Enchanted Again

by Robin D. Owens

Amber didn’t know how.

  “Search and link with a fire being!”

  What? But her gift followed the demands. Her brain worked. A bond with the djinn who’d burned her, transported her. She yanked on the link.

  Bellowing djinnman appeared in her kitchen. Hartha vanished. His face contorted with easy fury. “I will burn this place to the ground!”

  Amber’s dry lips cracked words. “Mystic Circle?” She stabbed her index finger at a burner. “Sizzitt died.” That hurt. “Save Spark!”

  He turned with inhuman grace, his predatory grin seeming to linger in the air. “Little Spark small, good bite.”

  “Spark’s life for chocolate on the island. You owe me for needlessly hurting me.” Amber wasn’t sure where the idea came from but it sounded good to her ringing ears.

  He stretched and the fire in the burner rose high, the scent of rich chocolate filled the air along with wax and heated rock, and he was gone. Everything on the island was gone, too—chocolate, fondue pot, candles and all. The granite steamed.

  “Amber Ssarga,” said a high and tiny voice. Amber spun back to look at the stove.

  The burner flame had diminished. Good. A firesprite larger than Sizzitt stood with Spark…in her arms?

  “I wass called by djinn,” the firesprite, female, said. “Sspark of the Csynder clan wass not well cared for.”

  “I’m sorry. I did the best I could.”

  The sprite’s head bobbed. She seemed more defined than Sizzitt. More intelligent. Less selfish? Tears trickled down Amber’s face as grief she hadn’t expected flared within her. “There’s a three-wicked candle on the dining room table.” She swung an arm to point, realized she wasn’t moving well. Shock? Adrenaline? The aftereffects of adrenaline and near death? She didn’t know. The firesprite and Spark streaked from the kitchen into the dining room.

  Amber swayed, bent her knees until she found her balance. That seemed to settle her brain in her skull, too. “I have a variety of candles. Let me get them.”

  “Besst would be handmade. Beesswax. Not big but long-burning with a sshort wick.”

  “There’s a candle guy in the business district close by. I have some from him.”

  “I know thosse candless.” There came pleasure and satisfaction in the firesprite’s voice. “I vissit there ssometimess.” A giggle like popping corn. “Closse to Mysstic Csircle and Jenni Weaverss, and balanced magic.”

  “Close to here,” Amber said.

  “Yess. All Lightfolk like Mysstic Csircle, major and minor.”

  Amber lifted one foot, then the other, got her body moving. She turned off the gas burner and walked to the pantry and the candle storage shelf. She took down a solid two-inch-tall and wide vanilla candle. When she reached the dining room the firesprite was standing on one of the wicks Sizzitt hadn’t used, burning steadily, with Spark at the top of the flame, attached to the firesprite’s “head.”

  A tiny “sst” came.

  “Yes?” Amber asked.

  “That wass Sspark,” the firesprite said proudly.

  “Wow.” Amber was moving almost smoothly now. She set the candle near the larger one.

  “You need a candle holder. To carry Sspark. It iss little and musst be watched. Sspark is lonely and could exstinguissh. Sspark iss too ssmall to ssurvive the disstances between candless in thiss housse. If Sspark iss with ssomeone not brownie, Sspark will be ssafe. Brownie is huge and earth-to-ssmother-fire and sscary.”

  “Oh. You aren’t taking Spark with you?”

  “Sspark hass bonded to thiss housse in Mysstic Csircle.”

  “Oh.” Not to her mother, but to the place. Was that thoughtfulness or carelessness by Sizzitt? Amber didn’t think the firesprite had anticipated dying, that guarding Rafe might be fatal. But she’d fulfilled her duty.

  Loss. The first loss. Pain clawed at Amber’s insides, all twisted because of the firesprite’s death. Fear slicked Amber’s gut. “I’ll do my best by Spark.” She hadn’t known Sizzitt long, and hadn’t considered the small being anything more than an acquaintance, but there was a hurt in her heart for the loss.

  Amber limped into her study for a candle holder and a small trinket box. Spark was already on the new candle. Holding her breath, Amber lifted the candle and put it on the holder. Spark bent once, then remained steady. Opening the trinket box, Amber took out her largest “memory” ring, leaves of Black Hills gold in a large diamond shape, and slipped it on. She held up her hand. “This will remind me that I need to take Spark with me around the house.”

