Mystic Realms: A Limited Edition Collection

by Nicole Morgan

  He was an ordinary looking man in his mid-fifties with no remarkable features other than his oversized feet. He was average height, about half a head shorter than me; dark ash blonde hair like mine but with wider, rounder facial features. His ordinariness made him adept at fading into his environment, sometimes posing as a local businessman, a school teacher, or the mailman — whatever it took to entrap his victims — so he could feed on them, turn a profit at their cost, or destroy them.

  He jolted as if listening to something or someone outside the void. “What?” he shouted, still staring though me and past me. Suddenly he raised his gaze a fraction and stared directly at me for the first time. His eyes slowly transitioned from cold blue to blood red. “How could you betray me? You were like a son to me. I trusted you.”

  Because of the maker bond between him and me, I could see the visions Olga was channeling to him. She was showing him fictitious scenes of me secretly sabotaging business deal after business deal for him. “I want to free you from the corporate prison you’ve trapped yourself in,” she confided using my voice.

  It shocked me to realize my lips were moving. Olga was speaking through me. “Only then will we be able to roam the earth together again. Think about it, father. Just you and me. Free like we used to be when you first turned me.”

  “No!” he shrieked. “I command you stop. You have no choice but to obey me.”

  “Don’t worry, father,” Olga soothed. “Thanks to our maker bond, I know what your heart truly desires despite your words. And I will not stop following the path of your true desires until things return to the way they used to be between us.”

  “It’s black magic at work. It must be!” he gasped. “Only a very powerful coven could summon enough to override a bond like ours. Apparently the weak fools downstairs need to be replaced.”

  At his mention of the three witches in the basement, the black void shivered and blipped out for the merest fraction of a second. They were afraid, but they continued their chanting and the black void quickly reappeared.

  Anatoly’s face emerged through the dark nothingness, contorted with rage. “They’re controlling you with their magic and trying to turn you against me!”

  “What are you talking about, father? It’s me,” Olga placated in my baritone. “Just you and me in the room.”

  “No, son. You have no idea what you’re saying or what they’re capable of.” He reached through the vision and gripped my upper arms.

  It felt real. “Hear me well, Stellan. I know this is going to be difficult for both of us because we’re family — the last of the Romolov line — but it’s the only way to stop whoever is doing this.” He dropped his hands abruptly and fisted them at his sides. Taking a step back, he clenched his jaw as if in physical pain. “I command you to forget your master, Stellan. I release you from your bond.”

  “As you wish, father.” Olga ducked my head slightly as if greatly saddened, unable to meet his gaze any longer. The connection between us disappeared like iron chains disintegrating into thin air. I immediately felt lighter and cleaner. Even the air in my nostrils smelled better.

  “Here me well, son. I will track those witches down,” he snarled. “And I will destroy them for what they have taken from us today

  The vision of my Uncle’s face winked away in a shower of crackling sparks that stung our cheeks. We found ourselves back in the drafty basement.

  The three dark witches slowly unclasped their hands, exchanging fearful glances.

  “Clean up!” Skyla commanded sharply. The twins stepped nimbly from the circle, dousing the candles with the sweep of their hands.

  “Well?” Olga squeezed my fingers and peered excitedly at my face. “How do you feel?”

  I grinned my gratitude at her. It felt as if a heavy iron choker had been unlocked and removed from my neck. I released her hands to roll my shoulders, wriggle my arms experimentally, and bounce on my heels. I felt like a new creature!

  “Welcome to the free world, bro.” Ivan was in the room now. I hadn’t heard or seen him enter, so he must have arrived while Olga and I were submerged in her vision. He clasped my hand in his large paw. We leaned in and pounded each other once on the shoulders.

  Screaming and stomping sounded through the floorboards above our heads, causing us to freeze. Dust and grime broke loose and filtered down.

  Ivan shaded his eyes with one hand. “Arms deals,” he noted in a loud whisper. “They have their uncertain moments.”

