Wanderers: Ragnarök

by Richard A Bamberg

  “But you haven’t given me another I can use.”

  “Well, Ophelia said you were polite,” she considered for a moment, then added, “Will you give me the same promise you gave her?” the pixie asked.

  “That I swear not to conjure by your name?”

  “That’s it,” she said.

  “Very well, I swear not to conjure by your name.”

  Her wings changed their pitch and seemed to buzz with humor. “Much better, Wanderer. My name is Pibby.”

  “Pibby? Isn’t that the name of –?”

  “It’s my name, Wanderer!” She snapped.

  “Very well Pibby. Pleased to meet you, I’m Raphael Semmes.”

  “Well met, Raphael Semmes. What brings you to my forest?”

  “As you might have guessed, I’m looking for the murderer of that young girl you referred to.”

  “So, planning on killing him once you’ve found him?” Pibby asked.

  “Probably.”

  “Fine, the only good human is a dead human.”

  “Hell, Pibby, I’ve already asked why you’re so against humans. Since I still claim to be human, perhaps you could enlighten me on what we’ve ever done to you.”

  She laughed merrily and buzzed her wings again. “A Wanderer who thinks he’s human. You’re funny Raphael Semmes.”

  “It’s not intentional,” I said, keeping my irritation from creeping into my voice.

  “Still funny.”

  “To some, perhaps.”

  “Leave the man alone, Pibby. He’s one of us,” said a new voice.

  I turned slightly and found myself eye to eye with a tall woman who was in the process of emerging from the trunk of an enormous black oak. The wood sprite was as tall as I, green of hair and of skin. Her only clothing appeared to be living vines that covered some of her anatomy, but not so much as to make me comfortable to have her within touching distance. Wood sprites, cousins to naiads, do not have the same level of siren charms, but can be just as alluring without harmful intent.

  I resisted simultaneous impulses to step back and to caress her face.

  Pibby flew past my face and lit on the sprite’s shoulder. “He’s not one of us, Gwen. He may not be human, but he’s certainly not a born supernatural,” Pibby said.

  “Not born, but definitely supernatural. Wanderers are Fate’s tools, would you lump such a being in with the humans?”

  “Excuse me, Gwen was it? Could you help me here? I’m trying to see if Pibby chanced to recognize the mage doing the sacrifice last night,” I said.

  “Gwen, yes. You are as handsome as Ophelia described you, Wanderer. It’s no wonder my cousin invited you back to her spring.”

  “Ah, yes, thank you. You’re too kind,” I said.

  “Tell me, Raphael, do you have time to dally?” Gwen asked.

  “Dally? I’ve got a few minutes. What did you have in mind?”

  She smiled coyly and twisted her head to the side to look at me. “A few minutes? Indeed Raphael, I don’t think my cousin would appreciate hearing that your dallying was for mere minutes.”

  “Excuse me? Oh, I’m sorry, but I misunderstood. I’m involved in something right now. Could I get a rain-check?”

  “If you must,” Gwen said with some disappointment in her voice.

  “I didn’t see anything,” Pibby said.

  I turned my gaze from Gwen’s face to the little person on her shoulder. “Are you certain? You were definitely in the area last night.”

  “I know where I was, Wanderer. I didn’t see him. I felt the summoning and left as fast as I could.”

  “But you’re sure it was a man?” I asked.

  “Pretty sure, I could smell both a male and a female human in the glade and since one murdered the other, then I guess the murderer had to be male.”

  “Tell me something, Raphael,” Gwen said, drawing my attention back to her.

  “What do you want to know?” I asked.

  “Which side will you take?”

  “Which side? I don’t understand.”

  She stepped closer to me and raised a palm to my cheek. Her skin was cool to the touch. “There’s trouble coming, pretty one. Which side will you be on?”

  “I’m not following you. I take no sides other than Fate’s.”

  “Perhaps you should consult with your Fate, then. I believe Verðandi has your allegiance. She should keep you more informed.”

