The unedited first draft for The Coven's of Misty Haven will be posted one chapter on the fifth of each month, beginning February 2017. Watch for it here.
Chapter 1
By the
Cover of Night
The Dream
Brielle
lay on a large stone slab. Penned like a wolf. Eleven hooded women encircled
her. Deep chants echoed, and candles blew in an angry wind, their flames
undiminished. Her heart rate quickened, and her chest strangled with fear. The
smell of fertile soil thickened the air. Normally that would have brought
comfort, but although no ropes bound her, she was unable to move. Her senses
reeled with the feeling the soil might encompass and bury her any moment. Someone
moved toward her, one-slow-step at a time.
Brielle
saw nothing under the thick cloak staring down at her as an arm rose and the
chanting grew louder. Blue light flashed, increased in intensity until it moved
and glowed like cold fire within the open hand descending to her forehead. A
wolf howled in the distance. Brielle couldn’t breathe. Heat rushed through her
cheeks on impact, settling on the right side of her face like a hot, burning
flame.
Brielle
screamed, slammed her hand over the burning cheek and sat up in bed, all in one
motion. The heavy earthy scent from the clearing in her dream still thick in
her nose. Her chest heaved, as if she’d run one of her marathons. The other
hand rested on her throat. Darkness fed her fear, as a tree’s branches
scratched the window sill and cast shadows on the wall as if it were reaching
for her. A chill breeze made her shudder. Her porcelain doll’s stare from the
bureau seemed a cruel sneer.
A dream ... Just a dream. It seemed so real. Her cheek still
hurt. No, it hadn’t felt like a dream. Something was wrong, out of place. Who were those people? She threw the
covers off and sat on the edge of the bed. The room was cold, she reached for
her robe and slipped her feet into a pair of sandal slippers.
Ticking
from an old wind-up clock that usually brought comfort echoed through the room
leaving goosebumps on her flesh. Sweaty fingers rubbed her covered arms.
“Is
somebody there?” she whispered.
No answer.
Only a dream. She shuffled to the
door and flipped the light switch, illuminating the room. Everything appeared
normal.
She took a
deep, calming breath, A good herbal tea would make her feel better.
She
stepped into the hall and let out a startled cry when a floorboard creaked. Stop it Brie! There’s nothing there, but
the lecture didn’t help. She moved forward, faster than usual to the kitchen,
turned on the light and stood with her back to the wall. After a few minutes,
her heart stopped trying to beat its way through her chest.
Pushing a
clump of coppery hair out of her eyes, she reached for a cup and grabbed a box
of chamomile tea. While the water heated, she checked the cupboards for valerian root. The bitter herb was just what she needed to fight the tension
and get back to sleep.
After
steeping the mixture, she sat at the table and sipped the hot liquid until her
pulse slowed and breathing became normal. This was the fourth day in a row
she’d had that dream. What could it mean? She took another sip of the bitter
drink. Maybe it didn’t mean anything. She’d been reading too many horror
stories lately.
A thump
resounded from another room. Brielle turned, staring as if she could see
through walls. Did something fall on the roof? That was the most likely
culprit, but it seemed to be in the house.
Maybe mom
was still up? Standing, she placed the half-empty cup in the sink and stuck her
head in the hallway.
“Mother?”
she whispered, not wanting to wake her if she was asleep. Brielle tried again.
No answer. She headed toward her mom’s bedroom.
Flipping
the switch, light filled the hall, then it sizzled and went dark. Brielle flicked
it up and down. Burned-out. She
followed a slight glow at the end of the hallway.
Another
thump. Brielle jumped. Maybe something fell from the wall, or off the coffee
table? She reached the end of the narrow space, confirming the light came from
her mother’s room. She shivered and peeked through a crack in the partially
open door.
There were
candles on sconces and hanging from glass holders against burgundy walls. Her
mom always had strange tastes in decorating. She rarely used electricity.
Brielle opened her mouth to speak but froze when she saw a pitch-black wolf,
pebbled with white. Red stars glittered on the side of its nose. What the hell? Her mother and Aunt Jewel
knelt on the floor in front of it, tensed but honoring.
Brie’s
eyes narrowed. She rubbed at them, trying not to shake. This was even stranger
than the dreams.
Shadows
shifted, and the wolf’s body lengthened. Furry legs turned into human arms and
limbs that stood upright. Skin absorbed dark fur, and a man stood naked before
them. Brie cupped a hand over her mouth. The creature had the physique of a man
in his twenties, with bronzed skin, muscular and sleek. Light amber eyes seemed
to glow in the candlelit room. Salt and pepper hair made him seem older. Red
stars were branded onto both cheeks above a short-cropped beard; Thirteen on
each side, the two in the centers, larger. They sparkled and faded with the
candlelight.
Everything
became eerily silent, and Brielle wondered if her mom was even breathing until
she finally spoke. Brielle breathed a sigh of relief, wondering if this was
really the woman who raised her?
“Master
Pagan. Welcome to our home, but may I ask why you’re here?”
Pagan shifted
irritably. “You know why. Your daughter is of age. It’s time for her to be
placed in one of the communities.”
“But I’ve
tested Brielle. She has no power, or little enough anyway. Nothing of any
value.”
“The
Paladin Circle has a differing opinion.”
Mom shook
her head. “But I’m not lying, I don’t understand.”
“You’re
correct, the girl has little power, but you’ve always known that Vaden said
Brielle has a future in the communities, and Vaden’s sight is never wrong.”
Mom lifted
her head. “A future as a Witch? Without power, that’s impossible, Master.”
Brielle
tilted her head. A Witch? Like riding on
brooms? Pointy hats, double double, toil, and trouble?A prank to scare kids and make money on Halloween costumes. Not likely.
“After
she’s promised, and marked, she can return home. The community might even pay
for her education if she truly shows promise.”
The burn
on Brie’s cheek flared. She clenched her teeth to avoid crying out. Whatever
that fire in her dream was, the burn proved it wasn’t normal. She fought not to
hyperventilate.
“But that
could take years,” her mother said.
“Rita ...”
Aunt Jewel said quietly. “You and I were fine when we were taken and placed in
Misty Haven.”
Brie’s
breath caught. Taken! Where is he going
to take me?
“Brielle
will be too,” Jewel continued.
I should run. Grab a few things and
climb out my window. They can’t turn me over to this man, can they? Mom won’t!
“Please
don’t do this. Brielle has dreams and a scholarship. She’s enrolled in medical
school. That will be an asset to the communities in the future.”
Pagan’s features
softened for an instant. “Of course, and she will have the opportunity to go
after she understands who and what she is.”
“But—“
His voice
rose to an echoing growl. “The decision’s been made. This is not a debate.” His
dark eyes narrowed. “Or are you questioning the wisdom of the Circle?”
Her
mother’s hands fisted against the floor. “No,” she murmured.
Pagan
turned toward Brielle, his amber eyes flashing with anger. He lifted one arm.
She screeched as her body flew back, crashing into the wall. She screamed,
holding her stomach as she dropped down to the carpet. Her mother pushed at the
floor with her hands, unable to rise. Her voice turned frantic.
“Pagan.
Don’t do this.”
The
wolf-man entered the hall and hovered above Brielle. She stared up at him with
watering eyes, her body pulsating with pain.
“Didn’t
your mother teach you not to eavesdrop?”
Brielle
opened her mouth, but couldn’t get enough breath to speak.
“Well?” he
demanded.
“Ye-yes,” she
croaked.
The
Paladin stared for a minute. “A future indeed.” He glanced back at her mother.
“If you’d raised her near Misty Haven, this would have been easier for both of
you,” he said in a gentler voice. “You have five days, Rita.”
He shrank,
almost instantly, black and white fur again encompassing a wolf’s body. His
amber eyes glared at Brielle. She recoiled, as he turned and jumped through her
mom’s closed window, leaving it unbroken behind him.
“Brielle!”
Rita ran to her daughter and pulled her into her arms. “Are you alright?” she
asked, looking at Brie’s bruised arms and legs.
“Who was?”
Brielle shook her head. “What was that thing?”
Rita rose,
and she and Jewel helped Brie off the floor.
“It’s
better than last time,” Rita said.
Jewel
smiled a little wistfully.
“What do
you mean than last time?” Brielle asked. She brushed her clothes off and winced
at sore muscles. Her mother put an arm around her shoulders and led her to the
kitchen. Jewel brewed more tea while they sat at the table.
“Should I
make toast?” Jewell asked.
Brielle
shook her head, waiting for someone to answer her questions. Frustration and
fear overwhelmed her. “Tell me what the hell is going on!”
Jewel
placed three cups on the table and sat.
“That was
Pagan,” Aunt Jewel said. She wasn’t really Brie’s Aunt, but had been like
family since the day Brielle was born.
“I got
that. What’s the circle he talked about? What’s the communities, why is he a
wolf? And where is he planning on taking me?” Brie hadn’t meant to raise her
voice, but she was not in the mood for evasion.
“Pagan is
a Paladin. A Witch from the ancient First Coven, tens of thousands of years
ago,” Rita said, running fingers through Brielle’s hair. “I know he frightened
you, and he is gruff, but he is an honored man. A guardian who protects the
balance between natural and supernatural communities.”
“You’re
telling me what he said was real?”
Rita
nodded once. “The reason he was harsh with you isn’t your fault. It’s a grudge
he holds against me.”
“What does
that mean?”
Rita
looked at Jewel, who sipped her tea and put the cup down.
“It means
your mother was dating Pagan when you were conceived.”
Brie’s
eyes narrowed. “You are not trying to tell me that man is my real father, are
you?”
“No,” Rita
said. “Robert is your Father, but I was seeing Pagan when I met him. I should
have broken things off, but I was young and liked the prestige and attention
seeing a Paladin got me. Our relationship should never have happened.”
Her mom’s
lips formed into a tight line. Brielle knew she was lying, but about which
part?
“Is that
why he’s taking me away from you? Because of some old grudge?” A tear trickled
down Brielle’s cheek. She wiped it away.
Jewel
placed a hand on her arm. “No, baby. He’s not taking you anywhere. You’re going
to Misty Haven to become part of the coven you’ve been assigned to. You’ll be
near me.”
Brielle
shook her head, suppressing her fear and growing angry. She pushed her chair
back, and placed her cup on the table harsher than she intended. “I’m going to
Misty Haven. It doesn’t matter what I want, or what I have planned?” She
scowled, trembling with anger. “Nobody cares about that, but I’m supposed to
care about what they want? She gestured the direction where Pagan stood only
minutes earlier. “Strangers I know nothing about?” On top of that, you’re lying
about something.” She pointed at her mother and then dropped her hands. “I’m
sorry, but I’ve had enough. I’m going to bed.”
Brie
pushed the chair in, hard, and ran to the door.
“Brielle!”
her mom shouted.
Brie
stopped but didn’t look back.
“You don’t
have a choice. When you’re born with power, you are born to be a part of a
coven. Since your power is limited to a few dreams, I thought they might overlook
you.”
“Why
should I give a shit about what they think I was born for?”
“The
alternative is death.”
Brielle
spun, her face pale. “If I don’t do what they want, they’ll kill me?”
“It’s more
than that, but the short answer is yes. You are going to Misty Haven.”
Brielle
stormed out of the room. I should have
run away when I had the chance!
In Chapter 1
Brielle wakes from an ominous dream, She hears odd sounds and finds her mother and Aunt Jewel, bowing to large wolf. After almost being attacked for eavesdropping, her mom explains she is a witch and has to be trained in the supernatural community of Misty Haven.
Chapter 2
The Sovereign
Khayrie sat in a cold wooden Sovereign’s chair, as two
vampires were led into an arena used only for executions. The community called
it 'The Well,' referring to a cistern of blood. Executions were rare these
days, but there had been a time when they were common. As the human world
changed its values, the supernatural communities followed, but the death
penalty couldn’t completely be abolished due to the predatory nature of the
supernatural species. The laws were sometimes gray because of those most
dangerous, and whether vampire, shifter, werewolf or witch, they all knew
massacres were unacceptable. Killing to survive or to defend oneself was much
different, than trophy murders where the objectives were challenge and fun.
The Well had been placed at the edge of the woods, away from
the town, in a place where the mists were most often thick as fog. He
appreciated that few people came to observe the executions, and most of the
small arena’s gray wooden chairs were empty.
Khayrie shifted, uncomfortable on the hard wood. He hated
killing of any kind, but he would do what had to be done. Even knowing he might
never receive the forgiveness of his closest friend. The Vampire, Yvain, had
contested his decision numerous times, but there were no alternatives. Khayrie
took a deep breath at his simplistic apology. “I’m sorry, Yvain. But two
vampires massacring twelve people is nothing short of a feeding frenzy.”
He never apologized for his judgments. His values were the
reason the first coven had appointed him Sovereign, but he knew the pain it
would cause his friend, and he would never have wished for it.
“Vampires are predators by nature, but they aren’t sharks,”
he’d added.
Yvain ran a hand across his nose and walked away without
another word. Now he stood across the arena that was surrounded by the two
disciplinary covens, never looking the Sovereign’s direction.
What would I have done if I were in his shoes? He would have
done what was right, and he believed Yvain would too if he had been the one who
made the decision.
Misty Haven’s Executioner, Omaron, entered the arena and
knelt before Khayrie. His large size made his black robe look awkward. Khayrie
nodded his permission to begin, Omaron rose and approached a vampire with short
golden hair, dressed in Regency style shirt and breeches. He’d been barely more
than a boy when somebody created him. Khayrie wondered where that vampire was,
as the Executioner pulled his charge to a flattened tree stump.
“Edwin Meeks,” Omaron said, his voice enchanted to be loud
enough for all The Well to hear. “You have been found guilty of the willful
slaughter of humans. For this, you have received a sentence of death by sword.
Do you have any final words?”
The vampire scowled. “This isn’t right. Humans are food. They’re
nothing but food!”
Omaron nodded toward the entrance, and two witches
completely covered in black ceremonial cloaks, positioned and chained the
vampire’s head to the stump. Trembling, Edwin repeated himself again and again
until the sword swung down on his bare neck. His head dropped with a thunk in a
bucket below.
A woman screamed. Yvain looked away, as another vampire put
an arm around her waist, and pulled her out of the arena.
When Omaron approached Garret, the dark haired vampire who
always wore a smile had nothing to say.
Yvain pulled him into an embrace, a blood-tear slid down his
cheek, and a thread of guilt slipped through Khayrie’s conscience. Yvain had
created Garret, forging a bond between them that would only be severed by
death. When Garret stood alone and weeping, the two cloaked witches grasped his
arms and pulled him to the bloody stump.
The sword thunked on wood again. Yvain shuddered violently,
covered his face, and rushed out of the arena.
Khayrie nodded to Omaron and descended the decaying steps
anxious to leave the day’s events behind. He just wanted to shed the robe and
go home.
When he stepped out of the arena, he looked for his friend,
but Yvain was gone.
Leona, one of the cloaked witches’, called after Khayrie, as
he walked down the misty road Yvain would have traversed only moments before,
but he kept his eyes forward and didn’t turn back.
**
Khayrie pushed his bedroom door shut, yawned, and rubbed
closed eyes, trying to release a little tension. He shifted his tie, tugged it off,
and tossed it to the bureau. Nixie, his fairy familiar, flew down, picked it
up, and hung it in the closet.
“Thank you, Nixie.”
“Is something wrong, Master?”
Khayrie sighed. He had acquired the little fairy with forest
green hair from a dark witch, who had treated her cruelly. After the covens had
taken the witch into custody on kidnapping and torture charges, Nixie refused
to leave his side.
“I executed two vampires today.”
He tossed his golden Cartier watch. The fairy caught and
placed it in a box on the bureau.
“They were friends of Yvain,” Khayrie said, as he pulled off
his vest and threw it toward the chair.
“I’m sorry, Master. A very bad day.” She intercepted the
vest and hung it next to the tie.
The fairy stopped cold, and Khayrie heard Pagan’s wolfish
grumble and Kitty’s rumbling roar an instant before the sleek and muscular
black panther leapt through the window.
“No, Kitty!” Khayrie yelled.
Pagan raised one speckled paw and an invisible wall of power
flashed by Khayrie, hit Kitty in the chest, and flipped her around, forcing her
back out the window. She slammed into the trunk of a cherry tree and yelped as
she tumbled to the ground.
Khayri tried to get between them, but Kitty wasn’t
listening. What was the point of being able to communicate if the large cat
wouldn’t do what he said?
The Paladin morphed into a man, the brands on his cheeks
glowing.
The panther flew back in with a snarl, ripping Khayrie’s red
curtains with razor sharp claws. ‘I’ll kill him’.
Stop! Khayrie demanded, but Kitty was in mid-flight.
“Sit!” Pagan ordered.
The large cat slammed to the floor, paws flailing. Khayrie
dropped to one knee.
The door swung open, and his brother Rylan ran in, ordering
their sister, Catara to stay put. When he saw Pagan, he knelt with his face to
the floor, just before Khayrie heard Catara’s--
“Screw that.”
With a whimper, Rylan shifted into a blonde wolf, his ears
flattened and tail between his legs. He whined and lowered himself to the
ground, unable to control the transformation to werewolf in stressful
situations. He was one of the few witches who had been bitten on an assignment,
so he hadn't always been a werewolf.
Catara rushed through the door, and ran straight to Kitty,
who whined dramatically. With red cheeks, Catara spun and faced the intruder.
“Earth’s soil and hallowed leaves.” Her arm made a circling
motion. “Rocks, worms, and knotted twigs--”
A small cyclone came through the window and swirled above
her head, gaining momentum with every word. Before Khayrie could stop it, or
Catara could control it, Pagan threw a wall of air stronger than her own,
and the cyclone rebounded. It moved down to envelope her body. Khayrie felt his
heart lodge in his throat as Catara cried out, covering her face with her
hands. He threw his own wall of power. In an instant, it blocked the small
cyclone from his little sister. He stifled a grunt, as his magic collided with
the Paladin’s, and with an explosion, the debris fell harmlessly to the floor.
“How dare you?” Pagan demanded, wild eyes staring at
Khayrie.
Khayrie gasped for breath. “Catara.” He pointed to the floor
beside him. He could feel how frightened she was. She’d never had one of her
spells rebound on her. He also knew she wouldn’t show an ounce of that fear. He
closed his eyes and focused, using his power to force her down to her knees.
Catara folded her arms and looked away. He needed to get her under control,
because if Pagan hurt her, Khayrie would kill him. Paladin or not, Khayrie
knew he had the power to do it.
Rylan whined, and Khayrie groaned. He couldn’t deal with his
brother too, but the tail disappeared, and his nose shrank, facial hair
was absorbed by fair skin. Pagan watched distracted, until Rylan’s smooth voice
interrupted the momentary silence.
“Please excuse my brother, Master Pagan. Catara’s only
thirteen, and Khay is her Guardian.”
Khayrie’s eyes widened. Rylan, Khayrie, and Catara had
always been protective of each other, but speaking up to a Paladin? That was
out of character for his brother.
Pagan watched Rylan’s chest heave as he knelt near the door,
trembling. Blonde hair covered most of his face. The anger in the Paladin’s
features melted.
“Master Pagan,” Khayrie said. “Please allow Catara to take
Kitty and go to her room,” He clenched his teeth against the pain in his ribs,
bruised at the clash of power, and worked at calming his breathing until it
healed.
Pagan’s eyebrows narrowed. “Kitty? What kind of a pet is
that?”
A smile tugged at Khayrie’s lips, but he forced it back.
“The kind that watches little girls when the Sovereign and his brother are
busy.”
Rylan chuckled under his breath. Catara frowned, but turned
her attention to making sure Kitty wasn’t hurt.
As expected, Pagan laughed, lightening the tension in the
room. “A perfect pet, indeed.”
I am not a pet, Kitty thought with a growl.
Khayrie glanced her direction. You’ve caused enough
trouble, deal with it.
I was only trying to protect you.
No one knew Khayrie could talk to animals. Kitty, like
Nixie, had adopted him. When he arrived home from the rain forest, Kitty fell
in love with Catara. He couldn’t have been more pleased. It was good for
Catara, and it lessened the pain of a mother who had recently lost her cubs. It
was understandable if she was over-protective at times.
Catara started to mumble.
Khayrie’s blood heated. “Make one more move, and I will
paralyze you and Kitty from head to toe until we’re done here. Do you
understand?”
