Knights Magica: An Urban Fantasy (Rosie O'Grady's Paranormal Bar and Grill Book 5)

by BR Kingsolver

  Getting inside wasn’t a problem. Hanging around without attracting attention took a little more effort. Eventually, Muller left his office. I didn’t know where he was going, but I managed to work my way ahead of him. Turning around, I walked toward him.

  We approached each other, and I turned on my smile.

  “Good morning, Under-Marshal,” I said while saluting him.

  It took him a moment, but he stopped, smiled, and returned my salute.

  “Sergeant O’Grady. How nice to see you again. I didn’t expect you back in town so soon.”

  “My unit was told to stand down for the next seven days, so I have some unexpected leave time.”

  “Ah, yes. And how do you plan on spending all that time?”

  I looked down at my shoes, then up at him through my lashes. “Well, I really haven’t made any plans, so I’m open to any exciting ideas. Any suggestions for a girl alone in the big city?”

  “I might have some. Are you available for dinner this evening?”

  “I would like that. Should I come in uniform? I noticed that sometimes women on leave wear civvies. I’m not sure what’s appropriate.”

  “Oh, I think you should dress in any way you’re comfortable. When we’re off duty, I don’t think we should stand on ceremony. Are you staying at the same place?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “I’ll pick you up around seven.”

  Trying to hide my grin, I went back to the hotel, changed back into civvies, and walked to the Fae pub to meet Oriel.

  He showed up in civilian clothing, driving a thirty-year-old compact French car. Not at all what I would normally expect from him, but definitely discreet. We drove out to a wooded area west of the city. It was a pleasant trip, until Oriel suddenly swerved off the road into the trees.

  I screamed and shielded. But instead of crashing into a tree, we drove right through them. It took me a few panicked breaths to figure out that we were driving along a road through an illusion.

  “Damn you! Warn me before you do something like that!”

  He was laughing like a crazy man, and I wanted to slug him. The only thing that stopped me was that he was still driving, and I couldn’t tell where the illusion stopped and the real trees began.

  After fifteen minutes of terror, we emerged into a clearing with a giant white-polka-dotted, red-capped mushroom growing in the middle. The grass sparkled, changing colors from green to yellow to pink and back to green again. The surrounding trees seemed to loom over us like beings from a swamp-thing movie. Oriel stopped the car and turned off the engine.

  “We’re here.”

  “In the middle of a psychedelic hallucination?”

  “You wanted a master illusionist, didn’t you?”

  We walked up to the mushroom, and he knocked on the stem. A door opened, and a short green-haired woman stuck her head out.

  “May I help you?”

  “Roisin sent us,” Oriel said. That was news to me. The last time I saw Roisin was in Ireland.

  “Ah, yes. Do come in.” She stood back and ushered us through the door. Inside was a very homey country lodge with a high arched roof. The curved beams came out of the floor, and it appeared each of them was a single piece, from the floor on one side to the floor on the other. In between the beams the walls were stone, fitted together without mortar.

  As to our hostess, she was a little over five feet, with pixie-cut grass-green hair. She was obviously female, slender with small breasts. Her legs seemed a little too long for her body, and when she waved us to sit on a couch, her fingers were also too long for her hands.

  She had large, sharply slanted eyes with slit pupils, sharp cheekbones, a heart-shaped mouth and a pointed chin. Her face was so similar to Roisin’s that the two women could have been sisters.

  “I am Muirgen,” she said, pouring tea from a pot on a low table before sitting in the chair across from us. “Yes, Roisin said you would be coming.”

  She took a sip of her tea, then leaned forward and stared at my face for a moment. “You are the ley line mage. Interesting. So, you need some charms. Tell me your story.”

  “You know about the corruption of the ley lines, I assume,” I started.

  Muirgen gave a very unladylike snort and waved her hand. A ring on her finger was set with one of the Knights’ star rubies.

