Enchanted No More

by Robin D. Owens

  She remembered much…the dance of their loving. How their magic twined together with each brush of fingers, each slide of skin against skin.

  The air thickened with heat, with the scent of him. His hands trailed up her skin to her bra and he pulled it over her head, letting the relief of cooler air caress her. Then her bra fell to the ground and his palms covered her breasts.

  They stood there in silence. Blood pumped through her veins until she looked up at him. His eye color was so dark a green it was nearly black, and there was a crystalline edge around each pupil as if she were looking at rare emeralds…a mark of his elven heritage.

  Her breasts went heavy, her breath came faster. She reached out and slipped her fingers between buttons of the placket of his shirt, drew her hand up and felt the buttons slip from the holes, felt his light chest hair, the well-formed musculature of his chest. Her gaze dropped and she saw his pulse throbbing in his neck at the collarbone. She leaned forward and licked him there. His whole body tensed as if wound tight…. She smiled—she would love releasing that spring.

  She finished opening his shirt, her fingers feathering down his body. His stomach drew in as she reached the top button of his trousers and undid it. A raw sound came from his throat and his hands dropped to her waistband and her jeans and panties were ripped from her. She gasped. She’d forgotten his strength.

  Then she was lifted, then falling, landing softly on the thick down comforter covering the down mattress. Her skin was hot, got hotter, and she knew her eyes went blue flame as she watched him undress. He tore off his own clothes. His skin had turned brownish-red all over, a beautiful color. So much more fascinating than her paleness. He stood, looking so magnificent that she whimpered.

  She’d had sex before she’d loved Aric—with halflings and even an elf. She’d had sex after him, with humans. Aric had always been her best, the man closest to her heart. The man her body yearned for, the man whose magic entwined with hers. She could barely breathe, the sight and scent of him, the knowledge that they’d soon join, clogging her lungs. Magic bloomed in the air, doubling and redoubling, accentuating all she felt. She licked her lips, lifted her arms, called his name, “Aric.”

  He shuddered. “No one says my name like you do. Missed. You.”

  And he was on her and energies enveloped them, flaring green and gold and blue and violet—a rainbow of flashing colors. That didn’t prevent her from seeing his narrowed eyes, his rapt expression, as their lower bodies brushed, as he entered her.

  For a moment she hung in exquisite pleasure of being with him, only him, as if she’d waited centuries for him to return to her, as if every cell in her body expanded with the delight of him.

  They sighed together. Then they climbed high and soared until they burst apart in a million fragments of living flame.

  Soft music brushed against her ears and Jenni understood it was layers of wind outside her room, something she couldn’t hear herself, but Aric’s hand was on her stomach. He’d slid into sleep, and she was close. She tried to listen, since she knew the music would be gone when she woke, she wouldn’t be so connected with Aric…the lingering of magic after sex. As the wind songs lulled her to sleep she wondered what benefits he received from her magic…. Someday she would have to ask.

  Morning arrived all too soon and it was cold and gray. Jenni rose from bed reluctantly, lured to the sitting room by the scent of coffee. Outside the huge arch of the window was a white blizzard. The weather had been clear most of this winter, days Jenni thought of as blue and yellow. Startling blue sky and yellow sunshine.

  Obviously that had changed. Just looking at the sideways wind and ragged snowflakes made her cold. She cradled her hands around a mug of hot and sweet coffee, heard Aric pad in from the bedroom. “How are we going to California?”

  He grunted and she heard the slosh of liquid from carafe to mug as she continued to peer out the window, trying to see the peaks of the ranges she knew were there. No good. He joined her, wearing a dark green robe, and grunted again. This time the sound was more disgust than acknowledgment. “Tree.”

  “Good thing there’s a tree inside here.”

  “Yeah.”

  She turned to give him a kiss, saw him streaking his free hand through his hair.

  “What?”

  “I need to report in to the Eight.”

  Jenni choked on a mouthful of coffee, stepped away from him. When she got her breath back, she said, “What? On our lovemaking?” All her doubts about him rushed back. His ambition.

