by Robert York
Bart and Race glanced over to the place I indicated, a sobering expression shown on their faces as Wilmar shot them both a smug yet confident look clenching his hands into tight fists for added effect. His rough powerful hands making a well oiled leathery creaking sound further punctuating the threat.
Bart was the first to speak.
“I am Bartholomew, Miss Thorne’s personal assistant,” he said.
“You are both Vampires are you not,” Wilmar asked curiously.
“We are,” Adrianna chimed in. “Is that a problem for you giant?”
Wilmar shook his head then said.
“No Miss Thorne, but I will pray for your souls.”
Wilmar looked in Races direction.
“And you are a Werewolf, yes?” Wilmar asked.
“Yep, Race is the name, howling is my game,”
Race looked Wilmar over, smiling.
“You look like a big old Sherman Tank... Mind if I call you Tank?”
“No, my name is Wilmar,” Wilmar said flatly.
Race’s amiable smile faded as quickly as it had appeared.
Wilmar leaned down close to me placing a hand to the side of his mouth whispering.
“What is a tank,” he asked.
I grinned as I replied. “I’ll tell you later.”
I handed Wilmar back his hanky now stained with a bit of my blood. He took it stuffing it in one of his pockets then he removed his coat. Bart moved toward him. Wilmar turned his coat around to survey the damage Bart’s blades had done to it. His coat probably looked like the arm of an expensive couch right after a cantankerous cat got finished sharpening its claws on it.
“My apologies about your coat, I didn’t know at the time you were an ally.” Bart said, no emotions of regret or apology in his tone.
“Your blades it would seem, need to be sharpened,” Wilmar replied turning the coat for all to see.
His coat didn’t have a mark on it. No slashes or cuts of any kind even though Bart went to town on it, viciously slicing into it with his twin blades. I turned back to the spot Bart had attacked Wilmar. There were still tufts of fur evident dancing on a light breeze over the well-trodden snow. Bart’s expression was comprised of disbelief with a hint of puzzlement; in fact we all had that sort of expression on our faces. In the midst of the silence that followed I caught a distant echo of pompous laughter. I looked from each person in turn realizing it didn’t originate from any of them. Then the peel of laughter grew louder.
Merlin.
Not only did he stop Wilmar’s attack, calming him down with the angel appearing illusion, he also repaired the big man’s coat, a minor yet impressive feat. It would seem that all the stories I’d read about the person so many people referred to as the First Wizard were true or at least based in fact. Merlin cast three complicated spells in as many seconds and he didn’t even break a sweat. OK… Yes technically I agree that because Merlin was now a spirit residing inside my brain he was incapable of breaking a sweat, but you know what I mean. It took next to no effort to pull those spells off. It occurred to me that Merlin just might be the equivalent of what Mozart was to music or what Michael Jordan was to basketball.
“God works in mysterious ways,” Wilmar said through a wide knowing smile.
I didn’t have the heart to tell him what actually happened. That’s one thing I couldn’t do to him or anyone for that matter. Which was to place doubt in their belief structure. God may have had a hand in what was going on; then again he may have not. I live in the supernatural world. A world filled with dangerous magical creatures, strange places, peculiar objects and powerful immortal beings that defy description. A world well over ninety-five percent of this planet’s population doesn’t even know exists. I’ve ridden dragons, dueled other Wizards, danced with Elves, arm wrestled Trolls, haggled with Goblins, played tug of war with Werewolves and most recently I’ve been tempted by a Vampire. However, in my twenty plus years I have yet to meet an Angel. That in no way means they don’t exist, nor does it mean their boss doesn’t either. It’s always good to err on the side of caution. So I believe in everything until it is proven not to be true. I was beginning to feel the cold deep inside my bones once again and wanted to find someplace warm.
“Which way to the camp,” I asked Adrianna.
“We’ll take you there now,” she replied. “Tilly has been beside himself since you’ve gotten yourself lost, he’ll be glad to see you.”
