Fire and Fantasy: a Limited Edition Collection of Epic and Urban Fantasy
Page 20
It was crisp, cool, and tasted like fresh mountain water. Lourdie got up and began to dance around from the pure unadulterated joy of it. She spun around, and spun and spun, until she fell from dizziness and laughed an innocent child’s laugh.
Unbeknownst to Lourdie, as the plants drank in their nourishment from the rain they had also absorbed her joy. They grew a bit taller and bloomed a bit brighter from her display of pure resounding bliss.
Abbey walked in the training room and smiled as she scanned the faces in the crowd. Scarlett had found a secluded corner away from the action and was practicing by herself. She was also happy to see that Temple was able to join them for the day. His attendance had diminished down to almost zero as of late. He was as handsome as ever, though he looked especially brooding today. It had to be exhausting running an entire castle, not to mention all of Europe’s guardians.
Still with no dual orb revelations, Abbey and Lourdie began putting weapons and targets away as most the hunters left. Lourdie seemed preoccupied. The next full moon was only two days away and Abbey could tell Lourdie was getting antsy. The fact that Lourdie had not been given a single patrol since she passed out did not sit well with her mentor. She had been particularly grumpy today in class, especially towards Temple.
Quintin and his minions lingered and pretended to help clean up after training. He was obviously hoping to steal a minute with Lourdie.
Abbey decided to stick to her mentor’s side like glue as they put things away. As she always did when she felt anxious, Abbey began talking incessantly, “Did you know they have an Old Faithful here? It’s not like the one back in the states-- not a geyser. Louie took me out to the site and it was just an open field with a lonely old yew tree in it. But, apparently it’s the site of our world’s only known, predictable fracture. The Loe Pool Chiarshadrin opens up at the same time each blue moon in practically the same place. Did you know that’s where the saying ‘once in a blue moon’ came from? That’s every three years, right? I can’t wait to see it happen. ” The apprentice stopped talking and cringed as their tasks brought them within talking distance of Quintin and his ghouls. Abbey felt nauseous as Quintin drooled over Lourdie and she couldn’t help but roll her eyes. She found him to be a clingy brown nose with a one track mind. Lourdie did the infamous hair flip and laughed at something Quintin said. OMG! She did not just do that. Is she seriously getting her flirt on with Quint the Lint? Gross!
As Temple neared, the juice heads scurried away like rats.
Lourdie took the opportunity and cornered the knight, “Temple?” She barely waited for him to stop and turn around “Enough with the coddling. I want to be put on shadowskin patrol,” Lourdie demanded.
“My apologies for having your best interests at heart. I merely didn’t want to overload you with a multitude of physical activities,” Temple glared at Quintin, then smiled snidely at Lourdie.
“I’m fit for duty. You know I am. I want in.” Lourdie was determined to get what she wanted. “Consider it an early Christmas gift,” she gave a snide smile back to him and crossed her arms.
Temple lowered his chin and looked Lourdie in the eyes as if waiting for something. Lourdie never blinked as she patiently waited for him to make the right decision. The only decision she would accept, “Fine. You will have all the patrols your heart desires.” He stole one more look at a lingering Quintin, “Do you have a particular partner in mind, Ms. Reese, or will just any young bloke do?” Temple cleared his throat not waiting for an answer. “Ladies,” the knight began to walk away then thought better of it. “Anytime you wish to share what truly happened the night of our...deal, consider that my Christmas gift,” he arched his eyebrow and gave Lourdie a sultry glare.
Deal? “Deal? What deal? So...why are you not all over that?” Abbey asked in a hushed voice as Temple walked away.
Lourdie looked between Temple and Quintin.
“Eww, gross! I’m not talking about Quint the Lint. I mean, seriously? That juice monkey has less personality than the fuzz in my pocket. While Temple on the other hand, is literally Prince Charming wrapped in the bod of a Viking god.”
Quintin and his goon squad followed Temple’s lead and left the facility.
Abbey practiced some elaborate martial arts moves as she put the last of the free standing punching bags away. “You can tell you guys have some serious chemistry, right? OMG, the Bunsen burner is glowing red hot!” Abbey sighed, still getting no response from her mentor.