  His expression turned appalled. “Of course not.” He drank deeply. “But the Eight are my employers. I check in with them every morning and evening.”

  “Ah.” They kept a real eye on him, then.

  He grimaced. “If one of them is in the same location I am, they prefer that I report in person.”

  “Huh.” She glanced at an antique grandfather clock and blinked. The time was going on 9:00 a.m., later than she’d thought, though there was no way to gauge the hour from the snowstorm out the window. It was lighter than night, that was all. She took another sip. “So you don’t have to, uh, check in at any particular time?”

  He rolled his shoulders. “They know when I wake, of course…telepathically.”

  How wonderful. She shifted. The Eight could probably tell when she woke, too. Something she had never considered. She swore inwardly. Great.

  “Mental activity,” he said. “I informed them a few minutes ago of Leafswirl’s call and that there was some new development regarding the shadleeches.”

  “Uh-huh. How long is the personal report going to take?”

  “I believe that the Eight will be eager that we are on our way. We will go to Leafswirl’s tree. The royals want her information, so we have permission to visit her.”

  “Nice,” she said, but he was already moving away from her to the bedroom and it occurred to her that he might be going to get dressed. In what? “Do you have rooms here?”

  Aric stopped, glanced her way, his lips quirked in an ironic smile. “A room. In the Treefolk section of the Eight’s management level. A brownie moved my things into one of the bedroom closets here last night.”

  Of course Jenni hadn’t seen that. She nodded. “Okay.” She looked around. “Though I don’t know as I’d want this place permanently.”

  “It’s the closest palace to Denver.”

  “Eight Corp is established in Denver but the Eight don’t have homes there?”

  “Denver is too crowded. But…”

  Her skin prickled with atavistic anticipation. “What?”

  Another sidelong glance from him. “There’s a mansion at the top of Mystic Circle.”

  Yes, there was. Sometimes it was heavy with magic, but usually Jenni thought it was empty. Certainly no owner had ever come to their neighborhood meetings or get-togethers.

  “Mock Castle. Yes?” Her voice was sharp.

  “The Eight are aware of the house. Perhaps they own it.”

  “Perhaps?”

  “They don’t tell me everything.”

  She didn’t believe they told him enough.

  He drained his mug and stretched his arm to set it on a wooden sideboard. “I think the Eight keep that place as a guesthouse. That it’s belonged to them for a long time. Maybe you were even subconsciously guided to Denver and Mystic Circle by the royals.” He went into the bedroom and Jenni hurried over to the sideboard and picked up the mug in case it might be too hot or wet enough to damage the wood. But it wasn’t. Aric was careful of wood.

  His words echoed in her ears, her fingers trembled as she moved the mug to a marble insert. Could she have been “influenced” to settle in Denver after the disaster of the portal battle?

  Easily. She’d just kept moving westward. From France to England to Ireland to the eastern part of the United States…traveling, not spending much time anywhere until the sunshine of Denver seemed to bathe her and a piece of land in the city called to her—the Mystic Circle cul-de-sac.
Several of the homes had been vacant and she chose the Victorian of golden brick and fanciful round windows.

  Mystic Circle hadn’t been balanced then. The elemental energies around it had been primarily air and fire, with some earth and a trace of water. She had forced herself into the interdimension for the first time since her family had died. But when she’d stepped out, the house and the land had felt like home. Putting food out for the feral cats had brought her four, and they were good company on a cold winter night, piled on her bed. Yes, a Lightfolk dwarf had visited her asking for a record about the battle. She’d sent him away. Some elf had come for some other reason, and she’d dismissed him, too.

  She’d gotten the job with the devs—developers—of online games that had eventually brought her the Fairies and Dragons gig. Staring down at the dark dregs of coffee in Aric’s mug, she considered whether that had been of the Lightfolk’s doing and figured not.

