The Paranormal Research and Rescue Institute Books 1-3: Books 1-3 in the Paranormal Research and Rescue Institute Series

by Lora Edwards

  Normally Ovidia loved the missions where she went to a time when women were adorned in beautiful fabrics and draped with jewels. She usually reveled in that utterly feminine power to captivate with just a glance. Many of her missions had been to times where her clothing consisted of silks, satins, and gems, and she was ready for a change. She was ready for boots, pants, and skirts that allowed you to move, a hat with a jaunty feather, and best of all, her sword visible all the time, swinging by her side. She would be a formidable figure.

  Dressing quickly, with a minimal amount of fuss with hair and makeup, Ovidia left her apartment and made her way to the wardrobe department.

  “Mrs. Bloom, I’m ready to get my pirate on!” Ovidia announced with a laugh as she entered wardrobe.

  “You will be one dangerous sexy pirate, a look I will not fail to appreciate,” said a male voice from behind her.

  Erik—of course he had to be there and spoil her good mood. She thought she’d better get used to it as there would be a lot of together time with him before too long.

  Fixing a sneer on her face, Ovidia turned and looked at him. She fought hard not to gape. He was dressed in a white linen shirt covered by a snug-fitting gold satin waistcoat, tight fawn-colored leather breeches that ended at the knee, and a pair of dark brown knee-high boots that encased his legs. A long sword hung from a belt slung low on his hips, and he looked dangerous and—dammit—sexy.

  “You look quite the part don’t you,” she commented, looking him over.

  He had the nerve to slowly spin, smiling in her direction. He was enjoying her reaction to his pirate persona.

  “Vid…” Erik started, taking a step toward her, but then Mrs. Bloom bustled into the room.

  “Miss Valkyrie, here is the first of your outfits. Let’s get you dressed so I can start on the alterations if need be,” she said, handing Ovidia a pile of garments then pointing toward the dressing screen in the back.

  Ovidia marched over, draping the clothes she would wear on the mission over it. She paused just short of the screen in order to catch her breath. Was she really supposed to change knowing he stood just a few feet away on the other side of the flimsy screen?

  Ovidia shook her head. “Pull it together,” she angrily whispered to herself. It was not as if he hadn’t seen everything she had to offer numerous times before, but just knowing he stood there as she slipped into the first set of clothing was unnerving.

  She stepped out from behind the screen, and looking back at her from the mirror was a blonde Grace O’Malley. She caught Erik’s gaze in the reflection and smiled as she swayed, making the heavy cotton of the dark green skirt swish. One side was tucked up in the belt, showing off her petticoats frills. Mrs. Bloom had paired it with a white linen blouse and an ornate green corset.

  “You look good Vid,” he said, his voice husky.

  Ovidia hiked up her skirt, sticking out a leather-clad leg. “Thanks. I think this may be my favorite period dress to date.” She pulled her sword out, and it instantly morphed into her cutlass. The bright blue stone in its hilt sparkled as she slipped it into the scabbard attached to the leather belt slung low on her hips. She gave Erik a saucy look as she strutted back behind the screen. When she emerged once again, she saw she was alone. Erik had left, and she didn’t know how she felt about that.

  “Ovidia dear, how did it they fit,” Mrs. Bloom asked, coming out of the back room.

  “Good, Mrs. Bloom. They fit perfectly, as always,” Ovidia told the older woman before handing her back the clothing and striding out.

  “Vid, I am so excited! This is my first debriefing as a researcher at the institute,” Teagan said. Ovidia smiled, watching as her normally shy friend burst with excitement. Being with Bran was bringing her out of her shell. Teagan was learning all about both her fae and witch sides, and she was growing into the person she always should have been.

  “I am so glad you’re excited, Teag, but let’s keep it to the basics of the need-to-know. Erik and I appreciate the importance of knowing the general history of the time, but we don’t need to be experts,” Ovidia warned as they walked toward the library.

  “Spoilsport. Short and sweet—got it,” Teagan said earnestly. “I’m glad you and Erik are my first team to brief. It makes it so much easier. You will be honest if I’m droning on, right?”

