s. “I can’t believe you didn’t even bother to tell me you were back.”
Guilt immediately seeped through her. There was genuine disappointment in her mom’s soft tone. Her mom was the sweetest woman alive, and now they had something in common, a broken heart.
Whoa. Broken heart. Sparrow hadn’t actually taken the time to realize that she was more than scorned, she had indeed fallen deeply, irrevocably in love with Rowen. But she hadn’t actually known him, she thought, a bitter taste forming on her tongue.
He was so tender with me. He said things to me …
“Come in.”
“Sparrow, darling, are you okay?” Her mom’s blue eyes shifted gray with concern.
“Oh yeah, of course. Why?” But she heard the delicate crack in her own reply.
“Baby, I had a vision. I know about the man.”
“You had a vision?” Her mom never had visions. Why about Rowen? “I thought you never had them.”
“I did, Sparrow. So please, don’t be afraid to confide in me.”
But she couldn’t. It was too humiliating.
“Don’t be ashamed that you took a leap of faith in love.”
“Mom, are you a mind-reader, too?”
Egret laughed softly, and her smile lit Sparrow from the inside. She loved to see her mother smile;she wished that it would happen more often.
“At forty-three years old, I’d hope that I at least have some wisdom to show for it. And now, about this guy … tell me about him.”
“Well, he’s immortal, and he’s a douche.”
“Immortal, huh?” Egret ignored the latter descriptive. “The world’s a lot different then I imagined. So, when you decided he was a douche, then, did you put his immortality to the test?”
Sparrow couldn’t help but laugh. God, she loved her mom. “I should have, huh? No, you know me — I mostly just said a bunch of childish stuff and that was it.”
“Don’t let the trials of love bring you down, Sparrow. Love is always worth it in the end.”
“But Mom, how can you say that?” Sparrow spoke softly, daring to confront Egret about her tragic history. “I’ve never even seen you with a man.”
“I’m in love every night within the realm of my dreams.” Her mom’s smile weakened, as if she were busy thinking, deciding how much to tell Sparrow. Then her mother’s gaze met hers once more. “Sometimes I like to pretend the man in my dreams is your father.”
Egret heaved a breath. “I’m sorry that I cannot tell you who your father is, Sparrow. I can only tell you that when I was just a little younger than you, I had been saving myself for love. And although I can’t remember the night you were conceived, I have experienced love. You completed me, Sparrow. You were my light in the darkness and are my sunshine every day.”
Her mom’s gentle fingers tucked a string of Sparrow’s blond hair behind her ear. “There is a different kind of excitement and love that comes from a man. I know, because I experience it every night in my dreams. But I’ve seen you have it in real life. So don’t be afraid, Sparrow. You’ll always have the love of your family.” Her mom chuckled. “And the love of your aunts goading you to seek out adventure.”
“Thanks, Mom.” But she had her adventure, her love. Yet he’d rejected her so soon, and the hurt was debilitating.
“So. Immortal?”
She had so much to tell her mom. “Yep. And guess what? So am I.” She held up her finger to show off her incredible sapphire ring.
“He proposed?” Her mom’s voice became a high-pitched shriek.
“No!” The thought made her heart stop. “It’s my Ring of Immortality. Given to me by a king.”
“Jesus. My daughter is immortal.”
“As long as I wear the ring.”
“Now, don’t go and do anything crazy, okay.” Her mom’s gaze was an intimidating blue glare, but she was too gentle of heart to be foreboding. After getting into loads of trouble in the past, Sparrow had quickly realized that her mother’s scariest weapon was the silent treatment.
“Of course, Mom. Scout’s honor.” But her mother’s warning began to make Sparrow wonder: what kind of trouble could an immortal get into?
Chapter Eighteen
That night, Sparrow pulled on her black skinny jeans and a tight black turtleneck. She pulled her hair into a tight ponytail. She put on a thick layer of kohl eyeliner, something she usually went without. But her image was complete — she looked like a bad ass. Or an immortal Wiccan about to get into some serious mischief.
“Where are you going? You’re looking hot,” Morgana noted from the divination table.
“Yeah, you look like a French spy,” Melissandra added with a chuckle.
“I’ll tell you guys when I come back. But, um, don’t wait up.” With that, she headed out the door and through the back of their garden. The lush oasis Tera created was the perfect way to hide her approach to their neighbor’s house just across the street.