  “That iss good. All peopless of Mysstic Csircle are good.”

  Nice to know. Amber nodded dully. “I’ll pay you for your trouble.” She headed back to the refrigerator and the tall stack of large chocolate bars. When she turned to shout to the firesprite, she saw the tiny woman floating beside her.

  “I like nutss in my chocolate.”

  “Almonds or peanuts?”

  “Peanutss.”

  Amber slid a paper-wrapped bar from the middle of the stack, then wondered what to do with it. “The djinn took my fondue pot.”

  The firesprite beamed. “He sstill owess you. You gave him the chocolate but not the pot or the candless.”

  “That’s right.” Amber bludgeoned her mind. She was bruised and burned and Spark was safe, but what about Rafe? Fear shivered like an icy rain through her. Maybe it was the cold from the open refrigerator. Concentrate on the firesprite for now. “I have a little metal mixing bowl for your chocolate and you.”

  “I will vissit Sspark twice a day.”

  “Fine.”

  “Amber!” Rafe shouted.

  Thank God! And he was still yelling.

  The dogs went wild with barking again.

  “In the kitchen,” she called.

  “Are you all right?” he shouted. He moved fast and was with her a few seconds after she answered, gripping her shoulders. She winced. She felt like she had a bad sunburn, at least on her shoulders. Weariness hovered over her like a storm cloud, soon to crash down.

  He dropped his hands and shook his head. “Man, you’re red.”

  “Guess so.”

  He reached into the fridge and snagged the milk, dropping dirt with every move. Pred was there, too, staring at the inside of the refrigerator like it was the promised land.

  Amber took three more bars and balanced a small glass saucer on the solid chocolate. “I have pudding.” She’d made a triple batch.

  She stared at Rafe. He was filthy. He shook his head and dirt fell from him. He grinned and pale lines appeared in his face as more caked soil dropped away.

  “We took the scenic route,” he said.

  “The scenic route,” Amber repeated. Soon her brain would be working on all cylinders, she hoped. That had her thoughts winging toward her…disintegrated…car. There were traffic cams on the lights along Speer. The crash had happened near the highway. Someone would have seen. Did anyone get the fireball on a phone camera? How long had the whole thing lasted, anyway?

  “Pred and I transported in hops home,” Rafe said. He smiled down at the small brownieman. “All the spots he knew between here and the Platte.”

  Pred folded his arms across his chest. “River is farthest Hartha and I go. Want pudding.” But he didn’t meet Amber’s eyes and she thought he was lying.

  Amber shut the fridge. Everyone moved and she went to the kitchen and prepared the new firesprite her treat. Amber peeled the paper off the bar, breaking it into pieces in the bowl and setting the bowl on the burner. The firesprite cackled with pleasure and dove in.

  “You are all right,” Rafe said.

  “I think so.” But she was beginning to yearn for a large tub of cool water.

  “Better have Hartha check you out.”

  Just like that, Hartha was back. “How is Spark?”

  Amber flinched, sped to the dining room. Spark was stretching and compacting, as if it were trying to gather enough magic to launch itself to the firesprite in the kitchen. “Ther
e now,” Amber soothed. “We’re here.” She was tired but didn’t know that she wanted to sit down. Hadn’t the seat burned under her, too?

  “Tssst,” Spark said.

  Hartha clucked and shook her head at Amber’s charred and ragged clothes. “I have salve, and herbal burn-heal tea.”

  “Maybe something I could put in cool bath water?” Amber asked.

  “Of course. I’ll be right back.”

  Amber held out one of the chocolate bars to her. Hartha crossed her arms and frowned at Pred, then glanced back up at Amber, with eyes wide and her ears rotated back. “You should not think that we must be rewarded for everything we do. Friendship is not like that.” She stared at the firesprite, then once again swung her gaze toward Pred. He shrank back a bit, but didn’t take his stare off the chocolate.

  “That’s true,” Amber said, and her words came slowly, slurring with tiredness. “But when friends help friends in a great way, tokens of gratitude can be offered.” She wiggled the bar. Hartha took it and it disappeared.

