by Ines Johnson
Morgan nodded as she bounced on her balance ball office chair. Gwin knew her sister wasn’t paying attention. Morgan held a book in her hand. Gwin noted it was Jacques de Molay’s journal, the one that contained the Stone Templar’s curse. Morgan had the page opened with the curse spelled out.
Gwin slammed the book shut and scooped it into her arms.
“Hey,” Morgan protested, bouncing to her feet.
“This belongs in the vault.” Gwin headed out of the office.
Morgan was fast on her trail. “I’ve never done dark magic before. What did it feel like when you turned Lance to stone? Did you feel your soul cloud over?”
Gwin turned to frown at her sister. “Sometimes, I worry about you.”
Morgan shrugged as she fell into step beside Gwin. As the two made their way to the vault, Gwin peppered Morgan with more wedding details. But she knew Morgan wasn't listening. The only thing Morgan had planned with any detail was the negligee she'd be wearing on her wedding night and a Brazilian bikini wax appointment.
Gwin pulled her master key set from her chain. Morgan didn't have this set of keys, and with her sister's current lack of focus, Gwin doubted she'd ever create a spare set. As they entered the door of the vault, the creak of floorboards brought their chatter to a halt.
Tintagel was an old castle. It was also magical. Most importantly, it had been run by the most meticulous witch in the town for a century who ran a rigorous and thorough repair schedule. The floors did not creak on their own. Someone was here.
Before Gwin could call out, vines crept up through the floor. The stems wound themselves around Gwin and Morgan’s legs and then encased their forearms. The witch fire that the two witches were able to conjure did nothing to the trailing plant. This was powerful magic, pure magic, fairy magic.
A hooded figure stepped into the scant light from the open doorway. The intruder removed the cloth from their face to reveal pale, lavender skin and flowing royal blue locks. She was the color of lilacs. The shift in the air brought her scent close to Gwin’s nose. She smelled of roses.
Definitely fae. But what was a fairy doing in Camelot? What would make one breach the treaty between the realms?
“I mean you no harm, my ladies.” Even her voice was musical.
“Who are you?” Gwin asked.
“You’re going to find out very soon, and for that, I’m sorry.”
“I know who you are,” said Morgan. “Loren told me about you. You’re Enid, the fairy Geraint’s been mooning over.”
Enid’s bright eyes perked up at the mention of Geraint’s name, and then immediately clouded in shame. She looked down in her hand. Gwin couldn’t tell what the object she held.
“I’m not a thief,” said Enid. “I will return this as soon as I save my husband.”
“Husband?” said Gwin. “Who is your husband?”
Enid’s throat worked around the answer to Gwin’s question. She swallowed hard, her eyes glistened as she did so. She lifted her gaze to Gwin. Gwin’s palms itched to heal the suffering she saw there.
“Geraint is our family,” said Gwin. “If he’s in danger, let us help you.”
But Enid shook her head. She began to step back into the darkness. “I’ve done enough harm. I won’t put any of his family in danger. I’ll save his life, set him free, and send him back to you, even if it costs my own life.”
And with that, Enid disappeared in a plume of violet dust.
“That’s a neat trick,” said Morgan.
Gwin looked at her sister. Enid’s vines still entwined them both. They looked like scarecrows with their arms held out to the sides.
“How are we gonna get out of this?” asked Morgan.
“What were you saying about being tied up last night?”
The story of how Geraint and Enid
got married,
fell in love,
and then saved each other
in that order
is coming soon in “Arabian Knight.”
To keep up to date with this series and new releases,
as well as excerpts and free short stories, sign up for Ines Johnson’s Reader Group at
http://bit.ly/InesKnights
***
Turn the page to read the first couple of chapters of an exclusive story set in this world that’s only available to the subscribers of the reader group!
Also by Ines Johnson
Aside from being a writer, professional reader, and teacher, INES JOHNSON is a very bad Buddhist. She sits in sangha each week, and while others are meditating and getting their zen on, she's contemplating how to use the teachings to strengthen her plots and character motivations.
Ines writes books for strong women who suck at love. If you rocked out to the twisted triangle of Jem, Jericha, and Rio as a girl; if you were slayed by vampires with souls alongside Buffy; if you need your scandalous fix from Olivia Pope each week, then you'll love her books! You can reach Ines at her website www.ineswrites.com or on Facebook.
The Knights of Caerleon (Paranormal Romance)
First Knight
One Knight
Arabian Knight
Dark Knight
White Knight
Last Knight
The Misadventures of Loren (Urban Fantasy)
Spear of Destiny
Ring of Gyges
Hammer of God
Dagger of Amun
Knot of Time
The Nia Rivers Adventures (Urban Fantasy)
Dragon Bones
Demeter's Tablet
Templar Scrolls
Serpent Mound
Eden's Garden
The Moonkind Series (Paranormal Romance)
Moonlight
Moonrise
Moonfall
The Cindermama Series (Contemporary Fairytale Retellings)
Pumpkin
Rumpeled
Beau
The Bright Series (Paranormal Romance)
Bright
Two if By Sea Sneak Peek
Set sail on this fish out of water adventure as the Arthurian Lady of the Lake crash lands into the Greek God of the Sea in “Two if by Sea”!
