by Pepper North
Something caught her eye. A strange fluttering motion seemed to ripple in the antique mirror that she had brought with her when she moved out of her parents’ home. She’d always loved the gilt frame that encircled it. Heavens knows as a teenager she’d spent enough time peering into it, hoping to be transformed into a ravishing beauty magically.
As she walked forward to look closer, Violet saw her reflection. Still no ravishing beauty but she considered herself nice to look at with long deep brown hair and the eye-catching violet eyes that had inspired her name. Her lips were full and usually smiled with an enjoyment of life. She brushed her bangs out of her eyes and leaned closer.
There! There it was again. It looked like a butterfly was trying to flutter its way through the mirror. Violet reached a tentative hand up to the mirror and touched the cool surface. A dramatic flash of light burst around her, and Violet felt herself pulled forcefully through the mirrored surface.
She tumbled forward and pressed her shaking hands against a sparkling white marble floor. Glancing up in confusion, Violet scrambled to her bare feet and looked around in shock. This was not her apartment. She clutched the front of the blouse together in her hands. She was in a large room decorated as if it was a receiving room in a medieval Italian palace. She turned to see the twin of her mirror hanging behind her on the wall. She raced back to it, slapping her hands frantically to the cold surface. It was solid. She ran her fingers along the sides of the heavy frame but found nothing. Violet turned shaking to press her back against the wall. She had taken a self-defense class last year, and she remembered the instructor stressing that this was the only way to be safe from at least one side. It was also a good way to get trapped, but she wasn't going to think about that possibility.
Looking around the room, Violet was bewildered. The room she was in had a mixture of old, new, and weird items all gathered together. In that corner was a desk with a laptop computer but over there in front of the lighted panel was an old-fashioned spyglass. There was a cabinet on the opposite wall filled with antique apothecary jars and vials.
“Where am I?” Violet whispered to herself just to hear her own voice and know that she was awake. “What did they put in that margarita?”
A deep voice came from the arched doorway to her right. “I wondered when you would arrive. It is 7:23. One minute after your birth, twenty-two years ago.” She twisted her neck quickly to look at him. He was massive - at least seven feet tall with a wide chest and shoulders. A black beard and mustache covered the lower third of his face. His shiny black hair was braided intricately down the back of his head, and the tail of the braid lay thick and heavy over his shoulder. Dangling from his left ear was a polished, intricate steel earring.
“Ummmm, I’m not sure where I am. There must have been some mistake. I know this is going to sound crazy, but I just touched the surface of my old mirror and . . .” Violet attempted to explain.
“And you fell through the mirror landing here in my study,” he completed easily. “Welcome to your new life,” he said dryly. “I have been waiting for you to become an adult and come to me for many years, Violet. Now, let’s get you settled in,” the man began as he waved his hand in an intricate pattern through the air.
Violet felt her clothes begin to slide from her body. She attempted to hold on to each piece, but they slipped through her fingers. Finally, she stood in front of the strange man wearing only her white lace bra and panties. Wrapping her arms around herself to shield herself from his view, Violet blustered, “I don’t know how you did that, but you have no right to take my clothing, sir. Give them back immediately. Who do you think you are?”
With a casual wave of his hand, her arms straightened and froze by her sides. “Your old clothes are no longer necessary for you. You’re not in Atlanta anymore. Here, I decide what you wear or don’t wear.” He flicked his fingers, and her bra and underwear disappeared.
Using all her strength, Violet strained to cover herself, but she was held in solidly in place. She opened her mouth to scream but found her lips sealed together. “Aarrrrggghhhh!” the muffled sound stilled in her throat. She watched in horror as the man approached her silently stopping several feet away. His ice blue eyes ranging over her exposed body as he gestured once again, and her feet slid across the floor to stop in front of him.
“I am Garrick. You were matched with me twenty-two years ago. I’m assuming your earth government has not revealed its agreement to allow the collection of children to who are the destined ones for the Sorcerers of Bairn?” He chuckled at the look in her eyes. He waved a finger releasing her mouth to speak.