  The browniefem tilted her head back to stare at Amber. “I am your friend.” Not a question.

  “Yes, and I am your friend.”

  “Give Pred his pudding and the chocolate,” Rafe said. He set the milk on the table, and tugged at a strand of Amber’s hair. A clump came off in his fingers. “Ouch.” He bent and feathered a kiss on her forehead. “Amber’s had a rough night. She deserves quiet and a bath.” His mouth curved. “You can leave the salve with me.”

  Amber looked him in the eyes and saw he was more revved than shocked. Of course. How many times had he cheated death over the years? This was just one more close call.

  “You got the dagger,” Pred said, staring at it in Rafe’s fingers. “We helped.”

  “Sure did.” He raised his hand and the dagger was still stuck to his palm. “I wonder—”

  Then Tiro was there. “You’re bonding with the Cosmos Dagger forged for the Davails after centuries of separation. Your bloodline has changed over the years.”

  “Bonding,” Amber said. “Like superglue.”

  Rafe laughed and flung out his arms and the sheathed knife flew from his hand to the shield propped up by the living room fireplace as if it were magnetized. “I’ve got both items now.” Triumph livened his tones.

  “For sure,” Amber echoed, then literally sagged with weariness.

  Rafe’s arm came around her upper back and she whimpered with pain at the pressure. Hartha looked horrified, as though she’d lingered too long without helping Amber.

  Amber gave Pred his pudding and a candy bar and Tiro a bar. Hartha vanished and was back with a steaming cup of tea that she put into Amber’s hands. The outside of the mug was cold and Amber made a surprised sound. She drank a sip. Not too hot.

  “I’ll run your bath,” Hartha said.

  “Can you take care of the dogs? They’re probably scratching the hell out of my door,” Rafe said to Tiro. The brownie transported away and the pups quieted.

  Holding his chocolate close, Pred hurried to Tiro’s small café table with his pudding and candy, his small shoes leaving dirty prints on the floor. A spoon appeared in his hand and he shoveled the treat down.

  “Thank you for helping us, Pred,” Rafe said.

  Pred paused and looked at them uncertainly, then his smile took up half his face. “Welcome.” He sat back in the chair instead of hunched over. His small chest expanded with pride. “We did well.” His glance darted to the dagger and the shield in the other room. “Very well. All of us.”

  “Yes,” Rafe said. He swallowed hard. “Sizzitt died.”

  Pred shuddered. Hartha’s shoulders lifted, framing her head, and her ears rolled down tight.

  The new firesprite rose from the metal mixing bowl. Her voice was high yet even when she said, “Ssizzit honored her contract. Her name and tale will be renowned by her family. I will tell them. I will be back tomorrow.” She flickered away.

  Rafe’s sad expression turned ironic. Amber couldn’t help it, she sobbed.

  “Finish your tea!” Hartha snapped.

  Tears mixed with the liquid as Amber followed the order. The tisane didn’t give her energy but her physical aches diminished. Her memory continued to flash images of her car exploding into a fireball, disintegrating. Of black mist and Sizzitt plunging into the water. Amber knew she’d dream of that for the rest of her life.

  With a gentle finger, Rafe brushed a tear from her cheek. Her skin wasn’t as sensitive, which was good because the tears had hurt.

  “You’re looking more pink instead of red,” he said.

  “Hartha is a very good healing brownie,” Pred assured. “Made the tea and bath herbs quick and special just for Amber. Jenni never needs burn-heal.”

  “Because she’s part djinn?” Rafe asked.

  “Yes.” Pred transported into the kitchen with his bowl, back to pick up his chocolate, then tilted his head. “I will help Tiro refinish your door upstairs. Glad you didn’t die tonight, Rafe. Glad you didn’t die tonight, Amber.” He held out his hand to Hartha and the brownie woman took it and they vanished.

  Amber leaned against Rafe. He smelled of sweat and dirt with a hint of green apples. “The caper’s over and we did it.”

  He put both his arms around her, held her loosely and rubbed his cheek against her temple. “And it looks like we got away clean.”

  “I hope so. I don’t think I’ll report the loss of my car to my insurance, though.”

