by Jaye Shields
Caught completely off-guard, she wasn’t prepared for Sabin’s strong hands and expert tongue. Her back hit a tree with much force and the air that was hiding in her lungs escaped in a moan. She had never kissed a man before. Artemis had taught her long ago that men of all kinds were the worst kind of filth, and so she had remained chaste. But now the soft, determined lips kissing her with such reckless passion were becoming a welcome feeling. She didn’t fight; instead, she lost herself in the unexpected pleasure that sent shivers through her body. Then, sadly, the warrior retreated. He looked deep into her eyes and his seductive blue gaze glittered with amusement.
“Lucky indeed, Agrotera.” Reeling from the mind-blowing kiss Sabin had caught her off-guard with, Tera recovered when she caught the cocky glint in his eyes. In a quick movement, she whipped out her can of mace and sprayed him in the eyes.
“Ahhh. Gods be damned!” Sabin coiled over, his eyes no doubt a watering mess of pain.
She secretly relished the element of surprise that had allowed the once-eager Knight to experience her “can of pressurized contents.” Looking up at Sabin, her mouth was tight with a mischievous smile. Sabin’s vivid aqua irises were masked by a pink cloud, complements of the mace.
But the pink fog in his eyes dissipated due to the rapid pace of his immortal healing. “So you granted my earlier request, I see. You’re a cheeky Dryad.” When his eyes fully cleared, he smiled. “The mild annoyance was worth the salivating experience we shared earlier. And your beautiful smile.”
“We weren’t sharing anything. You stole a kiss from my lips and man-handled my body. You’ll be navigating San Francisco by yourself unless you promise to cease indulging your primal instincts.”
“Gods, why did I have to fall for a woman born of the world’s fiercest man-hater?”
“How dare you speak of her in such a way! She is a goddess. And if she were awake or watching, surely you would be vanquished where you stand by her golden bow.”
“Dryad, you seemed a willing accomplice to my affections. But no matter, for now I agree with you, we must get to the business of the Nunanish. The demons are not usually so wise, but for some reason, this one has gone into hiding and I cannot detect it since it deals no violence.”
“Which reminds me. How the heck did we get here? Never mind. I’m calling a cab,” she said as she whipped out her Blackberry and began punching the keypad.
“I walked. People on your plane are not accommodating to bipedal transportation.”
“Traffic is bad enough on the Bay Bridge without some shirtless Fabio strolling down the express way.” Finally, the cab service answered.
“Yeah, I’m calling for a pick up on Yerba Buena Island.” Tera never took her eyes off her newfound Casanova. His kiss had been both thrilling and infuriating. “Actually, I’m right near the marina. And I need to request a van.” She glared at Sabin. She definitely needed as much space as possible between them.
When the call ended, she slipped the phone in her pocket. Sabin’s eyes raked over her body. “Don’t look at me like that.” She smirked. “Unless of course, you want mace round two.”
“I want another round of something. But it’s not the spray device.”
“Oh, you think you’re cute,” Tera offered her “obviously not impressed” face.
He spoke in a sensual tone, but his words held a trace of amusement. “No. Not cute. Ruggedly handsome, and perhaps a bit mysterious for the standards of your realm.” He put his hands in pockets of his leather pants. “Have you no questions, Dryad?”
“I prefer the strong, silent type. For sure.”
He shut up, but his silence unsettled her even more. Tall and brooding, he looked capable of doing something brash and destructive.
She searched his face for an answer to her inner debate. “I changed my mind. What’s your game plan?”
“I’m going to tie you up and use you as bait.”
Okay, not where she thought the conversation was headed.
He erupted in laughter. “I’m not serious, Dryad. I doubt a Nunanish could have a care about a tree-dwelling nymph.”
“Is that supposed to be an insult?”
“No. I know the difference between a Dryad and a nymph.”
“Enlighten me.” Curiosity gnawed at her.
“Well for one, Dryads are chaste. And until I met you, I heard that they were soft-spoken, elusive creatures.”