  “Everyone in the world knows about the ley lines. That wasn’t what I asked. Tell me your story. You need my help, my charms. My price is a story. Roisin said it would be worth my time.”

  She gave me a thin-lipped smile, sat back in her chair, and sipped her tea.

  Although I had been fairly open with Oriel, I hadn’t told him everything about my past. There are some things a girl would rather keep to herself, and a lot of things weren’t any of his business. I briefly glanced in his direction while I tried to order my thoughts, and Muirgen laughed.

  “Oh, you’re shy.” She waved her hand, and Oriel froze with his teacup halfway to his mouth. “Don’t worry about him. He’ll never know he missed anything.” She pushed a plateful of cookies—or biscuits as the English called them—toward me. “Now, your story.”

  It was late afternoon when I finished talking. I told her about my life, starting from what I could remember of the time with my parents in Singapore, through my training and work with the Illuminati, the destruction of them and their city, and what had happened since I got off the bus in Westport. She didn’t ask any questions, just refilled our teacups and urged me to eat more cookies.

  When I finished, she asked, “So, what is your plan to recapture the Heart? Tell me what you need to do.”

  I told her, and she leaped to her feet. “Come with me.”

  “What about Oriel?”

  “Oh. I forgot about him. Don’t you think men are more charming when they’re silent? Never mind.” She waved her hand, and I watched him finish bringing the teacup to his lips.

  “Now, come with me.”

  Oriel started to stand.

  “Not you. Erin.”

  I followed her through the house, past the kitchen, and into her laboratory.

  For the next hour, she worked, molding clay and leaves into shapes, then casting spells. When she finished, she approached me where I obediently sat on a stool watching her. She held out her hand.

  Three small objects sat in her palm. One was white and looked exactly like the cartoon ghost from a children’s TV show. The next was a naked woman, only an inch tall, with pale skin and black hair. The third was a silver ring interwoven with a green vine imbedded in the metal.

  “Now,” she said, “here are the runes and spells to activate them.”

  The spells weren’t difficult, and after about ten minutes, she said, “I think you’ve got it.”

  “How long will these stay active?” I asked.

  “The ring is good only for one use. One person. The others will work unless they are broken or burned.”

  “I don’t know how to thank you.”

  She grinned and shook her head. “Don’t you know? You don’t thank the Fae. I asked a fair price for my work, and you paid it. Roisin was right. I haven’t heard such a fascinating tale in centuries.” She leaned forward and kissed me on the forehead. “But if you get a chance to stop by again, I would love to hear the ending to this part of your tale.”

  She led me back out to the front room and showed us out.

  When we got in the car, Oriel asked, “Well, did she say she can do the charms you need?”

  “I’ve already got them. I’m supposed to meet Muller in less than two hours, but please, can you drive a little slower than you did getting in here?”

  Chapter 22

  Oriel dropped me off at the downtown hotel. I went in the front door and out the back. Sometimes the dual hotel setup was inconvenient, especially when I was in a hurry.

  At the other hotel, I quickly showered, pinned my hair up, threw on some makeup, and dressed in an LBD with low heels. The dress was modest by some stan
dards but wildly sexy from what I’d seen of Knights in civvies out on the town. The hemline was two inches above the knee, and although it had a high neckline, it also had a built-in bra and a keyhole décolletage.

  I made it back to the first hotel with five minutes to spare.

  Muller walked into the lobby, looked around, and then froze and his eyes widened when he recognized me. First stage, mission accomplished.

  “You look very nice,” he said, approaching me and holding out his arm.

  I slipped my arm into his. “So do you,” I murmured. “As always. Quite dashing.”

  His eyes lit up, and he smiled.

  A car waited for us outside, and he helped me into the back. A driver and another Knight sat in the front. We pulled out and fell in behind another black SUV. A quick glance behind us showed another one following us. Standard procedure for high-ranking Knights traveling in Westport, but I hadn’t seen that in Salisbury or the areas north toward Sarum and Stonehenge.

