by Fiona Roarke
“I meant to say…” He paused, unsure of what would come out of his mouth next.
He shook his head and rolled his eyes, chuckling in an attempt to pretend he’d only been joking. It wasn’t a joke. He’d been compelled to say it. He shot a glance at the two older women who’d triumphantly crowed, “Poof!” and “Shazam!” just seconds before. They stood at the end of the refreshment table, holding each other up, grinning like fools, watching every moment of this mishap like they’d planned it.
Luckily, the beautiful girl in the short red cape and black dress laughed. She brushed his arm again with the champagne-soaked napkin and looked pointedly at his hand. She seemed fixated on the wide band on the third finger of his right hand. He’d taken to using the ring to cover the mark, not wanting anyone to be able to readily identify him.
She frowned at his hand. Something in the way she stared made him wonder if she knew about the tattoo. No. Impossible. How could she? She wasn’t an alien, was she?
Even though the ring was on his right hand, not his left, she asked, “Are you married?”
“No.” His unruly tongue wouldn’t let him stop there. “Truthfully, I’d love to marry you.”
“What?”
Those thought-provoking dark blue eyes fixed on his with surprise. Her gaze, while spellbinding, shouldn’t make him say foolish things.
Trying to say something different, he opened his mouth. The word, “I,” came out and he clamped his lips shut to keep from repeating that he loved her.
The two witches at the refreshment table kept their gazes riveted in his direction. The moment he locked eyes with them, they stumbled and scurried away into the crowd, laughing with seeming glee, obviously happy with themselves.
Had they truly put a spell on him? Surely not.
Chapter Three
<^> <^> <^>
Ruby didn’t know what was with this guy. Sure, he was gorgeous, but after five seconds of acquaintance he’d already told her he loved her and wanted to marry her.
“You want to marry me? Really? And you love me? Convenient, but I don’t know you, dude.”
“Something’s wrong with me.”
“I’ll say.”
“No.” He grabbed her arm, his expression pleading. “I am compelled to tell you the truth. I don’t know why, but I must.”
“Huh.” He was forced to tell her the truth? And his truth was that he loved her and wanted to marry her? Was this some sort of joke?
“What’s your name?”
His mouth opened and he started to say something, but then closed his lips and stared at her in mute dismay. What was up with this guy?
“What, is that a tough one for you?” There was something wrong with him all right.
He cleared his throat and said, “Max. My name is Max.”
“Max what?”
“Vander—” He closed his eyes and slapped a hand over his own mouth.
“Max Vander?”
He nodded, although he’d paled and a visible shudder went through him.
“So, you’re a truthteller, are you?”
He nodded again, his gaze searching their immediate area. He looked decidedly uncomfortable.
“Let’s do a test. Do you like my costume?”
Max’s focus came back to her. He swallowed hard and nodded. The hand lowered from his face and he even smiled. The color came back to his cheeks.
“I like it very much. The red color of the hooded cape suits you very well. What are you dressed as?”
“Little Red Riding Hood.” Couldn’t he tell?
He stared at her intently and a few beads of sweat popped out on his forehead. He looked like Bianca did when she tried to read Ruby’s mind. Apparently, it was difficult for her Alpha sister-in-law to read the thoughts of witches.
Ruby broke his stare when she turned around in a circle right in front of him, letting him see her form from all sides. “So, do you think this short black skirt makes my butt look too big?”
His eyes widened as he went ghost white pale again. This time when his hand slapped over his mouth it made a sound that carried a few feet away. His torso, arms and head trembled. Several folks glanced in their direction. He looked like he was about to burst into a thousand pieces.
After five seconds or so, Max seemed to get over his palsy. “I need to leave, right now,” he whispered and bolted away from her.
Did that mean her butt did look too big in this costume? Huh.
Ruby watched him move toward a couple she recognized. Bubba Thorne and his wife Astrid. They owned Bubba’s Psychic Readings, the satellite office of which was located across from her office in the mercantile building downtown.
Was Mr. Tall Blond and Gorgeous employed there? Was he an alien? Interesting.
Had he tried to read her mind?
“Who was that guy?” Viktor said in her ear.
Ruby jumped half a foot into the air.
“Stop doing that!”
“Doing what?” He gave her his best innocent look that fooled no one.
“You know what. Stop sneaking up on me.”
Viktor shrugged, but his toothy grin gave away his sneaky intentions. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I think you’re avoiding the subject.”
“What subject?” Ruby watched Max speaking with Bubba and Astrid, and wondered what had just happened.
“The subject of who that guy is that you were just drooling over.”
“I was not drooling over him.”
“I don’t know about that. Looked like drooling to me. As your brother, I need to issue formal approval before you can date him.”
“Since when?”
“Since I discovered I have a sister.”
“Whatever. You’re just being difficult.”
“That could be true. Maybe.” He laughed out loud when she gave him a death stare.
“Why are you here, pest?”
“Same question back at you. Why are you here?”
“I told you. I’m looking for someone.”
“I’m someone.”
“That’s the truth. In fact, you are a ‘special’ someone, aren’t you?” She tapped his chin twice. “Tell me again why you’ve come to pester me?”
