Holiday Special Edition

2011 and 2010 Edition

L-Book ePublisher

Holiday Short Stories

L-Book ePublisher has put together an anthology of Holiday short stories. This anthology contains sequels from Authors' Novels and Standalone Stories from Halloween to Christmas 2011 and 2010 edition.

This selection gives you an opportunity to read your favorites and explore new Authors.

L-Book ePublisher

Holiday Special Edition 2011 and 2010

Short Stories from L-Book ePublisher Authors.

Copyright © 2010-2011 by L-Book ePublisher

All rights reserved.

This book is Published by

L-Book ePublisher, LLC

La Quinta, Ca. USA

Email: info@L-Book.com

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Editor: Alexa Hoffman

Cover Design by Sheri

*  *  *

This work is copyrighted and is licensed only for use by the original purchaser and can be copied to the original purchaser's electronic device and its memory card for your personal use. Modifying or making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, without limit, including by email, CD, DVD, memory cards, file transfer, paper printout or any other method, constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions.

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Holiday Special Edition

2011

L-Book ePublisher

Holiday Short Stories

Table of Content - 2011

Holiday Special Edition

Holiday Special Edition  2011

The Temp ……………………………… Fran Heckrotte

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

The Wish ……………………………………… RJ Nolan

The Christmas Grump ……………………………… Jae

The Haunting at Quantman's Wharf ……… Helen Dunn

Anatomy of a Commitment ……………………… phair

Millennium Christmas ……………… Rrrose Carbinela

Ara and Kirste ………………………… Rae D. Magdon

*  *  *

Holiday Special Edition  2010 Edition

Table of Contents - 2010

Manhattan Moon   ………………………………… Jae

The Halloween Party ………………… Fran Heckrotte

Planning

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Party

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Double Trouble – A Family Holiday  ……… RJ Nolan

A Very Smokey Thanksgiving ……… Jeanine Hoffman

The Quest – A Holiday Fantasy …… Rrrose Carbinela

The Ball…………………………………A.L. Hotchkin

Winter Solstice, Night of the Wolves …… Fran Heckrotte

The Christmas Oak………………………………… Jae

Hamilton Horse Ranch

Baker Prairie, Oregon

December 24th, 1857

Hamilton Horse Ranch

Baker Prairie, Orego

December 25th, 1857

The Temp

by Fran Heckrotte

Copyright © 2011 by Fran Heckrotte

All rights reserved.

Acknowledgments

Special thanks to Pixie Dust who helped me with the character of Cassidy. Her willingness to answer many personal questions gave me the ability to create a person I would never have known on my own.

To Sage320 (aka Lynne Pierce)… She was tough on me but I persevered and eventually succeeded in prying enough information out of her for another character. For the sake of full disclosure all characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental, especially dead.

And as always to my best friend, A.L., who inspires me to write and Howie, who is clueless to what I write, but supportive in his innocent bliss.

Finally to Alexa, a great copy editor and Roxanne, the best of the best!

The Temp

A PILE OF PRINTED emails lay neatly stacked on the right side of the black marble desk. Strewn on the floor were hundreds of others. To the left were a few possibilities, although none quite so impressive as to be instantly accepted.

Slim, elongated fingers picked up the next page. After the content was reviewed for several seconds, it was placed with the other potential candidates.

I knew this was not a good idea. Modern technology complicates everything. Maybe I should just send my regrets this year. No one would miss me. The thought of not attending Yemaya's and Dakota's Halloween party was more depressing than it should have been. Last year's had been quite enjoyable. Receiving an official invitation from the Illusionist and her partner was quite an honor and not to be taken lightly.

A long arm stretched out and swept the remaining papers off the desk, scattering them around the room. Some flew into the nearby fireplace, causing it to flare up unexpectedly. I do not have time for this. One of these will have to do.

CHAPTER 1

Virginia

LINN THREW THE car keys on the foyer table and headed toward the kitchen. It had been one of those weeks when retirement seemed a good alternative, except taking a pay cut would be painful.