Pagan wasn’t the most patient man, and his mood was foul,
proven by his reaction to the easily dealt with attack of a child who hadn’t
even come into full power yet. Age tended to make men grumpy, and Pagan was no
exception. The first coven was ancient. No one knew how long they had lived. It
was rumored they had forgotten themselves.
Catara’s watering eyes made his own sting, and his heart
heavy. He had never been so harsh with her. He wrapped his power around her
like a warm blanket and tugged. She slid across the floor, stopping beside him.
He caught her eyes with his own, then placed an arm around her shoulders. She
stared at the floor, lower lip trembling, as the blue light surrounding her
faded.
Pagan glanced at Rylan. “Get up, all of you. I hope you
treat other guests with more courtesy, Khayrie.”
“I’m sorry, Master Pagan. Kitty won’t be a problem if you
release her now.” He shook Catara’s shoulder, gently.
Tears trickled down her cheeks. “I’m sorry,” she said.
Khayrie kissed her hair. “Thank you. Now, take Kitty to your
room, please.”
She nodded and kissed his cheek.
Khayrie smiled; since her twelfth birthday, affection had
been rare. As Sovereign and Lord of the household, he accepted nothing but
complete compliance from those around him. Rylan understood, and they were
close in spite of it. Catara was young and often pushed the boundaries, knowing
he hated to discipline her.
Kitty left the room with a low growl rumbling in her throat.
He won’t hurt any of us, Kitty. You have my word, so behave and keep Catara out
of trouble.
Very well, Kitty thought, but she didn’t stop growling.
The Paladin looked Rylan over, then dismissed him once more
with an amused sparkle in his eyes.
Rylan blushed, smiled, and left, behind Catara and Kitty.
Khayrie was confused at the exchange, but Rylan could handle
his own issues.
“Nixie,” he called when the door clicked shut.
The little fairy flew timidly out of the closet, landing on
the back of his shoulder. Powerful men frightened her, and Khayrie could feel
her little hands clinging to his shirt and the small iridescent wings
fluttering nervously.
“I’ll take care of myself this evening. You can go home,”
Khayrie said.
Nixie had built a small house in the cherry tree, preferring
to live closer to nature. She bowed and flew like a dragonfly in search of
water.
“Please forgive the chaos this evening," Khayrie said.
"It won’t happen again.”
“You need to get that cat under control,” Pagan said.
“I will. She’s still new to civilization, and our home.”
“Civilization, is that what the communities are?”
Khayrie grinned. “I like to think we’re a civilized group.”
With the room empty, and the Paladin calm, Khayrie lifted his hand and shot a
trickle of fire into the kindling in the hearth. Flames crackled and settled on
the logs, as he turned to his private bar and poured two whiskey sours. He
handed one to Pagan, and motioned to a red and white, Victorian chair. “Will
you sit?” he asked, taking the identical chair across from Pagan.
Khayrie sipped his drink. “So, I’m guessing a harvested
witch is coming?”
Pagan took a long drink and stared at the floor as he
breathed out heavily. “I wouldn’t call her harvested. Her mother is actually a
very talented witch. “It’s strange, but the daughter has minimal power.” He
stared into space, as if in thought. “I don’t think she’ll be much to handle.
She’s kind of a timid sort, but still going to be placed in the women’s
disciplinary coven.” He set his glass down.
The fire crackled and hissed. “That’s an odd choice for one
with little power.”
Pagan’s eyes became cold. “Are you questioning my
judgement?”
Khayrie sighed. Pagan’s moody nature grated at him. He
thought about the odd exchanges between Pagan and Rylan. Maybe it was because
Pagan understood him. There were two species of werewolf; the Paladin, cursed
by Belshazzar when they betrayed him, and those who had been bitten over the
years and become their own species. The Paladin spent most of their time as
wolves, while the others were subject to the full moon. Witches, like the
Paladin, were not subject to the moon. He took another drink, spacing into the
tinkling ice cubes.
“Khayrie?”
He shook his head. “Sorry, I have no objections. It’ll be
one more person to worship Leona. She’ll love that.”
Pagan grinned. “I don’t think this girl will do that. Is the
female coven still giving you trouble?”
Khayrie shifted. “I’ve stopped interaction between the male
and female covens, with the exception of family, until things are settled.”
“This isn’t a matter of choice,” Pagan said. “The first
coven has always appointed the Sovereign, why are you allowing this to
continue? Is it an aversion to Leona?”
“There’s that, but it isn’t the issue." He sighed.
"If I use my position to stop the arguing, I would be more of a dictator
than a ruler. Peace wouldn’t be achieved, and resentment would take root.”
“Dictator or not, Misty Haven has never been a democracy. If
you don’t stop it, I will. This is your responsibility.”
“I’m aware of that, but there needs to be balance. The world
isn’t the same as it was when the first coven ruled.”
Pagan finished his drink and stood. “That’s true enough.
Very well. I’ll leave things as they stand for now, but if the situation
continues much longer, we’ll step in, and punishment will come swiftly to those
opposing you. You will also be reprimanded for not dealing with the situation.”
Khayrie fought not to shudder. The poles the first covens
used to whip their prisoners still sat just outside of The Well.
“The unrest is nothing more than Leona stirring up trouble.”
She didn’t want power. She wanted him, his power, and the prestige that would
accompany a position as his wife. “Others shouldn’t have to pay for her foolishness.”
The only way to end the dissension cordially was to make her
coven frustrated enough to stop her themselves. If she didn’t have the support,
she would back down. So, he’d made the temporary law of division. In the
meantime, he would ignore her ... after he visited to inform her about the new
witch.
“Her coven will be held equally accountable, as it should
be,” Pagan said. “And with that warning, I need to go.”
Khayrie stood and bowed, as Pagan launched himself out of
the window, shifting back to his wolf form. Khayrie stared after him, long
after he was gone. Most of the Paladin circle preferred to remain unseen,
except on rare occasions and festivals. He was glad they weren’t all like
Pagan. He was simply the most active.
He stood. With Pagan gone, he needed to check Catara.
He placed the drink on the bar, went out the door,
and walked down a long hallway decorated with a burgundy and gold carpet.
He found Catara on the floor in the doorway of her room, Kitty lying heavily
against her.
It was the only way to keep her here, Kitty thought. A red
faced Catara pushed at the panther, and Kitty stood up.
A perfect babysitter. Khayrie laughed, and Kitty roared with
pleasure.
“You okay?” he asked, extended a hand and helping Catara up.
She pressed her lips, nodded once, and looked away.
Khayrie glanced at the floor and pinched his nose, trying to
figure out what to say. He ran his hand through her hair. “Do you know how much
I love you?”
Again, she nodded.
“Do you know how much it would hurt if Rylan and I, or Aunt
Elsa, lost you?”
Catara frowned. “Yeah.”
Khayrie placed his hand on her chin, and tilted her face
toward him. Tear stains streaked her pink cheeks.
“Rylan would blame and harass me forever. You wouldn’t want
that, would you?”
She shook her head. He’d hoped the last comment would
lighten the mood.
He took a deep breath. “You cannot challenge the Paladin.
Don’t ever do that again.”
“But he was—“
“No arguments. The Paladin are to be respected at all times.
Understood?”
She huffed, and crossed her arms. “But he was hurting
Kitty."
Khayrie's eyes narrowed. His features stern.
Catara sighed. "Okay.”
“Good. I think it’s best for you to stay in tonight.”
Catara’s eyes flashed with frustration. “But I—“
Khayrie raised his hand, palm forward, and she went
silent.
“No more tonight, Cat. Okay?”
She shuffled. “Alright.”
“Good, where is Rylan?”
“I don’t know. He passed me and Kitty saying he had to go
out. He didn’t even try to pull her off me.”
Khayrie chuckled. He could always count on Rylan when it
came to Catara. “Okay then.”
He turned on his heels and strode back to his room.
In Chapter 2 Pagan visits the Sovereign of Misty Haven to tell him of Brielle's arrival, and where to place her, but mayhen breaks loose when the family's black panther, Kitty, and Khayrie's sister Catara, go into protective mode.
Chapter 3
Family Gatherings
Khayrie lay in his four-poster bed, dreaming of a picnic when he and Rylan were kids. Catara, still a baby, had her fist clenched and tugged at her mother’s golden hair. The sun was bright, the air warm, the scent of pines made the air clean and crisp. Hamburgers sizzled on the grill. They’d been playing hide and seek. He smiled because he’d left Rylan still searching for him by the stream.
Catara leaned toward him, arms open wide. “Uh. Uh.”
Khayrie laughed, and took her into his arms, swinging her in the air and catching her with his power when she dropped down. Catara flipped and giggled, and his adoptive mother couldn’t stop laughing. Though he’d never seen her as anything less than his real mom, Vanessa was the only parent he’d ever known. Even in sleep his heart ached to reach out and touch her again.
Something tickled his nose. He wiped an arm across it, and the invader moved closer.
Khayrie’s eyes flew open, arms flailing. A wide black furry head sniffed, and a red tongue licked his face.
Khayrie sat up. “What is wrong with you?”
He shoved, and the panther jumped back, clearly not amused. She sat up straight and licked at her paw. ‘Grumpy in the morning, aren’t we?’
She switched to the other one, then squinted. ‘Are you crying?’
‘What’s wrong with me? What are you doing hovering over me in my bed? You’re lucky I didn’t hurt you.’
The large cat sniffed, looking over the cleansed foot. ‘How many intruding panthers live nearby, I wonder?’
Khayrie’s eyes narrowed. ‘Smartass.’
Done with her feet, she decided to work on her chest, but she wasn’t dirty. This was the worst of environments. There was no way to get dirty here. The trees were not as wonderful as the rain forest either. She took a deep breath and stretched every muscle. ‘I just wanted to tell you Rylan mated with a—‘
Khayrie threw his palm in the air. “Stop, stop, stop.” He threw the covers back. “Are you crazy? I don’t care who Rylan mated—,“ He shook his head. “Slept with.”
Kitty threw her nose in the air. ‘Very well then. I will not tell you.’
‘Good. Would you go hunt near the pond or something, please?’
Kitty turned, heading toward the open window, then flung her head around and stopped. ‘Are you sure you--?’
Khayrie pointed at the balcony. Kitty sneezed and jumped to the ground, grumbling. ‘Hunt by the pond. I have no need of hunting when Aunt Elsa is here. Why would I—‘
The sound got fainter until she was far enough away that he could no longer hear.
He rose, entered the bathroom, and turned on the shower, then stepped in, inhaling with pleasure, as hot water poured onto his back.
After washing, he put on his jogging shorts and a t-shirt, ran out the back door, down the road, and into the cemetery. Yvain usually met him there. Not that the vampire needed to stay in shape, but it was their time to clear their minds together in the chill of the morning mists. It didn’t take long before the sun burned it away most days.
Sometimes they didn’t even talk after their greeting. Khayrie enjoyed those times best. He thought Yvain did too, but he wasn’t there. Khayrie hadn’t expected him to be.
A twig snapped, and Khayrie turned to see the spirit of a murdered teenager staring from one of the mausoleums. He nodded, but the girl never responded. He hoped to solve the murder one day, then maybe she would rest in peace. It hurt his heart to envision Catara like that.
He did one more lap around the cemetery, and ran to the gym.
Khayrie opened the glass door and skirted the front desk. The health club was one of the more modern buildings in the community, with state of the art equipment, and a juice bar for those who wished to socialize. Sunlight and generators kept the place bright, unlike many other places that still used candles. When the mists were particularly heavy, they added a little magic and created their own sunlight. Weights clanged, and people bowed as he passed, then went back to what they were doing.
He felt better after an hour-long workout, but Yvain never showed, so he headed back home. He understood why his friend didn’t want to see him, but Khayrie also knew that Yvain understood there were times to be Sovereign, and times to be friends. Yesterday’s situation demanded the Sovereign.
Strolling up to the front door, he entered and took a deep breath. Bacon and eggs. Nixie was a great cook, but she wouldn’t let him anywhere near the kitchen. Crossing the marquetry designed floor, he walked into the dining room to find Rylan and Pagan sitting at the table, chatting.
Khayrie remembered Kitty hovering over him. Rylan mated with ... Shit!
Khayrie dropped to one knee.
“Get up,” Pagan said. “I’m here as a guest, so no business today.” He took a drink of what looked like a mimosa.
Khayrie rose, still shocked.
Aunt Elsa’s high voice called from the kitchen. “Breakfast is almost ready.” She came into the room in an old-fashioned blue dress with an apron, eyebrows narrowed. “Now, you boys go wash your hands and feet before you eat.”
Khayrie’s eyebrows rose when the Paladin giggled.
Aunt Elsa left the room. Aunt Elsa? Khayrie’s eyes widened, and he turned to his brother. “How could you just let Aunt Elsa walk in the kitchen and cook? She could burn the house down, Rylan.”
Rylan shrugged. “Nix’ is watching her.”
“What is Pagan doing here?” He shook his head. “Excuse me, Master Pagan. I just meant—“
The Paladin laughed, and Khayrie stared.
Pagan sighed. “Seriously, Khayrie, you act as if you’ve never had sex before.”
Catara walked into the room, blonde hair pulled up in a high ponytail, wearing a purple tank top and cut-off shorts. She sat at the table. “Good morning.”
“What have I told you about kneeling?” Khayrie said.
Catara frowned and shrugged. “You two were talking. It would have been rude.”
“Oh dear,” Pagan said. “You have, haven’t you?”
Khayrie started, covered his face and groaned, looking through his fingers. He had forgotten the conversation when Cat walked in. He heard something akin to a smirk from the panther.
He straightened and smoothed his damp shirt. “I’m going to take a shower and change.”
He was almost out of the room when someone grabbed the back of his t-shirt. He almost stumbled back into them.
“You’re not going anywhere until you’ve eaten your breakfast,” Aunt Elsa said.
Nixie pulled a chair back. Khayrie sighed and reluctantly sat, then picked up two pieces of burned toast.
“Khayrie?” Pagan said. “I’ll be around more than usual in the coming days. I felt it appropriate to run this by you since you are the Lord of this household.”
Khayrie stared. When did something like that make a difference to a Paladin?
He turned back to his plate, slamming into a piece of toast covered with jelly. Nixie fell to her knees, trembling. “I’m so – I didn’t mean—“
Catara laughed. Khayrie pushed away the plate, and rose, wiping away the sticky goop with a napkin. This was going to be a long day.
“Don’t forget you have a new witch arriving today,” Pagan called after him.
Khayrie shook his head, with this crazy morning, he already had. It was one more thing he wasn’t looking forward to.
In Chapter 3 Khayrie is awakened by Kitty who wants to give him the latest gossip. He rises and pines over the loss of his best friend Yvain. After leaving the health club, he returns home to find the Paladin fawning over his brother, and his lovable by cookey Aunt Elsie, cooking breakfast.
Chapter 4 Accident
Brielle placed the last pair of heels in a bag, tied it shut, then grabbed the jewelry box off the white painted dresser, her mother’s first and only failed attempt at decoupage. She opened the lid, pulled out a silver anklet with dolphin charms, and rested her leg on the bed to fasten it around her tanned ankle.
Once the container was placed in the suitcase, she was finished packing. Her eyes watered, but she fought back the tears. What’s done is done, and some things can’t be changed. She would go to Misty Haven, and try to create a happy life there, but not being the optimistic sort, she figured medical school was a thing of the past.
She picked up a photo from the nightstand and ran cool fingers across it; her Mother whale watching with her in Puget Sound, two orca fins jutting out of the water behind them. Brielle had left the photo behind in a fit of anger, but this wasn’t Mom's fault. She slipped it into the front sleeve of her suitcase, as guilt clenched her chest.
“Brielle ... Brielle,” her mother called.
It was time to go. She stared at the orange rhododendron and the plush green lawn outside her window for another minute, then hoisted her purse and bag over her shoulder and grabbed the suitcase. Her mother met her in the hall, pulling the handle out of her hand.
“You can’t do everything yourself. I’ll take this.”
They stood for a moment in awkward silence. From this day forward, that was exactly what she would do. Her mother’s lower lip trembled, and she bit down on it.
Brielle threw her arms around her. “I’m sorry, Mom. Don’t worry. I’ll be okay.”
“I could stay with Aunt Jewel,” Rita whispered.
“No. Really, I’ll be fine.”
Footsteps coming through the kitchen alerted them to Jewel’s impatience.
“Okay you two. I know this is hard, but you can see each other whenever you want.” She was quiet for a moment. “It’s time to go.”
Now Jewell was the one crying. I really need to get this over with, Brielle thought. She started down the hall leaving the two women behind her.
**
Standing at the entrance of Felton Bridge, Brielle squinted to see the other side.
“I don’t understand. We can’t drive across this,” she said. “I don’t remember the way Mama went Aunt Jewel, but I know there weren’t any bridges like this.”
Jewel pulled a lighter out of her pocket. “That’s because you didn’t cross this bridge. Your mother’s misplaced her key.”
“Her key?”
“It isn’t like you’ve never lost something,” Rita said.
Jewel smirked, and put one hand on each of their heads.
From head to toe, and side to side. Blood and bone, and eyes that see, These bodies before separate are now part of me.
Something like warm syrup, unseen, encompassed Brielle, the feeling strange, yet familiar. She felt surprisingly calm as they walked across the bridge together. Spheres of green, red and gold circled around them, and eyes stared from somewhere far away, giving Brielle a chill. The colors disappeared in moments, and they walked directly into Aunt Jewel’s backyard.
“Welcome home,” Aunt Jewel said, smiling.
Misty Haven was a much quieter atmosphere than Seattle. People rarely used electricity, and there were few cars. It was a rare sight to see them. They did have a bus that ran in a circle around the outskirts of town, but most people used bikes, horses, or their own two legs for transportation. Brielle thought of the train at Disneyland, and almost laughed. Not quite so grand as that.
“I think our first stop should be the Sovereign’s Administration, to see which coven you’re assigned to,” Jewel said.
Not knowing what to say, Brielle smiled.
“Here,” Aunt Jewel extended her arm. “Give me your things.”
Brielle handed her purse and bag over, and Jewel placed them in the house, along with her suitcase. Her mother placed a hand on her back, and they headed down the lane toward the bus stop.
Taking a seat, Brielle gazed out the window. She had always liked the countryside of Misty Haven, although she hadn’t gone much farther than Aunt Jewel's house. The trees and bushes were lush and green in the summer, and rich shades of orange, yellow, and red in the fall. The winters were chill, but there was little snowfall, so most crops could be grown year-round. She had never realized there was something different about Jewel’s home before, now it seemed obvious considering the lack of noise, smog, and modern conveniences.
It was summer now, but not for much longer. They passed hills with green and yellow grasses, and homes that were groomed and sculpted, while others simply took advantage of the land. Many of the homes they past were Victorian in style, others far more ancient. Some people had a greenhouse to grow their own vegetables and more exotic fruits. Aunt Jewel had a vanilla bush, as well as pineapples and other plants in hers.
The bus stopped in front of a large two-story building made of off-white bricks. There was a gold statue of a tall man in front, with twelve wolves gathered around him. Brielle wondered if the precious metal was real. She could hardly breathe, her anxiety growing.
They debarked the bus, and stopped by the sculptures. “This building serves as a community center too,” her mother said. “It even has a ballroom for dances and festivals.”
A small sign read Belshazzar and the first coven. One of the wolves looked familiar. Brielle gave the statue a wide berth when she realized it was Pagan, and hurried down the walkway after her Mother and Aunt. As if that would protect me? The man was crazy. She smoothed her skirt and followed along.
Jewel stopped by a nook filled with large books, ran her fingers over them, and pulled out the one she wanted.
“Let’s see. Brielle Summers.” She tapped the page with her sunglasses. “Here you are, nothing's been recorded since your assignment, so you’re the last one on the page.” Jewel’s eyes widened. “You’re in the disciplinary coven. Wow.”
“But how?” Rita said. “Brielle isn’t anywhere near strong enough for that coven.”
Jewel’s eyebrows rose. “Maybe it’s a mistake.”
They followed her down another corridor with walls lined with copper plating with circle-like designs embossed in them, to the Sovereign’s office, but when Jewel placed her hand on the intricate brass doorknob, an olive-skinned woman stepped out of the room.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I almost crashed into you.”
“It’s okay.” Jewel said and pointed. “This is Brielle, Daness. She’s moving into my cottage. Brielle, Daness.”