Finally freed from her role as Camelot’s Lady of the Lake, Viviane sets off on the quest of her life—to nab her very own pair of Italy’s hottest designer high heels! But when she turns up in Athens instead of Rome, she’ll face her greatest challenge when the God of the Seas decides she’s the catch of a lifetime.
Tired of fake women, idol worshippers, and followers who are only after what he can do for them, Poseidon is captivated the moment Vivi washes up on his shores. She’s a breath of fresh air with her garish fashion sense and cold-blooded curves. Psi’s all too happy to help her on her quest for shoes, but only after he takes a bite out of her.
Chapter One
Longing clung to Psi as he stood on the hotel balcony, peering across the city at the neglected temple of the Parthenon. The bones of the building were still sturdy, holding everything aloft. There was much wear and tear on the once pristine marble. Psi had been there when the shrine had been lovingly carved and raised to the sky. The temple had been built in his family’s honor in the fifth century during the time when the Greek gods had many devoted followers. But much had changed since then.
Construction was currently underway to restore the aged structure. Pristine marble was mixed with the ancient stone of old creating an eyesore. Steel rods were put in place to give the structure a new backbone that made it stand rigid. It was an absolute travesty what the human race was doing to honor the memory of the gods.
“Lord Poseidon, it would be my honor and privilege to offer you pleasure tonight.”
Psi didn’t even bother to turn around to address the human woman who spoke to him. There was no point. The women were all alike. Plastic faces colored with powder. Inflated breasts, surgically flattened middles, and engorged behinds, cloaked in labels like packaged foods.
That was what was considered sexy in this
age. Dozens more just like her buzzed around the party going on in the suite behind him. Why did they even approach him when the thought of water getting anywhere near their starched hair or their painted faces or their delicate fabrics would make them yelp and spring away from him?
“You can have me in any way you want me. And you can put it anywhere you like. Choose me and I’ll give you my complete eternal devotion,” the woman said.
Right. That was why they approached him. To offer him their devotion in exchange for immortality and riches. Unlike the temple builders of the past, modern humans gave nothing freely. But wasn’t that the way of mankind and gods? Humans only called on the gods when they wanted something.
He should’ve gotten angry at the insult of her words. First came devotion, then a god chose whether or not to bless the disciple with gifts. But he couldn’t even muster any emotion other than boredom and dissatisfaction.
“You haven’t chosen a woman in a long time,” she purred.
Her warm-blooded hand landed on his bicep making him shiver like he’d been plunged into ice-cold water. No, that wasn’t a good comparison. He loved the feeling of cold water surrounding his body. Or hot water surrounding him, for that matter. This human’s touch felt like sand scratching on dry skin in the middle of a desert.
“You must be starved. I can offer you my whole soul.” Her cactus-like fingers continued their unwanted assault on his skin. But then she jerked her fingers away. “Or, perhaps, it’s men you prefer?”
Psi turned and, as expected, was met with a carbon copy of every woman at this infernal party. Breasts pushed up to her chin in a dress that undoubtedly cost enough to feed a small, third world village for a month. Heels so high she nearly stood on tiptoes. His keen eyes made out the tracks in her scalp that added fake tresses. He could barely see her eyes with all the makeup caked on her face. In the light of so much distortion, Psi forgot his manners and reared back from her.
Finally, she took the hint and moved away from him. Psi realized belatedly that she came to the wrong conclusion with that last mention of a man being the reason that he wasn’t interested in her affections. But he didn’t care that she mistakenly thought he preferred his own gender in bed sport. Whatever it took to shake free of yet another idolater.
Off in the distance, his brother Zeus was happily buried in a pile of idol worshippers. Psi could barely make out his brother’s golden head for all of the arms and legs that surrounded the demigod, seeking his attention and favor. Zuzu had no qualms in using the women, or men, that hung on the Olympians hoping to become Chosen.
Psi needed more than a compliment and a quick tumble to create a Chosen: a devoted worshipper of the Olympian gods. True, he was down to a few dozen Chosen. Those few had been with him for centuries, but they were all true believers—a rare thing in the human race these days.
In exchange for immortality, the Olympians fed off the human souls of the Chosen. Worship was the fuel of the gods. Without it, gods ceased to exist.
The way of the Olympians was better than what their parents, the Titans, had done in their day which had been to eat humans whole and spit out their bones. At least with this exchange, everyone got something out of the deal.
Only, Psi no longer felt the trade was even. Taking a soul left a bitter taste in his mouth these days and so he largely abstained from the practice. His siblings called him a vegan because he no longer took on any more of the living.
The headache he was experiencing now was likely from hunger, but Psi was not about to take a bite out of this bunch and wind up with an upset stomach. Instead, he left the revelry and headed down the elevator. The ride was long as he and his siblings lived on the top floor of the Royal Olympic Hotel.
He exited in the garage. He bypassed Zuzu’s Ferrari and Desi’s Mustang. All three of his sisters preferred to be driven around in limos and town cars, not particularly caring for the speed certain cars afforded them. Psi put his Stingray Corvette in gear and headed someplace where he could be alone and think.