The compact apprentice tried again as she and Lourdie exited the training facility and walked down the hall alone. “What’s the sitch with the wall you put up around Mr. Hunky anyway?”
Lourdie abruptly stopped, “I...ugh, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I just don’t want any complications right now. Men make things...messy.” The two started walking again as Lourdie finished her excuse, “And besides, he’s not very princely or charming when he’s around me.”
“Ha!” Abbey stopped. “You didn’t deny he has the body of a Viking god though,” she stated smugly.
Lourdie awkwardly waved her arms to mime a jumble then quickly walked again, signaling an end to the conversation.
Deflated, Abbey ran to catch up. “Can you believe they’re gonna raise the cap in The Nether again? I just perfected my gear.”
Lourdie half-heartedly laughed and shook her head as they continued their way to the great hall for dinner. “Sorry, Abs. It’s just that I want...I need to focus on the job I’ve been sent here to do that’s all. No boys, just business and banishing. K?” Her mentor pleaded for understanding, like she was balancing on a tight rope connected to a solid brick wall on either end.
“Okay, Lourdie. It’s cool,” Abbey looked up at her sad mentor. For over a year, Lourdie had been Abbey’s rock, the one that always encouraged her. It was finally Abbey’s turn to be the support for her friend in need, “Don’t worry, Sensei, I’ve got your back.”
Lourdie headed to her room after Abbey’s third impatient text. Apparently there was some type of gift box sitting on her nightstand and the young girl was dying to know what was in it.
“Dude! Open it. Open it!” Abbey jumped up from her computer, barely waiting for Lourdie to get through the door.
“It’s too pretty. Maybe I should wait until Christmas,” Lourdie teased, admiring the ombre wrapping paper that faded from a deep black purple all the way to a soft pale violet.
“No way! It doesn’t say you have to wait. It doesn’t even say who it’s from.”
Ending her apprentice’s torment, Lourdie tore through the elegant wrapping paper and exposed a glossy black box. She lifted the lid and blinked in utter surprise and shock. Smiling to herself, she slid her fingers through the device’s openings and raised up her newest prized possession. Her mouth began to water with anticipation. The weapon’s snug fit was perfect.
Abbey furrowed her brow and cocked her head to the side, “What is that?”
“My new toy,” the elite hunter made a fist and the stun knuckles whined and hummed to life. They popped and hissed, waiting to make contact with an enemy.
“Whoa! Holy electric knuckle sandwich, Batman! That is awesome.”
Lourdie noticed a note on the inside of the box’s lid. ‘Happy Christmas, City Girl.’
“So, any idea who it’s from?”
Momentarily letting her emotional guard down, Lourdie couldn’t help but smile as she read his words again then finally answered, “A country boy.”
Finished with her uneventful night patrol, Lourdie headed to the gym to release her built up energy. Temple had kept his word and had given her as many hunting shifts as she liked. Bishop said he had also been told to give her any partner and location she wished. Lourdie had shrugged and told Bishop to put her wherever they needed her, that she just wanted to feel useful-- to feel normal. The kind man had given her a variety of exhilarating shifts from air support to ground patrols, stating “You are useful everywhere, my dear. Normal, however? I’m afraid t
hat’s impossible as you are quite extraordinary.” Bishop had smiled warmly at her.
Days had turned into weeks and Lourdie fell into a routine of uncomfortable normalcy. Fewer and fewer hunters were arriving at the Cloak for dual orb training. Lourdie was fairly certain news of her training’s lackluster results had spread throughout the courts. No one had been able to duplicate her ability. She was beginning to doubt herself with each successive failure. The disappointment on the faces of the world’s hunters did nothing to improve her nightmares. More than once she asked herself, ‘Am I just a freak?’ Hoping to shake this blow to her confidence, Lourdie glommed onto the familiar. This included her patrols, workouts, and, most recently, Christmas. She and Abbey had exchanged Christmas gifts and called their families wishing them a ‘Happy Christmas’ in their best British accents. Abbey had gotten Lourdie an awesome dark purple travel thermos that kept her coffee warm for hours along with a matching clip light for her paperback bricks. Lourdie was able to find a retro Nether shirt online that her apprentice didn’t have yet. The young girl’s real present wasn’t an object but a simple recalibration. Late on Christmas Eve, Lourdie snuck to Abbey’s bedside and took the girl’s stun gun from her nightstand. Abbey squealed with joy the next afternoon as pink pulses of light barreled out of her gun during practice.
