by Rain Trueax
When she came level with him, he was a head taller. She didn’t look intimidated.
“You uh weren’t what I expected,” she said. “I am Elke Hemstreet.”
“Marcus was your father?” he asked. Not a big surprise she’d be tall and look like a powerful woman. Also no wonder she’d looked familiar.
“You knew my father?”
He wasn’t about to tell her how. “An acquaintance. I had a few business dealings with him. I don’t do development work though, if that’s your proposal.”
“No, it isn’t.” She glanced then around the room. He let his gaze follow hers. The home was eclectic with leather sofas and chairs, Navajo rugs, Hopi pottery, sculptures, paintings of Arizona as well as dynamic abstracts.
“You have a Beringer,” she said studying the large impressionistic painting of a woman sitting on a boulder looking out over a vast expanse.
“I remember now. It was in the paper. Your sister just married him, didn’t she?”
“She did. I don’t have one though.” She smiled. “My apartment is too small for them. This room though is perfect.”
“I like their energy, and in a practical sense, his colors work well with this room and the desert beyond.” He gestured toward the view out the large windows.
“My God, that is a view to die for.” She walked to the window and stared at how it framed the boulders and beyond the mountain.
When Mitch had inherited the home after his father’s death, he had remodeled it and the window was his addition. Maybe it was the Apache in him, but he couldn’t handle feeling closed in.
“Would you like to talk on the deck?” he asked. “We are protected from the wind at least until the storm reaches us.”
She nodded and followed him through large French doors. He gestured for her to take a chair. Beyond was the large swimming pool, protected by the boulders, with the trail that led up into the mountain. He liked how his pool looked more like a desert pool than a swimming pool, imagined how she might look swimming in it. Foolish man.
“So you said you had a proposal,” he said as he settled in the chair across from hers. Adolph followed and settled at his feet. She watched the wolf.
“Is he a wolf?” she asked, not seeming intimidated.
“Hybrid.”
“He looks very pure.”
“Of course, I could not have him if was.” Mitch smiled.
She didn’t look as though she believed him. “Whatever the case, he’s a gorgeous animal.”
“He is that. Would you like a glass of wine?” She smiled again and he felt an unwelcome surge within. This woman was a risk for him.
“I’d love one. White?”
He pressed a button. “Sofia, could you bring us two glasses of chardonnay?” He turned back to his visitor. “May I call you Elke?”
“I would like that.” Again, her tone was soft, a little deep for a woman. There was a sultry quality to her as she crossed her legs, not showing more leg than was modest and yet… all he could think about was those long legs. “Is it Mitchell, Mitch, or Mr. Ford?”
He laughed. “Mitch.”
Sofia came out with a tray, two glasses and a decanter. “Will you be wanting anything else?” she asked looking with interest at Elke.
“I’ll let you know.”
Elke rose and put out her hand. “I am Elke Hemstreet.”
Sofia smiled and took the hand. “Sofia Phelps.”
When they were again alone, Elke said, “I am trying to think how to start. First of all, I loved your book.”
“Thank you.” So maybe she was a reporter after all and had lied.
“It had depth, truth, and yet was exciting, full of action. I guess you have heard all that.”
He caught himself watching the moisture on her full lips as she sipped the wine. He needed to get a handle on this unnatural attraction. He’d been around beautiful women, and nothing like this had happened. He didn’t like it and had to resist the frown that was threatening to take over his face. He didn’t want to scare her off and knew his rugged features had a way of doing that—even without a frown.
“It’s always good to hear it again,” he said, not meaning it. Now he wanted this meeting done. He heard the crash of thunder, and the sky lit up. “We should go in,” he said taking the decanter and his glass. With Adolph as his side, he ushered her into the living room just as the sky cut loose, and the rains poured down.
“What a wonderful storm.” She stood at the window watching as the rain drove into the pool. The thunder again crashed. At the same time, he saw the bolt hit the mountain.
“We needed the rain.” He was making idle talk until he could ask her to leave after the storm passed.
“Now, back to my proposal.” She handed him the folder she’d been carrying. “More or less you can see what I would like to do along with information on our small theater.”
“Wait, you want to use Vislogus in a play?” He didn’t like the sound of that.
“Just a few chapters.”
“I have turned down movie producers, who have offered me more money than I am sure your theater ever could. I am not interested in seeing it made into a play.”
“We weren’t planning to offer you money.”
He laughed. “Then even more reason to say no.”
“Would you read the proposal and about the theater and then we can talk?”
He stared at her considering his options. The longer with her, the harder it might be to say no. “All right.” He sat on one of his large leather chairs and opened the folder. The small theater sounded good. Creative, attempting to merge original thinking and entertainment, while providing a place for the actors to practice their craft. All very well but…
He read the sample script using the portion of the book where the argument was made as to from where spiritual power comes and why it needs to be used. It was well done and cleverly integrated dialogue into a challenging scene, inventing a third character, who represented the spirit guide in the scene. It didn’t change his mind. He had reasons. He looked up, and she was watching him.
“You have a stake in this, I take it.”