  The driver took us across the river and headed west, the way Oriel had taken us earlier in the day. I had a quick, wild image of Muirgen greeting us at her mushroom turned into a country inn, then dismissed it.

  We passed through two villages before slowing and pulling into an old country manor house in the third village. It was surrounded by beautifully manicured lawns and gardens bursting with late-spring flowers. A doorman came out to open my door and took my hand as I stepped out. I didn’t have to pretend to be wide-eyed. It wasn’t a castle, but definitely a couple of large steps up from what I expected.

  Inside, a front desk signaled that it was a hotel as well as a restaurant. A little brass plaque said, “Built 1623.” Only a few tables in the restaurant were occupied, and we were led to one by a window overlooking the gardens. As we walked past a couple being served, I saw that the chef fancied himself a gastronomist and his dishes as works of art. The combination of white linen tablecloths, fine crystal and china, and waitstaff in starched white shirts with black bow ties signaled that the prices were way out of line for a casual dinner.

  “This is very nice,” I said to Muller after we were seated. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in a place like this.”

  He beamed. “Yes, I like it very much, but I don’t come here often. It’s not as enjoyable unless one has a charming companion for dinner.”

  I followed his lead, let him recommend dishes I should try, and ordered the cheapest things he suggested. The wine came, and as before, I drank as little as I could without him becoming suspicious. I did notice, however, that he drank less than on our previous date.

  But he really didn’t have to ply me with alcohol. I had dressed sexy for him, we were out in the country in a place I couldn’t easily get away from, and there was a hotel room directly above us. I silently bet myself that he had a room already reserved.

  Dinner was very good, dessert divine, and I ordered an Irish coffee to go with it.

  “That is the best meal I’ve ever had,” I said. “Under-Marshal Muller, I’m not used to luxury like this.”

  “Please, Erin, when we’re out like this, call me Reinhard. It’s so much less awkward.”

  I blushed and looked down at my lap. “But, you’re my superior officer. I couldn’t presume.”

  “But I insist. Come, finish your coffee, and let’s take a walk in the garden.”

  I glanced out the window. The sun had set, but there were some lights providing illumination in the garden.

  “Yes, that would be nice.” I took a drink of my coffee and put my folded napkin on the table. “Shall we?”

  Muller raised his hand, and the waiter came with the check. Without hardly glancing at the bill, Muller signed it and handed it back. That confirmed that he, or perhaps I should say we, were registered guests. I silently chuckled to myself. Knights didn’t wed, so we wouldn’t be Mr. and Mrs. Smith.

  The garden was pleasant, though the evening was cool. I hadn’t brought a sweater or a jacket, and my usual way of warming myself was off-limits, as witches couldn’t shield.

  “I should have brought a sweater,” I said, “or studied a spell for warming myself. I’m not a very accomplished witch. Most of what I know is directly connected with my work.”

  “How is your circle involved with the work out at Sarum?” Muller asked.

  That surprised me a little, as he should have known exactly what I did. “We work with the wards guarding the primary installation at Stonehenge,” I replied.

  “The wards guarding the ley lines?”

  “Yes.” I stopped and looked at him. “I assumed you were familiar with what we do. You’re in charge of security, aren’t you?”

  Muller reached out and drew me closer. “There are several different duties involving witches at Sarum.”

  I took a deep breath. “I’m not involved with all of that, but I have been present for all the important spells that are cast.”

  “I just wondered. At certain times, mages are barred from the facility at Stonehenge.”

  “When the ley lines are disrupted, as they are now. Yes, I participated in the ritual.”

  We were so close that I had to turn my face up to see his. He leaned down and kissed me. I froze at first, then relaxed into the kiss, and wrapped my arms around him. The kiss deepened, and suddenly, he took a step forward and pushed me backward against the trunk of a tree. His hands slid over my body, my ribs, down over my hips, and one hand cupped my ass. His other hand slid up to my breast.

  I broke the kiss and moaned. “Oh, God.”