Just two blocks down was the Grand Street home of the conservative coven. Sparrow secretly called them frenemies. The Trappier family coven constantly tattled to the powers that be when her own family bent the rules a bit. But the Trappiers were powerful visionaries — hence the spectacular ability to be a tattletale to the Wiccan powers that be — and Sparrow had always wondered if anything had been said about her father. Clutching the backpack strapped over her shoulder, a thrill coursed through her. Tonight was going to be the first of many awesome pranks. Well, make that prank/ulterior motive. Punk the annoying Trappier family and look for any clues her mom might have divulged about her father. Two birds. One stone.
At ten pm, there were few cars rolling down Grand Street in Alameda. The Victorian houses sat like sleeping giants, each vastly different from the others.
The Trappier coven lived in a Georgian style house. Sparrow sprinted across the dimly lit street to the back of the home. The ginger-bread style residence had
a simple, well-trimmed garden. The Trappiers often complained about the Reeds’ overgrown and highly exotic jungle. Now Sparrow was going to have some fun with a side of revenge.
She looked to the second floor window, which was ajar. Take the trellis up, or fly? She decided to nix the latter since she was now immortal. Besides, how hard could it be to climb a trellis?
Taking a slow look around, she stretched out her fingers to the thin, flimsy wood, and she slowly made her way up. As she neared the window on the second floor, she was grateful not to have a fear of heights.
“Did you see that gigantic Viking man go into the Reed house the other day?” Sparrow heard the Trappier matriarch say. Her tone was snooty, and overly concerned as usual.
“I bet you he’s a vampire. I would expect nothing less from one of the Reeds. You know, sometimes I think Patricia Reed just breaks the rules to bait me. Why else would somebody want the company of a vampire? Or knit an invisibility scarf. Did you know I caught one of the sisters making those? Sixty-five-year-old Ruth Trappier didn’t give her daughter time to respond.
Sparrow chuckled hearing the secretive smack-talking about her grandmother.
“You don’t see me breaking the rules of the Magickal Order. I’d give my left foot to see their liberal ways tided up a bit. Those ladies are just not fit for Alameda. This island town is meant to be a sleepy, relaxing getaway from the city. Those ladies belong in the Haight with the rest of the pot smokers.”
“Come on, Mom.” Sparrow heard the slightly less annoying daughter reply. “The Alameda Civic Ballet will be starting their show in only twenty minutes. Forget about the Reeds. And you love Patricia, admit it.”
“I’ll do no such thing. We are polite to each other, that is all. If I ever catch her doing any illicit magick, I won’t hesitate to report her again.”
“Okay, mother.” Sparrow heard the matriarch being guided down the stairs and toward the front door.
“I bet you Melissandra is doing a love spell on that dashing young man as we speak.”
“I thought I saw him with Tera at the coffee shop, Mother. I believe they are together.”
The voices faded, and the next thing Sparrow heard was a car door being shut. She grabbed hold of the window railing and heaved herself up and through the window. The floor came hard and fast, and she landed with a thud.
“Not my most graceful landing,” she said aloud. “Still, much better than the last time I fell.” Her mind went to the night on Alcatraz when she had all but fallen to her death. Well that’s not gonna happen anymore. The death part that is. Falling, still a major possibility.
Without further hesitation, she began to unzip her backpack and retrieve her supplies. The bright red placard was large enough to be seen from the streets, and indeed in their own yard, they had erected an identical Witches for Ron Paul sign. Sure, they were supposed to be Democrats, but most of all, the Reeds were rebels with a cause.
Sparrow yanked the conservative candidate’s placard from the front window and replaced it with the Ron Paul placard. Okay, now for the fun part. Pressing the cardboard against the window, Sparrow focused on clearing her mind. Time for a major adhesive spell.
She wasn’t as good at her aunts since her mom never encouraged her to practice Wicca, but she figured her mischievous ways would serve as the perfect energy for the task. As she held her palms in place, she imagined the tape stuck to the window to thicken and become increasingly sticky.
After several minutes, heat began to seep from her fingertips onto the political sign. A fuzzy energy sizzled atop her palms. It’s working! Woot-woot. Let’s see these girls try to remove this baby.
To test it, Sparrow tried to peel away the edges of the sign. Bingo. That’s never coming off.
Satisfied that her neighbors would be taken down a peg or two, Sparrow went back through the house to begin looking for the Trappier Spell journal. If the Trappiers had any visions about Sparrow’s father, perhaps there would be a mention of it within the book.
Searching the home, Sparrow never would have detected that a coven of Wiccans lived there. She sighed when there was clearly no trace of any spell book. Time to leave the way she came. After all, her neighbors were easily powerful enough to sense the magickal presence. They could never suspect her aunts if the perpetrator arrived via window. Sparrow certainly hoped the Trappiers never realized it was her, because if they did, there’d be hell to pay from her mom.