“I wrote that scene, but I am not the director. That would be David Jefferies.”
“Small world.”
“It can be.” The thunder crashed seemingly overhead shaking the house.
“And his brother is how you got my address.”
“That would be my secret. There are other ways than using your lawyer.”
He chuckled. “But not in this case. I value my privacy. I am careful who I let know where I live.”
“You are limiting an important work, which could reach more people if you were open to sharing it.”
“I wrote the book. That was enough.”
“Do you know Adolfo Lupan?”
He laughed then. “So that’s what you really want.”
She flushed. “Well… I did hope to meet him.”
“What made you believe he was real and not fictional?”
He saw her consider that. She was in no hurry to answer, which made him believe her real motives in all this were way more complex than she was about to tell him.
A lightning bolt flared blindingly, as it struck the boulders outside his home. He turned with Elke to see a huge red boulder with a black burn mark zigzagging down its surface to the ground.
“I’ve never seen it do that,” she said as she moved to the window.
He knew that hadn’t come from nature and grabbed her around the waist pulling her away as he twisted to protect her with his own body just before another bolt struck his window shattering it. He felt pain as shards of glass struck his back.
“Not a good room to be in a storm.” He put his arm around her directing her to his more protected den. He expected her to be shaking. She wasn’t. Adolph, who had stayed away from the windows in the storm, followed, and settled himself on his bed in a corner of the room
Mitch picked up the intercom and told Bu
ck what had happened. “Call Jeromes and tell them to send out a repairman with glass for the living room.” He laughed. “Yeah, you know the one.”
“You’re bleeding,” she said as she moved to study his back.
“Nothing much.”
“Glass might be in the cuts. Take off your shirt.”
She hadn’t asked what happened. Given who her father was, he guessed that should not have surprised him. He unbuttoned his shirt and slid it off his shoulders. He believed the cuts didn’t amounted to much. He had been enough distance from the window when the bolt hit. He felt her fingers probing what he knew would be little gashes, most just pinpricks. Only one hurt.
“I’ve never seen a window do that.” She stepped back a little. “This will take warm water, tweezers, soap, towel, and antiseptic cream.”
Before she’d gotten out the words, Sofia was in the den with a tray holding the items. The storm was still raging outside. “I can take care of it,” Elke said before she turned back to him. “Sit on one of those wooden chairs, and I’ll make sure this is clean and no glass.” She looked over then at Sofia. “I see a piece in the large muscle here.” She pointed. “I think another one… Some whiskey would be good about now.”
“Antiseptic cream not enough?” Sofia asked looking a little dazed at Elke’s taking over.
“I was thinking for drinking.” Elke grinned.
He straddled the chair, leaning his forearms on it, and felt her touch again as she began washing away blood, studying the cuts. When Sofia returned with the whiskey, she handed him the bottle while she pulled two shards.
“It stopped bleeding already,” she said as she dried his skin before applying the ointment. “You won’t need bandages. You look as though you heal quickly. You expected it, didn’t you?”
He shrugged back into his shirt. “Not all of it.” While he’d seen something like it before, that kind of playing with lightning was new. If he had expected it, he’d not have taken her into the living room. The thought of her tender skin being pierced by glass was not to be risked.
“I knew your book was not fiction.” Her gaze was hard on him.
“If you did, then you also know why it’s best it not become a film or play. It… draws trouble to those involved.” He picked up the whiskey bottle and took a big swallow.
><><><
Elke tried to think how she might get through to him, but she understood all too well his concerns. “You think anyone making it into a film or play would be at risk. Is that what you are saying?”
She looked away from him trying to get a handle on the emotions surging through her. She’d never seen a man as beautifully built. His muscles were long, strong and well-developed. Even with his shirt back on, she kept imagining his chest, the well-developed pecs, that ridged belly. Not smart, Elke, she thought with a wry smile.
“To speak of some things is a risk, yes,” he said finally.
“But you did it.”
He didn’t answer and instead looked out the window to the valley in the distance. The storm was moving north. It hadn’t been right over them when the bolt had marked the boulder and another destroyed his window. She had been shocked but understood now what had been wrong with it. No thunder. It had been a covert attack—and not of nature but from the spirit realm.
She saw glasses on a shelf. Got one and took the whiskey bottle from him, pouring herself a shot before she handed it back. She needed it. When she had thought he wouldn’t say more, that any idea of getting him to agree to a play was impossible, she moved to one of the leather chairs and sat sipping her whiskey.
In a way, she understood. “Did you interview Adolfo Lupan?” she asked though she knew the answer.
“Sure and he told me the whole thing.” His smile was twisted.
She turned then to the wolf who had risen from his bed. “Is that true?” she asked. The wolf’s golden eyes shifted between her and Mitch. “Adolph,” she added.
“You think he told me the story?” Mitch asked moving to the chair across from her. His smile looked amused.
“Adolph does mean wolf. I just meant that.”
“Did you?”