The woman took Brielle’s hand. “I’m glad to meet you. I’m so excited that I won’t be the only harvested in the coven anymore.”
“Harvested?” Brielle asked.
“Brie isn’t harvested,” Rita said.
Daness cheeks reddened. “I’m sorry. I just assumed.”
Jewell gave Rita a warning look. “Don’t pay her any mind, Daness. I don’t.”
Daness and Brielle laughed. Rita smirked.
“That’s my mother, Rita,” Brielle said.
“So, Brielle really is in the disciplinary coven then?” Jewel asked.
Daness nodded. “Initiation is scheduled in three days.”
A man with the darkest hair Brielle had seen stepped out of the office, then turned and locked the door. Everyone except Brielle, dropped to one knee.
He smiled. “You must be the new Witch.”
He extended his hand, and Brielle shook it. “Brielle, isn't it?”
Afraid to speak with the sudden lump in her throat, she nodded.
“Welcome to Misty Haven. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be rude, but I have important business to take care of.”
“No problem,” Brie squeaked.
Khayrie left, pulling off the formal robe as he went. Brielle’s cheeks warmed. Damn!
“I was going to ask Khayrie for permission to escort Brielle to her initiation,” Jewell said. “But I got distracted. “Would you be willing to take her, Daness?”
“Of course, I’ll pick you up at nine,” she said.
They caught the bus, returning to Jewel’s house, then saddled two horses. Jewel pulled out an old, rusty bike. “I thought you might like to use this. It needs a little paint, air and oil, but other than that, I think it’ll work for you.”
Brielle hugged her. “Thank you.” She was going to have to get around somehow, and fixing up the bike would give her something to do.
Brielle followed the horses on the new bike. It wasn’t easy with the rusted chain and lack of brakes. They took a dirt road with blue and yellow wildflowers growing in the grasses, and stopped in front of what looked like an almost paint stripped shack. The windows were dirt crusted, and leaves and vines were growing on the porch and walls.
Tears sprang to Brielle’s eyes. Up to this point she’d tried to keep a better attitude, but could this get any worse?
“Don’t look like that, Brie. It’s completely in working order. I made sure of that. It just needs a little bit of love and a lot of clean-up,” Jewel said.
“Right.” Brielle frowned.
Rita grabbed a broom sitting on the front porch and started sweeping. “Well then. Let’s get to it.”
In Chapter 4
Brielle arrives in Misty Haven to find there are few cars, and everything is antique. She meets Khayrie, the mysterious but handsome Sovereign, who storms off in a rush.
Chapter 5
Faith
Yvain threw his glass of gin at the wall, and watched the clear crystal shatter, then drop to the floor. The clear liquid trickled down the wall. He was hungry and exhausted. Not that he usually needed sleep, but his mind had been overloaded for days.
His wife Alyssa glided down the ivory marble staircase, her long black hair and burnt orange ball gown an elegant contrast. She was still in mourning, but she liked to wear color. They had been in mourning since the whole fiasco with the executions started, their home invaded by protesting vampires at all hours. The new world was so much different than the middle ages world where he grew up, so many lifetimes ago.
He rubbed his eyes, then looked up at Alyssa’s blood stained cheeks. After six hundred years as a vampire, he still wasn’t used to blood tears. When Alyssa wept, it set him on edge and grated on his protective side. Blood always meant food, or danger. After having his teeth extended for the bulk of three days, he had to stay away from her. The incisors cut up his lip and made it difficult to talk. It didn’t matter that the cuts healed themselves, it still hurt, and they’d both had enough of that.
“Your dress is beautiful, Darling.” After all these years, she was still ravishing. He took her hand, played with her fingers, and kissed it. “Are you feeling better, Love?” he asked, placing her hand on the folds of her dress.
Alyssa breathed deep, causing her milky white breasts to rise and fall. Beautiful.
“I’m better. But we’re both hungry. We need to eat before we do something stupid like attack a witch, or hurt somebody.” Her eyes flashed red with need, then returned to their normal black.
Yvain had refused to go out for weeks, but her need was more important than his own, and he couldn’t deny his own need for blood at this point. He ran his hand down the soft fabric.
“Are you going to wear this?”
Alyssa laughed under her breath. “That would be the seductive dream of a human man’s lifetime.”
Jealousy flamed through Yvain. “I won’t let any of them come near you.”
“It isn’t as if anything happens, but I do enjoy toying with them.”
Yvain looked at her playfully. “That, my dear, is not a habit reserved solely for human men.”
She moved in front of his chair and bent, her breath tickling as she kissed her way down his neck. “You know my heart belongs to you. You won it the night of our wedding.”
He put his arm around her, allowing his hair to fall away. “I loved you even longer. Bite, Love.”
Alyssa’s breath caught, and he could barely see the light from the glow in her eyes. He had always handled hunger better than she did. She took a deep breath and sharp teeth pierced his pale skin. He closed his eyes and remembered the night of their wedding. Alyssa had refused to disrobe. Such an act from a wife was unheard of at that time. But he thought he knew why, and after running his hand down the trails of scars on her back, his suspicions had been confirmed. He had seen her Father beat her, and the strap had left deep scars of shame, for no reason of her own. Her Father had been a cruel man, an angry drunk, and Yvain did all he could to fill the heart of his love-starved girl. Alyssa moaned, and Yvain held her tighter. He had watched with satisfaction when she killed her father, the man begging him to stop her.
She removed her teeth, pulling Yvain’s thoughts back to the present, and licked the blood on his neck. He knew there wouldn’t be a drop on his starched white shirt.
“Better?” he murmured.
“Yes. But I’m still hungry, and so are you.”
“Alright, where would you like to go?” he asked.
Felton wasn’t an option. It was too close, but Yvain, like Khayrie, had a key that would take him anywhere.
“Family blood is always good. Let’s go to London.”
“We haven’t found a descendant for years?”
“I know, but there’s still something special about our old home.”
“Alright.”
He let her go, then went to his library, pulled the leather chair back, and lifted an intricately designed golden stop-watch from the drawer. A gift Alyssa had given him shortly after they married, and precious, because she worked, tailoring men and women’s clothing until she had the funds to make the purchase. What better to use as a portal key?
He returned with the watch, and took her hand. “Ready?” he asked.
She nodded once, and they stepped out the front door, onto a dark city street in London.
“We should separate,” Alyssa said. “I need a place with space for this dress.”
Yvain kissed her cheek, and she was gone. They rarely fed together. There were too many problems with it. Jealousy, as he had displayed earlier, and if there was only one human, there was more danger of killing them, and neither of them had that kind of blood-lust. There was always more chance of waking other people in a house as well. Alyssa would have to find a house with a single occupant, wearing that dress, but she had always loved formal dress and dances. Now it was all she wore.
He strolled down the street, trying to keep his mind off Ed, and Garret. They already missed them both. His eyes closed as he forced down the loss and regret that now filled the empty void Garret’s separation left inside him. It was like an infected sore had replaced him. Edwin was right, they were predators, and humans were food, but both vampires had forgotten what it was like to be human. All vampires lost what was left of their humanity when they forgot what it was like to be frightened and vulnerable. After that they became no more than animals. He was grateful that he didn’t have the kind of responsibility Khayrie did. He wasn’t angry with him, but Yvain needed time alone to grieve. This wasn’t something Khayrie could bring comfort to. Yvain wondered what he would have done, given the same situation.
The coppery scent of a young woman’s blood drifted on the wind. His nostrils flared and mouth watered as he spun, searching for the open window. She was only a few doors down. Yvain twisted the doorknob, and it slid open with a creek. He silently stepped inside.
He found the woman sleeping. Good, no fear to deal with. Coppery red curls enhanced the maddening scent in the room. There wasn’t much he remembered from his human life, except for time spent with Alyssa, but he remembered fear and it was an emotion he wouldn’t wish on anyone.
He laid one hand on her forehead, his desire for her increasing, and her breathing deepened.
“Yes, young one. Just a little deeper, and I won’t hurt you.”
He lifted her from the bed, and gently brushed away the hair from her neck. His eyes glowed red. When he couldn’t wait any longer, he groaned and bit into the soft supple flesh. It was like the room temperature butter Alyssa used to slip across his bread when he was human. Warm liquid poured into his mouth, and slid down his throat. He moaned, and drew deeper, more and more of the precious warm liquid of life with each pull. He ran cool fingers through the warm strands of her hair, and along the jawline. His eyes closed, and he fell into a dreamlike state. The girl released an airy whine, inciting him further. Every draw and swallow warmed him, made him feel whole. He tightened his arms around her and dropped down onto the bed.
“Yvain.”
Someone was shaking him. Yvain pushed his teeth deeper, held on tighter, and swallowed the elixir faster.
“Yvain.” The voice grew louder, more insistent. He groaned fighting against it. He longed for more. Needed so much more.
He opened his eyes, hissed, and drew one last swallow, then just one more.
Someone was screaming. He startled out of the trance-like state. The woman in his arms dropped to the floor, dead.
Yvain stared, unable to ignore her life’s blood pumping through him, warmed him, even though the rest of him stood horrified. “I was just so hungry. I didn’t mean to kill her.” He covered his eyes and wept, the woman’s life-force falling from his eyes.
Alyssa knelt beside him.
“It was an accident, Yvain. No one will fault you for that.”
“And who will be the biggest hypocrite? Them for not finding fault, or me for preaching kindness to the living?”
“Don’t. It isn’t your fault.”
“Then whose is it?” He wanted to pull out his hair and scream, and he might have, except a long shrill cry broke the silence.
His breath strangled. A baby? Dear Father Creator. He hadn’t destroyed just one life, but two.
Alyssa left, then reentered the room, rocking a fussing child. Its little arms stretched out, fingers clenching into fists and then opening again. Yvain looked up at her. His undead heart felt sore, but the problem at hand brought him to the present. He couldn’t do anything for the woman he’d murdered. He covered her body, and turned back to his wife. She sure is cute. The humans will know what to do with her.
“Put her back in the crib, Alyssa? The humans will find her in the morning.”
Alyssa drew the baby closer. “I want to keep her, Yvain.”
Yvain froze. “What are you saying? Human’s aren’t pets.”
“I’m not taking her for a pet,” she snapped. “I’m taking her to be my daughter. Our daughter. The one you destroyed any possibility of me bearing. I want this child. Yvain.”
“You can’t just take a human child, Love.” Like I can’t just kill its mother? I really am a hypocrite.
“Why not?” Alyssa demanded. “Her mother is dead.”
As if I wasn’t already painfully aware of that.
“If we take her home, everyone will think we killed the mother to kidnap her.”
“When have you cared about what others thought? Khayrie knows what kind of man you are. He would never think such a thing of you.”
“I’ve always cared about others, Love. You’re not thinking clearly. I lead our kind. I am the example.” Yvain ran a hand through his long black hair. He didn’t want to disappoint Khayrie after what he just dealt with. “Put the baby back Alyssa. The humans will know what to do for it.”
She pulled it closer. “I won’t.”
If she holds it any nearer, she’ll smother it by accident. He stared at his wife, and she glared daggers. Alyssa had never forgiven him for creating her before she was able to bear children. She had sworn to love her children, to prove she would be a better parent than her own were. This was a battle he could never win, but he gave it one more shot.
“Taking that child is like handing it a death sentence, Alyssa. We aren’t human, and there are always vampires in our home. We won’t always be around to protect it.”
“Yes, we will. Come on, Yvain. We deserve a little happiness, don’t we?”
Yvain shook his head. “Not this kind.”
Bloody tears streamed from her eyes. Now they were pleading. There was no way this could ever be okay. That child will grow up to hate us, if we don’t receive a death sentence for taking it. The latter was unlikely, but the former wasn’t.
Still, the damage was done. He went to the refrigerator and looked to see if there were any bottles. He found three.
“Get the baby blankets and some clothes, Alyssa.”
She laughed and kissed the child. Yvain’s heart felt like an iron fist gripped it. When Alyssa walked in with the things the child needed, he took her hand.
“You’re sure about this? We could be in a lot of trouble.”
“We won’t be. Trust me Yvain. Everything will be alright. Yvain pulled the watch, and they stepped back into the entrance of the mansion, the baby crying desperately for a mother who would never return.
In Chapter 5
Yvain and Alyssa went out to find a meal, but they had been fasting too long, and Yvain kills a woman. While he grieves for what he's done, a baby cries out in the darkness. After much debate, Alyssa convinces Yvain to take the baby home, but Misty Haven just executed two vampires, and Yvain fears Khayrie's response. Will Khayrie allow them to keep the baby, or will add fodder to an already stretched relationship?
Chapter 6
Predators
Yvain stared out the window with Alyssa beside him. The baby was lying in a bassinet Alyssa made with the bottom fabric from one of her dresses, a large basket, and an antique nightstand with legs. It was probably the most expensive bassinet created. All they had needed to add to it was a soft cushion and blanket. The only problem was that the child had climbed out of it as soon as she woke. Laughing as if she knew how crafty she’d been, she ran into his arms.
Stunned, Yvain reached down and picked her up. She kicked her feet, then giggled, making a shrill sound that split the ears. Yvain scowled, but pulled her close to his chest. She’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen. He kissed her head, and she hit his face, swinging a clumsy arm. Yvain took a deep breath and blew it out. The only being allowed to smack the Lord and Ambassador of Vampires. There was no way she was going back now, unless it was over his truly dead, ancient body.
Alyssa’s smile lit up her face, and he smiled. She knew she had won.
“Well, Love. What should we call her?” Yvain asked.
“I was pondering. I know it seems silly, but I was thinking something like, Faith.”
An interesting choice. “Why?”
“Because it took Faith to bring her here, for you to trust me to be a good mother, and we’re believing we can be good parents and make everything alright.”
“I never doubted whether or not you would be a good mother.” He said, with a solemn face.
He lifted the child up, and she smiled. Yvain grimaced, “I think our Faith, needs a new diaper.” He waved his hand in front of his nose. The child had the audacity to laugh. She’s already quite a character.
An hour later, Faith was clean and fed, asleep in her makeshift basinet.
The bell on the door chimed. Yvain heard the door open and voices. Taylor.
Yvain was back in his seat at the desk when the clean-shaven vampire with chestnut hair and curls that hugged his shoulders, strode into the room and dropped to one knee.
Yvain motioned to the chair opposite him. “Won’t you sit with me, Taylor? It’s been awhile since we’ve spent time together.”
Taylor took the chair, but the facade of courtesy fell away as he bent forward, one hand fisted on the table.
“I think you know why I’m here, Yvain. Those human-be-damned executions.” He ran a hand through his curls. “They’re just wrong. How can you sit by and do nothing?”
Alyssa’s skirt shifted behind her husband’s chair, her eyes narrowed. “How dare you—‘
Yvain raised a hand, and she fell silent. “Let’s hear him out, Love.”
The younger Vampire rose and paced.
“We’re Predators. Killing and feeding on humans is what we do. Humans have been killing chickens, sheep, and cows since the beginning of time. How can they judge vampires for doing what comes natural to us?” He stopped and glanced to see if Yvain was listening, and continued. “Is the Lion sentenced to death for killing the gazelle? Or the polar bear that eats the reindeer? What kind of judgment do they have to face? Even a shark that feeds on a mermaid is not given such punishment. Why are the foolish humans different than every other creature?”
The bandages on Yvain’s heart broke. His heart ached for Garrett, but he schooled his features and showed no emotion. That was something he and Khayrie had in common.
“I am grieved as much as you, my friend, but there is a difference between dinner and murder. Garret was always brutal. Had I known creating him would change his nature, I would not have done it.”
Taylor froze when Yvain mentioned the creation. “You were Garrett’s creator, weren’t you?”
Taylor growled and hit the wall with the palm of his hand.
“I know how you feel, Taylor. Had you forgotten Garret was mine?”
The vampire pushed away from the wall. “It was wrong Yvain, and if I was here I would never have allowed it.”
His anger elevating, Yvain stopped breathing. “Then you too, would be dead.”
“You’d kill me for protecting my own?”
“How I would handle the situation is irrelevant. The Sovereign’s judgement had already been given. Khayrie would have killed you in an instant.”
Taylor shook his head, and his teeth extended as he growled. “A vampire should not have to answer to a god-forsaken witches coven. What makes them better than us? Or the mutts for that matter?”
“It isn’t a matter of who’s better. It’s the integrity of the supernatural community that has priority here.”
“Then you’re saying Edwin and Garret had poor integrity?” Taylor spit the words out like something foul. “They should never have become subject to the communities. You should be a King, and we should govern our own.”
Yvain stood stoic, his hands clenched at his sides. “The vampires swore fealty to the covens, as did the shifters and werewolves. The first coven could wipe us out for suggesting such a thing. Balance between the worlds. No unnecessary killing, and no forced slavery. The laws are simple, and quite grey in some circumstances. These were the first vampire executions for hundreds of years. Had Edwin and Garret not ripped those humans apart, they would probably have been punished and released. Those are not unfair terms, Taylor.”
Silence filled the room.
“I don’t accept that,” Taylor said. “I’m not going to sit by and do nothing. I will wrestle their power from them and avenge Edwin’s death, with or without your consent.”
Yvain’s hissed, his eyes glowing red. Taylor stepped back.
“There is no more to discuss.” Yvain took a step forward. “Feel free to see yourself out.”
Taylor stared, then rose. Faith let out a shrill cry, and the vampire’s eyes flared, as his attention shifted. Yvain moved to the basinet. His teeth extended, but not for a meal.
“Meet my new daughter, Taylor. I will kill you if you take one step toward her. Make no mistake about that.” His voice was low and lethal, eyes glowed red.
Alyssa sat straight in her chair, not breathing.
The Vampire laughed. “You think they’ll let you keep that? I wish you luck, Lord Vampire.” He hurried out of the room, laughter echoing through the halls until the door clicked shut behind him.
**
Khayrie stepped into his office, Daness already inside. He wished her a good morning, and slipped around to his private desk. He didn’t mean to be rude, but he wasn’t one for small talk and certainly wasn’t in the mood for it today. She called after him, but he entered the office behind her, shut the door, and startled when he saw Yvain. Relief washed over him. But why here? Why not the cemetery or gym like normal? Yvain rarely came to the office. This would be the first time Yvain took his hand and greeted him since the executions.
He smiled. “It’s good to see you, Yvain.”
“How are you doing?” Yvain asked, inclining his head.
Khayrie sat and pulled his big leather chair forward. “Are you still upset?”
“With you?” He shook his head. “No, but I needed time to grieve.”
Yvain fumbled the hat in his hands. Faith gurgled where he’d hidden her under his coat.
Khayrie’s mouth opened with suprise. “What was that?”
“We need to talk,” Yvain said. “As much as I wanted to see you, this is a visit to the Sovereign, not my good friend.”
Khayrie sat back and braced himself.
“I killed a woman, a couple weeks ago. I was feeding, and I’d been foolishly starving myself. I couldn’t stop.”
Khayrie sighed. Okay, not good, but not as bad as I expected. “I understand. The supernatural community can’t be held to the same sort of circumstances a man would be. Accidents happen sometimes.”
Yvain inclined his head. “Thank you. Now for the real reason I’m here.”
Before he finished the sentence, Faith kicked his coat and let out a wail.
Khayrie stood and stared at the child. “What the hell is that?”
Yvain moved the remaining coat off her legs, and lifted her out of the makeshift carrier. “This is the baby who belonged to the woman I killed.”
Khayrie tilted his head in a guarded fashion. He wasn’t ready for these kind of changes right now. A vampire with a baby?
“Why is she here, Yvain?”
The vampire breathed deep, hugging the child, close. Khayrie had never seen him so tender and gentle. It made his heart ache, but he wasn’t sure why.
“Alyssa and I have adopted her.”
“Adopted her? You can’t raise a human child here.”
Yvain shifted, standing taller. “Why not? What harm can a small child do?”
“What harm can she do? I’m not worried about what she could do. You’re a vampire, Vain. Humans are food.”
“You think I don’t know that?” Yvain spat, putting a bottle to Faiths lips. He frowned, eyebrows narrowed. “I don’t understand why she won’t take it. I put cold milk from a cow in here.”
Khayrie rubbed his temple and groaned. “This is a recipe for disaster.” He couldn’t believe he was trying to reason with Yvain. Anyone else, and he would have given a flat no.
“I’ve never asked for a favor, Khayrie. I can protect and take care of her. Surely you don’t think Alyssa or I would harm her?”
“No, I know you wouldn’t, but ...”