  Red sticky droplets plopped through the cracks in the floorboards and rained down on us.

  Apparently, the hapless members of the sleeper cell weren’t faring too well in their negotiations. Or maybe they’d never gotten the chance to present their side of the deal. It would be just like Anatoly to take his wrath out on the nearest available victims, especially those not at liberty to call for help from law enforcement.

  I almost felt sorry for the terrorists, almost but not quite. They were terrorists after all.

  Ivan jogged to the lone basement window. The glass was missing and the iron grate removed.

  Ah. So that was how he’d reached us. I glanced over my shoulder.

  Olga was pressing money into Skyla’s hand and thanking her.

  I angled my head at her. “Come on, witch.”

  One by one, we leaped through the open window; but when I turned back for one final look, it was gone. All that remained was a solid brick wall. The cloaking spell was restored.

  Skyla was far more skilled than I’d originally given her credit for. For her sake, I hoped Anatoly spent the bulk of his ire on the terrorists, leaving less of it to take out on her and the twins.

  Grace

  Our third encounter came sooner than I expected — the very next Friday night. Stellan burst through the front door of the club in a dark green t-shirt and jeans and scanned the room. He appeared much more relaxed than our second visit, sporting an evening shadow and hint of a smile. When his gaze settled on me, his pale features lit.

  I was prepared this time with a fresh manicure and pedicure, blonde highlights, and a little black dress perfect for a night out. Though it was March, the club had an enormous fire blazing in their oversized hearth and a half dozen tall, space heaters glowing through the patio doors. Plus the normal crush of bodies was helping to heat the room.

  The appreciative glint in Stellan’s gaze as he absorbed my appearance was the only compliment I needed. He made no pretense of small talk and whisked me straight to a shadowy corner of the room. Instead of whirling me into the dance music right away, however, he started our evening with a kiss that stole every ounce of air from my lungs.

  It was a kiss that rivaled the one his friends had shared on the night we’d first met. It was a dance of tongues, a thorough mating of mouths and hearts. I twined my arms around his neck and held on in case my knees gave out.

  He lifted his head and gazed at me with satisfaction. “You kissed me like you missed me.”

  “I didn’t know it you were a poet,” I teased back, trying to get my breathing under control. “I think you missed me a little too.”

  “You have no idea.” He grazed his cool lips over my neck, just below my earlobe, and breathed deeply.

  I touched his hair, loving the silky feel of the strands waving against my fingertips. It felt so good to be in his arms again. Better than usual, if such a thing was possible. Maybe it was because he seemed to be in a happier frame of mind. Lighter somehow. Not as dark as usual.

  “You seem less tense tonight,” I ventured softly. “Less at war with yourself.”

  He raised his head and gave me a devilish half-smile. “You really have a way with words.”

  I do? “Seriously. Something’s different about you tonight. What’s going on?”

  He waggled his eyebrows expressively at me. “You mean you haven’t already guessed?”

  I shook my head, bemused.

  He gathered me closer and tipped his forehead against mine. “I thought it was
obvious. You make me happy, love.”

  Love! I nearly squealed out loud in giddy joy at his use of the endearment. Did it mean we were a couple now?

  He angled his head to nip a trail of kisses down my throat. The scruff on his chin did crazy wonderful things to the over-sensitized skin there.

  “Mmm, I’m not sure I ever want you to shave again.” I brushed my knuckles lightly along his unsmooth jawline.

  “As you wish, princess.” His voice was muffled as he continued to kiss his way across my collarbone.

  I tipped my head back and laughed in sheer delight. He made me happy, too.

  He watched me indulgently, threading his fingers through mine. His cool touch did insanely wonderful things to my heart.

  “I have some news to share. Mind if we sit and talk?”

  I tensed and felt my smile slip. The last time he’d sat me down for a talk had sounded like an attempt to break things off between us.