“Are you mad? There isn’t any earth government. There are separate countries all over Earth that make their own rules and treaties. And really? The Sorcerers of Bairn? I can’t think of anything that sounds more made up! Maybe the term destined ones!” indignant words burst from her mouth before once again with a finger movement her lips were sealed. “Aarrrrggghhhh!”
“Now, I can see why your destiny completes mine. Your form is beautiful, but your fire and spirit will keep me on my toes for a millennium. Since you have amused me, I will answer your questions. The leaders of each country on Earth were gathered at the great hall. Each decided to sign the agreement so that they would be returned to Earth safely. There are many destined ones here from many countries. You see, the Sorcerers of Bairn are blessed at birth to receive many powers. We take a lifetime oath to practice and hone our magical abilities, but we do not achieve our full power until our destined one reaches maturity and appears in our homes. You are very lucky to be my mate. I already have extremely strong powers. You will make me even more powerful.
Garrick walked toward her. His size loomed over her as he approached. “I have been waiting for you since before your birth. I welcome you, Violet, to my home. I hope you will be happy here. You will never return to your old life. Already, your life there has been erased.” With a click of his fingers, a window appeared to show the view of Violet’s parents standing in mourning clothes next to a newly dug grave. The imaged ended as it narrowed in to show her mother blowing a kiss toward the casket as it was lowered into the ground. With another click of Garrick’s fingers, the picture dissolved.
“It will be your choice to live looking back at your past, or to explore the possibilities that reach into the future.” He reached a huge hand toward her and Violet felt her arm straighten to raise her hand to lay upon his. “It is done,” Garrick said ominously, and a lightning bolt of energy jolted down from out of nowhere to surge painfully through their joined hands.
Instantly tears of agony welled into Violet’s eyes. Garrick waved his other hand through the air, and a cooling burst flowed across her burning skin. Holding their hands together, he looked deep into her eyes. “I am glad you are here, Violet. I will take good care of you. I promise.” And he caught her gently as she fainted and crumpled to the ground.
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Excerpt From The Magic of Twelve: Marigold
Marigold propped her chin on her hands and stared at the screen. Today, was her birthday. She was twenty-two. She sighed sadly and shrugged her shoulders. “A twenty-second birthday wasn’t that important,” she tried to convince herself as she answered the requests that had been sent to the library’s reference desk. Unable to focus, she stood to stretch her back and shoulders. “Might as well get some coffee to stay awake,” she told herself.
On the way to the new coffee lounge designed to attract young teens and adults, she passed the large bulletin board announcing the library’s theme for the month: Mysterious Mysteries. She smiled as she considered herself as far away from mysterious as possible. She’d started working in the library as a teenager shelving books. Marigold had been painfully shy in those years. The books didn’t judge her big glasses or her thrift store clothes. She’d saved every penny of her salary to cover the small portion of her tuition that scholarships hadn’t covered. Marigold raised her deep brown eyes t
o thank Mrs. Thompson, her guidance counselor, who had helped her locate and apply for all kinds of scholarships. She wouldn’t have gotten a degree without her help.
Mrs. Thompson had been so pleased when Marigold had visited to thank her in person after graduation. They’d talked about the future and Marigold’s decision to become the reference librarian in their town. She smiled remembering Mrs. Thompson’s trademark move of propping her reading glasses on her head when she was going to ask a tough question. She’d laughed when the observant counselor had asked about her personal life, probing to see if she had someone special in her life. Somehow, Marigold couldn’t lie and make someone up. She just shook her head.
“Well, maybe you need to get your nose out of a book now and then,” she’d suggested kindly.
Marigold’s eyes filled with tears and she ducked into the restroom to compose herself. Mrs. Thompson had passed away two weeks after their conversation. The cancer she’d been fighting secretly for years had finally overtaken the strong woman. Marigold had attended her funeral. The family had been astonished by the number of former students that had traveled back to their hometown just to attend and honor the wonderful woman.