Lourdie credited her patrol shifts with keeping the nightmares mostly at bay. At least they were no longer as intense as the first ones had been. Patrolling was where she felt most like herself. Luke was her favorite partner, besides Abbey of course. Abbey had even volunteered for shifts as soon as Lourdie was put on the schedule. Luke reminded her of Kapoi, always in a good mood and easy to talk to. Even if they never got any netherwalker action, the nights with Luke were comfortable and carefree. Shockingly, she had even been paired with Quintin a time or two. She thought for sure Temple would have put them on opposite sides of the universe, but he hadn’t. Lourdie had done that herself after Quintin’s alcohol induced New Year’s Eve texting from a pub in Helston. Lourdie didn’t respond to his booty call or the fifth text asking her to join him at the pub for a New Year’s kiss. She had simply turned to Bishop at the great hall’s casual celebration and kindly asked him to keep her patrols with the Lint to a minimum. Her flirtatious distraction was just a little too high maintenance to be an effective one.
Bishop had smiled warmly at her request. Apparently he had been eagerly awaiting the news as he said with great jubilation, ‘Gladly, my dear.’ Temple had smugly raised his eyebrow every time her phone blew up, almost as if he knew she had just wised up to Quintin’s overtly sexual advances. Temple had not been her partner again, not since the night of the first full moon. Not since...Lourdie shook her head, burying her thoughts and emotions deep inside, locking them away. A door in Lourdie’s mind she kept hidden away started to creep open. Normal and ordinary was all she wanted, all she could handle. She would break if she thought too hard about her growing abilities and her unexpected feelings for Temple, her world would shatter. Denying the sensation that someone or something had been calling to her before she collapsed, she closed the metaphysical door. That meant to her that she also denied her emerging feelings for Temple, she turned the key in her mind and shut out the thoughts. Click.
Lourdie opened the door of the weight room and peered inside. The room was empty except for two people. Of course! She thought about turning around and leaving but Bishop waved her in, acknowledging that she was not intruding. Temple and Bishop were both jogging on treadmills, shirtless.
A slight devilish grin tugged at the corners of Temple’s mouth as she entered the weight room. Lourdie nodded a greeting to Bishop and took the treadmill to his left. She struck up a conversation with the man, trying to keep her eyes off the distraction to his right. “Bishop, you defy your forty-one years. I bet you would give any hunter a run for his money. You look fantastic.”
“Thank you, my dear,” the man said kindly.
Lourdie couldn’t help herself. She kept sneaking glances at Temple as she and Bishop continued their easy friendly banter. The knight had quickened his pace, obviously in an attempt to leave the gym sooner.
Abbey was right. Temple did have the body of a Norse god, and the arrogance, but it was the giant coat of arms tattoo adorning his left rib cage that had her mesmerized this morning. It was a beautiful piece of art that captured every detail of his blood line’s heraldic achievement. She could tell that a true artist had hand drawn its placement on his body. The use of a template would have been mechanical and lifeless. Each line and curve flowed around muscle like it was meant to be there. Majestic purple mingled with warriors’ red across the Fleur-de-lis shield. Lancelot’s lion carried a Sword of Twelve on one side of the shield, while Arthur’s crowned dragon was its other supporter. Symbolic lines in bright greens, yellows, and blues mingled with Welsh scrolls of dedication, honor, and loyalty. The attention to detail was amazing.
Lourdie also noticed a larger detailed version of his family’s Sword of Twelve tattooed into the knight’s inner right arm. It was the one that had been barely visible their night in the jagged concrete cavern. The pommel was encrusted with a large brilliant cut amethyst. Raised silver Vaelosh a’Rue symbols swirled down its black leather grip, continuing past the gentle curving cross-guard, becoming etched symbols all the way to its tip. The blade’s point dipped down, almost piercing one of Temple’s paired relics on his wrist. Lourdie rolled her eyes. Rhan’Delvins on our wrists are the only thing we have in common. Damn, that and our stun batons. But that’s it!