I smiled faintly. I actually missed the little guy. I turned to Race.
“Are you going to change back into a wolf or just let it all hang out,” I said gesturing in the general area of his… Nakedness.
He glanced down at himself.
“It ain’t like it’s something you never seen before,” he said unashamed of his appearance.
I rolled my eyes as Race’s form shimmered and a large black wolf stood in his place. Race the wolf let out a huff shaking his head. He bounded fifteen feet away from us, barked a few times and then headed off into the trees.
“I guess he wants us to follow him,” I said to Wilmar. “Just watch where you step, don’t want to be tracking his steamers all over the forest.” I added chuckling to myself.
We all turned following Race as he led us to the camp.
Chapter 22
We approached the cave in which Barnabas and the rest of our party had made camp. The cave itself was screened from sight by a line of trees that obscured the entrance from any passersby. Barnabas or Tilly had placed a heavy curtain over the outside of the entrance, which I assumed was to help keep out the elements. Race bounded up to stand five or six feet away from the cave’s entrance giving a few quick high-pitched barks. After a moment, the flap opened with Barnabas emerging from within, a relieved expression on his face. Which was then marred by the look of sudden surprise as Tilly, my Cob Elf pushed his way between Barnabas’s legs galumphing toward me.
“Master,” he shrilled excitedly. “You’re alive!”
Wilmar sidestepped Tilly’s mad rush as he collided with my legs nearly toppling me over. Luckily, I had Adrianna there to help hold me steady. I placed my free hand on his back, giving it a few quick friendly pats followed by a nice strong hug.
“I’m glad to see you too,” I said through a wide smile.
“Well, I see you managed not to get yourself killed,” Barnabas said walking up to us.
That was his way of saying “Nice to see that you’re all right.” If Barnabas ever showed any genuine emotion toward me I wouldn’t know what to do. Take up drinking or hard drugs I suppose. Perhaps both.
“I missed you too,” I said as Tilly released me.
Tilly turned to Wilmar extending a hand.
“Wilmar!” He exclaimed. “So nice to see you again,”
Wilmar stooped deeply to take the Cob Elf’s offered hand. He did it with a gentleness and grace I thought not possible for a man his size.
“Tilander Duggins, I am glad to see that you are all right,” Wilmar replied.
Tilly let go of Wilmar’s hand moving up beside me. Barnabas turned to Wilmar extending his hand.
“How did you end up babysitting my apprentice,” He asked gesturing in my direction.
Wilmar took his hand giving it a friendly shake before he released his grip.
“It is a long story, had I know that he was your apprentice, I would have instructed him in the art of remaining quiet” Wilmar said glancing in my direction cracking his knuckles.
I simply shrugged; there was no argument to be made there.
“We’ll have to see about that… Anyway, come inside and let’s hear it. I’m sure you have many questions yourself.” Barnabas said turning back to the cave.
He opened the flap with his left hand beckoning us all inside with his right. Adrianna held my arm as the others filed into the cave past Barnabas. Tilly lingered questioningly at the opening beside my mentor.
“Are you two coming,” Barnabas asked.
“We’ll be along
in a moment, I need to speak with Solomon,”
Barnabas shrugged entering, pushing past my worried Cob Elf. When the cave flap closed shutting prying eyes off from our interlude, Adrianna turned to me.
“What did you want to talk to me about,” I asked dubiously.
Her eyes regarded mine as though she were searching for something deep inside them. She said.
“I haven’t acted this way toward a man since I was a young woman,”
An embarrassed smile touched her lips.
“You had me worried when we found you were no longer with us… If you only knew the thoughts that raced through my head of what I imagined may have happened to you,”
Taken by complete surprise as to the nature of this conversation, I moved closer, pressing my hand against her cheek.
“I’m fine,” I said, my voice shaking.
For added reassurance I stepped back letting my staff fall to the ground as I made a slow revealing circle giving her a complete unobstructed view of my uninjured body.