Painful! Linn gave a little snort. The next two weeks are going to be painful. Two weeks and nothing to do, she mentally grumbled, plopping down in her favorite chair. On the coffee table in front of her was a drab brown envelope from the IRS. After reading the contents, Linn had left it lying in the same spot for a couple of weeks. Hoping that problem would go away was a waste of energy. The IRS never went away, especially when they were right.

Next to the letter was a brochure on Germany. In two days, she was supposed to be flying to Bitburg. An old friend had invited Linn to the local Oktoberfest. That wasn't going to happen. The Internal Revenue Service's notification of a tax return error killed all prospects of taking a trip this year. She would be sending her vacation money to Uncle Sam now. I'll be damned if I'm paying the interest or late penalty. Lori's paying those. She's the professional.

Lori had been Linn's tax preparer for years, and to be honest, she was normally very good at her job. Unfortunately, last year her work was less than stellar. A typo had resulted in Linn's deductions appearing higher than they actually were. What should have been a three was an eight. A few thousand dollar error made a huge difference in taxes owed. After the IRS added everything else to the bill, the final amount was several hundred dollars more.

And to think, I actually wanted to work for them when I was young. Well, no use crying over spilt milk. Maybe I can do something else for the next two weeks. I suppose I can work on some reviews…maybe even do a few posts and stir up some of the members in my online group. The thought actually made Linn smile. Naw, that's too easy.

Linn sighed and picked up the evening paper. Curious, she glanced through the Temp column in the Wanted section. One ad caught her interest. It sounded intriguing and mysteriously vague... and, to Linn's disgust, poorly written.

TEMPORARY HELP WANTED: Temporrary assistent needed. Must be willing to travel. Hospice experience desirable but not necessary. Applicents must be mature, compassionate and able to make tough decisions. Salary negotiable. Health and life benefits available. Application must be received by Tuesday. Send short resume to IM666@4evrhot.com.

Whatever happened to spellcheckers? Linn thought, shaking her head in disgust. There was no way she would work for someone this illiterate. Glancing at several other ads, she noticed similar errors. Doesn't anyone proof these things? Disgusted, she started to throw the paper in the trash but hesitated as her gaze was irresistibly drawn back to the temp ad. Oh what the heck! It can't hurt to see what's involved. At least the person has a sense of humor.

For the next hour Linn typed away on her laptop, creating a short résumé. After ensuring there were no typos or grammatical errors, she sent it to the email address in the ad. There! See what you think of that! she thought, feeling almost defiant. You wanted short. I gave you short. No run-ons, no quips, no errors. Just the facts! A growling stomach reminded her that she hadn't eaten dinner. Closing the lid on her computer, Linn headed for the kitchen.

Checking her emails the next morning, Linn was surprised to find a response to her job application with an appointment scheduled for an interview the following Monday.

CHAPTER 2

THINGS WERE NOT going well. None of the applicants were suited for the position and the last had been particularly trying.

I should have known better than to pick a schoolteacher. The résumé was well-written, short, precise and to the point — traits to be admired in a world where education was appreciated less and less. The errors in the ad were proof of that. Thinking about the interview was almost painful. Linn Firsten was a force to be reckoned with.

*  *  *

The knock came at one minute before the scheduled appointment. When the woman entered, she examined the penthouse with a critical eye and seemed unimpressed.

"Come in, Miss Firsten. Please have a seat."

Confidently, the short, stout woman approached the desk and sat down, eyeing her interviewer speculatively.

*  *  *

I've always wondered what one of these places looked like, Linn thought. What a waste of money! Turning her attention to the figure in front of her, she tried unsuccessfully to make out the shadowed features. Hmmph! That's just plain rude. Probably from old money.

"Are you ready to begin?" her interviewer asked.

"Of course," she replied. At least he has a nice voice. "What would you like to know about me?"

"Straight to the point, I see. A quality I respect. Why did you apply for this job?"

"I need to make some extra money. I had planned a vacation in Germany but thanks to an accounting mistake I now have to pay the IRS instead of celebrating Oktoberfest. That means I have extra time on my hands and I hate sitting around doing nothing. If I can earn enough to pay off the government and keep me from getting bored, I'll have turned a fiasco into just a bad memory. Of course, that's if the job is something that interests me. What exactly is it that you expect me to do?"