  “Relax.” He bent to press a kiss to the center of my forehead. “It’s good news this time. Promise.”

  We settled on one of the beer table benches on the outer perimeter of the room and faced each other.

  “So…” I prodded.

  He straddled the bench and took my hands in his. “I submitted my application for medical school.”

  “Um, wow!” That was unexpected. A ship’s captain who wanted to be a doctor. Who would have guessed? “So you want to become a doctor. Ah…what kind?”

  “A surgeon,” he answered without hesitation. “I know this is going to sound creepy, but I’ve always enjoyed cutting into things. My favorite class in high school was Biology. The dissection labs.”

  Gross. Those same labs had always made me want to yak up my lunch.

  “So no more sailing ships?”

  His expression grew shuttered. “Maybe from time to time. It’s a family business.”

  “Oh?” His words were a grim reminder of how little we knew about each other. I was disappointed when he didn’t elaborate, but I sensed he didn’t want to talk any more about his family and I saw no reason to push him. He was here with me tonight, and it was only our third date. Most couples got to know each other over time, didn’t they?

  He stood and pulled me to my feet. “May I have this dance?”

  “You may.” I did a few swing steps and he followed my cue, whirling me to the center of the dance floor. Man, he was a great dancer! It was a real treat to be able to totally let myself go with a partner who could keep up. A crowd gathered to watch us. They cheered us on after each number. I’ll admit, I was trying to impress Stellan so I put on a show, switching effortlessly from swing to slow dance to hip-hop. We danced for over an hour until I grew tired and thirsty.

  Stellan showed no signs of wearing down, but he was kind enough to notice when I did. He bowed to our audience. I waved and blew kisses. We found two empty seats at a table and ordered appetizers and drinks. I downed half a bottle of sparking water before I felt hydrated enough to speak again.

  Stellan leaned forward, ignoring the food between us to fix his gorgeous blue gaze on me. “I want to learn everything there is to know about you, Grace.”

  I lowered the cool glass bottle of sparkling water from my lips, heart pounding. “What do you want to know?” My life was sad and unremarkable. I should probably warn him to brace himself for disappointment. But he didn’t ask a single thing about my family or home life or lack thereof. As it turned out, he was truly only interested in me.

  He arched a single dark blonde eyebrow at me. “Favorite color.”

  “Red. You?”

  “Black. Last name.”

  “Livingston. Yours?”

  “Romolov. Favorite food.”

  “Any kind of berries. Strawberries, raspberries, blueberries. What about you?”

  “Don’t really have one. Beverages are a different story.”

  “Oh really? Let me guess. Beer?”

  He smiled and gave a half-shake of his head. “Actually, I’m more of a Bloody Mary kind of guy.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really. What’s your phone number, love?”

  Grace

  After our third date, Stellan and I became inseparable. Well, at least we were during the few free hours we squeezed now and then from our busy schedules. The homework in my honors classes kept me bent over my textbooks for an hour or more every evening. Plus my private lessons with a retired Olympic gymnast required another hour or two of my time each day practicing the techniques she’d taught me the week before. I was working really hard to stretch my skill levels in the hopes of landing either a dance scholarship or a professional dance contract at graduation. I would have preferred to practice four to six hours every day of the week like I did on the weekends, but things like the need to eat and sleep prevented that.

  And my need to see Stellan.

  He was fast becoming an obsession. Going more than twenty-four hours without seeing him put me on edge like an addict needing her next fix.

  Fortunately, he seemed more than eager to feed my addiction. We went dancing every Friday and Saturday night that Club Halo was open for business. Most other evenings, he rumbled up to the skate park on the airbase astride a dangerous looking motorcycle and nodded at me to hop on. It was a beast of a thing with glossy red and black paint and shiny chrome mirrors and handlebars. I was the envy of every girl on our block. We generally started off cruising the nearest bike trails but ended up in a more remote area beneath the stars.