  “Verðandi isn’t big on talking with us. I haven’t seen her in more than a decade.”

  Gwen stepped closer and raised her other hand to my opposite cheek. “Dear Raphael, you’re so young. I don’t know if you can survive the coming fight unless you choose a side.”

  I stood still, her hands cradling my face while I tried to make sense of her words. Coming fight? Did she know about Abigail’s hidden grimoire? If so, was she planning to work with the mage to steal the book? That didn’t sound like a typical wood sprite.

  “I’m sorry; Gwen, but you’ve lost me. I’m here to prevent this mage from acquiring more power and to destroy the grimoire he seeks. Is that the fight you’re talking about?”

  I stared into her green irises for another moment before she blinked and stepped back.

  “I don’t think he knows,” Pibby said.

  “Knows what?” I asked.

  “Yes, well ignorant you are and ignorant you shall remain.” She ran a finger along my jawline. “Pity, a dalliance with you would have been...enjoyable.”

  Without another word, she stepped backward until her body began merging with the oak. Pibby left her shoulder and flew up into the branches.

  “Wait, Gwen, what did you mean?” I called and tried to catch her hand, but she melted into the oak before I could stop her.

  I stood staring at the tree for a few minutes. What the hell was all that about? A coming fight that I was supposed to take sides on? That was outside my experience. Since becoming a Wanderer, I’ve fought many battles, but there has never been a side to speak of. Most of the time, it’s just me and some guy who thinks the sun rises in his pants. Sides? Was I going to have a side?

  I reopened the door back to Earth and briefly considered locking it to prevent other creatures from the elven lands from crossing. Most of my time fighting, except when the problem was a human, was spent chasing non-humans back to their world. But this door was apparently used by few except for the benign. I could spend my long life just closing doors, but most of them were little used, and many were locked from Wanderer actions over the millennium. I’d secured dozens myself.

  I decided to let Pibby have her pathway to Earth and I returned to Beast leaving the door unlocked.

  “Did you learn anything?” He growled and started his engine when I reached the fence.

  “Not enough, but it was someone who attended the party.”

  “Never did trust Wiccans.”

  “Beast, have you heard anything about a coming battle?” I asked.

  “What kind of battle?”

  “The kind you have to choose sides,” I added.

  “Sides? What kind of sides? You mean white or night magic sides?”

  “I don’t know.” I relayed the conversation I’d had with Gwen and Pibby and Beast grew silent. When it became evident he wasn’t going to enlighten me, I let the subject drop. I learned long ago that I couldn’t force information from him. He’d tell me in his own good time if he knew anything.

  We drove back to the road and around to the Vaughn estate. It was still too early to be visiting, but I thought Carl might be an early riser. If he came out of the house to see who was riding up, then I’d stop and see what I could learn from him. To my surprise, Marian Vaughn, sat on the front porch drinking coffee. I parked in the drive and shut off the engine. In the quiet I could hear early morning birds.

  “Why, Raphael. What a surprise and a pleasure to see you this early.”

  “Good morning, Marian.” I dismounted and took a few hesitant steps toward the porch. “I don’t
want to intrude, but I thought I’d talk to Carl about something he mentioned last night.”

  “You mean the Sons of Dixie.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Is he around?”

  “You ma’am me one more time and I’ll have to teach you some manners. Do I look old enough to be called ma’am?” She stood. While I had noticed she wore a house dress, I had not noticed that it was more appropriate to the boudoir than to sitting on the porch talking to strangers. It fitted her curves in a most pleasing manner and was too thin to provide any protection against the morning chill.

  I tilted my head toward her. “I am at a loss for my rudeness. I assure you I will not make that mistake again.”

  When I met her gaze, I saw she was smiling, satisfied with my response.

  “That’s better, Raphael. Please, sit down; can I get you a cup of coffee?”

  “I’d appreciate that, Marian.”