"If I hire you, you mean," the interviewer corrected.

"And if I'm willing to accept the offer. Look, Mr.—What is your name anyway? You didn't sign your email or introduce yourself. I should at least know who I'm talking with."

"Masters. I apologize for my unintended rudeness."

"Well, Mr. Masters, as I was saying, I need to know more about the job if I'm going to accept it."

"I believe it is I who am interviewing you, Miss Firsten, and I have not offered you the job yet."

The gentle reprimand caught Linn by surprise. She realized her assertiveness was due to being nervous. It had been a long time since she had applied for a job.

"I'm sorry. I guess I'm a bit nervous."

"I understand. You have been a teacher for over thirty years. Taking charge is an essential quality when dealing with the young. If you are ready, we can continue with the interview."

"Certainly." Linn relaxed slightly. The man's understanding was assuring.

"Are you a religious person, Miss Firsten?"

A strange question, Linn thought. "Not very. Is it a requirement?" she asked cautiously.

"No, it is not important in itself. Do you believe in life after death?"

What kind of question is that? "I suppose. Are you a minister or something? Your ad did mention hospice experience."

"I am not a minister. A something may be a different matter." The interviewer clasped his hands together and leaned back in his chair. Linn had the impression he was trying to decide on something. After a few moments, he unlocked his fingers and placed his hands palm down on the desk. "I know these questions seem odd to you but I do have a reason for asking them. I have only two more to ask. I want you to think of someone, past or present, who you would consider the most horrible person on the planet. If you had the power to save or kill that person, which would you choose?"

This is getting too freaky. Before she could answer, the interviewer held up his hand to stop her.

"Obviously this is theoretical, but your response is important. If you could save thousands of lives by taking one, would you?"

"I don't know," Linn replied. Killing was abhorrent. Not that some people don't deserve it.  The interviewer said nothing, obviously giving Linn more time to think about the question. "I think I could," she said, sounding more confident.

"And if that person were a child? Could you kill a child to keep him or her from becoming a monster?"

"I..." Linn didn't even want to think about that. "You said this is all theoretical. I'm not willing to even consider something like this even in theoretical terms." Standing, Linn stepped closer to the desk and the man sitting behind it. "I'm sorry, Mr. Masters, I think we're both wasting a lot of time. I'm certain that whatever you are looking for in an assistant is not one of my strong points."

"Perhaps this is the one thing you and I are in complete agreement with, Miss Firsten. Thank you for your time. My driver will be happy to take you home, now."

Not on your life, Linn thought. I'll be damned if I'm getting in a car with anyone connected to you. As she was closing the penthouse door behind her, she swore she heard a chuckle.

*  *  *

Only one more applicant. I never realized how difficult it is to find good help. Crumbling up Linn Firsten's résumé, the interviewer tucked the wad in his pocket and then vanished. A soft knock on the door of a penthouse almost twenty-five hundred miles away indicated the final applicant had arrived.

CHAPTER 3

Lake Tahoe

"ENTER," A VOICE commanded.

The hotel room was exquisitely furnished and dimly lit. The overhead lights were off. Red velvet curtains partially concealed large tinted windows, preventing a lot of light from entering. The high ceilings and large chandelier were intimidating, making Cassidy feel small. A dark mahogany desk and chair were strategically placed so the occupant faced inward, his back toward a window making it almost impossible to see his features. The man motioned for Cassidy to take a seat in the chair opposite him.

"There is no need to be nervous, Miss Donnelly. I have read your résumé. You attended college for only one year. Why did you quit?"

"I couldn't afford the tuition. I had gotten into an accident and wasn't able to work for over a year."

"Had you continued what would you have majored in?"

"Before the accident I was majoring in computer programming and system building along with English, writing and anthropology classes."

"I see. That was an ambitious combination. You have considerable experience with the public," her interviewer said. His voice was pleasantly low, which calmed her jitters.

"Yes, I'm good with people. I enjoy working with them."

"You have a child."

"How do you know that?”  Cassidy asked. That information wasn’t in her resumé.

“It’s my job to know everything about the applicants. Now about your child?”

“Yes, his name is Brandon. He's my pride and joy."