“We have a table on the west wall of this place. Vilma made a big donation to the charity this year. She sent me over to ask if you’d like to sit with us.”
Ruby shook her head. “Maybe later. Like I said, I’m looking for someone.”
“Ooh. An evil, dangerous, paranormal criminal?”
“No. Not even close. A normal guy with a tattoo on his right ring finger. I have a message to give him.”
“Is it like a message that he’s a dead guy? Is he about to get cement shoes and tossed in the deep end at the local waterfall?”
“I don’t understand the words coming out of your mouth and I also don’t think you have the vaguest concept of what I do as a paranormal investigator. It’s not all kicking down doors and taking bad guys down, you know.”
“It’s not?”
“No.”
He shrugged. “I’d probably be bored within a week then.”
“Probably.”
A woman dressed like a cow strolled by with a crying infant who was dressed sweetly as a baby calf. Viktor grinned at the infant and the baby’s unhappy face suddenly morphed into a drool-filled, giggly smile. The mother paused to let Viktor tap his finger lightly on the baby’s nose. The baby giggled again with more drool escaping, the peal of his laughter so loud it made others turn and smile.
The mom started to walk away, and the baby’s unhappy shrieks resumed before they were five feet away. Viktor moved closer and the baby started giggling again.
“That’s so odd,” the mother said. “Usually little Bobbie doesn’t take to strangers.” She turned toward Viktor and moved her baby closer. The baby giggled and clapped his tiny little hands together in joy.
For the next several minutes, Viktor tried to leave the baby’s side. Each
time, the child cried until he returned.
Ruby patted him on the back. “Looks like you’ve gone from bad boy bachelor to big bad baby whisperer. I love it.”
Viktor looked horrified. “That’s not true.”
“It might be true.”
Another mother with a crying child passed by. The child was older, maybe one and a half or two years old, dressed as a little firefighter. Viktor didn’t even look at the kid, but the little tyke started giggling when he looked in Viktor’s direction. When the mother got a few steps away, he started wailing again, rocking in his mother’s arms and pointing at Viktor. “Back! Wanna go back, Mommy!”
Looking harried, the woman cut a glance from her firefighter son to Viktor. The child pointed firmly at Ruby’s brother. The mother took a few steps toward Viktor and Ruby. The little boy waved at him. Viktor hesitantly waved back.
Ruby leaned in and whispered, “Big Bad Baby Whisperer,” three times before scurrying away to search for her tattooed man. The blond dude she planned to avoid was still speaking with Bubba and Astrid. She went in the opposite direction to search for her quarry, vowing not to look for Max. Abruptly, she realized she’d never told him her name.
Maybe that was for the best. “Not,” said a little voice deep down inside.
Chapter Four
<^> <^> <^>
Max had to force himself not to look at the luscious woman in the sexy red hood as he hurried toward Bubba and Astrid, hoping they could help him with whatever affliction had taken him over.
“Hi, Max. How do you like the party?”
“It’s fine, but—”
“I really love your costume,” Astrid said. “Did you get the axe from Bianca’s husband? Warrick’s got a great collection of medieval weaponry.”
Max nodded and tried again to explain the recent problem he’d suffered with the beautiful girl across the room. “Yes. He let me pick out exactly what I wanted.”
“Good.”
“But something just happened and—”
He was interrupted again when a passerby exclaimed loudly how much she loved Bubba and Astrid’s alien costumes, drawing their attention away from him once more.
Maybe he’d imagined it. Maybe this was a sign he shouldn’t say anything. Maybe he was hallucinating. The woman dressed in the amazing, short black dress with the red-hooded cape was really pretty. Maybe he’d just gotten tongue-tied in a normal, everyday sort of way, and his mind had run with the suggestion planted by the odd behavior of the two witches. Love and truth, indeed.
He grabbed a glass of champagne when a passing waiter offered it to him, drinking it down in one swallow. Good stuff. It likely wouldn’t help the situation with his uncooperative mouth, but it tasted good.
With Bubba and Astrid involved in a new conversation, Max lingered nearby, wondering how long he had to stay in order for it to count as making an appearance.
His employers chatted with several other folks as Max reconsidered telling them what had just happened. The more he thought about it, the crazier it seemed. He wasn’t under a spell. He could say what he wanted whenever he wanted.
Max tipped back a second glass of bubbly and scanned the room. Almost instantly, he saw the object of his recent lovelorn affliction. The very pleasing way she filled out her short, form-fitting red and black outfit made his brain soft. Probably why his mouth went awry in the first place.
The cloak with the wide red hood looked like it was about to slide off the back of her head. If it did, her lovely dark hair with pale streaks would be showcased beautifully. Despite the distance between them, her deep blue eyes looked sultry and inviting. He could happily drown in them. As if she sensed his stare, her gaze shifted in his direction. Max quickly glanced away.
When he got the courage to look again, she was gone. Disappointment rushed through him. She probably thought he was a weirdo. He promised himself he’d make a better impression if he ran into her later. Surely he’d be able to say whatever he wanted to, without words he didn’t mean to say spilling out. Then he’d avoid her before he did something to reinforce her first impression.