  “You know I will,” Ovidia said, winking.

  “I, for one, wouldn’t mind you droning on. If I’d had history teachers that looked like you, I would have paid much more attention in school,” said a voice from behind the women as they entered the library.

  Teagan blushed. “Thank you Erik, that was very kind of you to say.”

  “It wasn’t kind, only the truth.” Erik slouched down in the nearest chair. “Okay Teagan, give us the rundown of what we need to know for this mission.”

  “We are ready for Blackbeard 101,” Ovidia said, slouching in her own chair and smiling as Teagan stood next to her computer, assuming what Ovidia called her teacher position. Ovidia had some experience teaching as well; she had been a professor of Nordic studies at Duke. She didn’t hold any degrees, but the institute had fancied her up one with the necessary credentials, and she’d found she actually enjoyed her time as a college professor.

  “This was the most fun I have ever had researching. There was so much, and the magic was amazing,” Teagan said, hugging the remote for the screen to her chest.

  Ovidia rolled her eyes. “Teag, get on with it.”

  “Okay fine. Siren history first. The original Sirens were the children of Poseidon and Persephone, Poseidon being the Greek god of the sea and Persephone being the Greek goddess of the earth. Persephone was later kidnapped and forced to marry Hades, but that is a lecture for another time.

  “Once the children of the two gods mated, the races of Sirens and mermaids were born. The mermaids are primarily of the sea, although they can walk on land. They are the kinder race, rescuing fallen sailors.

  “Sirens were the other race spawned from this union. Sirens have the ability to walk on land and prefer to live on land for long stretches, although they need to have periodic contact with salt water. When immersed in saltwater, their legs becomes tails and they are indistinguishable from mermaids.

  “Mermaid song is healing, and can pull you back from the brink of death. Siren song is the opposite, and it can push you to the brink of death.

  “The Sirens inhabit a string of islands in the Atlantic. The Romans named them Serenum Scopali. The islands are protected from prying eyes by a magical mist and by the Sirens themselves. The legends of the Sirens singing sailors to their death are true. The sailors unlucky enough to sail close to these islands are lured into the rocks by the Siren song and the ships crash on the rocks, drowning all on board.

  “The Sirens are a proud and protective race. Armand will be giving you amulets that will make you immune to the Siren song, as supernaturals are not naturally immune. The only creatures known to be immune to the Siren song are the Sirens themselves, and of course the mermaids. Be very careful to wear the amulets at all times. The Siren king will be warned of your arrival and you will be allowed to cross the mist and find the islands, but if you are not wearing the amulets, you will fall prey to the song. Any questions?” Teagan asked.

  Erik and Ovidia shook their heads in the negative.

  “Okay good, then let’s move on to Blackbeard,” Teagan said. “Blackbeard started out life as Edward Teach, born in 1680. He began his pirating career in 1716 and was very successful in stealing a merchant ship, the Queen Anne’s Revenge, which he outfitted as a pirate ship. After one of his successful raids, he docked in the Bahamas, and he was drinking and looking for female company in a tavern when he became involved in a game of cards. His opponent found him cheating. He waited for Blackbeard to go out to relieve himself then killed him, draining him of his blood. The man he had cheated was a vampire.

  “This incident came to the attention of the institute, and Armand saw subtle but cata
strophic changes in the timeline. The shapeshifter will continue with the original timeline for Blackbeard’s life, including his death at the hands of Lt. Robert Maynard and his men on November 22, 1718, at Ocracoke Island. After Blackbeard’s death, the shapeshifter can return from the mission.

  “We are only a few months away from that deadline. Because he is one of ours, he can be instrumental in helping us retrieve the Siren princess. Her captor cannot be allowed to reveal her true form, as it would threaten the safety of all supernaturals. That is why you are being sent.” Teagan stopped and blushed. “I am sure you have already been briefed on the particulars of the mission, I just get so caught up,” she said, ending the briefing.