"The ad said you must be willing to travel. Where will the child be when you are away?"

"My neighbor, Yvonne, will take care of him. She's my best friend. Our children play together all the time," Cassidy said.

"The job requires you to be away at night," the interviewer said, clasping his hands together and leaning slightly forward.

"Oh. Ummm... Would I be away very many nights? The ad did say it was a temporary job. If it's only for a few weeks, then I'm sure Yvonne wouldn't mind Brandon sleeping over. We've helped each other out before."

"I will require your assistance for only one night."

"One night? That's all? I don't understand. The ad offered health and life benefits... and.... well, it doesn't make sense to offer that for just a night of work."  The interviewer leaned back in his chair and said nothing. Cassidy wasn't sure what to think. "Wait! You mean I'll be working during the day and just have one night to worry about," she said, relaxing.

"No. I need you for one night."

"You don't... You aren't asking me to... to..." Feeling panicky, Cassidy jumped up. "I'm not…"

"Sit, Miss Donnelly," her interviewer ordered. "I am not looking for a prostitute."

Embarrassed, Cassidy sank down onto the chair. "I'm sorry."

"A reasonable interpretation under the circumstances. Shall we continue?"

Cassidy nodded.

"What I offer is not for everyone. It requires dedication and complete obedience. You will go places and see things you could never imagine, but you will be amply compensated for your efforts."

"How much will I be paid? I mean, I need to fix my car and I'd like to buy Brandon a gift. I haven't been able to do much for him since I lost my job."

"What are you worth?" the interviewer asked.

She thought about the question for a few moments. For some reason, Cassidy got the impression he wasn't asking about hourly wages.

"A lot!" she declared showing a side of her she rarely allowed out. Working with the public meant maintaining control of one's emotions. ‘The customer is always right' was a mantra drilled into her by her past employers. "If I'm to give specifics, though, I'd like to know what my duties will be."

"Then you shall." The interviewer stood and moved slowly from behind the desk to stand next to her. "Tell me, Miss Donnelly, do you believe there is life after death?"

The question caught Cassidy by surprise. "I suppose," she said cautiously, wondering if it was a trick question. "I haven't thought about it much lately. It's a bit depressing."

"In what way? Is not death a natural progression to life?"

"Of course, but that doesn't mean it's something I want to think about too often."

"I see. If my questions make you uncomfortable I assure you there is a purpose to them. I have only a few more and then I will tell you what the job will be if I choose you."

"Okay."

"If you were given the opportunity to kill the most horrible person you could think of, past or present, could you?"

"I... I'm not sure. I think I could... if he or she was really horrible." Cassidy shifted uncomfortably in her chair.

"And if it was the most wonderful person, your son for instance?" Before Cassidy could answer the interviewer held up his hand to stop her from speaking. "If Brandon was in terrible pain and nothing could stop it. If you knew it would grow worse and he was going to die a slow and agonizing death, could you end his suffering?"

Cassidy could feel her heart pounding painfully in her chest. Her first reaction was to say no, absolutely not. There was no way she would even consider it, but...

"But," the interviewer responded. "That will do."

Confused, Cassidy could only shake her head. "I don't understand," she said.

"My assistant must be both compassionate and be able to make tough decisions. You have shown me you possess those qualities. Now I will tell you the job."

*  *  *

Cassidy shook her head as she looked at the list. She had spent several hours being interviewed by her potential employer and then listening to him... no, It describe what her work would entail. At first she thought it was joke. Then she started searching the room for signs of hidden cameras. When she realized the seriousness of the situation, she felt a little numb, and a little frightened, especially when a scroll was handed to her. It was supposed to be a short list.

Did he... It ... really expect her to deal with so many people? There was no way she could travel the planet fast enough to be with all of them. Cassidy looked at the partially unrolled document she held in her hands. Death... Death... had given it to her to review. Short? There must a million names here and some I don't even know how to pronounce, let alone what they are. I can't be everywhere at the same time.

"Is there a problem?" It asked. "I did stress the job would be difficult, did I not?"

"Yes... you did. It's just that, well, I didn't realize there would be so many," Cassidy said. "I mean there must be... I don't know, a million names here."