The flash of her short red cloak appeared between two other guests. She hadn’t gone far. He plucked a flute from a passing server’s tray and sucked down a third glass of champagne as he headed in her direction. His steps faltered as he realized he didn’t even know her name.
He should at least find out the name of the person he planned to avoid, right? It seemed as logical as spouting his love for her after knowing her for three seconds.
The blue-eyed girl was obviously searching for someone. She casually looked at the hands of ever male she passed. Was she simply ensuring whatever man she found appealing wasn’t already married?
Max twisted the ring on his right hand, hating the need to cover up something he’d once been so proud of. He’d gotten the mark almost ten years before, on the day he turned sixteen. It had been like a rite of passage in his family.
On Alpha-Prime, Max never concealed the mark. At least not until after the incident, when he’d finally been released from criminal custody. He was lucky he hadn’t made it as far as the gulag on XkR-9, although that was where he’d been headed before his barrister’s, or rather his lawyer’s, efforts took him out of the line heading to an airship bound for the gulag several galaxies away, possibly to Max’s end.
The inmates would have recognized the mark on his finger, making him an instant target the moment he stepped foot in the gulag, but he’d been spared at the very last second. For all the good that had done him.
Well, it had kept him out of a vile gulag, but the cost of being accused of a crime, arrested for that crime, prosecuted and held in a local jail on his way to a life sentence for that crime, even though he was innocent, came with similar consequences. He was suddenly a social outsider.
At the outset, no one believed his innocence. No one believed him when he registered his plea as not guilty in the matter before the Magistrate, not even his family. That had hurt a lot. He shouldn’t have been surprised, but he had been stunned by the whole sordid affair.
He spun the ring around his finger, the habit becoming more annoying the longer he thought about his past. Beneath the wide ring was a permanent mark. Five letters identifying him to anyone who glanced at his finger. MCVIV.
Maximilian Cornelius Vandervere the Fourth was the name he’d been saddled with at birth. The Vanderveres were one of the wealthiest families on Alpha-Prime, if not the richest. He’d been known as Ilian for the whole of his life until he came to Earth.
New start, new life, new name. He became Max Vander because he didn’t want anyone to know who he’d been. Even if there was only the slimmest chance of recognition from any Earthlings here or, worse, snotty Alphas, he planned to avoid it.
Bubba, Astrid and all of the new Alpha friends he’d made on Earth had been nonjudgmental about his past. It was refreshing. His employers, as well as all the other personnel at Bubba’s Psychic Readings, agreed not to mention his past and he’d been appreciative.
The incident on Alpha-Prime had nearly broken him. He’d been railroaded into a prosecution because of his wealth and status before they discovered he was innocent.
The Magistrate in charge of his prosecution released him without fanfare. Also, no apologies for almost putting him in a gulag by mistake. But Max hadn’t cared. He was free. The air never smelled so sweet as what was inhaled “after” he was out of jail.
He returned to his house expecting to be the recipient of joyful hugs from parents grateful to learn he’d been exonerated and reinstated back into the life he’d dearly missed. Instead, he’d received a chilly homecoming. His parents had frowned and quietly looked away the moment he stepped inside his childhood home, acting as if they wished he hadn’t returned.
The servants greeted him politely, but also looked away as if ashamed to be in his presence and scurried away from him, keeping themselves busy whenever he approached.
At the end of the first
day home, his parents led him to the library for an unexpected talk to explain his new reality and why he was being treated like he had a raging case of crust fish fever, the most contagious and horrible disease on their planet.
“I don’t understand. What’s going on? I’m innocent. It was proven decisively that I didn’t do what I was convicted of and it’s also been deleted from my record.”
His father shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. The damage was done to our good name the moment you were accused, arrested and detained. The prosecution, even though it’s been revoked, might as well be stamped on your forehead.”
Perhaps that explained why they hadn’t visited during his imprisonment. His father had come to the punishment pronouncement day, but walked out when the twenty-year gulag sentence had been revealed. Twenty years in a gulag was as good as a death sentence. Unlike on Earth, where he’d read a lot about what it took to be incarcerated, there was usually no early release from a gulag for good behavior.
Max had been crushed more by his father’s desertion than the sentence, which had been soul-killing.
His barrister had been worth every single credit as he looked under every grain of sand on the planet and discovered an independent video that vindicated Max. It showed the fire-starting device Max had supposedly used to set an official building ablaze, reducing it to rubble and injuring several citizens, had been dropped in his pocket by the very woman who accused him of starting the fire.
His accuser had ended up poisoned and in a coma in an unrelated accident. Max was certain that had he not been in jail by then, he would have been accused of that crime, as well.
With each heavy chain-bound step toward the intergalactic prison ship headed for gulag XkR-9, Max’s heart had shriveled a little bit further. Ten paces from the ship’s outer hull door, he heard shouting from behind him, recognizing his barrister’s overloud voice, screaming that he had release papers for Max. He’d almost sagged to his knees in relief. Max had literally been pulled out of the prisoners’ line mere steps from complete ruin.
After Max’s release, a notice was put across all planet-wide media, letting everyone know he hadn’t committed the crime and a verified video showed he was blameless.