“Then why not? I’m breaking no law, and Alyssa and I already adore her. It would tear Liss’ heart to take the child back now. Please consider these things, Khayrie.”
Khayrie’s chest heaved with frustration. He watched the child as she finally took the bottle Yvain offered. She wasn’t afraid of him. It looked like the feelings were mutual.
“What if you have a guest, or have to visit a place where there are other vampires? Accidents happen. Starving vampires have even attacked witches, and they know their blood will poison them. How can you be sure you’ll be able to protect her then?”
“How do you know you can protect Catara!? I can’t speak for every possibility, but I am a formidable opponent, and there is not a vampire anywhere who would challenge me. Having said that, please don’t forget that children get hurt and die in human homes all the time. We love her, and we will take care of her.”
Khayrie rocked forward, rubbing his temples. While it didn’t bode well with him, Yvain was right, and there was no other reason to deny him. He could play the no humans in the supernatural communities’ card, but it would only cause bitterness. “Okay, I’ll have someone pick up adoption papers, and we’ll get Daness to work on them. I’m taking a chance here. You’ll need to look into human education and find ways to socialize her with her own kind, as well as dealing with a human child’s needs.”
“Of course. She’s not a pet.”
Khayrie sighed. “I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant.”
Yvaine smiled. “Thank you, friend.”
“Call me that when she’s thirteen.”
Yvaine laughed and placed Faith on his shoulder like Alyssa said to do after he fed her, and started hitting her back. She grunted.
Khayrie chuckled. “I think that’s a little harder than necessary.”
The Vampire’s lips made an ‘O’ and he tapped a little lighter.
Khayrie sat back wondering if what he had done would work out like they all hoped it would. The only thing he knew to be certain was that he had his friend back. The rest would play out in the fullness of time.
In Chapter 6
Tyler confronts Yvain regarding the executions in earlier chapters, until Yvain tells him to leave. Yvain takes Faith to ask Khayrie's permission to raise her. Kharyrie reluctantly agrees.
Chapter 7 Into the Mist
Brielle smudged the white paint on her nose with an arm, then tossed a brush in a bucket and spun to see her handiwork. Her mom and Jewell had helped with clearing of weeds and rusty old junk. That left Brielle the interior decorating. She preferred to do it herself, but it had been a lot of work.
Finally satisfied, she ran a steaming hot bath, tossed in some papaya mango scented sea salt, and climbed into the old claw foot tub to soak away the soreness of aching muscles. She sighed and closed her eyes, as the sweet fruity scent filled the air, and the salted water melted the stress of an overwhelming day.
Aunt Jewell had sent men to paint the outside of the cottage, and now the small building was actually cute. With the inside painting done, all she needed to do was put things away and acquire things she would need. She’d slept on the floor last night, because there hadn’t been time to wash the sheets and blankets Jewel gave her. Once that was done she’d make up the bed in the loft. It was a cute little room with candle holders everywhere, just like her mom’s bedroom in Seattle.
Aunt Jewel told her to help herself to the garden. Jewel had planted it for herself, and items to sell in her store, but there was plenty enough to share. It was the end of the summer crop now, with tomatoes, corn and zucchini squash, as well as peppers, beans and herbs. Brielle planned to add onto it soon.
She shut her eyes again, leaned back, and bit her lower lip. Almost time for initiation. I hope Daness doesn’t mind walking since the bike isn’t ready. Brielle wondered what the ceremony entailed, and her heart sputtered with anxiety; better not to think about it. Her wet fingers wrapped around the green and yellow soap bar. Green tea and Jasmine. She’d made it herself using essential oils to mimic most of the scent, in a coconut, olive, and castor oil base.
Brielle stepped onto a throw rug placed on the floor, and her arms flailed for balance when it moved under her weight. Living here is going to take a little getting used to. What should i wear? She tapped a finger on her lips. It wasn’t like she had a large wardrobe. The decision came down to the weather. She pulled a forest green sweater out of a duffle bag, then grabbed a pair of jeans. Tomorrow she needed to put her stuff away.
A knock on the door told her Daness had arrived.
“Come in,” Brielle yelled. She grabbed a beaded anklet with stars, and bent to clasp it. No one would see it under the jeans, but she would when she undressed for the night. She giggled at the irony of it on this particular night, still unnerved by the ceremonial procedures. She took a deep breath, it wasn’t as it they were going to serve her to a pack of wolves or something.
Daness stepped in beside her. “Are you ready? It’ll probably be good for you to see the way while there’s at least a little more light. It’s pretty dark here at night.”
“Okay,” Brielle said, as she picked-up her jacket and followed Daness out the door.
Daness had arrived on a chestnut horse.
“Do you ride?” she asked.
Brielle frowned. “Not really.”
“Well, you’re going to have to hold on then,” Danesse said. She stopped and pulled a pack of botanicals from a saddle bag. “I was told to smudge you before we leave.”
Brielle nodded, and stood in place. Her mother often smudged their home, so the familiar scent of the burning sage calmed her, as Daness ran it to and fro across her body.
“That should do it.” Daness mounted the saddle and offered her hand.
Brielle frowned.
“Don’t worry, we’ll go slow,”
Brielle took the hand, and climbed on. “So, what should I expect tonight?” Brielle asked as Daness kicked the horse’s flanks. “Anything I should know about? They won’t take my liver for a sacrifice, will they?”
Daness laughed. “I don’t think so. Our Priestess; her name is Leona, she doesn’t like me much because I work for Khayrie. They used to go out as kids or something. It’s not like she needs to worry. He rarely even looks at me. She’s prone to jealousy, and can get mean sometimes, but she seems to get along with everyone else, so maybe it’s just me.”
Brielle smiled. “If you mean the Sovereign, I can see why she’s jealous.
“He’s attractive and polite, but really doesn’t have any interest in anyone. He works out, and has a family, so he’s pretty busy. The covens are battling over power right now, so we’re not supposed to interact or have any contact with the disciplinary male coven, and Khayrie is the Priest of that coven. It’s a temporary proclamation given by the Sovereign until things are settled. It’s so we won’t be influencing each other right now. It’s kind of silly really, or shameful ... the two power covens arguing like kids. Of course, they can’t stop people from interacting with their families, or like me, where I work for one of them.
“That won’t be a problem. You’re the only one I know here, except Aunt Jewel. It seems so backward here. A man like a king that everyone bows to, people raising their own food and herbs. It’s almost like a quirky homesteaders’ village, but weirder with all the old buildings, and no cars … Crazy”
Daness chuckled. “We do have them, just not very many. It won’t take long to get to know people. Just be patient and you’ll fit right in.”
The horse trampled through the woods passing redwoods and pines, and all sorts of bushes. Dead twigs and leaves spread out like a carpet below them. Brielle thought she smelled eucalyptus, but didn’t see them. It was chill under the canopy of trees, and the mists were already rising, before they broke through, into a clearing.
For a moment, it was as if time stopped. Eleven robed figures stood in a circle, as still as the trees. A slab of stone in the center. Candle flames danced on tall wooden sconces attached to the trunks of fallen trees, even though there was no wind. Daness dismounted, pulled Brielle down, then dressed, and took her place in the circle. A slender figure took Brielle’s hand and led her to the slab. The woman motioned for her to lie on the rock. Brielle obeyed and sucked in her breath, as the cold seeped through her. Her heart beat wild as a banshee. Red light encased the alter, separating her from the chanting women.
“Brielle Summers,” The woman’s voice echoed, and Brielle’s mind spun. “Do you swear to honor the coven at all times?”
“Yes,” she breathed, thoughts barely coherent.
The women chanted and danced around her. Brielle’s blood tingled with a hot, electric sense of power and expectation. Her body shook, as it clashed with the cold of the stone, and her mind fogged further.
“Will you honor your coven sisters and place them above even your own comfort and safety?”
“Yes.” Her own voice echoed in her mind.
“Do you swear to perform the assignments given by this coven, any other coven you’re assigned to, and the Sovereign with honor and to the best of your ability?”
“Yes.” Brielle’s voice was clipped; she couldn’t have said more if she wanted to. Bound to the stone by an un-seeable force, her skin prickled with goosebumps and strands of hair clung to her face. Heat raced through her blood, as the chanting became louder. Brielle began to sweat.
A cloaked arm rose above her, and she remembered her dream. She trembled with fear, watching the hand descend to her forehead. The chanting rose, louder and louder. The brand seared her skin, while pain, unending and fierce, shot through her. Brielle’s scream pierced the air, and everything went black.
When she woke, Brielle had no idea how long she’d been out, or even if the coven was still there. She placed a hand on her forehead. The skin was warm and the brand stung, but no longer burned. She tested her limbs and found she was able to move again. Her head seemed clear. She sat up Shakily, and rose from the slab.
“We’re done here,” a woman with long, curly blonde hair said.
Leona maybe?
“I’ve sent Daness on an errand, and the others home. You should be able to find the way back on your own.”
Brielle’s hand rested on her neck. She could barely breathe. Alone in all this mist? The woman walked away, and Brielle turned to leave when something brushed past her. She shivered and turned. There were whispers not far away, but she ignored them. It would only get darker and the mist thicker, as the night wore on, and she was anxious to get back home, but then the voices came clearer.
“Why did you do that, Leona? That girl shouldn’t be walking home alone on a night like this. The moon is full, and she’ll get lost.”
“I’m just doing a little weeding,” Leona said.
Weeding? What does she mean by that? It didn’t matter, initiation was done. Brielle had a feeling she didn’t want to know that woman anyway. It was time to go home.
Daness had been sure to point out any landmarks she found on the way there. Like the tree with a really twisted trunk, and the place where a bunch of trees fell together. Brielle had thought she was so nice, but maybe not; she had left her behind without a word.
Something brushed against her leg again, then the other side. Brielle folded her arms around her chest. Her pulse raced. It was nothing. Just stay calm. Talking to herself would keep her calm
The next brush was harder, and accompanied by a familiar rumbling growl. She cried out, but whatever it was seemed to disappear. She couldn’t stop shaking. Breathe in, Breathe out. Breath in. Was that Pagan? But why would he come back just to hurt me? To get back at mom maybe? It seemed unlikely, considering he was the one who insisted she came there.
She could just make out the silhouette of three shapes moving toward her. Wolves? If they’d planned on attacking her, they could have done it already. Are they planning to torture me? Brielle grabbed a thick branch from the ground, and backed into a tree. She glanced at the wood, and frowned. Half rotten, but it was all she had, and she wasn’t going down easily. Shaking uncontrollably, she bent her knees and positioned herself for a fight.
A wolf moved forward, and Brielle swung the stick. It backed down. A yelp split the air when she hit another she hadn’t seen. The hair on her neck stood, as It snarled and fell to the forest floor. Brielle’s chest heaved with exertion and fear. She had never struck anything before, but she couldn’t allow herself the time to freak out, because the creature was back up in a moment’s time. She had only stunned it.
“Fuck this shit,” a strange, twisted voice said. “I want to get home.”
One of the wolf’s neck elongated, and its front legs became arms. It’s just like Pagan. It even talked. But it wasn’t like Pagan. It had the body of a man, but the head was a huge grey wolf with long, glistening fangs. Brielle pushed her back harder into the tree. It launched forward, and Brielle screamed. Without hope, she threw up her hands up to cover her face, then slid to the ground.
Power covered her like an electric blanket, and the creature slammed screaming into adjacent trees and bushes. The other wolves lay with their bellies on the ground, legs sprawled out, and whining.
Her heart pounded, making her eyes sting with threatening tears, but she peeked past her hands. The silhouette of a tall man stood in the mists behind them.
“Get away,” she squeaked. She tried again, her voice louder, but the man didn’t move.
In Chapter 7
Brielle attended her initiation, but her escort left her in the middle of the woods on the High Priestess' order. Brielle doesn't make it far when she finds herself cornered by werewolves, with only a branch to fight with.
Chapter 8
Spellbound
Khayrie shuffled through the graveyard, basking in the evening silence and concealing mists. The tree trunks stood like shadowy sentinels, warning those who didn’t belong, although except for the supernatural, only a dream-walker could enter the communities, and they weren’t able to remain long. There were so many things happening, Yvain’s new baby being at the forefront of his mind. Had Khayrie made the right decision? An ethical one? He was usually so confident, but recent events had him questioning himself at every turn. He had the two vampire’s executed, proclaimed a temporary separation between the male and female covens, and dealt with a Prodirari who had recently joined the Misty Haven community. They were trying to save a kidnapped girl from another vampire. The species seemed to be a thorn in his side these days.
He breathed in the humid night air and tried to pull himself together. A scattered man, unsure of himself would accomplish nothing. He was a better leader than that. Still, a vampire raising a human child couldn’t end in a positive way. He left the graveyard and headed into the woods. He loved the clean smell of the pines.
Well, he had agreed to it, and it was done. If anyone could do it, Yvain could. Khayrie would spend a little time checking in on the child though. Yvain and Alyssa had been vampires for hundreds of years so they’d probably need a little help. Then again, he wasn’t sure he was doing that great with his own charge. Maybe Daness or Leona would be a better choice for checking on them, sort of like a social worker thing.
Twigs cracked on the forest floor, and everything went quiet the next instant. He stopped. Girls walking home from their coven meeting. Maybe I should go a different direction. And there was the issue he was avoiding. The bickering between covens needed to end. He could dictate it and force the issue; all witches were sworn to obey him, but while he expected obedience, dictatorship wasn’t his way to do things. Matters like that were usually settled with debate, he sighed, and a lot of time he didn’t have.
Wolves barked and growled. Another howled nearby. The moon isn’t full. Why are the Were’s shifting? A taste for the hunt maybe? The shrill cry of a woman split the air. Releasing his power, Khayrie strode forward at an inhuman speed, following the sounds of the wolves. The acrid smell of fear burnt his nostrils.
The werewolves encircled someone, but Khayrie couldn’t see who, because of the mist. Are they human? He sensed no power, but they wouldn’t be fighting with a tree-branch if they were a witch. A human was impossible. They had no way into Misty Haven, except by invitation, and such visits were approved by him. There was a human in the community, but she didn’t seem the type to roam. It didn’t matter. He was the law.
Khayrie thrust his palm forward, and a partially transformed werewolf flew back in a great wind. It rammed into a tree. He threw a thread of fire at another approaching the girl. She swung a stick, flinched, and jumped back when she missed. It yelped when Khayrie’s power hit, its tail sizzling. Khayrie moved closer, and the remaining wolves were forced to the ground, unable to move, because of the pressure of his power. No one could match him. It was why he’d been appointed Sovereign at such a young age. The wolves whined, and Khayrie pulled it back, leaving just enough pressure to be certain they understood the threat.
The girl fainted. Khayrie chanted and the mist around the girl sparkled gold, as it formed what looked like a cloud, and broke her fall.
“You have five seconds to leave.”
The wolves bolted, yelping as if he’d struck them. Werewolves that ran in packs were cowards. It was the ones that only partially changed you had to watch for, and most of them hunted alone, although there was the one he had rammed into the tree.
The girl moaned and pushed herself up from the ground. The cloud formation was gone with the power Khayrie had released.
He took a few steps forward, but saw no need to frighten the girl, so he stopped. She brushed leaves and debris off dirty clothes, watching him, and keeping her back to the tree stump. When finished, she straightened and pointed the broken stick at him.
Khayrie laughed, and the girl stood taller, her chin up, and cheeks reddening.
“Why are you laughing?”
Khayrie glanced at the stick and it caught fire. She screeched, slammed it to the ground, and looked for another weapon.
He stopped laughing and used his most serious voice. “What are you going to do, hit me over the head with it?”
Brielle shoved her copper hair back, and Khayrie recognized her.
“You’re the girl Jewel introduced. Brielle, right?”
Brielle fidgeted, as she nodded.
Khayrie saw the reddened brand still settling into her cheek. He took a deep breath. “It seems I’ve offended Misty Haven’s newest Witch. I’m not going to harm you, so you can leave the sticks to feed the earth mother.
“That’s so cliche’,” Brielle said, with a hint of recognition in her eyes.
Khayrie shifted. He should leave, but the girl was pretty, although that wasn’t what attracted him to her. It was the cuts and bruises, the color in her cheeks, and the raw courage she had shown while facing an impossible situation. “What is?” he asked.
“The earth mother?”
“And who do you honor?”
She pressed her lips into a tight line, and narrowed her eyes like it was a trick question. “Well ... God of course.”
“As do we. Mother Earth, and Father Creator, or Great Spirit, as some call him, as well as the elements that give life. Were you taught nothing about being a Witch?”
She dropped her shoulders and ran a dirty arm across her nose. “I didn’t even know they existed until a week ago,” she looked away, but not before Khayrie saw the disappointment in her eyes.
Another hardship, she had been forced to join the Misty Haven community. That wasn’t uncommon, since the Paladin scoured the land for true witches. They had to be trained, but why this girl? What power did she have? His features softened. “Are you alright? You weren’t bitten were you?”
She frowned. “No.”
He extended his hand. “Please, allow me to see you home.”
She looked at the ground. “Daness says I’m not even supposed to be talking to you,” she said.
Loyalty already, and one who follows rules. And she’s right, she could be labeled a traitor ... If he was anyone else.
“I’m the Sovereign. Protecting the citizens of Misty Haven is my responsibility. Walking you home is not an issue.”
That sounded arrogant. His eyebrows narrowed. Why am I caring about what she thinks of me? But he did care, and it felt like a stinger on his skin, and as if something had caught in his throat. He shifted, ignoring his discomfort. “Are you going to stand there all night then?”
Her chin lifted and hands fisted. “I’m going to finish finding my way home.”
She was obviously shaken. The renewed sense of courage shocked him. Any other woman would have accepted his help and been grateful for it, after what she’d been through. Especially a witch with no power. Is it courage, or stupidity then? Still, the girl was trying to hold her own. He took a step back. “Very well then, I’m sure we’ll meet again Do you know the way?”
“Yes,” she said, her voice uncertain.
A smile tugged at Khayrie’s lips as she looked around. He turned as if to leave.
Brielle whimpered and grabbed his arm. He turned back. The touch was strange, since few ever placed hands on him outside of his family, but a wave of warmth swept through him.
She gasped and stepped back. “Sorry.”
“If you follow this line of trees directly forward,” Khayrie said, motioning the proper direction. “You’ll come to a road. It isn’t as quick as the forest, but it will be safer than these woods. Follow it until you come to the turn for Jewel’s cottage.”
Her mouth opened. “How do you know where I live?”
“Just a guess. Are you certain you don’t want me to show you there?” An unfamiliar sense of excitement prickled his nerves, and his breath caught when he realized he wanted her to say yes.
“No. Thank you, but I’ll be fine.”
He looked away as excitement turned to disappointment. She has good manners too. He wished he could see her better. He hadn’t really taken the time to look at her when they met. Now he wanted to see her face, frown, the mussed-up hair, but he had good manners too. So he inclined his head.
“Then. I’ll leave you to find your way, before you catch cold.”
With that he withdrew into the mists, but he waited at the edge of the forest for her to begin the trek home.
When she walked along the line of trees, he followed. He could still smell her fear, but she had grabbed the sticks from fighting the werewolves, and then stood up to him. How long had it been since anyone besides Catara, or Rylan, challenged him? It felt good. He looked at the earth beneath him and smiled. It had been even longer since he’d laughed like that. What an incredible woman.
He marveled when he saw the new paint on the little white cottage and the cleaned-up yard. She had done a lot of work on the place.
Happy she was home, Khayrie waited until she was safe inside. He was anxious to get home to a glass of Zinfandel and a good long soak in the hot-tub. He spread his arms. Pitch-black wings rose and unfolded behind him, lifting him into the air. He propelled himself forward and rode the wind using the cover of night and Misty Haven’s familiar mist.
Special Addition
A Covens of Misty Haven Halloween
Brielle paced the floor of her little cottage. The bed was made, candles were fresh, with only a few burning to keep the cost of such staples low. The Kitchen was clean, dishes washed and put away, the hard wood floor mopped. She stopped, took a deep breath, and crossed her arms against her chest. Something felt wrong. She couldn’t shake it. To make it worse, she had nothing to do.
It was Halloween. She opened the door to see if the Jack-o-lanterns were still lit. They looked the same as they did ten minutes ago. She couldn’t remember a time when she felt so alone, but she was farther from home as she’d ever been, since the supernatural communities were in a different dimension.