"Actually, there are only four hundred thousand, seven hundred and sixty-one. I intentionally kept the number low."

"Low?" Cassidy squeaked out. "How... How can I possibly vis... visit that many in just five hours?"

"There are no barriers to death. That is why life is so precious."

"But five hours? It seems —"

"Time is a mortal concept, and all living things are mortal... even those who think otherwise. You will be that reminder. Some will welcome you, others will curse and fight you with every ounce of strength they can muster. Every breath in their body becomes precious. They will struggle, hoping beyond hope, beyond reason, but in the end all will go with you."

"Where? You haven't told me what I'm to do with them."

"That I can only disclose to my apprentice.  You have not accepted the job yet. What I can tell you is that for each there is a destination, one fitting for the life lived."

"It so overwhelming. I'm not sure I can do this," Cassidy said hesitantly.

Slender fingers gently took the list from Cassidy's trembling hand.

"It is not as hard as you think. I have chosen them carefully. Come. We will visit one; a practice run, as you might say. If afterward you feel you cannot do this, you may withdraw your application, and I will search elsewhere."

"I'm sorry to be so much trouble," Cassidy said. "I want — well, I don't want —" Death held out its hand, offering it to Cassidy. When she took it she was surprised at the comforting warmth. "I thought you would be cold," she whispered and instantly felt embarrassed.

"To some I am. For others I am the warmth they longed for, the light they sought in the darkness. I can be peace or I can be fear. I am all things to all things and yet I am nothing more than their guide. Their destiny is written long before my arrival. Now, shall we go?"

*  *  *

Her surroundings were like nothing she had ever seen. Fires burned everywhere. The cries of millions of tormented souls filled the air. It didn't take a lot of imagination for Cassidy to know where she was.

"Why are we here? Aren't all of these people dead already?" she asked, looking up into the shadowy face of her companion.

"I do not come for those already lost. I come for one of their torturers."

"A demon? You're going to kill a demon?"

"Kill? I do not kill. I only take those whose time is passed. Their removal makes space for others."

"I don't understand. Where does a demon go when it dies? I mean it's already in Hell."

"Hell is a human concept. To the inhabitants here, this is Karylimikaneal. The literal translation is The Underworld. Like you, Demons and Minions have their own afterlife. Their qualifications just differ a bit," It said. "Come. Time is short."

"I thought you said time didn't exist."

"So I did." Pointing to an area to its left, Death motioned for Cassidy to follow. "That is where Philatanus dwells. He has enjoyed his pleasures for over a hundred thousand years. There are others who have earned his place."

"Philat —"

"Philatanus. He specializes in sodomy and pedophilia." It's voice was quiet and nonchalant. Death didn't judge... well, normally. Occasionally someone or something penetrated It's calm indifference. Philatanus wasn't one of them. They had known each other a very long time.

"Death, my old friend," Philatanus called out as the dark, shrouded figure glided smoothly toward him. "What brings you here and who is that mortal? Have you brought me a guest?" The Demon rubbed his hands together, obviously anticipating a new victim. "She is quite lovely... for a human. I will take great pleasure testing my newest invention on that plump, soft —"

"She is not for you. She is here to watch," It replied.

"Watch? Well, that's wonderful. I love audiences, but I've never known you to bring a guest before. What makes this one special?"

"Let us say I am training her. She is my assistant for a short while."

"Assistant? Since when did you need an assistant?" Philatanus eyed Death speculatively. "Are you going somewhere? Perhaps your time has come, eh?" he teased.

"No, but yours has," Death said, moving closer to the Demon.

Philatanus' eyes grew wide. His mouth opened to speak, but no words immediately came out.

"Mi... mine?" he finally stammered.

Nodding, Death placed his hand on his old friend's shoulder.

"Do you come freely?"

"Where? Will it be Okyllmetakin or Sagleemorlin?" Philantanus asked.

"Does it matter? Your destiny is already written. You cannot change it now."

The Demon bowed his head for several moments and then raised it proudly. Meeting Death's gaze, he nodded.

"It's as you say, old friend. I go freely and welcome my new adventure. This world has grown boring. I wonder who will take my place," the Demon mused.