But when Melissandra saw her prank, she was gonna pee her pants with joy. Sparrow would be a hero. And her grandmother would love it. Grandma Patricia had been dying for revenge ever since the conservative coven was responsible for the spell-binding cuff on her wrist, limiting her powers.
In her stream of arrogant glory, Sparrow never realized that the foot she had thrust over the window ledge hadn’t found its grip. Once again, she was falling.
• • •
Rowen watched Sparrow enter the darkened home and was ripe with curiosity. What was the woman doing? Did she have a lover? His teeth gnashed together with such force he thought they might become powder on his tongue.
It was late, and perhaps her dreams had driven a need within her that had to be released. The thought drove him to madness. He wanted to be the one to ease her. But she would never have him now that he had driven her away. And no matter what, he had to contain himself, for she was off limits.
Finally, Sparrow re-emerged from the darkened house. She appeared at the window that had been left ajar by the owners of the home. He watched her throw a leg over the ledge and seek out her footing. But she couldn’t find it. Rowen watched in horror as she fell. That impact was going to hurt.
He was at the ground beneath her in an instant, but she never fell into his arms. Instead, he looked up to see a tiny yellow bird hovering above him.
Sparrow. Gods help the woman, she was driving him to insanity.
He watched the bird fly across the street and into her back yard. Rowen strode across the avenue and hopped the fence into the elaborately overgrown yard.
“What are you doing here?” Sparrow was a woman again, a highly furious woman. “And where did you get that shirt? I wasn’t aware that Knights of the Fog ever wore cotton.” She was obviously surprised by his change of attire.
“It pleases me that you miss the sight of my skin. But I am accustomed to the norms of your realm, and I did not desire to draw too much attention.”
Her eyes were an icy glare that seemed determined to turn him to stone. “I said, what are you doing here?”
The king had commanded him not to divulge his assignment. And he had no desire to, so he told a half-truth. “I brought you the antidote.” He removed the tiny vile from his trench coat pocket that would wipe out the remainder of Sparrow’s dreams, if they still lingered.
She took the vial from him, careful not to make contact with his fingers. “What’s the expiration date on this thing?”
“Are you not in a hurry to use it?” He couldn’t help that his words escaped him like an angry threat.
She shrugged, obviously ignorant of his extreme discomfort. He had to strangle something. Or bed Sparrow. Or confess his love. He’d never loved or confessed it in his entire immortal life. It pained him not to do so now.
Sparrow turned on her heels and walked toward the rear entrance of the home. Her legs were wrapped in tight black jeans that hugged her subtle curves. The black shirt she wore was a second skin on her upper body, and his mouth watered with the longing to touch her. Her long blond hair cascaded behind her like an angel, but he had turned her into a hellion. The truth was, he wanted her either way.
“You are not going to invite me in?”
The angel turned around and met his gaze, her voice soft and inviting. “Two words big boy: Hell. No.”
And then she left him standing in the dark. But he w
ouldn’t go far. First, he’d survey her house once more, and then he’d return to the fog to deliver a message to the king.
• • •
Rowen stepped into the Realm of the Fog and was once more able to communicate telepathically. In this way, he reached out to the king to save the travel time.
“Sparrow and her aunts have gone to a show for the evening. Only the mother remains in the house. Should I continue to watch the house?”
“No. Thank you, Rowen. Return to your duties within the fog.”
Chapter Nineteen
“It’s you.”
Egret turned toward the deep, unknown voice coming from her front door. A tall, cloaked figure stood in the frame, and Egret prepared to flee. Her purse was nearby on a chair, and in only a few seconds, she could have her pepper spray. Although he could have a gun or other weapons beneath his cloak and she’d never have a shot. She briefly wished she exercised her powers to quickly erect a protection barrier.
As if he sensed her panic, he began to remove the hood of the cloak that hid his image.
She noticed the stunning cobalt eyes framed by dark locks. He was tall, around six feet, but he didn’t look intimidating. At the moment, his stone gray-blue eyes looked just as stunned as she was at the stranger’s arrival.
“Can I help you?” It seemed like a stupid question, but it was much more polite than asking who they heck he was, and why he was in her home.
“My heart has searched for you for so long, Egret.”
“How do you know my name?”
She told herself to be afraid, but the man looked at her as if his soul was complete. He strode toward her slowly. Her mind told her to turn and run, dial nine-one-one. But then he fell at her feet. He bowed over her and held her ankles. He grasped the elegant fabric of her work trousers in his hand, and caressed her ankles as he rested his head at her feet.
“Um, tell me,” she said while extending her hand to help him up, “how do I know you?” The man was at least ten years younger than her, and although he looked familiar, her mind was blank.