  The Lightfolk and the Eight had left her alone after that. Eventually she opened up to some of her neighbors of Mystic Circle. Her friend Amber, who lived next door, was of gypsy ancestry with a trace of Lightfolk and some sort of odd magic Jenni didn’t recognize. They didn’t speak of magic. No one really spoke of magic or the mansion, but over the years they’d become a loose community.

  For a minute the yearning for home and Chinook was so great an ache that Jenni wrapped her arms around her self. Would she ever see the place again? She didn’t kid herself that the new mission wouldn’t be hard, standing up to the manipulations of the Lightfolk, the threat of death or worse by the shadleeches or Kondrian or some other Dark one.

  The contentment she’d felt the previous autumn seemed like paradise. Though she’d yanked out the thorn of guilt and shame.

  Aric walked from the shower and she scanned him for changes. He had the frame and muscularity of an active man. He had scars. He moved differently, more decisively. He chuckled when he found her watching him dress. Flexed a little. She smiled.

  He came to her and kissed her soundly, patted her butt with appreciation. “Dear Jindesfarne.” He glanced out the window where the blizzard still howled and swirled with snow and ice. “We’ll leave when I return. You should repack. It’s good that we are together again.” Another good kiss and he strolled from the suite.

  Maybe having Aric back in her life as a love was worth the vanishing of her old life.

  Maybe.

  Jenni packed, but Aric didn’t return. He sent the dwarfem halfling she’d met in the dormitory to lead her back to the oak in the center of the Earth Palace. The woman had chattered cheerfully with Jenni, informing her of the changes she’d helped along…several of the women had left for work outside the palace. Most were acting as liaisons between the Lightfolk and humans. For more money, and, it seemed, more respect. The dwarf halfling herself had been “persuaded” to stay—for more pay and an upgrade in the dorm.

  Jenni did notice that more Folk smiled and nodded to her as they traversed the corridors. Djinnmen and fems were either nicer—because of her new rank—or surlier, because they were friends of Synicess. Though Jenni wouldn’t have thought Synicess had friends, and that was just catty. But Jenni was human and even a little female cattiness in her thoughts felt good.

  Surprising Jenni, the halfling hugged her goodbye with a “Thanks for coming. Good to know you.”

  “Look me up anytime.” The offer escaped her without thought, but it was genuine.

  “You live in the renowned Mystic Circle. I might do that.” She smiled and seemed a lot prettier than Jenni had thought upon their first meeting.

  Aric took Jenni’s tapestry bag from her, and kissed her now-free hand with a courtly bow. His eyes were serious and his smile lopsided. “And we are off on the mission again.”

  “To your mother’s first.”

  He hesitated.

  “No?” Jenni scowled, crossed her arms and felt the weight of her pack shift on her back, like it was composed of the burdens ahead of her. “You don’t have to always wait to tell me bad news. Just spit it out.”

  He snorted, shook his head. “The Eight are interested in Leafswirl’s findings, of course.”

  Ah, there was a note of anger in his voice. Jenni guessed it was because the Eight were shuttling the Treefolk down the priority list as usual.

  “But?”

  “But they want you—and me—to take another look around the area of the Yellowstone bubble event.”

  Jenni shifted on her feet, stuck a hand under her backpack and eased it. There were two books about the battle in it. She’d taken them out and left them on the table, but by the time she got back to the pack, they were in it again.

  Aric continued, “You haven’t been to the location since it happened and they want you to check out the elemental energies…see if the area is still balanced, or if some of the smaller bubbles have lingered.” He waved a hand. “Whatever.”

  “You’d think they—”

  His large hand pressed against her mouth. She’d forgotten. All that she’d said since she’d left her room would have been monitored.

  “But it’s a blizzard out there!”

  “Not so much. Just gray and snowing. The blizzard is at the top of the peaks.”

  “Humph.” She worked her shoulders again, said, “All right. How long is this going to take?” She started to turn toward the door they’d gone through the afternoon they’d rescued Rothly, and Aric tugged her back toward the tree.

  “I don’t know how long it will take. You’re the expert,” he said mildly. “But I do know the tree closest to the area. We’ll go that way.”