  Ovidia left the meeting with Teagan’s random facts about Blackbeard and his era running through her head. She doubted she would need to use all the information she had gotten from Teagan just now, but Ovidia had learned from hard experience that sometimes something you didn’t think you needed was the thing you needed the most. Knowing important information about the place you were going to in the past could mean the difference between being burned as a witch or being accepted by the locals.

  Ovidia keyed into her apartment and changed into her workout clothing. She wanted to practice the cutlass techniques her mother had taught her. She could swing the broadsword with ease and had a very nice set of toned arms to show for it, but the cutlass was a different weight and balance. She needed as much practice as she could get to fit in.

  Ovidia opened the door to her practice room. She would cue up music from the latest Pirates of the Caribbean movie; it felt fitting, and the tempo was just right. Walking over to the sound system, she quickly found what she wanted, nodding as the first strains of the rousing music pulsed out of the speakers.

  “Pirate from the year 1718,” Ovidia said in a clear voice, calling up her training program.

  The air in front of her began to waver as the music thrummed throughout the room. Ovidia grinned as she drew her sword and thought, Cutlass. A magnificent blade with a large blue gem shimmered to life in her hand.

  “Aye there pretty thing, dontcha think you shouldn’t be wandrin around the docks this time of night? Might be dangerous for ya rounds here,” said the pirate who had materialized in front of her. A dangerous glint lit his eyes, and his leering smile revealed rotting teeth.

  Ovidia laughed, a sound full of joy and pleasure. “Geoff, you crazy man, it’s perfect,” she mumbled, complementing the mage creator of the program. She turned to the pirate and gestured him forward with a wave of her hand.

  When he pulled out a cutlass of his own, violet fire lit up the berserker in Olivia’s eyes, causing them to glow like a lightning strike.

  The next moment the pirate lunged, and the sound of steel on steel rang out as he attacked. Ovidia parried and thrust, feeling the slight vibration build each time the pirate got past her defenses. She was getting better with the cutlass, but he was still able to get through her guard when she occasionally opened herself up to attack. Where a broadsword would have protected her, the thin cutlass did not.

  A low whistle came from the vicinity of the door, barely heard over the pulse of the music and the ringing of steel. Ovidia turned toward the sound and felt a jolt as the pirate’s sword swept down. If he had been an actual person, it would have severed her arm.

  “End practice,” Ovidia commanded, and the vision of the feisty pirate wavered as he disappeared. “Music off.” Ovidia suddenly stood in the middle of a quiet room, panting softly and staring daggers at the man casually leaning against the doorframe of her practice space.

  “Erik, how did you get in here,” she asked, hands on hips, her cutlass melting into the air beside her.

  “Mrs. Avery let me in. She’s here to make your dinner,” Erik said, moving forward.

  She watched as he stalked toward her, his movements fluid, graceful like those of a mountain cat. She felt the urge to take a step back, to hold her arms straight out so he didn’t invade her space, but she didn’t. She would not give him the satisfaction of knowing he still affected her, though deep down, she knew he did, and probably always would.

  “What do you want? As you can see, I need more practice with this particular weapon,” Ovidia snapped.

  “There was a time when the sight of me caused your eyes to glow and your lips to curve into a smile,” Erik said softly.

  “There was a time when I thought you loved me. We had a future together, or so I thought. That time is over. Again, how can I help you,” she asked, damning him for making her think of those days when just seeing him caused a thrill to chase through her body. Now when she saw him, all she felt was pain and loss, feelings she wanted nothing to do with.

  “I came to ask you to a dinner to declare a truce, but it looks like you’re already on your way to having dinner,” Erik said.

  Ovidia sighed. He was right; they needed to declare a truce and have some ground rules. They needed to work as a team. She may not have trusted him with her heart, but she knew that inside Erik beat the heart of a fighter. If they were to be partners and survive in the dangerous climate of the pirating days, they would have to find some peace. All the emotion bubbling around them would just muddy the waters and lead to a fight, one that could not happen.

  Ovidia nodded. “Why don’t you share my supper? Mrs. Avery always makes more than enough, and she’s probably counting on you staying anyway. She always liked you, even after,” Ovidia said. “How are your skills with a cutlass,” she asked, quirking her eyebrows at Erik.