Deciding to remember the great stories she’d heard that day from everyone, Marigold wiped her tears away. “Maybe, I do need to get my nose out of a book!” she told herself looking in the mirror. She checked the time and realized that she should be out in the lobby greeting the children for Story Time. Speed walking back to her desk, she quickly picked up the book that she’d selected for this month’s theme of Mysterious Mysteries and jogged out of the reference area. She could get coffee later.
The kids had begun to gather. One of her regulars, Samantha ran to wrap her arms around Marigold’s thighs. Instantly, the young librarian smiled and patted her head affectionately. In thirty seconds, twenty small children surrounded Marigold. They all wanted to talk to the “book lady.” She herded them acknowledging a bandage on one small finger, a tall tale of flying out of his bedroom window from another, and she agreed that she was wearing very ugly shoes today. Samantha had been sweet enough to share that fact with her. Soon, she had worked her magic, and everyone was seated somewhat quietly around her on the floor. From her seat on the raised ottoman, Marigold raised her finger to her lips and waited for everyone else to copy her. Instant silence fell over the group of children as each tried to out quiet the other.
Holding up the book she’d selected for today, Marigold read the cover to her eager audience—The Day that Yargle the Yak Disappeared. She opened the cover and began reading as she showed the brightly colored pages of the storybook. The main character was an enchanting red panda, Tashi, who was searching their home in the Himalayan mountains for his friend Yargle. It introduced a lot of animals that the children had never seen as well as some familiar ones like the giant black and white panda. The story was funny as Tashi looked everywhere but one place. The kids could see in the pictures where Yargle was hiding just out of sight from his friend. They all tried to help him by calling out helpful suggestions. Finally, Yargle sneezed, and Tashi turned around. The mystery of Yargle’s disappearance was solved.
Marigold had just read the last line and was closing the book as the kids clapped when something weird began to happen. A tingling feeling enveloped her body. The kids’ claps became pointed fingers and concerned chatter. She looked down at her hands, and she could see through them. She said the first thing to come into her mind so they wouldn’t be scared. Her lips pronounced “Abracadabra!” and their faces disappeared.
Marigold’s bottom hit a beautiful mahogany wooden floor with a soft thud. “My ottoman didn’t come with me,” she thought very pragmatically as she noticed that she’d lost the book as well. “What in the world?” she began as her brown eyes scooted along the floor trying to make sense of the change. They stopped at the sight of massive leather boots. Her eyes rose slowly over muscular thighs in tight pants, a trim waist, broad shoulders, and a handsome face. His expression was one of amusement as one thick eyebrow raised before her eyes.
“Marigold! I am very glad to see you. We’ve been waiting for the time of your twenty-second birth for…well, twenty-two years.” The deep voice rumbled across the space between them.
“Where am I?” she asked struggling to her feet. She looked at him suspiciously. “How do you know my name?
“We have known your name since the morning that you were conceived,” he replied patiently.
“Ooookay,” she whispered. She had been teleported into the home of a crazy man that thought he was a king. Who really used the royal we, anyway? She dropped her eyes to the floor focusing on those ugly shoes to give her something to hold on to. She tried clicking her heels three times and saying, “There’s no place like home,” three times in her mind. She opened her eyes to find the giant man still looking at her with mirth.
“Can I go home, please? I don’t want the children to be afraid because I’ve disappeared,” she asked meeting his eyes bravely.
Waving a dismissive hand, the man said easily, “That’s not possible. Your life is here with us now. Welcome home,” he said decisively.
“This isn’t my home. You can’t keep me here,” she said searching the room for a door leading out. As she turned her head to look behind her, Marigold’s deep brown eyes met an exact duplicate of the man before her. Overwhelmed, she sank down in a chair nearby where she could see both men. “There are two of you,” she whispered.
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