“Elusive creatures? You make my kind sound like hideous, tormented beasts.”
“Definitely not hideous.” She watched his eyes betray a hint of humor. “And not tormented, at peace. Dryads hide to preserve themselves and their forests.”
“You think I don’t know that?” Impatience stirred in her gut. “I did hide. But one can only watch so much death before she sheds her cowardice.”
“What death have you seen from your forest?” he asked.
“How about the murder and abuse of the tribes that hunted in my woods? Have you ever seen good people, people that love the earth, taken from it?” She spoke, her words numbed from years of practice.
“Most of the death I have seen has been earned.” His expression gave away nothing.
“Good for you.”
“It is admirable that among such death, you have survived.”
There was a long moment of silence as she tried to read his gaze. Was he concerned? Sarcastic? Either way, she wanted to pinch herself. Because the ravishing beast of a man still stood before her, and she swore his eyes seemed kind.
In a lethal kind of way.
Finally, he broke the silence. “How does a fierce protector like yourself come to leave your Life Tree?”
“My Life Tree? Well, these days our government protects forests. So my job was done. And besides, more and more people kept coming to visit the giant redwoods. Kinda hard to hide in a tourist attraction. You know, if Artemis witnessed your manhandling of me earlier, you’d be a toad or a stag about now.”
And then he did something she couldn’t believe. He winked at her.
“I’d risk it, Dryad.”
Tera got an idea in her mind and began softly humming a sweet song. Her voice was ethereal, like the sound of winds rushing between mountains, just a whisper.
Sabin’s large body flipped upside down. As he struggled to look up to his feet, she wasn’t sure if he could see a tree branch wrapped around his ankle, holding him suspended in the air.
“So the legends are true. Dryads can communicate with trees?”
“I was created in a tree, of course I know its language.” She walked a slow circle around his handsome, dangling form. She whispered in song, her lips humming and in another moment the tree recoiled its strong branch, becoming firm once again as it dropped him. “C’mon, Knight, let’s get you a shirt.”
The cab pulled up, right on time.
“They do not make garments for beings my size, but I would happily follow you until I sense the presence of the Nunanish.”
“We do have beings of your size, Knight. They’re called basketball players.”
Chapter Seven
The onyx mirror was deep with darkness, but on the surface, the Goddess of Chaos watched events unfold in the Realm of the Fog. The Knights from far and wide had assembled to discuss what had occurred. When the Knight called Rowen finished explaining the Nunanish escape from the Asuras plane, the immortal warriors were deep in thought as they contemplated the best course of action to take, if any.
The Knight called Zeth spoke. “We are commanded to keep the peace and to contain demons within the Realm of the Fog, including ourselves. There are other warriors who would seek out the Nunanish, but the Knight’s job is here.”
“No,” challenged Rowen. “It was my men and I that lapsed in our duty, and we feel compelled to contain the matter.”
>
“Your Knight, Sabin, has gone already.”
In this moment, the Goddess of Chaos spied her chance to create discord, and possibly a war in the Dryad’s homeland. Sweeping her hand mystically into her onyx mirror, the Goddess blew on her palm toward the image of the Knights of the Fog, willing her essence into them.
Suddenly, uneasiness seized the Knights, leaving their bodies tight with tension. After a moment of silence, arguments broke out in a testosterone-fueled frenzy.
“You, Rowen! You are covering for your comrade Sabin.”
Another loud voice rang out. “Yes, it is suspicious that after so many years of success your Sabin has allowed a mere Nunanish to escape. Any strong Knight could contain that demon.” Zeth roared his loaded statement, implying Sabin’s obvious guilt.
Rowen was silent in contemplation for a moment.
“Sabin has chosen to relinquish his duties in the Realm of the Fog. He used the Nunanish as a reason to escape to the Human Realm and forsake his duty,” one Knight suggested.
“This is treason!” shouted another voice.
“It is the code of the order — we must execute Sabin the deserter.”