"You have trained your underlings well. Someone will take your position, but not your place. No one can replace you. Come. We will walk this journey together, the three of us. Never have I allowed another to accompany me during these moments." Signaling for Cassidy to step closer, Death held out its hand for her to clasp. Then taking Philatanus', the three vanished. For a moment The Underworld grew quiet and then the cries of tormented souls resumed.

*  *  *

"Was that so hard?" Death asked, staring emotionlessly at the human sitting in the chair across from him.

"No," Cassidy said. "He seemed almost happy."

"Happy? No. Accepting is a better word. Philatanus is an old soul, bored with life, trapped in a routine that no longer brought him joy."

"Then why did he keep doing it? What an awful job! Sodomy... Well, there's nothing wrong with that I guess if everyone's willing, but I seriously doubt any of his guests were volunteers... and I don't even want to think about pedophilia."

"I would not judge him too harshly. Demons are... let me say born to carry out the duties humans find abhorrent... and yet many humans don't hesitate to commit the same atrocities. Demons cannot change what they are. In a way, humans are more evolved. They can... at least, most of them."

"I suppose. Will it always be this easy?" Cassidy asked, looking hopefully at the dark figure in front of her.

"No."

"Oh!" Cassidy was surprised at the frankness.

"But I have given you only those that will be the easiest."

"Over four hundred thousand, though. That's a lot of people, even if some are Demons."

"Cassidy," It said, leaning slightly forward. "I am Death. People are not the only things that die. All life ends eventually."

"All? You mean all? Like puppy dogs and cute bunnies and —"

"Yes, and... It is the way of things. Are you up to the challenge? Time is running short. If I am to make a decision I must have your answer now."

Cassidy swallowed.

Puppy dogs, she thought. Tears rolled down her cheeks. Eyes filled with sadness, she met Death's solemn gaze.

"Sobeit," It said.

CHAPTER 4

LIKE LAST YEAR, the villagers attending the party were dressed in various costumes ranging from monsters to fair maidens. Not surprising no one dressed like a vampire or werewolf. In the land of Transylvania, few had the desire or courage to tempt the unknown. Spirits were respected, not mocked by trivial representations.

Yemaya and Dakota moved through the crowd stopping to talk to different guests along the way. Both were thrilled that almost everyone from last year's party managed to make it. Several gypsies wandered through the great chamber, some playing their violins softly while others played gypsy accordions in the courtyard and gardens. Occasionally wolves were seen prowling through the crowds but rarely allowed anyone close enough to touch them. A slight curl of the lip or low growl was ample warning to those daring enough to try.

"I hope someone doesn't push one of them too far," Dakota said, watching a young male wolf baring his fangs at a villager attempting to pet him.

"It will be a lesson learned," Yemaya said. "Volni has been surprisingly tolerant considering his age. Regina and Voinic have taught him well."

"Well, I wouldn't blame him if he did finally bite that guy. He's been following Volni around all night."

"Perhaps it is time we intervened." Motioning at Maria, Yemaya pointed to the villager and then the exit. Nodding, her housekeeper made her way toward the man and discreetly whispered something in his ear.

"But I only want to pet him," the villager whined looking longingly at the gray wolf a few feet away. "He's so beautiful."

"Mr. Slovonov. You were instructed not to touch any of the wolves. They are not pets."

"They certainly can't be wild. I mean I know people think they are, but we both know Miss Lysanne had to have trained them. I bet they aren't even full-blooded."

"I can assure you they are, Mr. Slovonov, and they are not trained animals. Now, I believe it's time for you to leave."

"What?" Slovonov exclaimed, spittle spewing from his lips. "Is this how guests are treated here? I must have a word with Miss Lysanne." Glancing to his left and then right the villager's eyes scanned the room for the hostess. "There she is. Miss Lysanne... Miss Lysanne!" he called out rudely, waving his right hand in the air, attracting the attention of several nearby guests. "I must speak with you right now."

"Mr. Slovo —"

"Aren't you the housekeeper?" he asked, turning his gaze back on Maria. "You really should know your place better." Raising his arm to push her aside, Slovonov was startled by deep growls to his left and right. Looking down he saw two large wolves approaching, their white teeth gleaming.