Aunt Jewell was out with the covens, working to make the world a safer place. Brielle’s coven was on assignment too, but there she stood, home alone, freaked-out, and bored. Definitely, not a good combination. If her Aunt hadn’t complained about the night of her initiation, she would be out with her coven too. Brielle scratched at the still healing tattoo, only supernatural creatures, and those closest to her could see.
“Suspended from my coven before the first real meeting.” She sighed. The silence was unbearable, so she picked up her guitar, and sat on the loveseat, tuning, and picking out notes. She tried to work out a song, and cringed when she hit a bad note. She had never been good at guitar, but she wasn’t really into taking lessons. She only kept it for nights like this; when no-one was around. Picking at the notes calmed her nerves. It was something to keep her busy, and much cheaper than seeing a psych.
She wondered what the coven was doing right then. Chasing a vampire, or fighting a shifter? She wouldn’t have been much help to them anyway. She thought abought the Sovereign who saved her. She blamed him for getting her in trouble. Jewell started it, but he was the one who confronted Leona. It wasn’t as if the woman had sent the wolves after her. When she said as much, Jewell pressed her lips together and didn’t respond.
I want to go home, she thought, frowning. But this was home now. She had to learn whatever was so important that she had to be here fast, so she could leave. While Misty Haven had its charms, and she enjoyed Jewell’s company, the community was not for her. She hardly had even a spark of magic. Her Aunt had said it was because of the dreams she had. Sometimes she knew things that hadn’t yet transpired, based on those stupid dreams. They could have them.
She plucked another discordant note
“Yechhh,” said a stuffy male voice behind her. Her head swung back so fast, her neck popped. She cringed at the sudden crack, and squinted.
Her breath caught. “A ghost?”
“How rude!”
The see-through creature stepped forward with no sound, and chills ran up Brielle’s back.
“We prefer to be called the recently departed.”
He didn’t look very recent to her. His old suit had tails and he wore a cravat, and black top-hat. The sticks in his hands made him look like a Maestro.
He took the guitar and sat beside her, then plucked her melody with a cord change.
“You have to feel the music, young lady,” he said, emphasizing feel, and scowling. “Not simply pick at random strings.” His face filled with indignance.
Brielle jumped off the couch, grabbed a pan and swung it. “Who are you?” she yelled at the same time, but the skillet went right through him. She should have known.
“Well I never—“
“Get out!” Brielle screamed.
“You can’t possibly want me to leave before we’ve completed our lesson.”
Brielle screeched, and flung the useless pan again. “Out!”
The ghost rose, swiped his hands over unwrinkled clothing, and went through the door.”
She dropped the pan, and jumped at the crash.
A couple shots of whiskey, and she felt better than she had before the offending invader arrived, but she needed to eat, since she drank it on an empty stomach. She opened the fridge and frowned. Cream for coffee, cheeses Jewell brought her, butter and a few vegetables. Well, there were some ravioli’s in the freezer, and she had everything she needed for a white sauce.
She cut up the broccoli, put water on the old stove to boil, and started the sauce. Relaxed, she hummed an old Linkin Park song, swaying her hips to the music in her head.
Someone clucked their tongue. The ghost was gone, so she wrote it off as her imagination. The clucking became louder. “That sauce would be so much creamier if you added an egg yolk and a little more cream.”
Brielle almost knocked the small pot off the stove. She spun to see another ghost in Chef’s attire, his arms cross as he shook his head.
“Out!” Brielle yelled. “I don’t know where you all are coming from, but you don’t belong here.
“Don’t blame me when your meal is bland,” he said flying out the window.
“What the hell is this, Grand Central for ghosts or something?”
She laughed despite the goosebumps creeping up her skin, finished making dinner, and sat in the bean bag and ate. When she finished, she decided to make soap. Pumpkin walnut sounded nice. She grabbed the formula, pulled out the scale, measured lye and oils, then mixed the lye in the water. It would be too hot to use for a while so she returned to the beanbag and closed her eyes.
**
A boy ran, but the vampire behind him jumped, landing ten feet in front. With an ear-splitting scream, he turned a different direction. The vampire laughed. Khayrie threw fire, and the creature fell back, grasping at the wall behind him.
Leona schooled her voice to a low sing-song rhythm. “Nothing’s going to happen to you. Everything will be okay, just come with us and live to see another day.”
The vampire sighed and went slack, no longer fearing the witches before him. Daness wound a silver chain around his wrists, and placed him in an old enchanted bus with holding cells.
An unfamiliar witch swooped by on a broom, snatching the child up. Rylan flew like a missile, grabbed the child with one hand, and jumped on her broom with the other. He rarely had trouble taking control, but this witch clawed and fought like crazy.
“That boy is having an unlucky night,” Khayrie said. “When he lands, make him sleep and put his body in a safe place.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Daness placed herself under the broom, and waited, as the fight wore on. Rylan dropped the child, and lunged, but the witch grabbed control at that instant, and swung up. Daness turned toward a tree nearby. “Branches and leaves, and soil most brown, lend me your power and catch the child falling down.”
Khayrie watched as everything seemed to move in slow motion. Leaves and branches breaking off, and soil rising to the top. It moved up to create a soft landing.
Khayrie turned to Leona, as she returned from the bus. “This is one of the worst Halloween’s I’ve seen. Where is the new girl?”
“Who, Brielle?” Leona bit down on one of her nails demurely, and shrugged. “What’s she going to do, frown at them? The girl is fruitless. I told her to take the night off.”
Khayrie crinkled his nose at the sour stench of deception, but if he went to collect the girl, he was certain she would be there. He pulled a cross from his pocket and opened a portal.
“Where are you going?” Leona asked.
He took a deep breath and blew it out to emphasize disapproval. “To get the girl.”
Before Leona could respond, the portal closed with him on the other side.
**
Brielle’s mind emptied, and she laid back, squirming to wedge into a beanbag for optimal comfort. Something warm dropped onto her hand. She ignored it. Another drop, and the first one began to itch. Her eyes flung open. This ghost wasn’t anything like the others. His see-through teeth were missing, what little was left were black with rot. He had something like seaweed in scraggly hair that could have been wet. Then she realized he was naked and holding what looked like the container of lye water in his hand. She yipped and ran as a thin stream poured onto the bag where she’d sat only moments before.
A menacing, but joyful laugh filled the room, and she looked back to see him directly behind her. She cried out, as someone knocked on the door. Who would be here at this hour?
“Help!”
The door slammed open, and she and the ghost froze.
“Nooooooooooo,” the ghost howled, as Familiar blue fire slammed into him. Lye water followed Khayrie’s hand to the kitchen table.
Shaken, Brielle dropped to the floor, her chest heaving for air. Khayrie stood just inside the door, the ghost gone.
“Sorry, I let myself in,” he said. “It seemed like you needed help.”
His smile was simple, but it seemed to light the room. Brielle thought it odd. The man always wore black slacks, a black shirt with a red, or blue and black vest, and a suit jacket. Most the time he wore a tie, but tonight he was in jeans. He still somehow exuded darkness. It didn’t make him any less beautiful, but she was already in trouble for interacting with him. Apparently, being rescued equaled spending time with someone in Misty Haven. Now she would be in even more trouble.
Do you have a black wreath?” he asked.
“What?”
“A black wreath. If you place it on the door, the ghosts will avoid the cottage.”
Brielle’s forehead wrinkled. “Why would that make a difference?”
“No one respects the deceased more than those who have already past-on. It isn’t foolproof, but almost.”
Brielle’s heart fluttered, and her cheeks heated.
The silence felt heavy. Khayrie’s eyebrows narrowed.
“So, are you ready?”
Brielle looked confused. “Ready for what?”
“You have a job to do this night.”
He raised a hand to help her up, but she managed on her own. It wouldn’t be a good idea for her to let him touch her. Not with the reactions she had to him. She looked away. “I’ve been forbidden to join the coven for work or festivities.”
When she turned back, Khayrie was frowning. A lump formed in her throat. Too much too fast, she thought, but she’d give almost anything to make him smile again.
“Forgive me for being Curt,” Khayrie said, his cheeks a lovely shade of pink. Had they always been like that?
“Since the coven has not been training you. I will fill you in. I am the law in Misty Haven. My word trumps any other instructions you receive. The only exception, is the Paladin.”
Brielle’s cheeks felt hot. “Arrogant much?”
“This is not arrogance.”
She knew that, but anger seemed to stamp the pitter patter of her heartbeat that always happened when he was around.
“I won’t kneel to you.”
“I won’t apologize for who I am, nor will I stand here and argue.” He glanced at his watch. “You have ten minutes to be ready. If you’re not, I’ll have you carried out this door.”
“There’s no one else here.”
“All I have to do is say a word and help will arrive, I assure you.”
Brielle’s hands fisted, and Khayrie raised a hand to stop her. “Please. Don’t put me in a position to respond further, don’t say another word.”
Brielle rose, pulled jeans and a turtleneck out of the drawer, and went into the bathroom to change.
**
Khayrie said nothing as Brielle locked the cottage, and he opened a portal. They didn’t need to go outside, but he was still too angry to allow her to speak. It wasn’t that he needed people to kneel or grovel. If he didn’t demand respect from the supernatural communities, he would be tried at every turn. A witch speaking to him like that was unheard of, especially a new one. He still couldn’t ignore his attraction to her. It wasn’t like him to fall for a girl. If her anger was any indication, he doubted he’d have to worry about it.
They stepped into a field with running wolves. Brielle shuddered. Khayrie wanted to hold her, tell her it was okay, but it wasn’t, and fear was more dangerous than the were’s were. Someone screamed and a young man dressed in a suit with horns ran past, a wolf at his tail. Khayrie threw a thread of fire. The wolf yelled, and the man ran away. Brielle crinkled her nose at the stench of burning fur.
“What am I supposed to do out here?” she demanded.
“Point out the wolves who are chasing humans, or anything else you might see.”
A tiger lunged past him, onto a girl. Khayrie raised his hand.
“No! There,” Brielle yelled.
Omar had pounced on the tiger.
“Why did you—“
“There, Brielle cried out and pointed at something farther in the darkness. A witch flew by. Khayrie ran raising a fist her direction.
“Forget about her. That thing will kill multitudes if you don’t stop it.”
“Rylan is already on it.”
“He can’t kill it.”
The hair on Khayrie’s neck stood at attention. “How could you possibly—“
“I just know. Trust me!”
Khayrie’s eyes widened. Silly as it sounded, he did. He ran for the monster at lightning speed, shot fire with both hands and the creature was encased in blue flames. It screamed, numerous arms flailing. Khayrie left it to die. He returned to Brielle. How did you know?”
“I dreamed it.”
“You dreamed … Are you crazy?”
Sometimes Brielle thought she was, but the words rankled. She crossed her arms over her chest. “Sometimes my dreams come true.”
A dream seer. Khayrie understood. Was that the reason Master Pagan demanded she join the covens?
The area seemed secure, so they followed screams in the distance. Trick-or Treaters, or something more menacing? But by the time they reached them, it was quieted.
“It’s past midnight. Things will be as safe as expected. We should get back.”
“You mean it’s over? Just like that?”
As the evening wears on, there are fewer people on the streets. Attackers that rolled out of the darkness usually withdraw. There are witches on duty for the night. They will handle things from here.”
When Brielle didn’t respond, he opened a portal and helped her through, surprised when he touched her hand, and found it shaking. He frowned, wanting to pull her closer rather than release her, but the portal closed, and Brielle stepped back, her blush brightening her features. Khayrie wondered what she was thinking, but he wouldn’t be invasive.
She folded her arms across her chest. “Thank you for explaining how to get rid of the ghosts. Can I get you a drink or anything before you go?”
“No one told you about—”
“Brielle, I was just coming to get you.”
They both turned.
Aunt Jewell dropped to one knee? “Forgive me Lord Sovereign, I didn’t know you—”
“No need for apologies.” Khayrie said. “Please stand.”
Jewel turned to Brielle. “Are you ready for the feast?”
“What feast?”
“I must have forgotten to tell you. Things are so busy at the store this time of year. I’m sorry, it’s the Hall of the dead celebration. We don’t dress up for this one, since we’ve been working all night.”
“Hall of the dead?” Brielle asked.
“Yes, this is the night our loved ones who have passed on will visit. Not always, but you never know who you might see.”
A hall full of ghosts? Brielle shuddered. Misunderstanding, Khayrie removed his coat, and draped it across her shoulders. Brielle drew it closer, taking in the smell of sandalwood, orange blossom and cedar. Then her heart pulsed and cheeks warmed with embarrassment. She wriggled out of the jacket and handed it back. “I’m fine, thanks,” she stammered. She took a deep breath to clear the scent, but she wanted more. “I need to go change,” she said in a rush, then ran for the cottage.
Khayrie bit his lower lip, perplexed. Jewel smiled with a knowing, satisfied, look.
“I really must go. Kitty went to the hall early hoping to play with her cubs. I need to check on Catara.”
“Understood,” Jewel said, with a slight bow. “I’ll see you there.”
**
Khayrie entered an almost empty house. He took off the coat, and hung it by the door. He needed to make a good impression tonight. “Is anyone home?”
Aunt Elsa came from the living room. “Khayrie.”
“Shouldn’t you be at the festivities?” Khayrie asked, kissing her cool cheek.
“Rylan took a Paladin. I will go with you,” Elsa said.
Khayrie scratched his head. “Took a Paladin? “Do you mean Pagan?”
Elsa nodded. “A Paladin.”
“Okay, let me take a quick shower and change.”
Catcalls and cheers overflowed the building, until Khayrie and Elsa walked in. Every knee knelt, ghosts bowed their heads. To the right, Jewell was holding Brielle, down on her knees, a pink glow indicating she used a little magic. Brielle squirmed, until her eyes met Khayrie’s. He covered his mouth with a fist and coughed to hide his laughter, then he turned to the table at the end, where Rylan sat with his mother. Victoria had adopted Khayrie as a baby, and made him Lord of the family on her deathbed, placing Catara into his care as well. He always wondered at Rylan’s reverence. They had always been close, but he never understood his brother’s easy acceptance. He joined them.
Victoria welcomed him with open arms, and Khayrie kissed each cheek, even though there was no substance. Ghosts could make themselves solid for a short time, but it exhausted them, so they rarely did. For a few minutes, Victoria stared at something on the opposite wall, but when Khayrie turned, there was nothing there.
“Where is Catara?” Khayrie asked Rylan.
“She went with a boy,” said Elsa, her cheeks a rose color and smile lighting her features.
Khayrie frowned. “A boy?”
“She was here earlier,” Victoria said. “You’ve done a good job with her, Son.”
Khayrie’s body warmed with his Mother’s praise. “Thank you.”
Victoria donned a secretive grim. “That girl over there can’t seem to take her eyes off you.”
Khayrie turned to catch Brielle’s stare, but she quickly looked away. He turned back to Victoria. “Have you met Kitty?” he asked.
“Kitty?”
“You mean the panther you gave her for a pet?”
Khayrie laughed. “Yes.”
“Catara couldn’t wait to show me. Look at how she plays with her babies,” Victoria said. “She was an excellent choice, Khay.”
Khayrie smiled. “Thank you.”
They spent the rest of the evening chatting, and watching the baby panthers play, and every time Khayrie turned his head, he caught Brielle’s eyes, and consequent rose-like blush.
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Happy Halloween Everyone
In Chapter 8
The Sovereign is taking a walk through the graveyard. When he leaves, he finds Misty Haven's newest Witch surrounded by wolves.
Since last month was A special edition and separate from the novel, there will be some Halloween moments that had already been written into this chapter. Please excuse the overlap of time. Hopefully I'll be able to make next month's installment better aligned with the current season.
Chapter 9
Recovering
Brielle opened the small refrigerator and grabbed a few limes. She found a box of steel wool under the sink and an old bowl in the cupboard and went outside to work on her bike. She removed the chain and scrubbed with the shredded steel and lime until the rust was gone. It was a tedious endeavor, but she needed it for transportation in this backward town, if it could even be called one. Community, she thought, it’s a community, where nobody comes together and people try to hurt others. She shuddered before admitting those things happened in the real world too. Her world. Maybe something she learned in Misty Haven would help make her world better when she returned. After she finished the chain, she started on the frame.
“A little oil and it’ll be like new,” she muttered.
She ran over it with a soft rag and liquid soap and studied her handiwork.
Well. She ran a towel over the wet spots. At least that’s done. Usually she would have been pleased, but she was struggling to keep the events of last night out of her mind. Facing the fact that someone might have intentionally tried to hurt her was something she wasn’t ready to do. But she would have to deal with the issue before the next coven meeting. She was sworn in and part of the coven now too. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she wiped them away with an arm. I refuse to cry over this stupid place. I have to be at work in an hour, don’t even think about it right now. But it was hard to silence the victim inside that was constantly screaming ‘why’? She had never hurt anyone in Misty Haven, or anywhere else.
Setting the bike in the sun to make sure it completely dried, she bathed and dressed for the first day of her job. Jewel had hired her to work in the store, explained the things Brielle needed to know, then handed her a key and schedule.
She pedaled the bike into town without any problems and slipped the old-fashioned key in the doorknob. When it clicked, she twisted and the door squeaked open. She hadn’t been sure the old key would work, but Aunt Jewel had insisted it would.
Brielle pulled the shades open and strolled through the isles, breathing in the familiar scent of rosemary, lavender, thyme, and other herbs, as well as the fresh garden vegetables. There were also odd things, like bottled fog, vampire tears, and ground dragon claws. Like there’s any such thing as a dragon. The powdery substance did look like some kind of ground claws though. She twisted the lid on the bottle and winced, quickly screwing it back on. The smell was putrid.
Dangling bells bouncing off the door announced a customer. Brielle turned to see Aunt Jewel.
“I told you I’d be fine,” Brielle whined.
Aunt Jewel put her arms on Brielle’s shoulder and pulled her into a hug. “There is nothing wrong with me checking on my girl,” she said.
Brielle tried to smile, but wasn’t feeling it today.
“Is there something wrong?” Aunt Jewel asked.
Brielle put the dragon claws and rosemary back on the shelves where they belonged.
“I’m just a little nervous is all. You don’t have to worry about me,”
“Of course I’m going to worry about you. Made any new friends yet?”
A lump formed in Brielle’s throat. She shook her head.
“I don’t believe you. Talk to me.”
“It’s nothing. I’m just a little tired.”
Aunt Jewel grinned. “Of course you are. Your initiation was last night wasn’t it?”
The bell on the door clanged, and Brielle took a deep breath. Saved by the bell.
They turned to see Daness coming toward them, and Jewel’s smile filled with excitement.
“I’m so glad to see you two are getting along well. See Brie? Misty Haven isn’t so bad after all. You already have a new friend.”
Brielle picked up a duster and ran it across the closest countertop so Jewel wouldn’t see the betrayal in her eyes.
“Well, I’m going to take off and give you girls time to chat.” She stopped by the antique register and looked back. “I almost forgot. I left some things under the register for you, Brie.”
Silence lingered, until Daness shifted. “Jewel really cares about you.”
Unlike you. Brielle blinked away the threatening tears. “Yeah, she does,” she said running the duster over another display case. I’m being such a coward avoiding this, but not now. Not here. Please.
“Brielle.” Daness put her hand on Brielle’s shoulder, and she stiffened. Daness dropped the hand, “I-I’m so sorry about last night,” she said. When Leona told me to go ... I just panicked. I feel really terrible,” she said, looking away.
“So do I.” Brielle’s voice was cold. “But you did swear to obediently do the tasks the coven gives you.” Brielle glanced to see Daness, shake her head.
“Leona didn’t give me any tasks. She just told me to leave. I tried to argue, but she pushed it, and I just panicked. I don’t know what happens if you get kicked out of a coven, but with Leona, it has to be horrible, and I know she would love to get rid of me. Harvested is beneath her, since I don’t have a family history as a witch, and because of my working for Khayrie. She’s jealous of anyone who gets within a block of him. So I left you there. I understand if you don’t want to be friends, I just had to apologize because I never wanted to hurt you.”
Brielle turned around and stared at the patterns of wood grain in the floor. “I understand. I might have done the same thing,” she said.
“No, I don’t think you would,” Daness said. “But thanks for saying so. Look, I have to get back to work, but if you need anything, call me.”
Thank God she’s leaving. I can’t handle much more of this without losing it. She felt like a time bomb ticking a countdown, ready to erupt at any moment. She stuffed down the unwanted emotion, clutching the duster tighter.