  “Rusty at best. I could use some practice as well,” he said.

  “I have extra weapons. Would you like to join me? Geoff’s illusions can conjure up more than one pirate at a time,” she said.

  “I do need the practice. I would be honored to fight by your side,” Erik said while gallantly bowing.

  His gallantry was one of the things that had originally drawn her to him. He never treated her as less because she was a woman. He acknowledged that she was an accomplished warrior. He would fight beside her, not for her, in front of her, or to save her, as other men felt compelled to do.

  Ovidia strode across the room and pushed against the wall, causing a hidden compartment to slide out and reveal weapons from every century: maces, guns, double-bladed axes, swords of every variety, and cutlasses.

  Erik came over to choose his weapon. He tested each cutlass for weight and balance before he found one that fit his hand perfectly, almost as if the weapon had been made especially for him. He picked it up and admired the red gem in the hilt, the gem of his clan. He looked at Ovidia curiously. Her face was closed to him as she strode back out to the practice mat, again calling up the pirate music she had been using in her practice.

  “Seven pirates, 1718,” she said in a clear, commanding voice. Before Erik could blink or even heft his weapon, they were standing in the middle of a ring of bloodthirsty pirates. Standing back to back, they watched as the men circled the two of them, satisfied grins already lighting their faces. They thought it would be an easy fight.

  The first one lunged, and the fight was on.

  She could feel the warmth of Erik’s back pressing against hers as he shifted, lunged, and fought their attackers. Ovidia swung the cutlass at the head of the first pirate in her line of sight, leaving an ugly cut down one side of his face and the coppery scent of blood strong in the air. The adrenaline surged through her. She hacked and cut, working in perfect concert with Erik. Swinging the sword one last time she whirled and came face to face with Erik, locking her eyes to his. They stood for a long moment, staring at each other a pile of illusory swashbucklers at their feet.

  “We still make a good team Vid,” Erik said between pants for air.

  “We always did in battle. Too bad we couldn’t take that out into our private lives,” she said, tearing her gaze away from his. She ended the music and the simulation. “Not bad for someone who said they didn’t have much practice wielding a cutlass,” she commented.
/>
  “I have practiced some since finding out this was our mission,” he replied, lowering his sword.

  “Dinner should be almost ready. I’m starving.” Ovidia sauntered out of the room, her sword shimmering back into invisibility at her side.

  She heard Erik return his cutlass to the rack and follow her out. She would make peace with him and this mission during dinner. The fight had reminded her that in battle, there were few she trusted like she trusted Erik. The 1700s were a dangerous time, and she was glad she had someone she could count on at her side. Armand was a crafty vampire; he knew she would not want someone she was unfamiliar with as her partner during this kind of mission. “Dammit Bran, why did you have to take on the cleanup of the last mission?” Ovidia grumbled to herself.

  She knew why he had taken on the mundane assignment normally tasked to another at the institute. He was part of a mated pair now, and he wanted to be available to his mate. Since their joining was so fresh, he would need to keep her close for a while until they both found their groove.

  “Ovidia, dear, I have made us a nice manicotti. It will go well with this lovely red you had in your wine cooler. I hope that is suitable for you,” Mrs. Avery said as Ovidia walked into her kitchen.

  “It’s amazing—anything you make is always okay with me. Thank you, Mrs. Avery, for taking such good care of me,” Ovidia said, giving the woman a hug in a rare show of affection.

  “Is Erik going to be joining you for dinner? I made extra and set a place for him at the table just in case,” she said, eyeing Ovidia.

  Ovidia knew she was dying to know the state of affairs between them but was too polite to come out and say so.

  “Armand has us partnering on a new mission together, and we are going back to the time of Blackbeard. Nothing romantic is going to happen,” Ovidia said firmly, trying to convince herself as well as Mrs. Avery.

  “As you say. Dinner is ready, so I will plate it and bring it out then I will be on my way.” She patted Ovidia’s cheek in a motherly way.