  The hand on my ass slid lower, picking up the hem of my dress.

  “Please, no, Herr Muller. Please. I’m not that kind of girl.”

  He pressed his crotch against me but drew his upper body back slightly. “I want you. Don’t deny me.” He squeezed my breast, and I let out another moan. “Don’t deny yourself.”

  He kissed me again, and I let his hands roam wherever he wanted.

  I broke the kiss again. “Not here,” I panted. “People could see us. Take me back to your place, or my hotel, if you wish.”

  “I can do better than that,” he said. Putting his arm around me, he walked me back to the hotel. We bypassed the restaurant and the front desk, going directly to the stairs.

  He opened the door to a corner room and stood aside for me to enter. As soon as he closed the door behind us, he was all over me. I had to slow him down a little, afraid he might tear my dress. Putting my hands on his chest, I pushed him away.

  “Wait.” I reached up to my neck and unbuttoned the dress, in the process touching two of the charms I was wearing under the collar. Although I had tried them in front of the mirror in my hotel room, I held my breath.

  One of the charms made me invisible. The other one created a simulacrum, a doppelgänger. I took a step back and began directing the product of Muirgen’s magic. It had no will of its own, but looked and felt exactly like me, or so she had told me. I had to be present to tell it what to do, and I had to mouth whatever it said. It couldn’t do anything on its own, or anything very complex, but it didn’t have to. I needed it only to do something very basically human.

  My image stripped out of her dress, leaving only her black lace panties on. From there, Muller took charge. Unfortunately, I had to stand close enough to hear whatever he might whisper so I could answer appropriately if needed. And I had to direct her hands, mouth, and legs by sending her mental images. It was awkward at first, but soon I got the hang of it. Like playing a video game using a mental interface.

  I had been trained as a courtesan. In my role of spy and assassin, training in the carnal arts was considered part of my toolbox. And if a person is taught from a young age—starting at puberty for me—that, what they’re doing, is morally righteous, they never question the orders they receive or have any qualms about their actions.

  Other than two occasions when I worked for the Illuminati, I had never been recorded having sex. Those occasions were part of blackmail plots, and I had never paid much
attention to the photos in one case or the video in the other. Neither had porn ever held any attraction for me. So, watching myself have sex, in essence directing myself in an erotic stage play, was rather fascinating.

  The difficult part was that I didn’t have any feedback. I couldn’t feel her, and so I couldn’t feel Muller touch her. And I discovered the most difficult thing was faking an orgasm. Watching her when I tried, she seemed a little half-hearted in her effort. Luckily, as with most men, he didn’t seem to worry about it too much.

  After they finished, I made my simulacrum get up from the bed and go to the bathroom. I followed her in, took off my clothes, and touched the charms. The doppelgänger vanished. I flushed the toilet and went back out to join Muller on the bed.

  We petted and kissed a bit, and he told me how beautiful I was. I told him he was the best lover I’d ever had.

  When he got frisky again, I excused myself to the bathroom, invoked the charms, and sent Erin2, as I began to think of her, out to play with him again. He was a very randy man, and I spent a lot of time going to and from the bathroom that night.

  In the morning, after another trip between the bed and the bathroom, I took the third charm and invoked it, putting the ring on my pinkie finger.

  We got dressed and went downstairs to eat breakfast. If I was a woman with any shame, I would have been embarrassed at wearing an evening dress to breakfast. Nothing like broadcasting that you hadn’t expected to spend the night but did. But I was in operational mode, and I strutted my walk of shame. I had planned the operation, and it was going down exactly as planned.

  When we went back up to the room, I let Erin2 seduce him again, while I cast the spell Muirgen had taught me to go with the ring charm.

  After Erin2 returned to the bathroom and I joined Muller on the bed, he said, “What would you say to a transfer? Come to work with me. I have need of a witch who knows what’s going on.”

  I turned my face away. “I-I don’t know.”

  “It could be very beneficial to your career,” he said, reaching for me and pulling me against him.