As he drove closer to the sea and the salty air hit his tongue, he felt immeasurably better. He parked and headed down to the water’s edge. Unfortunately, like his home high in the sky at the hotel, his watery haven was also overrun by humans.
Loud music polluted the air from stereos in cars, boats, and blankets. Coeds on vacation, dressed in togas, tossed beer bottles into the sea. An older seaman pulled his prick out and pissed off the side of a boat.
Psi felt weary once more. He was thousands of years old, but he felt like he was having a midlife crisis. There was nothing real left in this world. He hadn’t been excited about anything in over a century. Not even the warm-blooded women of his brothers’ parties could rouse him any longer. Nothing could, except the cool brine of the Mediterranean.
He headed out farther along the shore, coming to sit at the edge of a pier. He dipped his toe in the cold waters and felt somewhat soothed. But not for long. Something felt wrong.
An electric current tickled the fleshy part of his toe, zipping under the toenail. He didn’t need his sight to see into the depths, but he couldn’t believe what his amphibious senses were telling him. Something magic this way came.
He should pull his foot from the sea. It felt like he would be consumed by the energy building down there. But that thought was ridiculous. He was the God of the Sea. There was nothing in the waters stronger than him.
Then the feeling tugged at him. It zipped up his leg, sloshing the indifferent fluids of his gut, and kicking his heart into gear. Off in the distance, he spotted the source of the disturbance.
A bubble crested the water. The orb was big and iridescent, like a translucent moon. It was also full, like the moon. Inside was the unmistakable shape of a woman.
The bubble burst and the woman stepped out. Well, she didn’t step. She floated. Her pale toes glided over the crests of the waves.
Her hair was as white as the moon, her skin barely a shade darker. She looked like a star in human form. What she wore on her body was another story entirely.
Psi was certain that the garish orange frock that clung damply to her body had no human designer. He couldn’t imagine anyone putting their name on such a garment. But on her pale body, somehow, it worked.
She gave a shake and the water droplets floated off her body and the garment. As the beads fell back into the sea, Psi felt a stirring in his loins. He blinked, taking more of this creature in.
Her breasts weren’t big enough to fill his hands. Her body was more straight lines than curves. Her face was bare of any rouging or powder, and still, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. His heart pounded in his chest, the beats growing fasting and stronger like a car turning over for the first time after being left idle all winter.
The strange woman reached down into the water and pulled out another bubble. In that bubble was a shiny pair of red shoes. She sat down on the surface of the water and slipped first one and then the other shoe on her foot. She took a moment to admire her feet, even though the blood-red shoes and the neon-orange outfit clashed horribly.
Psi felt like a voyeur watching the nimble nymph as she put her feet under her. He didn’t dare turn his head to miss a single action of this graceful fairy’s ascent. The woman stood tall, elegant as a ballet dancer. She took one step onto land. And fell promptly onto her face.
Chapter Two
Vivi broke the surface of the sea in a spray of surf. Foam tickled the bottoms of her feet. Suds rolled off her shoulders. Droplets of salted water soaked into the fabric of her dress.
The dress she wore had been the height of fashion when she was a girl back in the fifteenth century. The women and witches of Camelot would parade around the riverbed in these types of gowns while on the arms of knights and lords. Vivi doubted she’d ever walk escorted on a man’s arm. She didn’t care. She could walk on her own now.
She was no longer the Lady of the Lake, cursed by a deformity at birth to never use her legs outside of the water. She wa
s Vivi on land. After years of living in the River Usk on the grounds of Caerleon where the current kingdom of Camelot sat, she was simply thrilled to be out of the water and on her own two feet.
Her powerful friends—because, yeah, Vivi had friends now—had broken the curse, but she wasn’t exactly cured. Her legs were still as useless as eyelids on a fish. To offset this, Lady Gwin, the most powerful witch in all of Camelot, and Dame Loren, the first female knight of the Roundtable, had enchanted a pair of shoes so Vivi could walk on land.
Though she loved the Nicotera heels she donned, Vivi had been wearing the same pair for a while now and they were so last season. The designer’s new batch was releasing in the morning and she would be the first in line at his shop in Rome to snag her very own pair.
She stood up in the water, her magic supporting her useless lower limbs. With a flick of her wrist, she shook all of the water from the gown. She wanted to look her best for her very first solo trip out of Camelot, not like a fish out of water. So, soggy clothes wouldn’t do.
Once her dress was dry, she stepped into the magical shoes that fit her dainty feet perfectly. Taking a deep breath as she prepared for the completion of her maiden quest as an independent woman, Vivi took a step onto dry land and fell flat on her face.
Walking was still a new skill for her. She was also on new ground here in Italy. But she was undaunted. She rose, dusted herself off and–
The world fell away from her. She was being lifted into the air. There was no ground beneath her heeled feet. No water to weave her magic in.
It was terrifying. Just like it had been when she was a child and had been cast into the cold river waters to drown. But she hadn’t drowned in the water. She’d survived and thrived.