“Thanks.”
Daness stopped at the door. “I almost forgot. Are you going to the Autumn dance Friday night?”
“I saw a flyer about that at the kiosk in front of the store. I don’t know. It isn’t like I’ve been very accepted in Misty Haven.”
The truth was that she was a coward, and unwilling to face more rejection.
“You have to go to this, Brielle. Everyone will be there, and the power covens are a big thing. It’s a chance for you to get to know people and let them know you. There’s a dance or festival every season.”
“I’m surprised you don’t make it a Halloween dance.
Daness smiled. “Halloween is the biggest night of the year for the covens. Ghosts are free, the Were’s transform, monsters we’ve never heard about appear. So, we call it an Autumn dance and do it after the holiday.”
Danielle frowned, not sure what to say. “I don’t really have anything to wear to something like that.”
“Not a problem.” Daness pulled a little notebook from her purse and wrote something down. She handed the paper to Brielle. “Here, this is my address. Come by when you get off work. I’ve gained some weight and have a few things to get rid of that will look great on you. And if you don’t like any of those, you can borrow something else. Okay? Say you’ll come.” Daness waited, then put a hand behind her ear. “Hm?”
Brielle chuckled. One more chance to see if she could fit in. She wasn’t optimistic.
Daness clapped. “Alright, I’ll see you later then.”
Brielle bit down on her lower lip as the door slammed shut and watched Daness jog back to the Sovereign’s Administration Building. She didn’t feel much better, but was glad Daness had no idea about what happened. Her chest tightened and that screaming victim in her chest tried to take possession again. Why?
The cell in her pocket vibrated. She answered and sat on a bar stool.
“Hi, Mom.”
“I tried to give you time to settle in, but I just had to know how my favorite daughter was doing.”
“Your only daughter, Mom.”
“Well, that just makes it worse you know.”
Brielle chuckled. “I’m doing okay,” she said, trying to add a jovial feel to her voice
“You don’t sound okay. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, I just miss you. It seems weird that we have cell coverage here, considering how little modern technology they use.”
“Well, kind of. The communities prefer to live off the land as much as possible, and it isn’t easy bringing innovations in. But they need to be able to connect to witches on assignments. Now stop trying to change the subject. What’s bothering you?”
Brielle held her breath. It wasn’t as easy to lie to her mother like she did Aunt Jewel. She felt guilty for lying to Jewel, but her mother had always been there. They were the ‘You and me against the world,’ model when she was a kid.
“Tell me what’s wrong, Baby.”
Why? The unwanted voice screamed, the negative emotion rose, and she couldn’t hold back anymore. Tears trickled down her cheeks, soon becoming a torrent and that was it; she told her mother everything.
In Chapter 9
Daness apologizes to Brielle for leaving her to walk home through the forest alone. Aunt Jewel, and her mother learn of the attack in the woods.
Chapter 10
Coagulation
Khayrie stared out the window of his office, seeing nothing. He wondered what Brielle did during the day, wanted to get to know her better, and he was curious about what the Paladin saw that required her to come to Misty Haven. She was almost as vulnerable as Yvain’s new baby, Faith. Maybe he could work with Brielle, find what gifts she had, learn ways to bring them forward, and use them to her advantage. There had to be something there.
The front door slammed, and a moment later he heard Danessa arguing.
“I want to see, Khayrie!” A woman’s voice, but he couldn’t place it.
“You have to have an appointment, Jewel.”
“If you don’t tell him I’m here, I’ll break that door down.”
“Jewel, stop. Do you know what he could do to you?”
“I don’t give a Rat’s ass what he can do to me.”
“You can’t just walk into the Sovereign’s office.“
“Yeah? Watch me.”
Khayri was at the door before she had the opportunity to pound on it. He had an idea why she was there, and why she was angry. The door opened and Jewel’s fist landed on his shoulder. She covered her mouth frightened or embarrassed, he couldn’t tell.
“Oh my God. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.”
“You only wanted to break the door down, huh?”
Jewel’s cheeks colored, and Daness stared.
“I need to talk to you,” Jewel said.
“Obviously. Come in.”
She wasted no time getting to the point.
“What have you done about Leona sending Brielle through the woods alone? She’s a complete stranger here. And the werewolves? What are you going to do about them?”
Khayrie frowned. Not because of what Jewel was asking, but because he didn’t think Brielle was the sort of person to expect someone else to deal with her problems. A tinge of disappointment set his teeth on edge like fingernails on a chalkboard.
“The werewolves frightened, but they didn’t harm her.”
“They would have if you hadn’t come when you did.”
“I’m sorry, Jewel, but that’s irrelevant. All they did was frighten her.”
Jewel bit on her lower lip so hard it bled.
“This pisses me off. When Rita called and told me—“
“Rita?”
“Brielle’s mother. She wants to move in with me and protect Brielle herself now.”
“I’m sorry, I can’t authorize her coming here for that purpose.”
“You can’t stop her.”
“I certainly can. Humans go through—“
“She isn’t human. Rita is a witch. She left Misty Haven after an argument with Pagan, before Brielle was born.”
Khayrie was stunned. Brielle’s mother was a witch who argued with a Paladin? How was that possible?
“Please sit, Jewel.”
She sat, and he took his chair across from her.
He cleared his throat. It was prying, but he needed details. He wanted to know who Brielle’s mother was, that she would be so insolent to a Paladin. How could she have obtained permission to leave Misty Haven and go unpunished besides? Born to ancient customs, the Paladin were not usually lenient masters. Learning about her mother might tell Khayrie more about the sort of person Brielle was. He was relieved to know she hadn’t called Jewell. Almost every girl would confide in her mother.
“What are you going to do about Leona?” Jewel asked.
“While I agree that Leona shouldn’t have done what she did, sending Brielle home by herself isn’t a crime either.”
“Then you’re saying its fine for Leona to do ‘a little bit of weeding’?
Khayrie’s eyes narrowed. What was she talking about?
“I’ve had enough. I’ll take care of her myself.” Jewel said. She stood and opened the door to leave.
“Sit down, Jewel.”
“I’m not going to watch Leona ‘weed out’ Brielle. If you won’t do something, I will.”
“I don’t repeat myself when giving an order. If you do not return to the chair, I’ll put you there.”
Jewel’s mouth dropped open. Khayrie waited, arms crossed. She tried to go out the door, but he raised his hand and it slammed shut. Jewel threw herself into the chair exactly the same way his sister, Catara would have.
“First,” Khayrie said, with a menacing but quiet tone. If she was going to act like a thirteen-year-old, he would treat her like one. “Never threaten me with what you’re going to do in response to my actions. Second, I am the Sovereign, you will apologize before you leave. Third, don’t assume I know what you’re talking about. Don’t ever walk into my office making demands. Now, we’ll finish this conversation. What did you mean by ‘weeding out.’
“Like you don’t know?”
Khayrie closed his eyes and raised his hand, palm forward. “I’m at the end of my patience. We can talk like adults, or you can answer my questions and go home. The third option is for you to spend enough time in a cell for you to have a normal conversation.” That would surely alienate Brielle, but he was the Sovereign before he was a man. He couldn’t allow blatant disrespect.
“Brielle had a ride home with Daness,” Jewel said. “But Leona sent Daness home, and told Brielle to find her own way. Before Brielle left, she heard someone ask Leona what she was doing. Leona’s response was ‘Just a little weeding.”
He had heard about that over Halloween, but without the details. “I’ll talk to Leona. I can’t promise they’ll be friends, but I should be able to make Leona behave.
“She should be punished for what she did,” Jewel said.
“You’re right, she should, but we have no proof and Leona’s coven will defend her. You’re going to have to trust me on this one.”
“Can you place her in a different coven?”
“The Paladin determined her coven, there isn’t anything I can do about that. How is Brielle now?” He shouldn’t have asked, but needed to know.
“She’s depressed. Trying to make sense of it. She’d never met Leona until that night, so she doesn’t understand why Leona would want to hurt her.”
“Of course. How did her mother get in an argument with a Paladin? If I acted like you did here today, Sovereign or no, I would have been publicly strapped. Was she exiled?”
Jewel frowned. “No. She dated Pagan.”
Khayrie’s breath caught, but he shook off the stupor. “That doesn’t happen often, but it’s not unheard of.” And now he’s seeing my brother.
“Normally it wouldn’t have been a big deal, but Pagan fell in love with her. When she was afraid to break the relationship off, she had an affair. Brielle is the fruit of that situation.”
Khayrie marveled, he never would have thought Pagan capable of loving someone. “She must be an incredible woman.”
“You won’t find better people than Rita and Brie.”
Khayrie wasn’t surprised, he hardly knew Brielle, and already felt the same way, unrealistic as it was. He stood. “If I’m going to see Leona I need to get going,” Khayrie said, but didn’t move.
Jewel cleared her throat and dropped out of the chair, onto one knee. “I’m sorry for my inappropriate behavior. Thank you for hearing me out, and for saving Brielle last night.”
“You’re welcome.”
Khayrie helped her up and picked up his coat from the rack. “I’ll walk you out since we’re both going that way.”
He left her on the steps of the administration building. Leona wasn’t far, but he wasn’t about to visit her in the evening, so there wasn’t much time.
**
Khayrie entered the Misty Haven Health Club and greeted people as he walked to the aerobics room. Many inclined their heads, as a show of respect. Opening the door, the music changed from rock to something in the realm of pop. Leona smiled from the front of the room, lifting a leg and dropping into lunges with the beat of the fast-paced song. Thirty women followed her lead. He stood in back and waited for the class to end.
The music slowed down and the lights dimmed when they began stretches. He wouldn’t have minded joining in, but it wasn’t what he came for, and he wasn’t dressed for it.
The lights came on and muscle sculpted women filed out of the room. Leona approached like a tiger, smiling, glad he was there, and ready to pounce. She wrapped her arms around his neck.
“Khayrie.”
She lifted her lips to his and he turned his cheek. Leona pouted, and grabbed a towel.
“If you want to take me to dinner I’ll be available in an hour.”
She flashed that deadly, but beautiful smile, but it didn’t work on him anymore. They were no longer kids.
“Come on, I’ll make it worth your while,” she teased.
“Sorry, that’s not what I’m here for.”
“Why are you here,” she asked running the towel across her chest and under her golden blonde hair.
“It’s about your coven meeting last night.”
“None of your business.”
“When you send werewolves after an innocent girl, it is my business.”
“You can’t prove I did that.”
“No, I can’t. But don’t forget that I know when people are lying.”
She scowled. “I haven’t lied to you about anything. You aren’t even supposed to be talking to me.”
“When it comes to unavoidable business, that takes priority.”
Leona walked to the door, swinging perfectly curved hips. “You sure you don’t want to do dinner? I’ll listen to your complaint if you do.”
Khayrie’s blood heated. He straightened.
“Leave the girl alone, Leona.”
“Why should I? She’s fruitless. The Paladin made a mistake.”
“I wouldn’t say that too loudly. Pagan says the girl has a future here. I won’t allow you to take that from her.”
“As if you can stop me?”
“Pagan placed her. I have no issues with punishing you, but if you kill her, your face-off isn’t going to be with me. I need to go.”
“You don’t scare me, Khayrie.”
The door shut behind him. Operation complete. Khayrie knew she was lying. He had scared her. Like he said before, they may not be friends, but it was extremely unlikely Brielle was in any further danger.
The Paladin placed witches where they belonged and killed those who refused to comply. It was their way of protecting the natural from the supernatural. They rarely got involved in Misty Haven’s, or any other community’s affairs, but when they did step in, it was with an iron fist. Supernatural jail cells where one could live without food, but feel starvation, or executions. Most of the time it was public strapping. The whip was bad enough, but the humility of being naked in front of everyone was even worse for some people, and when the Paladin punished, all of Misty Haven was required to attend. It did keep the worst of crimes down, but even Khayrie was subject to their rules. He couldn’t protect people from the Master Circle.
Leona knew it was far better to be punished by Khayrie than the Paladin, although she didn’t think he would touch her. At least his strappings were done with a belt, but things rarely elevated to that point. He was grateful for that, but would do what was necessary to keep peace in his community. There was much more gray in supernatural law, but the consequences were more severe.
His phone vibrated. Time to pick Catara up from school. He pulled out a portal key and envisioned where he wanted to go. In seconds the air split into an array of colors, and Khayrie stepped onto a school yard in the upper peninsula of Michigan.
**
Brielle followed Daness’ scribbled directions, wondering if a doctor taught the girl to write, but after a few wrong turns she found the house, and got to know the neighborhood better in the meantime. It wasn’t like she had much to do at home; she just wanted to be there before dark.
The house was a large Victorian, not huge, but not small either. The body was green, and the trim pink. As odd as it seemed, the blend was quite nice. Brielle rolled the bike onto the walkway and let down the kickstand.
“Hey, Brielle,” Daness called from the house. “I’m so excited you came.”
Brielle smiled, and hugged Daness at the door.
“Come on in. Are you hungry? I just made some minestrone soup with some of the fresh pasta shells I had left over from the store. Jewel makes it from scratch, and they are so good.”
“They are, but I ate just a while ago.”
Okay, right to business then. Follow me.”
The house was darling, with burgundy wallpaper and throw rugs on the wooden floor. The furniture was a little more modern, but the couch and cushioned chair matched the golden in the walls.
Daness led her up a spiral staircase and into her bedroom. It was similar in color to the downstairs, but the walls were painted with no added design. She opened the door to a large walk-in closet, filled with hanging clothes.
“Wow. This is incredible,” Brielle said.
“My parents. When I got the job at the administration they thought I needed to have the appropriate clothes. I suppose they were right, but they sort of went over the edge. So pick one, any dress you want. The clothes on the right I need to get rid of, so you can have anything hanging there, but if there’s something else you like, you can still borrow it. If it’s too big, we’ll make it fit.
“I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”
Daness shrugged. “That’s what friends are for.”
Brielle’s eyes narrowed in thought. “What do people wear to these dances?”
“They’re usually pretty formal, except in the summer months since ladies like to wear their sun dresses. You’ll want to choose something you can dance in, because the music is pretty modern for the most part.”
Brielle pulled out a long black dress. It was nice, but a little more revealing in the bust than she liked. Another, dark blue one was the same. Then she saw a ruffled pale green dress. Wide-eyed, she pulled it from the rod.
“That one’s one of my favorites.”
“Then why is it on the right?”
Like I said, too small. I bet this will look awesome on you. Here,” She slipped the dress off the hanger. “Try it on.”
Brielle changed. It fit perfect.
“And you can keep it if it fits,” Daness called.
Brielle smiled and let the dress slide down her hips, to the floor.
A knock on the door. “Can I come back in?”
“Sure.”
“That color is perfect for you. I can come over and help you get ready if you want. It would be fun to get ready together. I’ll do up your hair.”
Brielle pulled her shirt over her head and slid one leg into her jeans.
“Oh, what a gorgeous anklet.”
Brielle glanced at the woven gold strand and smiled. “Thanks, it’s one of my favorites.” She finished dressing.
“Maybe you should wear something shorter so people can see it. It’s beautiful.”
Brielle’s cheeks warmed. “That’s okay, I like them either way.”
“Okay, let me know if you change your mind. Hand me the dress and I’ll put it in a bag for you. We’re going to have to walk or take the bus to the dance.”
“I’d rather walk if you don’t mind.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do. I prefer it myself. What time do you want me to come over?”
“Any time after you get off work is fine.”
“I’ll leave early, then.”
“Okay,” Brielle said. “I need to get home.
They tied the dress on the back of the bike, and Brielle felt good for the first time in days. A dance might be exactly what she needed.
In Chapter 10
Jewel turns to Khayrie to deal with Brielle's problems with Leona. Khayrie visit's Leona in an attempt to stop the brutality, while Brielle and Daness plan for the upcoming ball.
Chapter 11
The Autumn Festival Ball
Brielle pulled off her apron and picked up a bag filled with potatoes, leeks, and herbs, almost bouncing with excitement.
“I’m leaving now.”
Jewel glanced up from the potion she was studying and grinned. “Have fun at the dance.”
Brielle bit her lower lip, smiling, then ran out the door. She might not have many friends yet, but she was stir crazy in the cottage, and Khayrie would be there too.
It didn’t take long to get home, but she needed to bathe before Daness arrived. The tub was great, but at times like this, she missed having a shower.
Lathering up, she ran a razor over her legs, then washed her hair. She’d just finished her lotion routine when Daness, knocked at the door.
“Come in,” Brielle called.
Daness stumbled in with two large bags in her hand. “I figured it would be better for me to change here.”
Brielle giggled. “I think so.” She dried her hair while Daness plugged in a curling iron and made coffee. She returned with a steaming cup in each hand. She extended one to Brielle, placed the other on the table, and pulled up a chair. “Now sit down, and we’ll get down to business.”
Brielle obeyed, and Daness brushed, braided, tugged and fussed, then wrapped a braid around and up the back of Brielle’s head. The bottom of the braid she left open, falling in long soft curls that cascaded down the center. Her bangs were curled loosely, draping down the sides of her face.
Daness handed her a mirror, so she could see the back. “Pretty as a picture.”
Brielle clapped like a little girl. “I’ve never had any talent for doing hair. Thank you, this is great.”
Daness smiled. “We need to hurry since we’re walking.” She changed clothes and did her own hair in a similar style.
When she finished, Brielle’s mouth dropped open. Daness twirled in a pink and orange dress that clung all the way down to her hips, where it draped into a small, ruffled hoop skirt, that stopped just above her knees in the front.
“You’re beautiful,” Brielle said.
Daness blushed.
“Wait a minute,” Brielle said. She scaled the ladder to the loft holding the skirt of her dress to one side, and pulled her jewelry box out of a drawer. When she returned, she opened it, then tapped the edge of the chair. “Put your foot right here.”
Daness wedged her heel on the edge, and Brielle slipped a golden weave anklet around her ankle, then clipped the clasp shut. “Absolutely perfect,” Brielle said.
Daness put her leg down and smoothed her dress. “Time to go.”
They grabbed their bags for the evening and slipped on more comfortable shoes.
They had only made it to the main road when Brielle frowned and suggested they should probably grab the bus.
Daness laughed. “Sure, if we were on the right road for it.”
“Oh,” Brielle frowned.
The clackity-clack of horse hooves came down the road increasing in volume as it drew near. Horse-drawn carriages had always seemed so romantic to Brielle. It stopped beside them and a dark-haired man wearing a white shirt with a black vest opened the door. “Would you ladies like to join us for a ride to the dance?”
Daness bent into a small curtsy. “That would be lovely, Sir Yvain. Thank you.”
“I thought those dresses might be awkward for a long walk. We’re glad to be of help.”
Nervousness tempered butterflies of excitement in Brielle’s belly, as she marveled at his perfect pale skin.
A woman with hair as dark as the man who had stopped the carriage sat across from them in a black ball gown with a skirt big enough for a wedding. Her dress had one feathered shoulder strap. A large diamond necklace rested above her breasts. Silk gloves climbed up her arms. “Who is your friend, Daness?” she asked. “I thought we knew everyone who lived in Misty Haven, having been here so long.”
“I’m sorry,” Daness said. “This is Brielle, she’s a new Witch who arrived last week.”
Brielle smiled and took each hand in turn. Yvain kissed hers, breathing in, fixing his eyes on hers as he did.
“You don’t smell like a witch,” he said.
What a strange thing to say. “E-excuse me?” she asked, not sure how to respond.
“Are you familiar with vampires, Brielle?” Yvain asked.
She drew in a deep breath, then released it. “Until recently I thought werewolves, witches and vampires were myths.”
“That is how it’s supposed to be, Yvain said. I just want to warn you to be cautious. While witch blood is poison to vampires, your blood smells human. So please be aware of your surroundings.”
Brielle swallowed hard, willing her heartbeat to slow its pace. “I will. Thank you for the warning, Sir Yvain.”
The Vampire smiled. Brielle wondered where his fangs were.
“You look familiar,” Alyssa said. “That gorgeous red hair. I had a friend who lived in Misty Haven with hair that shade.”
Brielle smiled.
“I don’t imagine you could be related?”
“Here we are.” Yvain interrupted. He took Daness’ hand and lifted her out of the carriage. After helping Brielle and Alyssa, he inclined his head. “You ladies have a wonderful evening.” He glanced at his wife with obvious pride. “I will only be a minute, Love.”
Alyssa smiled.