"As I was saying, Mr. Slovonov. It's time you left," Maria continued, her smile a blend of satisfaction and smug enjoyment.

"Well... well... I never."

The growls grew slightly louder.

"Nor will you ever again. Regina and Voinic will escort you off the premises," Maria said and then spun around, obviously a sign of dismissal.

Raising his head proudly, Mr. Slovonov tried to appear calm and in control as he left the great hallway. He'd have probably pulled it off if it wasn't for the dark stain spreading from his crotch down the front of his toga.

"I don't think he'll be coming back," Dakota said, laughing. Putting her arm around Yemaya's waist she gave her a firm squeeze. "I do so love how you make things disappear."

Yemaya grinned. "All the credit goes to Regina and Voinic. They can work their own magic when it is needed. Shall we tend to the other guests now?"

"Yep! Let's go talk to Sabnock and Constance. They look so... so at peace. What a beautiful couple they are."

*  *  *

Sabnock and Constance had made the long journey from the Great Beyond and were busy talking with Lilith and Intunecat. Sabnock looked magnificent in her warrior outfit. A burnt umber loincloth clung to her hips. The matching bra covered her breasts. Both were trimmed with golden threads that glinted whenever she moved. The flame tattoos on her arms and legs glowed a vibrant red and orange. As always, she stood protectively behind Constance, her strong arms wrapped loosely around her lover's waist. Her chin rested lightly on Constance's head as she surveyed everything around them.

Constance no longer appeared frail or vulnerable. Dressed in silver and blue, her dress clung sensuously to her slender figure. Slits up each leg showed a hint of pale thighs. The one strap crossing over her left shoulder draped down the front, covering her left breast completely but exposing the curves of the right. A pendant hung from her neck resting in the cleavage. An unnatural light flickered deep within the emerald green stone, its power felt by everyone sensitive to supernatural energies.

"It's good to see everyone again," Constance said, leaning into Sabnock's warm embrace. "Especially Dakota and Yemaya. I miss them." The longing in her voice didn't escape the demoness.

"Are you unhappy?" Sabnock asked, gently turning Constance in her arms so she could look into her lover's sparkling black eyes.

Smiling, Constance shook her head. "No, I'm the happiest woman in the world."

"Worlds," Sabnock corrected teasingly.

"Worlds," Constance agreed. "That doesn't mean I don't long for more. This was my home for thousands of years. My people are still out there doing god knows what."

"God?"

Constance laughed and patted her lover's arm. "Sorry." God wasn't a topic Demons cared to discuss. Sabnock no longer belonged to the Underworld but as the past commander of Dis' Legions, she still had strong ties and loyalties to the Underlord. "Lilith is as sultry as ever," Constance said, deciding to change the subject.

"Her life amongst humans agrees with her. I'm happy for her."

"So am I. Let's go see how she and the others are doing. It'll give you a chance to say hi to your old boss." Placing her hand on Sabnock's forearm, Constance pulled her toward the small group gathered near a life-size marble statue of a female warrior.

*  *  *

Lilith had again chosen a black dress, but no one was complaining. Sleeveless, the halter-style top swept around her neck, across her breasts and around to each side, leaving her midriff bare. The tan skin couldn't conceal the firm muscles underneath. A slit from the left ankle up toward her thigh displayed a long, exquisitely shaped leg. Few were immune to the demoness' sexual aura.

Standing next to her were Intunecat, the Dark One, and Dis, the Underlord. Intunecat was wearing a black tuxedo. Dis wore nothing but a dark red loincloth, barely long enough to conceal his enormous penis. Several of Lilith's prostitutes stood near him, each hoping to take advantage of his renowned prowess and knowledge of the pleasures of the flesh. Dis had every intention of granting their wishes before the night was over, as well as a few demons and demonesses that were also in attendance.

*  *  *

As the large clock struck midnight, the banquet hall grew eerily quiet. The pendulum swung slowly back and forth. Some in the group could be heard counting each loud gong in anticipation of the twelfth.

"Do you think he'll make it this year?" Dakota asked.

"I think he already has," Yemaya said sensing a presence emerging near them.