  I climbed the steps and took a seat on the wide bench across from her. She continued to smile at me. I felt a little like a prize steer on market day.

  “What do you take in it?”

  “Just coffee.”

  She nodded, opened the screen door, and went inside. While she was gone, I stretched out my senses. Carl wasn’t in the house or anywhere nearby. As far as I could tell, we were the only two people in the immediate area.

  Marian reappeared carrying two cups of coffee. She had chosen not to add a robe to her ensemble and the morning light made the shift nearly transparent as she moved beneath it. I stood to get the door for her, taking one of the cups from her as I did.

  When I sat back down on the bench, she sat down beside me, much closer than was necessary on the wide bench. She drew her legs under her as she turned sideways and laid one arm along the back of the bench. Her fingers just reached my shoulder. I wondered just how far she’d take this. Was she really trying to seduce me? I glanced at her face and noticed the predatory smile.

  “Is Carl around?” I asked.

  “No, dear, he left before sunrise. He had a pheasant hunt scheduled with some business associates. He’ll be gone most of the day.”

  “Really? I guess I should have called first.”

  “Nonsense, then we wouldn’t have had this opportunity to talk,” Marian said, sipping her coffee.

  I sipped from my own cup and kept my gaze off her shift. Even without looking directly at it I could tell the flower pattern only hid those portions of her body she wanted to be hidden. A lace doily or three could have done as much.

  How to handle a sexually aggressive woman? It wasn’t a class my mentor had spent much time on, but I’d picked up a little experience in my years. We chatted. I remained complimentary, but not overtly so. She began to caress my shoulder with her fingers while she asked about my life on the road.

  I told her boring stories about various places I’d been and she finally seemed to get the message I was trying to send.

  “Let me freshen your cup,” she said taking it from my fingers before I could protest.

  “That’s not necessary, Marian. I should be leaving anyway.”

  “Nonsense, Raphael, you’ve only just gotten here. I’ll be right back.”

  She disappeared into the house again and I was left with the very pleasing image of her backside before the screen door snapped shut behind her.

  I took a few minutes to look out across the manicured lawn and flowerbeds tucked in beneath towering pines while I worked on my escape lines.

  She was back before I had them ready. Somewhere between the coffee pot and the front porch the top two buttons of her shift had come undone. Her milky white cleavage was like a lighthouse on a dark and stormy night.

  I started to stand again, but she was through the door, thrusting my cup toward me before I could rise. I thanked her for the coffee as she sat down beside me, closer than before.

  The cup was halfway to my lips when my wards sent a jolt of warning through me.

  She’d drugged my coffee.

  CHAPTER 12

  I’ve customized my wards for everything I can imagine someone would try to do to me. Most of them have happened at one time or another and I’m always modifying the wards to take into account every new assault. The “slipped me a Mickey” ward had been one of my earliest ones, but since I trust few people to hand me an open beverage; it rarely triggered.

  I had the cup almost to my lips and virtually any diversion then would have made Marian suspicious that I’d detected the Mickey. What could I do without letting her know that she wasn’t dealing with some twenty-three-year-old novice?

  I sneezed lightly. “Uh-oh.”

  I held my cup back out to her and she took it but was instantly alert.

  As soon as she had the cup, I let out a violent sneeze and grabbed for my back pocket handkerchief. On the third sneeze, I had the handkerchief covering my mouth and nose.

  That gave me a few seconds to think while I went through the motions of fighting off another sneeze, blowing my nose, and returning the handkerchief to its pocket.

  If I refused the coffee or didn’t react to the potion she’d doped it with, she’d know I was hiding much more power than I was showing. On the other hand, depending on the potion, I could be in serious trouble if I did allow it to affect me. Marian had exposed herself as a more serious threat than I had initially expected.

  I made my decision and worked a quick subvocal spell that would protect my higher brain functions from whatever the Mickey was intended to do. As long as I had control over my mind I was confident I could counteract most poisons or potions before it could do serious harm. The spell set in place; I smiled and reached for my cup.