She debated then. She was asking him to trust her but did that mean she also had to trust him? It wasn’t that he would not believe her, but she wasn’t sure it would gain much either. She decided to go part way with it. “I recently had a woman come to my shop claiming she wanted me to do a spell.”
“Claiming?” He was quick to pick up on words and their meaning.
“I wasn’t sure about her truthfulness. She could have been a journalist hoping for a story.”
He rose, went to the sideboard, took a glass, and poured himself a shot. “Want more?” he asked
She shook her head.
“And you’re telling me all this why?” he asked as he settled back into the large chair watching with a speculative gleam in his eyes.
“People misunderstand magick—the real deal, not a trick. We had a group come to our shop and picket it.”
“For what reason?”
“Thinking we are witches, evil doers, my sister and I who own the shop.”
“Witches don’t exist,” he said, and this time she knew the gleam was amused.
“Of course not, but some just don’t understand that.” She put a pious tone to her voice.
“I want to repeat. My book was fiction. Adolfo was imaginary.”
“And the bolt that marked your rocks, the one that shattered your double-paned window, they were also fiction and imaginary.”
“Just lightning. The risks of living on the mountain as I do.”
She put her glass down. “Lightning without thunder.”
He shrugged.
“I am sorry for wasting your time. It seems the storm has passed, and I should go.” They neither trusted the other, and she would not get his permission to do his play. She did understand his reasons. She’d find another way to get across the truth to as many people as she could. It was important. She had seen his motives were logical. She couldn’t even deny the risks about which he was referring.
At the door, he said, “I am sorry I could not help you.”
“At least you listened. I appreciate that. Uh, could I ask one more question?”
“You can ask, but not sure if I’ll answer.” His smile turned hard.
“Do you know Ornis?”
She saw she had surprised him. If he understood magick, then he did know the demon who, at the least, influenced much of the evil done in the Sonoran Desert. If he had any of the spiritual power of which he wrote, he would know Ornis whether he knew his name.
“Is that a painter?” he asked. His crooked smile irritated her and told her he did know the demon but wasn’t about to give her anything.
“Of course. Just thought with the Beringer on your wall. Oh well, sorry for wasting your time.” She walked to her car and drove down the long drive. The gate opened before she got there and closed as soon as she drove through. She didn’t know if Ford watched her drive off.
><><><
“You weren’t very polite to her,” Adolph said trotting at Mitch’s side as he headed around the house.
“Better that way.”
“You know who she is, don’t you?”
“She’s the daughter of Marcus Hemstreet, who was a powerful wizard and another of my many mentors. Yes, I know who she is. I should not have let her come up.”
“Is she active in the craft?”
“I don’t know and don’t want to know.”
Adolph chuckled. “Yes, you do.”
“I’m going for a run. The desert smells like rain. It’s a good time, and if I see Ornis, I will rip his throat out.” He dropped his clothing by the pool and shifted into a wolf. In moments, he was on the narrow wildlife path that he took most often, letting his legs stretch out and the run take over all thought. He dug his nails into the wet sand and leaped over the bare bones of a fallen saguaro. He imagined it when it had been a small cac
tus, what it might’ve seen in this desert where man had been for thousands of years with constantly changing cultures. Then it grew old and withered into ribs, with the flesh gone. Much as he would be someday… or sooner as things were heading.
If he hadn’t known his own life would be short, that he had a price to pay for revealing secrets, which some believed must never be told, he might’ve pursued the beautiful Elke Hemstreet.
He knew she’d never remember, but he had seen her before. He’d gone with his father, who wanted to talk to Marcus about a building project in which he was considering investing. They’d come to the Hemstreet home and met in a large den. Mitch had mostly been listening to the two men debate the merits of the investment. The girls had come in without knocking, but Marcus had been tolerant of them, smiling as he sent them on their way while he went back to talking business. Even though still a girl, Elke had been the one to catch his eye. The dark hair, straight nose, beautiful, intelligent eyes, and slender build, had all found fruition in the woman.
Before they’d left that day, Marcus had pulled him aside. “There are things you need to know,” he’d said.
“I’ll meet you in the limo,” his father had said with a tolerant smile. Robert Flynn had no mystical powers beyond drawing audiences to want to see every film he made, even as he approached his senior years. He had though recognized Mitch’s abilities, the training he had already received from the other side. He had approved and maybe it was even why he’d suggested Mitch come with him that day.
Marcus had told Mitch of the battles to come. “Someday,” he had said, the words engraved on Mitch’s brain even after all those years, “you will be fighting for your life and possibly being asked to make the ultimate sacrifice.” Mitch had said nothing as he wondered why tell him that now. “Because,” Marcus had said, “you know it don’t you?”
Mitch had nodded.
“You will be a great warrior. I know things that can benefit you and maybe help you go through those years.”
“And you want to teach me?”
“More is the case-- must.” Marcus had smiled. Handsome as the man was, his smile was even more devastating in its impact on the younger man. He was eager to learn all he could be taught. “I may not have long, “Marcus had said, “so we can’t waste time.” Mitch had looked at him with curiosity, wondering what that meant, but Marcus didn’t say.