  “I’ll get you a new one in the morning. I mean later this morning.”

  She was too tired to argue. “All right.”

  He tipped her chin up so their eyes met and she saw that magic still ran through him. “I have a chance now.”

  She didn’t think he had a good one, but didn’t say so, let her relief and happiness that he was alive and with her show instead, clamping her arms around him tightly. “I’m so glad we made it.”

  “Yeah.” He trailed his lips across her cheek. “Wonder what a mist-with-eyes-and-teeth is.”

  “I’m just glad we didn’t feel the teeth.” Amber shuddered.

  “Sizzitt died.” And Rafe grabbed her close. She felt an inner tremor course through him, pass to her until they shook together.

  Amber could scrounge up nothing more to say.

  Chapter 26

  THEIR LOVEMAKING THAT night was slow and gentle with an undertone of pure desperate need. They slept late, until eleven, then rose to be pampered by Hartha and Pred and Tiro with a good breakfast. The brownies seemed more cheerful, and Spark was strong and steady.

  She cared for Rafe and the brownies and loved her dogs. And worried they might die like Sizzitt.

  The news reported an electrical outage in central Denver and at the Denver Museum of Nature & Science, but commended the security staff and police for handling the threat. An inventory had been done and nothing was missing. A spokesman for the museum used his sound bite to pitch the wonders of the pirate exhibit.

  Nothing was said about a fireball near Speer Boulevard and the highway. They’d gotten lucky with that.

  Rafe had a newer model of her car delivered, along with insurance on his policy and title and registration papers. Money made a lot of things go faster.

  Amber jogged with Rafe and the dogs around the circle a couple of times, knowing he held back, but he’d have more exercise when he went to the lyceum later. The more practice he could get in with the knife and the shield in the months before his birthday and a confrontation with Bilachoe, the better.

  For a cooldown, the four of them walked around the cul-de-sac, Amber hand in hand with Rafe. This felt good and right. In her deepest heart, she wanted it forever.

  More of her neighbors were in their yards and in a fit of enthusiasm, Amber began talking to them about a social get-together for everyone to meet Rafe, in a week, the next Saturday. Tamara offered to do most of the cooking and hold it in her larger backyard. Amber accepted, hoping that Jenni Weavers would be back by then.
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br />   So she was flushed and relaxed when they returned to the house, and even more at ease after shower sex.

  After dressing in jeans and a blue shirt with three-quarter sleeves, she stopped in her office and booted up her computer. She’d been tracking down Rafe’s distant cousin, who was also afflicted by the Davail curse, and thought she’d finally found him. He was descended from a third son who’d gone west with the trappers. The curse touched that family when the sons were close to the age of the men in Rafe’s line, like some sort of oscillation.

  Since the operating system software needed to be updated, she began that process and wandered downstairs to her consulting room where Rafe was scrutinizing the Cosmos Dagger and Shield.

  She still hadn’t gotten a good look at the knife, and Rafe was a little wary of touching it in case it clung to his hand as it had the night before.

  They stood before the desk. The shield was awesome and the dagger was simply incredible. Holding her breath, she picked the knife up and felt a current of magic run through her fingers down to the soles of her feet, then bounce through her body to her head. She began trembling and Rafe put an arm around her. “Easy. It’s not hurting you, is it?”

  “No.” She let herself sink into her balance. “Not exactly.” Steady her hand. “It’s just very powerful.”

  “I wasn’t able to unsheathe it,” Rafe said. “I figured if I put both hands on it, I’d be really stuck. Can you take the sheath off?”

  She stamped her feet, hoping to rid herself of some energy and put the knife on the blotter just to show that she could, then lifted it again. Fingers curling over the grip, she took off the sheath with her left hand and put it down on the desk.

  Unlike most knives she’d seen, the sheath was less gorgeous than the blade. The weapon itself was the length of Rafe’s forearm and an elongated triangular shape, broad at the hilt and narrowing to a wicked point. Both edges were honed sharp. And the blade looked like the shield, blue with starbursts appearing and fading, but the edges were bright blue as if with flame or electricity. Beautiful and deadly.

  “Wow,” she said.

  “Yeah,” Rafe said. “It’s light, too.”