“See, no cuts or holes, I still have my arms and legs as well as all my fingers,”
Holding up both hands with palms facing me, I purposely kept one finger bent in a way that may make someone believe that I had lost that portion of my digit. With a mock gasp mixed with a feigned look of surprise I fanned out my fingers giving them a sly waggling.
She smiled, which made some of the worry for me bleed away from her expression. Adrianna closed the short distance between us taking my hands into hers.
“I don’t know what it is about you Solomon Drake but you make me feel young with a deep sense of happiness I haven’t felt in ages,”
“I’d be lying if I said that being around you didn’t make me feel almost the same way… Other than the young part… I mean… The age thing between us… You being so much older and all... I stammered, my words trailing off into an awkward silence.
She quirked an irritated, yet patient eyebrow as her smile faltered minutely. My yapping it seemed was endangering this wonderful moment. Score one for the male intellect. No worries. Time to implement plan “B” to salvage the situation. Then I said.
“I’m just going to stop talking now,”
“Thank you,” she replied.
She let go of my left hand; her hand rising to my face with her middle and index fingers extended. They caressed long looping circles over my bottom lip.
“I never thanked you properly for saving my life Solomon… In all my years, no man has done so selfless an act for me,”
I think I may have blushed at that point. I was by no means a hero nor did I consider myself one. I did what I did on instinct because she was in danger, we all were. I probably would’ve thrown myself in front of anyone to protect him or her and if I were in a similar situation in the future I’d do it again without hesitation. I’m more creature of habit than hero, however before I could respond disputing those kind words, her hand was behind my head guiding my lips to hers for an unexpected yet welcomed kiss. I wish I could say that I composed myself as many of my favorite leading actors from the golden age of movies. Actors like Cary Grant or Clark Gable. They’d take control of a kiss, imposing their strength and will on the female lead or at least that’s how it would play out on the silver screen. In reality I melted into the kiss like a bar of chocolate left in the sun.
My eyes languidly falling closed to the sensation as my arms encircled her delicate frame. Adrianna’s lips, warmer than the air around us were still chilly against mine. They felt like the first delightfully frozen taste of a cherry flavored Popsicle. Her silky lips felt deliciously soft against mine, moving at a leisurely electrifying pace. Be it from the act of kissing Adrianna or the effects of her Vampire venom, my lips tingled with unbridled delight. Her lips pressed tighter against mine with her urgent need. I thought I’d lose the tenuous control over my body when I felt her searching tongue part my lips. When mine met hers the smoldering embers of my passion I’d been successfully holding in check up to that point ignited into a roaring fire of lust and desire. My arms desperately pulling her closer to me holding her tighter as her arms did the same. Whatever this was between us, be it want, love, need, lust or passion both of us now were entwined in its ever tightening coils. I didn’t know how long we were like that. Two people caught in a riptide of heated passion. Not thinking, just letting go of constricting inhibitions allowing instinct to take over.
It was glorious.
Nothing this good lasts forever and I felt Adrianna’s desperate needful want ebb. There was a distinct reluctance on her part at breaking our kiss. Breaking our embrace. I didn’t want it to end either, but she pulled gradually away. Her eyes were closed as she nibbled at her lower lip when I opened mine. Perhaps she’d kept them closed to linger in the moment just a bit longer before reality had to be let back in. When her eyes finally opened they had a content satisfied quality to them. She then smiled apologetically as her fingers went to my lips gently wiping at them.
“Lipstick, sorry,”
I shook my head dazedly as though the effects of an anesthesia were wearing off, leaving me in a blissful euphoria.
“I’m not, does the color look good on me,” I asked humorously.
She scrunched up her nose disapproving at my suggestion, though there was playfulness in her response.
“No,” she replied seriously. “Peach Parfait would go better with your complexion than Plum Velour,”
“I didn’t realize there was such an extensive palette of lipstick colors,”
“You have no idea,” she said as I lost myself in those green eyes.