Bishop grinned at Lourdie with that all knowing warm smile he always gave her. Ever the proper Englishman, he refrained from comment.
The door opened and Quintin came in, followed by his two constant companions Kelen and Kern, the Highclere twins. They decided to use the free weights at the front of the room, directly in Lourdie’s line of sight. Quintin smiled slyly at her like a predator cat. Obviously hoping she would enjoy the view.
Temple excused himself, reminding Bishop they had a newly scheduled meeting in a couple of hours.
“Ms. Reese,” the knight said in a neutral tone, taking his leave.
“Temple,” Lourdie said, a little snootier than she intended.
“Gentlemen,” the knight said, more as a warning than a greeting as he passed the three visiting hunters.
“Sir,” the three automatons said in unison.
Lourdie couldn’t help the smile that crept across her face. Did Temple really just do that? With one word, did he just gallantly protect my virtue? No, impossible. But the smile remained on her face as the three muscle heads separated, as if caught doing something illegal.
Bishop looked between Lourdie and his knight with that grin again as Temple closed the door, “Have I told you about the lovely library we have, my dear? It’s in the west turret.” Bishop began giving Lourdie directions to the castle’s ancient library.
She thanked him, letting him know it sounded wonderful. Lourdie looked forward to exploring a new part of the castle and she loved to read. She was doubly grateful for the distraction.
The deep onyx purple silk confection slipped over her head effortlessly. As soon as Lourdie had seen it through the window of the dressmaker’s shop back in London she knew she had to have it for the Brenin Dathlu. It too perfectly resembled the invitations that had been placed on her and Abbey’s pillows back at the Bellows.
She clasped the twisted and knotted straps behind her neck as everything else fell into place. The bodice fit snugly against her frame then fell loose at her hips down to the floor. Dark iridescent purple embroidery and beading shimmered around the sweetheart bust and waist as she moved. Metallic threads and rhinestones flickered like tiny purple lightning bugs in the dark field of silk. She turned to admire the backless dress but could only see her long thick chocolate curls. Sweeping her hair into a low side ponytail, Lourdie grabbed a pink rose in full bloom off her nightstand to hold her hair in place. Tucking the flower just below her le
ft ear she took a thick strand of hair and wrapped it round and round, finally inserting its end down around the flower’s shortened stem and locking it all in place. She returned to the mirror, something she had rarely done since the first full moon at the Cloak. The rose complimented the sparkles in the dress perfectly and the daring back was totally something the old Lourdie would wear. Her reflection, however, looked surreal. A body that she’d known and grown into for twenty-two years just seemed foreign to her now ever since her collapse. Ever since...
“Sexy Sensei. Look at your cute!” Abbey wolf whistled from behind her. “Breathe, dude. Just breathe.”
“Hm... what? Oh, no I’m fine,” Lourdie replied still looking at the stranger in the mirror. She caught a glimpse of her apprentice and spun around, “Abbey you look so pretty! And tall!”
“Yeah, these kicks are killer!” she said and did a little spin.
Abbey’s gown was equally as elegant as it was daring. She was rocking a spaghetti strap hot pink satin gown covered entirely in black lace and a thin pink ribbon and bow adorned her waist.
Lourdie smiled down at the girl’s hemline.
If Abbey couldn’t wear her boots, she wanted everyone to know it. The front of the dress was knee length while the back fell down to the floor. Her apprentice had even found glittering hot pink three inch Mary Jane’s with a black strap and heel that would make even Cinderella jealous. Abbey had straightened her bob and her one pink strand gave her entire look an edge.
“Let me take a photo so I can send it to Nola. Your house mom would be so proud,” Lourdie laughed as Abbey beamed and quirked her head to the side. A soft sad sigh escaped Lourdie’s lips. There was no denying Abbey was growing up. “Let’s go before I turn into a pumpkin.”