  Marian’s smile returned as she passed the cup back to me. “I hope you’re not coming down with something, Raphael.”

  I took my first sip of coffee before I responded. “No, just allergies. I’ll work up a potion for it later. That’s one of the enjoyable parts of traveling. Every new place has new pollens to consider.”

  The potion kicked in.

  A lust potion.

  This gorgeous woman refused to take no for an answer. I could feel its effects coursing through my body with every heartbeat. Okay, I could put up with a little-forced sex if it would keep me from suspicion. It wasn’t like I didn’t have the desire to bed her, but I’d already been smitten by the charming Cynthia and I’m a product of my upbringing. Sleeping around with a willing participant is one thing, but doing so while actively courting another is something I avoid, usually. A lust spell also dropped Marian lower on my list of suspects.

  I let the potion do its mischief, activating hormones, lowering inhibitions, and just kept it out of my higher mind. Lust doesn’t have to affect the higher brain functions. It’s strictly a lower brain, hormonal kind of thing.

  I took another sip of coffee as I felt a flush across my skin and a stirring in my pants. I met Marian’s gaze and saw her smile widen. I moved my free hand to her leg. She responded by sliding closer and setting her own cup on the little table in front of the bench. I set mine beside hers and when I sat back her fingers were toying with the hair on my nape.

  I knew I had a stupid grin on my face, but what the hell?

  My hands encircled her slim waist and pulled her to me. Her lips were warm and hungry. She ground her breasts against my jacket covered chest as our tongues danced.

  We shared a fever.

  I stood, pulling her with me, never breaking the kiss. My hands lowered to her cheeks and pulled her crotch into mine. She ground her flesh against my erection and held my face against hers as she tried to eat me alive. The potion had made foreplay unnecessary for me at the same time it had given control of my body over to those portions that didn’t care whether my partner needed or wanted foreplay.

  I raised my hands to her shoulders while she continued to grind against me. My fingers found the edges of her shift and tugged it gently off her shoulders. She dropped her hands from my head and to her sides. I lowered my lips to her neck as I slid the
shift down her arms. It collapsed into a pile of shimmering silk around her feet, leaving her naked before me.

  I bent and scooped her body into my arms, lifting her out of the fabric even I was stepping toward the door.

  My upper mind was getting into the act now and a blast of wind opened the screen door before I reached it. I let my lust find the bedroom. The bed had been made, but another gust of wind swept the comforter and top sheet to the floor.

  I dropped her onto the sheet and took an instant to visually ravish her body while I shrugged out of my jacket and kicked off my boots. She gazed up at me, her eyes partially glazed from her own lust, and part of me wondered if she’d doped both our coffees. She was wet and pungent.

  As she reached for me, she spoke a spell. There was a loud ripping of fabric and I was as naked as she.

  I heard a growl and realized it came from me as I dropped onto the bed.

  CHAPTER 13

  A couple of hours had passed before I realized the potion had worn off at some time in the interval. We lay on a rumpled sheet damp from sweat and loving. Our limbs were intertwined in whatever position we’d last orgasmed. I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. I was more sated than I’d been in at least a decade. I wondered briefly if she’d give me the recipe for that potion.

  I moved against her and she rolled until our lips touched.

  “Another, lover?”

  “Are you kidding? I’m going to need time to heal the chaffing. I think I lost some skin in places I need it.”

  She laughed, deep and throaty. It was a laugh that at any other time would have aroused me. I kissed her. Potion or not, she had given as well as she’d taken.

  “I guess you’re going to make some boring statement about having to leave. Is there really any place you need to be more than in my bed?”

  “There’s that need versus want thing. I can think of no place i wish to be more than in you, bed or not.” The lie cost nothing and brought a smile to her face again. “But I need to make a statement to the police. They insisted I come by today.”

  “I can arrange it that they’ll forget about you.”