  “All right.”

  They stepped into the dead tree and the greenhome, through the far side into the space of a tree that Jenni sensed was smaller. The air was colder and laced with the scent of snow. “No dryad here?”

  “No.”

  “Ah.”

  Aric’s fingers rubbed over the back of her hand. Without any words, he knew she wanted to linger here. She only hoped he didn’t know why. That was a jolt of shame to mix with her fear.

  She was afraid to go outside.

  CHAPTER 19

  AS SHE HESITATED, ARIC TUGGED HER FROM the greenhome in the tree. She gritted her teeth and moved through her fear, glad she was holding his hand. That helped.

  The real world revealed fresh snow and gray sky. The mudpots from which the bubble had arisen were plopping cheerfully. A sniff told her that some Waterfolk had rehydrated it.

  “A team of naiads and naiaders had fun the night after the bubble event,” he said, smiling. “I saw them when I had to speak with the tourists and smooth things over.” Now his smile turned ironic. “I posed as a geologist and Etesian gave me a script to follow.” Aric squeezed her fingers. “It went fairly well.”

  “If that woman who we shocked was there, I’m not surprised.” Jenni stopped to kiss him on the cheek. “You’re a charmer, you are.” She used her old British accent that she’d had when they’d been together before. The past and present of Jenni and Aric were merging, and not too roughly.

  “It was a small group, and luckily no human scientists were there to question my simple explanations, though we’ve been monitoring the rangers and all human communications. They have noticed ‘anomalies’ in the area and have sent for some experts. Etesian assures us that anything regarding the bubble event is rapidly dispersing.”

  “And to verify that is why we’re here today.”

  “Yes.”

  They’d reached the edge of the path, close to where Jenni had gone into the interdimension and the bubble had risen. Neither she nor Aric were strong enough in magic to survive if they stepped off the walk and the earth crumbled beneath them.

  She extended her senses to check on the amount and composition of the elemental energies. The area where they stood was almost evenly balanced, with just a trace more of earth energy. A result of her time in the interdimension. She didn’t know if human scientists could discern or measure a magically balanced
area.

  She strained to feel any of the smaller bubbles that had been born, but none were in the area. They might have popped or drifted away. She wasn’t even sure how many there had been, or how strong they’d been. Too much had been going on. But she figured she’d better be ready for any that occurred during the last event. The Eight would want to use them, too.

  The first rustling caught her by surprise, then a whirl of shadleeches attacked. They were fat on magic. Jenni froze, opening her mouth to scream. Only mewls came from her. Aric whipped out his knife and started swinging. Shadleeches screamed as he cleaved them. They fluttered to his exposed head, hands. One bit his ear.

  A whistling cry escaped her.

  “Get into the gray mist, Jenni,” he ordered.

  She chanted in her head. Stopped. She couldn’t leave him here.

  Go to the interdimension.

  “Won’t.” The word rattled in her throat. And since she wouldn’t, she’d better move. Teeth scraped her cheek. With a flash of fear and panic she burned it. Sucked in a breath, radiated heat around her. The things dived to avoid her.

  One step, two, toward Aric. A shadleech flung itself under his collar, latched on to his throat. Right at Jenni’s favorite place. She couldn’t stand that. She jumped forward, grabbed the thing. Slippery, not furry like it looked. Sent a bolt of fire and it fell into flakes.

  Aric clamped her to his side, whirled them around like branches whipping in a strong wind, his sword struck again and again. Using her magical senses more than her physical, she aimed, sent lightning from hands to shadleech. Burn!

  A minute later Aric and she were alone and panting on the walk. Streaks of blood were on his face, on hers. One of the damn things had nipped at her hand and it ached all the way up to her shoulder.

  Most of the shadleeches—twenty? thirty?—were gone. Incinerated by her or dead and vanished somehow. Aric kicked the corpse of one off the walk and sent it flying—right into the mudpots, where it dissolved on contact.

  Another touched the ground and disintegrated.