They all smoothed the wrinkles from their dresses. “Thank you so much for sharing your carriage, Lady Alyssa, Daness said.
“You’re very welcome. We’ll catch up soon Brielle. I’d love to know more about you.”
“I’ll look forward to it,” Brielle said.
Alyssa turned for the hall and waved.
“That was fortunate, huh?” Danielle said. She tugged at Brielle’s sleeve. “You look pale as a ghost. Yvain and Alyssa won’t hurt you, and this is probably the safest place to be in Misty Haven.”
Brielle wasn’t thinking about them. Khayrie was the only thing on her mind since the moment she stepped out of the coach.
“Brielle! ... Brie.” Not far ahead, Aunt Jewel waved, dressed in a long white ball gown.
Brielle squealed with excitement. “I thought you weren’t going to come?”
“I’m not going to stay long. I couldn’t resist seeing you in your new dress. You look beautiful. Be still so I can get a picture.”
Brielle’s cheeks warmed. “I’m beginning to feel like a teenager on prom night.”
The camera clicked. Jewel stuffed it in a red bag. “Be still, you have a loose eyelash,” she said, bending to remove the offender.
They strolled into the hall, and Brielle followed Aunt Jewel to a corner where they stood and watched people enter the ballroom.
The Hall was located in a part of the Administration building, but looked very different inside. Mirrors covered the back wall, and soft light rested above candle-burning chandeliers. An ethereal glow covered the room like pixie dust. A whimsical sense of beauty that left her in awe.
“I’ll get us some punch” Daness said, walking toward a refreshment table.
Yvain swayed, and Alyssa twirled on the dance floor. He caught sight of Brielle and winked, then turned back to the woman before him. Brielle’s mouth opened, and her heart pounded, as he gently spun his wife around and drew her closer. His burgundy eyes deepened in color when their bodies met. The love and triumph in his wife’s eyes … Brielle took a deep breath; such love. She’d never seen it before, but wasn’t that every girl’s dream? She collected her thoughts and scanned the area, but the man she hoped to find had not arrived yet. Could he be her Yvain? A silly thought, Yvain and Alyssa were from another time. Fairytales like that didn’t exist anymore. Brielle smoothed her dress to cover the bitter taste of disappointment.
Daness returned and passed out the glasses.
Most of the ladies wore goth-style gowns, others were modern. The gothic flair was how Brielle remembered Misty Haven when visiting Aunt Jewel as a young girl. The familiarity was comforting.
“Who are all the servers if everyone is invited?” she asked.
“Usually people who volunteer to do it because they need extra money,” Daness said. “Except for the Belshazzar Festival. People from the Twisted Oaks community are brought in to serve at those dances.”
“Don’t they celebrate too?”
“Yes, but on a different day, and we reciprocate the favor.”
Two men in starched white shirts sporting black tux’s entered and removed their hats. One had raven black hair, the other pale blonde. The exquisite beauty of night and day, Brielle thought. A young girl with coppery orange hair, clung to the arm of a boy who looked like a little rock star. Ladies curtsied, and men bowed as they passed.
A few minutes later everyone in the hall dropped to one knee when Pagan entered in a long formal robe lined with fur. Since she was the only person erect, he caught Brielle’s eyes and scowled. Her cheeks reddened. She looked away, watching from the corner of her eye as he approached the blonde man, and touched his shoulder. The man rose and took his arm.
“You may rise,” Pagan said.
Whispers filled the room, as everyone in the hall stood. Brielle stared at the dark-haired man beside them who had smiled with amusement when Pagan caught her standing. Her cheeks heated when she realized it was Khayrie. She shrank back when Pagan turned her direction once more and would have crashed into the wall if Aunt Jewel hadn’t caught her.
“I know the Sovereign, but who are the people with him?” Brielle stammered, embarrassed.
“The blonde man is the Sovereign’s brother, Rylan, and the girl in the peacock feathered gown is his sister Catara.” Daness smiled. “I’m sure she had a battle for Khayrie to let her wear that. He’s strict, but she still has him eating out of her hand. The man in the robe—“
“I know who he is.”
“Okay, I don’t know the Vampire boy with Catara, but they are dating right now.”
Pagan eyed them with disapproval. Had he heard their conversation, or was he thinking something else? Khayrie and Pagan’s group began making a circle around the room, greeting witches as they passed.
Another group entered with Leona in the lead. People in the room inclined their heads. Brielle scowled at the dress she wore. The bodice was black, see-through, and caressed every curve. Her breasts were covered just enough to be considered acceptable. Web-like strands spun down from the bodice to blend with a full gray skirt. A foreign emotion collided with Brielle’s thoughts. Jealousy? No way. Long blonde curls shifted as Leona smirked her direction, then turned to greet an older woman wearing a more acceptable black gown. More acceptable? This wasn’t like Brielle. She needed to get along with the Enchantress. All the ladies with Leona were from the coven. They wore beautiful hairstyles, and all but one wore gorgeous long dresses. Was everyone in Misty Haven rich or something?
Brielle shook her head. “Why are people nodding and kneeling all over the place?”
“Because Khayrie is the Sovereign, much like a King. Leona is the Enchantress of the strongest power coven, so people show respect.”
Brielle’s eyes narrowed. “Power coven?”
“Yes, the disciplinary covens are the strongest Witches.”
Brielle’s mouth dropped open, and her eyes narrowed. No wonder Leona wanted to weed her out, Brielle was like the ugly duckling among swans. “Then why am I in it?” she asked.
Daness sipped her punch, avoiding Brielle’s stare. “Nobody knows.”
Goosebumps prickled Brielle’s neck. None of this made sense. She rubbed her arms, took a deep breath and regrouped. This wasn’t the time to think about it.
“Who’s the girl with the dark blue hair, and strange gown?”
Daness chuckled. “Jahari’s a fashion model. She’s a little on the eccentric side. Likes to ride the fashion trends.”
She was gorgeous, but in an interesting sort of way; pale blue eyes seemed to look right through people. Brielle couldn’t figure out if she liked the ball gown or loved it. The hoop skirt had the look of leather, but was royal blue. It had a half dress piece that draped at odd angles and was heavily beaded that stretched up to her bust line, where it changed to strips of royal blue material, but in softer fabric. The ensemble was strapless. Her hair was asymmetrical, darker than the skirt. The man beside her also had blue hair, although it was long, stringy, and lighter. He was wearing a pair of jeans and blue t-shirt with a weathered black suit coat.
“The guy with Jahari is Nathan. He’s a Werewolf, and her boyfriend.”
“Talk about opposites attracting,” Brielle said.
Leona glanced at Khayrie, who was still watching Brielle, and her hands curled into fists.
Brielle frowned. “If looks could kill, huh?”
“She saw Khayrie staring at you. That alone will make her your enemy.”
“I don’t care who she is,” Jewel said.
Brielle jumped, having forgotten she was there.
“I won’t let her bully you.”
Brielle swallowed the lump forming in her throat. She hadn’t wanted Jewel to know. She should have known her mom wouldn’t stay silent, but she had promised.
Leona joined Khayrie, placing her arms around his neck. Brielle’s face burned. What is wrong with me? I don’t even know the man. Well, I kind of do, but not like that. Khayrie pushed Leona away, and Brielle glanced at the floor, hiding her smile.
**
Khayrie felt like a schoolboy, overflowing with anticipation as he strolled through the hall.
The Revelers who dropped to one knee when they arrived had made it easy to find his quarry, since she didn’t practice protocol, leaving her alone, standing. That would change soon enough. Pagan entered, and Khayrie’s family dropped to one knee. Brielle stumbled back when she saw it was Pagan. They obviously were in agreement in their feelings about the Paladin. Khayrie wondered what caused such a reaction.
“Rise,” Pagan said. Rylan was already decorating the Paladin’s arm.
Catara disappeared with Eadric, before Khayrie had a chance to stop her. He turned to Pagan. “Excuse me,” he said, inclining his head.
“Very well,” Pagan said.
Rylan followed Khayrie’s gaze. His eyes widened for an instant and he gave Khayrie a knowing smile. “She’s pretty. It’s not like you to take an interest in anyone. I hope you find what you’re hoping for.”
Khayrie couldn’t hold back his smile any longer. He placed a hand on Rylan’s shoulder. “Thanks.”
Pagan glanced at Brielle, and stood a little taller. Khayrie wondered what he has to be proud about where Brielle was concerned.
“Just be careful,” Rylan said, looking toward the door where Leona, Jahari, and Nathan, handed their coats to a Doorman. “The cat has arrived with her friends.”
Khayrie took a deep breath and began making his way through the crowd, aware Brielle’s eyes followed.
Two muscular, but feminine arms wrapped around his waist.
“Guess who?”
Leona. How had she managed to catch up with him? He removed her arms, then turned to face her. “Not tonight, Leona.”
“Come on, Khay. It’s been a long time since we broke up. Maybe I’ve changed.”
He knew that wasn’t true. The Leona he’d grown up with would never have placed an innocent girl in danger, but in high school she had changed into someone he no longer knew.
She ran manicured fingers across his arm. “I know you love me. If you didn’t you would’ve started dating long before now.”
Khayrie stared. Did she really believe that? He glanced across the room at a red-faced Brielle, as he put space between himself and Leona. Frustration and a sense of accomplishment clashed. She’s jealous. He shook his head. Maybe something else was bothering her. Eggs didn’t hatch until they were outside the hen. He could sense the emotions of others, but he wasn’t in close enough proximity to feel Brielle’s.
Leona followed his gaze, and her hands fell to her sides fisted. “That girl doesn’t belong here,” she growled.
“Why don’t you tell Pagan that?” Khayrie pointed. “He’s standing right over there.”
Pagan stood watching them with interest.
Leona paled.
“Excuse me,” Khayrie said, walking away before she could grab him again, but not before he caught the hatred in her eyes. It doesn’t matter what Brielle does. Leona is never going to accept her. Part of that was his fault for not being firm against her advances. He loved her once, but never again.
Just before he approached, Daness and Jewel walked toward the refreshment tables, leaving Brielle alone. She shifted, her cheeks a lovely shade of pink. Khayrie softened his features to avoid seeming anxious and extended his hand.
“Will you dance?” he asked.
Brielle took a deep breath and glanced at Leona. “I probably shouldn’t.”
Afraid of Leona, still jealous, and loyal too. Her disappointment was obvious, since her eyes were glossed over, and Khayrie couldn’t have been more pleased. He hadn’t taken an interest in a girl for years. He wasn’t about to let this opportunity pass by.
“This is a social function,” he said. “You may dance with whomever you choose. I won’t let Leona hurt you again.” He hadn’t thought before he said it, but he meant every word.
“So, I can talk to you tonight, but not tomorrow?” Brielle said. “How does that work?”
“That would be true if I were anyone else. The Sovereign has responsibilities that require him to be accessible to all, since it’s his position to keep peace between covens and communities, as well as the natural world.”
He took her hand and pulled her to the dance floor with no resistance, grateful when the song changed to a ballad. He placed his hands around her waist, smiled when her breath caught, and waited. A chill ran through him when she clasped delicate fingers around his neck. It was her turn to smile in response. It left him breathless.
They swayed to the rhythm of Always and Forever, a lovely, perfect old song, because he hoped Brielle would become that person for him. How had he become so enamored with her in such a short time? It didn’t matter what Brielle did now. His heart sat in her hands. Halfway through the ballad she rested her head on his chest, lightly at first, then comfortably. Inhibitions rolled away and Khayrie closed his eyes. He inhaled the seductive, amber-like scent of her hair, and surrendered himself to the moment.
The song ended, and Brielle slowly pulled away. Keeping his hold, Khayrie bent to her ear. “Spend the evening with me,” he said.
Brielle stiffened.
“I didn’t say the night. Allow me to be your escort this evening. We’ll dance all night, then I’ll drive you home.”
“How do you know I’ll let you drive me home?”
Khayrie straightened and grinned. “What girl dances all night and wants to walk home? I’ll be the perfect gentleman, so you won’t be able to resist me.”
Brielle groaned.
“If that doesn’t work, I can always enchant you.”
She narrowed her eyes, and Khayrie chuckled, “I’m kidding. So, be my date?”
Brielle nodded. “But you can’t drive me home. I came with Daness, and my Aunt Jewel is here somewhere.”
“Daness has found someone else to keep her company,” Khayrie said, motioning with a nod.
Brielle followed the direction he indicated and grinned.
“Omaron has been smitten for some time. She’s in good hands, and I can’t say I’m disappointed that Aunt Jewel has left.”
“Hey, what’s your problem with my Aunt?”
“Usually none, but she yelled at me a couple days ago, and my ears are still ringing. She’s quite protective of you.”
“Ugh, I’m sorry.”
Her cheeks reddened. Khayrie ran his fingers down her hairline and across her chin. His chest warmed like wax when Brielle shivered. “No need to be sorry. I shared her opinions. I would have told her so if she would have let me, but I’m afraid I had to become the mean Monarch, rather than old friend.”
“She’s obviously forgotten about it if she left while we were dancing.”
“I think so,” Khayrie said, but he knew it to be true. Jewel knew that aside from Pagan, there was no one better suited to protect Brielle than himself, and there was no question, he would keep her safe.
In Chapter 11
Brielle and Daness attend the Autumn Festival Ball where Daness connects with Omaron, and Brielle agrees to be Khayrie's date for the evening to Leona's dismay.
Chapter 12
Unforgiving
A Vampire approached Khayrie, carrying a small silver tray with drinks. He held the platter with both hands, bowed, then straightened, and handed Khayrie a glass Containing dark blue liquid.
“Thank you, Edmund,” Khayrie said, handing the glass to Brielle.
“You’re welcome, My Lord. It is good to see you are well.” He glanced at Brielle and handed Khayrie another drink. “Is there anything else I can bring for you, Sir?”
Khayrie turned to Brielle.
She raised a hand slightly. “I’m fine, thank you.”
The young Vampire bowed and left.
He seems very young to be a vampire. The laws don’t have restrictions on something like that?”
“We do, but life wasn’t always the way we see it today in the human world. There are people who come from a time when servants were subject to their masters and mistresses. Edmund was one of those boys, and he was honored to join them in the afterlife. You’ll find there are a lot of old-fashioned values here. Some might seem strange, but like Edmund, they are icons of their time, and your world seems as strange to them, as theirs does to you.”
Brielle watched Edmund move through the room, his back straight as an old-time Butler and head held high in the old-fashioned black suit with a white cravat caressing his neck. He grinned as he greeted what must have been friends, and bowed over the hands of the ladies as he kissed them. He straightened and glanced at Brielle. She startled at being caught staring and looked away. It was at that point she realized everyone seemed to be watching her. Her hands clutched the folds of her dress, and cheeks reddened when Khayrie noticed. He took her hand.
“I know it’s awkward, but please try to be comfortable.”
Brielle’s cheeks warmed. She had completely forgotten about the uncanny way the Sovereign seemed to know her thoughts. Vampires that were hardly more than children, friends who always seemed to disappear, blue drinks that had smoke sputtering out of them. Things she never knew existed before now. Suddenly she wanted to run, but escape wasn’t possible. Her heart pounded at the memory of Pagan, the night he visited her mother, and changed her life. She scanned the room and found him with Rylan. He too was watching her. She straightened her back, looked at Khayrie, then studied the drink in her hand.
“What is this?” she asked, eyeing the smoke coming out of it. Every once in a while it had silver and gold speckles sputtering from it. It looked like it should have one of those skull and cross-bones warnings on poisonous containers.
“It’s called Raspberry Tumble.”
“Why is it smoking?”
“It’s a brew infused with pixie dust. It is my favorite festival tradition.” He tilted the glass and drank. “Try it.”
Brielle grimaced. “What else is in it?”
Khayrie laughed, and Brielle’s breath caught. The few times she’d seen him, he’d been so serious. He chuckled on occasion, but she hadn’t heard him laugh much. The innocence and purity of his joy were adorable, although she doubted he would appreciate her saying so. It made her feel welcome and warm. Movement caught her eye, and she turned to find his brother smiling. He must not laugh at home much either. Her blood blazed hot with determination. She wanted to change that, even if just for one night. She sipped her drink. It warmed and tingled in her mouth and belly, and it had just the right blend of sweet and sour.
“Why do you only have it at festivals?”
Khayrie chuckled. “Witches have bribed and pleaded for centuries. The fairies will not give the formula up.”
Feeling a little tipsy, Brielle giggled, certain she would like those fairies. The music shifted to a waltz, highlighted with a dark edge.
“Gothic?” Brielle asked, amused.
Khayrie finished his drink, and Edmund was at his side before the last swallow. Khayrie placed the empty glass on the tray. Brielle finished hers and did the same.
Do you waltz? Khayrie asked.
“Not very well.”
“That’s okay; I’m a very good leader.”
“I’ve heard that.”
Khayrie tilted his head a little. “Is that a compliment?”
“Maybe.”
“You’ll just have to see for yourself.” He bowed slightly and took her hand. “May I have this dance?”
The silky cast of his hair, perfect complexion, and shimmer of his eyes made her want to jump into his arms. Maybe the raspberry tumble was stronger than it seemed. She floated to the dance floor beside him.
Her mind spun and body tingled, as she followed his lead into the dance. His eyes caught hers, and this time, she couldn’t look away. Sweet herbs, soft florals, and warm cedar heightened her senses, as she twirled. The arm around her waist enveloped her, and she felt safe for the first time since she’d arrived at Misty Haven. It was over far too soon. She wouldn’t have known, except Khayrie pulled back, and spun her to his side. The hall erupted with clapping. Brielle didn’t even care she had become part of a spectacle. She laughed. Stress, inhibitions, everything except for Khayrie spiraled away like a leaf in the wind.
The music slowed. Khayrie nodded at his brother, who stood near the band. He pulled her into his chest, and they were eye to eye once more. She laid her head on his chest, and he rewarded her with a contented sigh. All thought disappeared as they swayed, his warm breath in her hair. She tightened her arms around his neck.
Increased chatter at the door caught their attention. Khayrie inhaled deep as she stood up straight. It felt cold outside his arms.
A man with green hair that fell like seaweed entered the ballroom. His skin and eyes glistened with a sage colored hue and shimmered with a touch of blue when he moved. It reminded Brielle of water. A beautiful dark woman rested a hand on his arm.
Khayrie took Brielle’s hand. “I know it’s awkward for you, but we need to Kneel.” He gently pulled her down beside him, giggling under his breath when she lost her balance and fell against his chest. Brielle grinned, wondering if anyone else in Misty Haven had heard their great Sovereign make such a sound. She already cherished it.
Something like warm wind wrapped around and sat her up properly. Her heartbeat raced when she realized it was magic, but it felt like an extension of Khayrie. The warmth felt nice, and soon she became comfortable with it.
Her heart-rate quickened, as the man and woman moved toward them.
“Khayrie,” Abbea said pulling him to his feet. “It’s been a long time. Why have you been avoiding my beach?”
“Not avoiding, Sir. Only busy.”
“You must come out soon. My girls miss swimming with you.”
Brielle’s blood heated, and she felt Khayrie’s eyes on her.
“Why is your power wrapped around this girl?”
Khayrie chuckled, and Brielle wanted to scream.
“May I?” Khayrie asked, extending an arm toward her.
“Of course. I don’t go out often. Sometimes I forget how to be human.” Abbea raised his voice. “Rise citizens of Misty Haven. Dance, feast, and enjoy the party.”
Khayrie let the power around Brielle dissipate, and pulled her up to stand beside him.
“Master Abbea, this is Brielle. She is Misty Haven’s newest Witch, as you know.”
“Yes, I have heard about you,” Abbea said, taking her hand and squeezing it. Brielle smiled, and Abbea looked back at Khayrie. “So, Pagan placed her?”
“Yes. In Leona’s coven,” Khayrie said.
Abbea Looked at the woman beside him. Brielle looked away and inhaled deep. She wanted Khayrie to look at her that way, to get to know him better and to stay close to him. She didn’t know if that could happen, with the weird laws of Misty Haven. She would stay near him regardless. She raised her head to find him watching her.
“It seems Misty Haven’s Sovereign has taken an interest in this newest Witch.”
Khayrie reddened. “Indeed,” he said, clearing his throat.
Brielle’s blood warmed.
The woman with Abbea smiled. “My Lord told me I could ask you to dance tonight.”
Abbea placed his arm around her and kissed her cheek. “Brielle, this is my lady, Talisha. She is one of your coven sisters.”