“You know where I come from a handshake more often than not will suffice as a thank you,” I said, and then added. “But I think I like your kind of thank you far better,”
She grinned, her eyes lingering on mine as our lips moved casually closer for another kiss. The cave flap opened abruptly, Bart poked his head out from within. The daggers he had aimed in our direction were palpable.
“Ms. Thorne may I remind you that time may be of the essence, how long will you indulge this fascination of yours,” Bart piped.
Her expression faltered replaced with one of simmering anger. She let out a frustrated huff then said.
“We better join the others,”
She turned heading into the tent, I scooped up my staff following a few paces behind. Adrianna fixed Bart with such a piercing glare that he averted his eyes as she passed. I caught the look only from her peripherals, which made me want to slink away. As I passed, Bart’s hand caught my arm in a vice like grip halting me in place and then he whispered.
“When this is over mortal she will cast you aside as nothing more than a fleeting infatuation,”
He released my arm pushing past me into the cave heading to stand over by Adrianna, who had by now returned to her reserved aloof manner, hopefully directed more toward Bart than myself.
Tilly hurried up to me, relieving the burden of my pack and staff, giving Adrianna a suspicious glance as he moved to a bench to stow my things.
Wilmar lingered near the entrance of the cave gawking excitedly about the interior.
“May I offer you some refreshments,” Barnabas asked Wilmar in a patient tone.
Wilmar slowly bobbed his head in assent. His eyes roving with childlike wonder around the cave. I haven’t a clue how long he may have been standing there - I was busy with other important matters - but it appeared he’d been wonderstruck for a while.
“Coffee, tea, carbonated beverage, hot cocoa or water,” Barnabas continued.
“Cocoa if you please,” he responded distractedly.
I’m only guessing mind you, but I think it may have been the fifteen hundred square feet within the cave that made Wilmar speechless or possibly the fine rugs and tapestries that gave it a more homey feeling. Then again it may have been the antique oak dining table with eight chairs placed around it flanked by a matching credenza filled with fine china and silverware. It may have also been the roun
d fireplace made from roughly chiseled stone encircled by comfortable red velvet chairs with matching ottomans. But if I were a betting man, I would’ve said it was the six large book cases filled with first editions of hard bound books that caught his attention the most, mainly because his eye lingered on them the longest. The cave looked less like a cave and more like a finely decorated vacation home.
“May I take your things for you Sir,” Tilly asked Wilmar.
“No,” Wilmar said coming back to himself. “No Tilander, I will keep them... Thank you.”
“Very good, Sir. I’ll have your cocoa in a moment,” Tilly said turning, bustling away.
Barnabas moved to the chair at the head of the previously described table. He drew out his chair as he beckoned Wilmar to have a seat at the table.
“Please have a seat so that we may discuss recent events,” Barnabas said cordially.
Wilmar hesitated.
“You will forgive me for not sitting down, but I do not believe that my weight will be good for your delicate chairs.” He said, a slightly embarrassed tone in his voice.
“Pish Tosh,” Barnabas said. “Why, I’ll have you know that the Grand Ogre Ferg Ravenchoker sat at this table in that very chair,” He said indicating the chair in question. “And he didn’t have any issues with my delicate furniture.”
The corners of Wilmar’s mouth turned up in an indulgent grin. The big man inclined his head pulling off his long fur coat, draping it over one of the red velvet chairs as he made his way over to sit in the chair across from Barnabas. Wilmar settled his formidable weight onto the delicately crafted chair. He hovered for a moment before committing his entire bulk to the operation. Satisfied that he was in no danger of ruining one of the finely matched dining room chairs he relaxed.
Adrianna moved closer to the table but didn’t sit down. Bart followed her movements, however he stood a respectable distance away. Race had changed back into his human form strutting around like a prized rooster surveying a barnyard for babe hens without any regard for the rest of us having to view his more naked bits. He moved nonchalantly over to one of the comfortable chairs by the fireplace. He was just about to hop over the back of it when Barnabas’s voice rang out in rebuke.