  Stellan never did anything but hold me and kiss me. No groping. No rushing things. No awkward moments. I’d never understood how many amazing ways there were to kiss a guy. How many lovely pressure points there were on my neck and throat and just below my earlobes. Oh, and on the back of my neck when he was sitting behind me. And my collarbone on the nights I wore off-the-shoulder tops and sweaters…which was often lately. Being with him was sheer magic.

  There were times, though, when he’d stop kissing me with no explanation. He would simply jump to his feet and walk several strides away from me to stare up at the stars. It was like he needed a cooling off period or something. We never talked about it, but I appreciated his control. I hadn’t dated much and had never been anyone’s girlfriend, so I preferred taking things slow.

  The final days of spring flew by, and the lush foliage and starkly warmer temperatures mid-day signaled that summer was near. My high school graduation was only two weeks away. Stellan and I had been dating nearly four months, so I hoped like crazy he would want to help me celebrate this once-in-a-lifetime event. However, I was hesitant to invite him. I couldn’t explain why, not even to my best friend.

  I flopped on my belly across my bed and sank down on the fluffy comforter. It sported a lively design of orange, green, and yellow flowers. I ran a finger idly over one of the painted green irises. “There’s still so much I don’t know about Stellan. He doesn’t talk much about himself.”

  “So he’s not a self-absorbed moron. That’s a great quality in a guy.” Antjie sounded envious. She settled herself in the lime green swoop chair across from me and crossed her bare legs beneath her. She was wearing super short shorts and a red halter top.

  “Yes and no.” I struggled to put my concerns into words. “By now, he knows practically everything there is to know about me — who my closest friends are, all my favorite hangouts, my dreams and life goals — and I still have no idea where he lives or who he hangs out with when we’re not together.” I had his phone number and email address but no residential or postal addresses. And he’d not once invited me to his place. Though I tried to sprinkle a few questions here and there in our conversations, I still didn’t know if he lived in an apartment or a house, in the city or country, by himself or with a roommate. After the first night we’d met, I’d not seen his two friends again either, and he never mentioned them in conversation.

  “Geez!” my friend chided. “Quit worrying about it, and just ask him already”

  “It
’s not that easy.” I threw one of my decorative pillows at her.

  She caught the orange square effortlessly. “Sure it is. You and he just have to pause the lip-lock thing long enough to use your words.” She laughed and tossed the pillow back. “Here, I’ll show you how talking works.” She struck a pose and pretended to have her arms around someone’s neck, pursed her lips, and made a few loud smacking noises. “Hey, Stellan, sweetie. I’m about to graduate high school in two weeks and want to send you a personal invitation that includes a very a sexy picture of me. Where should I mail it?”

  I sighed. “Won’t he wonder why I don’t just hand it to him in person?”

  “Maybe, but who cares? You’ll have his address. That’s what you want, isn’t it?” She reached up to loop a hair band around her fly-away waves and arranged them in a loose knot atop her head. When she was finished, the result made me think of a college girl kicking back to relax in her dorm room. I didn’t know how she managed it, but Antjie was one of those people who always looked great even when she wasn’t trying. I envied her confidence and carefree attitude and wished some of them would rub off on me.

  My thoughts churned through more of my fears. Stellan knew I was about to graduate high school, but he hadn’t asked anything about it — not about the date, the festivities, or what I planned to do with my life afterwards. The latter item was what had me the most worried.

  “I’m afraid, Antjie.” The words tore from me, raw and unrehearsed. “Afraid of what happens next. Afraid of losing Stellan. He’s about to start studying medicine at Heidelberg University, and my father’s military tour here will end this summer. I’ve been accepted to four different American universities and need to pick one soon if I don’t land a dancing contract in New York City.” My private instructor swore I still had a chance, but the wait was killing me. “If he and I don’t start making plans for some sort of future together, well, we’re going to be on opposite ends of the world soon.”