Talisha took her hand and grinned. “I guess I don’t mind waiting a little longer for that dance. Welcome to Misty Haven, Brielle.”
“Thank you,” Brielle said. She felt awkward next to Talisha. The woman was tall, and refined, wearing a dress the sage color of Abbea’s eyes, that draped to the floor. Golden bracelets decorated her wrists, and a strand of seashells rested above a necklace of pearls that fell a little lower on her neck.
Abbea sighed and turned to Khayrie. “I guess I have to visit Pagan,” he said, then winked at Brielle. “Bring our new witch with you when you come to visit. We’ll have dinner and swim.”
“I’ll look forward to it, and bring her if she’ll come,” Khayrie said.
Abbea nodded, and his features became more serious. “I do miss my cove when off on outings. Remember the dangers Vadan saw for you. Do not take his words lightly, lad. He is a seer in the purest sense. His words are true.
Khayrie frowned, and Brielle’s heart ached. “I know, Master. I’ll be careful.”
Abbea placed a hand on his shoulder. “Stay safe, and we will meet again soon, my friend.”
Khayrie’s cheeks shifted to a warm antique rose color. If that was a mirror of his heart, it was stunning. Brielle knew it was true, and again wondered how many had seen their Sovereign is such a way. How many people were subjects, and how many had become friends?
He bowed, his power tugging at Brielle to do the same, as Abbea and Talisha made their way to Pagan. Khayrie turned and pulled Brielle onto a hidden balcony she didn’t know was there. “Are you feeling a little overwhelmed?” he asked. He held her hand, brushed the hair away from her face, and touched his lips to her cheek.
Brielle shivered. “Maybe a little.”
“I need to tell you something, so you won’t think I’ve been dishonest later.”
Brielle’s heart sank. She bit her lower lip, and waited for some terrible revelation. If he was married, she would kill him, but it served her right, spending the evening with a man she hardly knew. She would be the joke of Misty Haven after their public display. Then what was Leona’s relationship with him? She pulled away.
Khayrie frowned. He cleared his throat. “That obviously was not the best way to start this conversation.”
Brielle stood rigid. “What is so important that you have to tell me now, but didn’t tell me earlier?” she stammered. “Are you married or something?”
Khayries eyes widened. “No. It’s nothing like that. I am a strong Witch.”
Brielle smirked. That was obvious from the moment they met.
“You’re right. I hope you can forgive me for not saying something earlier. What I mean is I have different qualities from other witches.”
“Like how?” Brielle asked, anger shifting to curiosity.
“I can feel and sense emotions. I know you’ve noticed without realizing what it was.”
Brielle backed away, her cheeks hot. She stared at the ground unwilling to meet the eyes she’d been lost in only a short time ago. He knew all her emotions? Could he read her mind too, then? A chill ran through her body, and hands fisted at her sides.
Khayrie paled, and pulled her closer. “Brielle, you haven’t felt anything stronger for me, than what I have for you. It isn’t anything I can help. Please, don’t be embarrassed.”
Brielle didn’t know what to say. The alternative was to end the evening that had been precious to her, but keeping information like that from her? It was unacceptable and unfair.
“Why didn’t you think it was dishonest earlier?”
Khayrie took a deep breath. “I wasn’t trying to hide it. It’s just not the kind of thing I share with others. I wasn’t trying to deceive you.”
Brielle looked away.
I have offended you.”
“Embarrassed, not offended … unless that’s something you could have turned off?” she couldn’t keep the irritation out of her voice.
He reached for her hand, Brielle took another step back, and tried to swallow the lump in her throat.
“No,” Khayrie said. “But it would be a lie to say I wasn’t looking forward to it.”
Brielle folded her arms over her chest. “I have to work in the morning.”
Khayrie frowned. “I guess that’s my cue to end the evening.” He studied her for a few moments, then sighed. “Sovereign before man. Alright. Let me check on Daness. I don’t want to leave her to walk home alone if she separates from Omaron.
Brielle nodded. She was unsure about what ‘Sovereign before man’ meant and wondered why it brought her heart to her throat and tears to her eyes. She pushed it all back, because honesty was the foundation of any good relationship.
Daness had already left. So much for friends she could trust. And Aunt Jewell left this time too.
Khayrie said something to his brother and returned with a key in hand. “Ready to go?” he asked. His eyes were no longer the man she spent the evening with, but the Sovereign she’d met in the square. She wanted to lash out, ask him if he expected her to kneel? Thank you for giving me a piece of your time tonight, your f*cking highness, instead she nodded, and followed him out of the building.
The last thing she saw was Leona, leaning against the opposite wall, with unbridled rage in her eyes.
In Chapter 12
Brielle spends the evening with Khayrie, but things don't end well when she learns he can feel her emotions..Leona watches as Khay and Brie leave the ball.
Chapter 13 Unexpected Guests
Brielle
Khayrie opened the door of a black Model A Ford and helped Brielle in. She had never been in a vehicle so old. She marveled at the rumbly sound of the engine and large steering wheel covered with leather.
“You actually have a car.”
“It’s only brought out for special occasions. It’s almost impossible getting large objects through the portals, and having no cars helps keep the air clean. This has been passed down for a few generations.”
Brielle sniggered, maybe more than a few. How long had Khayrie’s family lived in Misty Haven? Riding in such an antique was a bumpy adventure on the dirt roads, it was worse than the horse-drawn carriage she’d shared with Daness and the vampires earlier. Bumpy or no, it made the trip shorter.
Khayrie parked, opened the door, and helped her out.
“I really can get out by myself,” she muttered.
Khayrie smiled. “But that would defeat my efforts at being a gentleman. Do you want me to check out the cottage? I’m sensing something strange here.”
“You don’t trust me,” Khayrie’s said. He tried to hide that he spoke through his teeth, but Brielle saw the frustration in his rigid jawline.
“It’s something unfamiliar. Not an attack by Leona, so you’re probably fine.” He pulled Brielle close and kissed the top of her head. It felt nice, but she hadn’t decided if she’d completely forgiven him yet. Could he tell what she was thinking right now? “I’ll tell you what,” he said. “I’ll wait here until you’ve looked over the cottage. Wave when you’re done.”
Brielle gave him a slight grin. “Okay.”
She waited another minute, then hugged him. “Thank you for a wonderful evening, Khayrie.” She might be irritated, but it was simple courtesy to say thank you, and frustrated or not, it had been a good night. Her heart quickened, as she realized she still wanted to see him again, confusing her further.
He smiled. “I hope we can do it again sometime.”
Brielle didn’t answer because she needed to think things out. She turned and took the walkway to the cottage and let herself in. A cat with greyish blue leaned against her leg, meowing. Brielle laughed, and picked him up. “Blue. How did you get in here?” Holding that little piece of home, she climbed the loft, and opened the bathroom door. Everything remained exactly the way she and Daness left it. When finished, she opened the door and waved.
Khayrie seemed skeptical and maybe a bit sullen, but he waved back, and drove away, leaving Brielle feeling chilled and craving the kiss that never came.
**
Khayrie
Khayrie drove home, his eyes narrowed. What was that energy? It seemed to come from the cat, but if the cat’s a familiar, that would make sense. Brielle’s never mentioned a familiar though. He would have insisted on inspecting further if she hadn’t been friendly with the creature.
He pulled to the side of the Administration Building and stared into space. The air seemed cold and empty with Brielle gone. He longed to return and insist on a goodbye kiss. He chuckled, that would make her think I’m crazy, but the missing kiss was intentional. He needed to leave her wanting something from him to ensure there would be another chance to take her out. She’d only agreed to that night, and no matter what she wanted, he knew she was still wavering, so he left her wanting more.
He entered the ballroom to find many people had left. It was customary for the attendees to leave after the Sovereign, but with Pagan and Abbea still there he would have expected more to stay later. He saw Catara sitting in a corner kissing Eadric, and sighed. Even my little sister is doing better than I am, but she’s too young. Time to break that up.
He headed toward them when Rylan stepped in front of him.
“Give them a minute. Don’t you remember what it was like to be thirteen?”
“That’s a good enough reason to stop them,” Khayrie said.
Rylan laughed. “You were a little wild back then, but Cat’s not. I know you don’t like him because he’s a vampire. I’m not big on it either, but Eadric cares about her. Think about it Khay. Most kids have a mother and father, but Cat has two big brothers, talk about a romance killer.”
Khayrie smiled deviously. “Good. Romance can come when she’s twenty-five.” He took a step, and Leona latched her hand around his and pulled back.”
“What are you doing, Khay. Can’t you see she’s having a romantic moment?”
Khayrie sighed heavily. “We’re not related so stop calling me Khay, and why should I allow her romantic moments? She’s just thirteen.”
“We were thirteen when we first kissed.”
“Yes, we were, and I remember what I was thinking at the time.”
Leona laughed and flipped her blonde hair back with one hand. “We should try again, Khay.”
“Not going to happen. Now let go.”
“You know you’re not supposed to be seeing that girl. She’s sworn to obey me and honor the coven. I could make her life miserable.”
I can see whomever I choose.”
“Yes, it’s just too bad she can’t.”
“If you harm her in any way, I’ll mete out equal punishment.”
Leona’s face reddened. “What do you see in her? What does she have that I don’t? I’m not only better for you because of position, I’m prettier too.”
“A conscience.”
“What?”
“You asked what she has that you don’t. And I find her every bit as beautiful as you.” He knew better than to say more. It was true Leona could make Brielle’s life a living hell.
“So, you do find me attractive then.”
Khayrie pulled away, but Catara’s romantic moment had ended, and she walked toward him with glowing rosy cheeks. Khayrie pinched his nose and looked away. He was going to have to tell Kitty to watch that boy. “Are you ready to go?”
“Yeah, we’re ready,” Eadric said.
“I wasn’t asking you.”
They followed him out of the building. “Get in the car,” Khayrie said.
I’m going to have a long talk with that girl. Pagan laughed under his breath.
“What’s so funny?” Khayrie asked.
Pagan shook his head. “You’re hilarious.”
“Just get in the car, Please.”
Khayrie drove home, the car packed tight, hoping he’d left such a glow on Brielle, even without the goodnight kiss.
**
Brielle
Wolves howled, once, twice, three times, coming closer until the house was surrounded. Brielle’s heart tried to beat a hole in her chest. What do I do? she panicked. Something huge slinked out of the trees. She couldn’t see it well in the darkness. My cell phone! She snatched it off the table. But who to call? Jewel and Daness would probably get killed walking into this. A piece of paper was stuck to the phone. She peeled it off. It was the phone number Talisha gave her. Abbea could certainly deal with the shifters. She dialed the numbers and listened to the phone ring out, twice.
There was no one left because she didn’t have anyone else’s number. She rested her back against the wall by the door. Was this the strange something Khayrie, was sensing? Eventually she knew these wolves would change and break the door down. Were they toying with her right now? She slid to the floor with a palm on her forehead, listening to the growling and barks. A few minutes later, there was silence. She peeked out the window, but there was nothing, except for a small amount of blood on the doorstep. She jumped when the phone vibrated.
“Hello?”
“Brielle?” An unfamiliar voice sounded curious. “Did you call a while ago?”
Talisha! “Yes. I’m sorry,” Brielle said, controlling her breathing. I thought I heard something outside and panicked. I’m alright now.”
“Are you sure?” Talisha asked.
The kindness in her voice made Brielle want to weep. Not many people had welcomed her to this strange new home.
“What’s going on?” Abbea’s voice, irritated and gruff. Talisha told him what Brielle said.
“Tell her we’ll be right there.”
“Oh, no,” Brielle said. “Everything’s okay now. You don’t need to do that.”
“You might as well learn now,” Talisha said. “It’s a rare occasion when a Paladin will listen to a human or witch, but when they do, they take it seriously. We’ll be right there.”
“Let’s go!” Abbea demanded.
“Bye.” Talisha disconnected, and Brielle went to wash the tears from her face.
She heard Abbea, and Talisha rustling through the brush outside, before they knocked on the door.
“Werewolves,” Abbea said. “Chased off by an angel?”
“An angel?” Brielle said. “Are you saying they exist?”
“Of course, they do,” Abbea said. “The question is why is this one interested in you? He didn’t kill the wolves, only ran them off. Here.” He handed her a long, pitch black feather. “It’s a good size one too. That feather might have a bit of protective power in it so hold onto it. We’re going to alert Yvain, and the Sovereign.”
The vampire? “Yvain, but why?”
“You don’t know anything about supernatural creatures, do you? And to think Rita raised you.”
Brielle sighed, so tired of hearing that.
“Fallen angels feed on vampire blood. They are not permitted in the communities for that reason.”
“But why, Khayrie?”
“Because it’s his place to assign covens who can deal with this. Although it’s almost impossible to drive one out.”
Brielle paled. If Khayrie got hurt because of this, she’d never forgive herself.
“Call if you need us,” Abbea said, coarsely.
Talisha rubbed her hand over Brielle’s back and followed him down the walkway.
** Khayrie
“Sit,” Khayrie said.
Catara dropped in the chair, eyes watering. “What did I do?”
Kitty laid down on her feet, purring.
Do you mind? Khayrie told the large Cat. “I’m trying to have a serious conversation.
So, talk, Kitty said. I’m not getting in your way. Catara was out all night you know, leaving me here all alone. Why couldn’t you talk to her then? I never get asked to join you.”
This again, Khayrie huffed. Fine.
He looked at Catara. “I don’t want you to see Eadric anymore.”
Cat’s breath caught. “But why?”
I saw you two kissing tonight. You aren’t old enough for that.”
“That’s not true! You just don’t like Eadric because he’s a Vampire.”
Khayrie’s eyebrows rose. “My best friend is a Vampire. I just don’t think he should be dating you.
“Why not?”
“Because you’re not old enough.”
“You kissed Leona when you were thirteen.”
“That was different. And how do you know about that?”
“It’s not different,” she stammered.
Two big tears trickled down her cheeks, and Khayrie ground his teeth. He would finish this conversation, she could cry all she wanted, but he cringed when her chest heaved, and she cried harder.
The doorbell rang. “Nixie, get that, please.”
“Yes, Master.” The little fairy flew, but returned in seconds. “Master you need to come. There’s a Merman in the parlor.”
Khayrie scowled. “A Merman?” He didn’t have time for this.
Khayrie turned back to Catara. You shouldn’t be kissing boys you’re not married to. At least not until you’re twenty-one.”
Catara’s mouth fell open. “Uh!”
Abbea came through the door, laughing.
Khayrie’s eyes widened. What’s he doing here? He started to kneel but Abbea stopped him.
“Twenty-one. That’s a big brother for you,” Abbea said, still laughing. “Don’t you remember what it was like to be her age? Girls are far more open these days, then when I was a boy.”
“Please don’t encourage her,” Khayrie mumbled.
“Yes, well, I’m actually here on business.
Khayrie glanced at Catara. “We’re done for now. Go get ready for bed.”
“Done for now,” she mumbled. “More like done for good.”
“No, we’re not. Now go.”
When Catara was out of sight, Abbea told Khayrie what he had found at Brielle’s. Khayrie’s chest tightened. He should have known better than to leave without checking things out.
“Is she okay?”
“Of course she is. I would have told you otherwise. I saw the way you looked at her.”
Khayrie’s face heated. “Thank you.” He needed to see for himself.
“You can check on her later,” Abbea said. “You have a job to do.”
Khayrie nodded. “Yes, Master.” But he was screaming inside.
“You’ve warned the vampires?”
“I sent Tali to do it,” Abbea replied.
Khayrie pulled out his phone and called his third-in-command since he knew Rylan would be busy with Pagan. No answer. The fourth, again no answer.
“Shit!”
He called Leona. “Hey Khayrie, feeling lonely now?”
“You sent your friends again, didn’t you?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Don’t screw with me, Leona. Get your girls together, excluding Brielle, since you’ve already traumatized her for the evening.”
“She wasn’t too traumatized to call you.”
“Brielle didn’t call. Abbea is here.”
“Abbea?” Her voice broke. “Why would Abbea be there?”
“Talisha’s was the only phone number Brielle had. Now get what girls you can find and go!”
“I’m on it.”
Khayrie clenched his teeth, as he hung up the phone. He wanted to kill Leona, but he was overreacting since nothing went wrong. It could have gone horribly wrong if Brielle hadn’t been thinking clearly. She really was a brave girl. He needed to find a way to stop Leona. He called the rest of his own coven and managed to connect with all of them. Then he placed all other covens on standby, until he broke them into groups to search for the trespasser.
**
Khayrie took in the area that surrounded Brielle’s cottage. He had to check on her, but the cottage was dark, and he knew she’d be sleeping. But if she’s asleep, it means she’s alright. He combed the area as only he could, being the son of an angel himself.
He found nothing, so he landed and hiked the road to an open field where the covens and vampires were reporting in. He could smell the trespasser, but even following the scent, found no one. Most of the vampires hid away, but Yvain would never sit back while his people were in danger.
Omaron landed and bowed.
“Report,” Khayrie said.
“We spread out everywhere, Hogan and Dimas on brooms, but there was nothing.”
Leona arrived with two witches on horseback. “No trace. Are you sure there was an angel?”
“You want to question Abbea?” Kahyrie asked.
Leona paled and sighed.
“You should be more concerned about the criminals you sent after Brielle,” Khayrie said. “Abbea found blood.” He wouldn’t have thought Leona could turn paler. He looked at the others. “The sun’s coming up. Go home and get some sleep. It looks like the angel got whatever it wanted and left.” He focused on Yvain. “Do you want me to post guards for the Vampires?” Most of the vampires were very private when it came to their homes, so he wasn’t going to force it.
Yvain bowed. “No. I’m sure we’ll be fine. Thank you for your work on our behalf.”
Khayrie inclined his head. “That’s what friends are for.”
Yvain straightened. “Is the girl alright?”
“She’s fine,” Khayrie said with warm cheeks. He hoped no one saw him peeking through the window to see, but he needed to see with his own eyes that she was alright and was certain Brielle wouldn’t have welcomed the intrusion.
Khayrie told Daness to take the day off, and they both went home to their beds. If anyone needed help, they knew where to find him.
**
“You’re telling me that people searched all night, but nobody called me?” Brielle said.
Jewel put the sandwiches she made for their lunches in the refrigerator.
“Don’t be so dramatic. Fallen angels are not welcomed in the communities. The Sovereign always does what is necessary to keep our havens safe. We might police the realms, but our safety is the Sovereign’s first priority. That includes you.”
“How will I ever fit in with the people of this town if I’m always excluded?”
“This isn’t always, Brie. It’s one time.”
Brielle’s hands clutched at her shirt. “When I see Khayrie, I’m going to let him know how I feel about this.”
“Really? What makes you think it’s his fault?”
“Whose is it, if not for him?”
“Leona and Abbea.”
“What do you mean?”
“Abbea felt you were a little traumatized. Leona didn’t want to take you, and this time, Abbea agreed.”
“Leona again.” Brielle growled.
“Sorry, Brie. I must agree with them on this one. You were traumatized enough to call someone for help. It was appropriate you sat this one out.”
“Leona was the one who sent the wolves.”
“You don’t know that, and if that’s the case, who sent the angel?”
Brielle sighed.
“Besides, it was Khayrie who watched over you all night, so give him a break.”
Brielle scoffed. “Watched over me?”
“They all had specific areas to cover. He took the area that included the cottage. He really does have a thing for you.”
Brielle’s cheeks warmed. “Don’t be silly.”
“Who’s being silly here? I’ve seen the way you react to him. Are you trying to fool me or you?” Jewel asked, picking up ingredients for her next potion.
Brielle frowned.
“That’s what I thought,” Jewel said. “Denial is never a good thing. I say you give him a chance. He’s a good guy.”
“Sure, the kind that doesn’t even kiss his date goodnight.”
Jewell chuckled. “I love him already.” She put her arm around Brielle and led her to the kitchen. Time to work on a love potion.”
Brielle swung out of her arm, and Jewel laughed. “Just kidding. Well, it’s not for you anyway.”
“You really make such things?
Jewel smiled, a devious sparkle in her eye. “Of course I do.”
A former student of the UCLA Writers Extension, Jena Baxter enjoys writing novels, screenplays, and an occasional song. She loves to encourage and inspire other writers to learn, and explore the world of fiction.
Jena currently resides in Northern California with her husband, Amazon parrot, Rain, and her little Maltese, Chase.