But Rowen still looked uneasy. “Sabin was a Knight to the core; he lived for his duties.”
But the warriors that surrounded him seemed convinced otherwise. “Your opinion is tainted by your friendship. Sabin must be contained and brought back for judgment.”
“He will be found guilty.”
“Which of us will go after him?” The voices overlapped, eager to action.
Three Knights of the Fog were chosen to pursue Sabin, the lost Knight. They gathered at the portal to the Human Realm, which would drop them on an island in the San Francisco Bay. Their mission: bring back their traitor, dead or alive.
• • •
On the corner of San Jose and Grand Street in Alameda, the Reed Coven was gathered at their family home. The large Victorian home was both beautiful and eerie. The gray-white house was pale and lacking in color, unlike some of the colorful counterparts in Alameda. The horizontal wooden planks were framed on all edges by pristine white brick. Crawling vines covered the entire side of the two-story house. The various levels of depth of the decorations on the façade made it an architectural feast for the eyes. The large front lawn was enclosed by a wrought-iron fence tangled with more vines and crawling flowers. From the gate to the steps of the home, every inch of the ground was covered in flora. When it was just Sparrow’s family, the grounds had been a massive jungle of random weeds that towered in height over most visitors. But since Tera had moved in, her green thumb had created an incredible oasis. Between the decorative, pediment doorway and the bay windows on the front of the house hung a beautiful trumpet flower tree, whose pendulous yellow flowers emitted an intoxicating scent in the evening. Weaving its way along the tall wrought-iron fence on the side yard was an equally fragrant wisteria.
Heavy drapes hung in each bay window ensuring privacy. The only hint that a witch’s coven had the entire house to themselves was the pink neon light in the lower front window that read “Fortunes told here.” Below the advertisement was the glowing outline of a palm and a crystal ball. Inside the home, the Coven Reed was closed for business but hard at work consulting their looking glass.
“Sparrow Reed! Do not encourage your aunts.” The voice of Sparrow’s mother echoed throughout the large home. Egret Reed was a no-nonsense kind of woman. At forty-five, she spent her time showing real estate and reading books, not doing spells. Egret did not practice witchcraft growing up as her sisters had. Although the Reed family were born Wiccans, Egret had long ago lost her innate abilities, and she couldn’t have cared less. Although her mother, sisters and daughter all lived in the grand home, it could still seem entirely too small for her sisters’ antics.
“Sparrow!” This time the voice was Melissandra’s. “We need more anise burning.” Her aunt gathered up her full skirt in one palm as she rushed here and there across the kitchen making a special tea for their upcoming ritual.
“Aunt Melissandra, I’m already choking on the herb smoke as it is,” Sparrow’s reply echoed from the divination room. The long rectangular space was meant to be a dining room, but now it served mostly magickal purposes.
Her mother’s voice boomed from upstairs. “Like I said, Sparrow, don’t encourage them. And besides, Grams is trying to sleep.”
“Mom, this is important.” Sparrow knew that her grandma wasn’t asleep at all but probably putting a stutter hex on the U.S. Secretary of Defense. Grandma Patricia Reed was wickedly political, and somewhat crazy, one could argue, but the conservative covens dared not to mess with her. “It’s about Tera and the portal.”
“Tell that to my clothes, dear daughter. My wardrobe reeks so much of anise that I’ll never show a house. My customers will think I’m a homeless hippie.”
It was Morgana’s time to chime in from a hallway somewhere in the house. “Oh Egret, get over yourself. You dress too boring to ever be considered a hippie.”
Sparrow laughed at the banter as she lit more anise, and then blew it out to continue smoking the divination room.
Morgana and Melissandra walked into the room carrying a large pot of tea and a bottle of booze. Both aunts had long flowing skirts and tops that could barely be seen from under the heaping silver and pearl jewelry. Morgana’s lips were a bright red, Melissandra’s a dramatic plum. “One Mugwort Skullcap Mix tea. Just the thing we need to ensure a successful visionary experience,” said Morgana. Next to the teapot, she set down a large, square bottle of green alcohol and three shot glasses.
“Okay, now don’t forget, after each gulp of the Mugwort tea, chase it with an absinthe shot,” Melissandra advised.
“You mean we aren’t going to light the absinthe on fire this time, sister?”
Morgana shook her head. “We don’t have time for that tonight.”
Sparrow swallowed. The last time they tried to scry this way, the visionary experience turned into more of a karaoke and conga line night than anything else. Scrying entailed a crystal that hung from a string, which acted as the channel for the coven’s mystical energies. Holding the crystal over the map, the gem would begin to move toward a spot, enlightening the practitioner to the sought-after location.
Egret’s voice called out again from upstairs. “Did I hear someone say absinthe? I told you, no more absinthe chasers on vision quests!”
Morgana responded, “Don’t worry, sister; it’s just the local absinthe, not the potent stuff.” But then she gave an emphatic wink in Sparrow’s direction.
Melissandra giggled, her crow’s feet crinkling with mischief. “You bad sister, I know this is the stuff we smuggled in from the Czech Republic.”
“Yep. But what Egret doesn’t know won’t hurt her. Just let her iron her pantsuits in peace. Sparrow darling, turn on Mozart’s Lacrimosa and let’s get down to business.”
With that, the classical, eerie opera music began playing and the ladies all sat down at the table together. A purple velvet tablecloth lay atop the round surface, with a crystal ball and a large map of the Bay Area in the middle.
The ritual was meant to be a double-whammy type of spell. The trio would scry for Tera’s location, and hopefully gain a vision of her and whatever was coming out of the portal. Sparrow, Morgana, and Melissandra raised their teacups and began chanting.
In the name of the Coven Reed
Take us to Agrotera of the trees.
Where she stands and what unfolds
By our will so mote it be.
They repeated the incantation before each gulp of piping hot tea. Then the Wiccans threw back their heads as they swallowed a shot of mint-colored absinthe. As the shot burned in their throats, they chanted once again, keeping their minds blank for whatever may come.
A full cup of tea an
d four shots of absinthe later, the moon was set and the Reed Wiccans were intoxicated and near passing out. The single song that Sparrow had played was over, and now the women sat in silence, their hands grasping each other’s around the circular table.
“Heyyy, isss this thing working?” Sparrow let go of Morgana’s hand for a moment to knock on the crystal ball. Sparrow, the coven lightweight when it came to alcohol, felt her hand collide with a full shot glass, sending it spilling across the table.
“Sparrow, don’t sever the connection!” Letting the liquid leak across the table, Morgana captured her niece’s hand within her own once more. Slowly the absinthe traveled across the velvet and eventually began soaking the map. But as the intoxicated coven looked in a daze at the spill, they noticed it traveled a determined path. Driven by magick, the absinthe pooled in a neat circle around Yerba Buena Island.
The soft tissue where their hands met began to glow, whether from the effects of the absinthe and tea or from the power emanating from them, Sparrow didn’t know. But soon the crystal ball before her began to dance with images.
“It’s beginning.” Melissandra slurred all-knowingly.
Tera’s image flickered in the crystal ball. She was standing in a forest, but it didn’t look like the Muir Woods where she would have gone with Artemis.
“Awwww,” Sparrow drawled sleepily. “Looks like someone wore her favorite leather pants. Trying to immmpress someone.”
“The Goddesssss would expect no less — heyyyy.” Morgana and the others gasped unexpectedly as the next image flickered of Tera’s back against a tree, her thighs wrapped around a large male with white hair and icy-blue eyes.
“Stud, stud, stud muffin.” Melissandra managed before she hiccupped.
The next image sent the Wiccans nearly doubling over in hysterics as Tera flickered in the crystal ball, spraying her handsome friend with mace. “Damn,” Sparrow hiccupped. “Now that’s playing hard to get.”