"I am not a he."

Startled, Dakota jumped. "Don't do that!" she gasped nervously and then felt embarrassed. Death was not someone to be chastised.

"I did not mean to startle you," It said, bowing slightly. "I am used to my presence being felt by the mortals I come in contact with."

"Oh." Dakota thought about the comment for a few seconds and then her eyes widened like a deer caught in headlights. "OH!" she repeated, turning to look at Yemaya as fear coursed through her body. "You felt him."

"Yemaya and I have a unique connection. We have crossed paths on several occasions and will continue to do so. Tonight, however, I am here strictly for pleasure."

The relief on Dakota's face would have been comical under other circumstances.

"We are glad you could attend," Yemaya said, wrapping her arm around Dakota to comfort her.

"Thank you. If you will excuse me, I would like to visit a few old friends. I must leave in a few hours."

"Of course," Yemaya said graciously. "I imagine it must be nearly impossible for you to take time off."

"Yes." Death bowed slightly at the waist and glided away, leaving Dakota breathless and Yemaya intrigued by the courtly manner of the most feared being in human existence.

"I would like to get to know him... It better," she said and then winced at the painful slap on her right arm.

"No you wouldn't!" Dakota declared, her eyes flashing angrily.

"I meant figuratively, love, not literally," Yemaya replied. "Now stop beating on me. Our guests will think I am an abused woman." Leaning down she kissed Dakota on the lips. "You, I plan on getting to know literally... later," she promised.

*  *  *

Only a few guests remained when the clock struck three. The villagers had been long gone, most still uneasy about traveling the fourteen kilometer journey home through the dark forests of the Transylvanian mountains. Dis and the prostitutes had disappeared earlier but not before thanking Yemaya and Dakota for future endless hours of pleasure.

"Thank you, again, for inviting us," Lilith said to Yemaya and Dakota. "My whores are no doubt enjoying Dis' company and I will probably have to listen to their escapades for months."

"Perhaps you should take a vacation. We'd love to have your company," Dakota offered.

"I might just do that. May the rest of your night be as successful as your party."

"You are always welcome here, Lilith," Yemaya said. "I look forward to seeing you soon." Lilith vanished. Four guests remained: Sabnock, Constance, Death and Saira, who had arrived shortly after Death's appearance.

"We must go also. The journey home is long and tiring for Constance," Sabnock said.

"I am not an old woman anymore," Constance replied, giving the demoness a stern look. "When will you stop treating me so delicately?"

Sabnock, whose arm had never left the historian's side, gently pulled her closer. "Never! I lost you once. It won't happen again."

"You do not need to worry about that anymore," Death interjected. "You are both where you belong."

"Please come back soon," Dakota said, giving Constance a hug. For a moment she looked at Sabnock and then stretched up on tippy toes and planted a soft kiss on Sabnock's left cheek, surprising everyone. "It's not often I get to kiss a demoness," she teased.

"It is not often I let you kiss another woman," Yemaya joked and then chuckled.

"Then I'm honored," Sabnock said seriously.

Saira, who had been standing quietly to the side, laughed. "Well, now I know why I'm here," she said. The Traveler was constantly being drawn to unique moments in time, normally starting with the present and following threads into the past. Tonight there were no threads to follow other than the one that had brought her to the party. Being stationary for awhile was a good feeling, but now she was restless. "Do you mind if I accompany you on your journey home? It appears I have a little extra time on my hands, no pun intended."

"We would love it," Constance said. Bidding everyone goodbye the three vanished, leaving Yemaya, Dakota and Death.

"Once again I thank you for the invitation. I too must leave. I fear my assistant is a bit overwhelmed at the moment."

"Assistant?" Dakota asked. "I never knew you had help... Not that I thought about it," she added as an afterthought.

"Normally I do not. It is an experiment. I am discovering that time off can be satisfying."

"Oookaay," Dakota said, unsure how else to respond.

"I believe you have left her speechless. Not an easy accomplishment." Yemaya grinned at Dakota's indignant look and then pretended to wince at the light slap on her forearm.

"You're going to pay dearly for that," Dakota promised. Both knew it was a meaningless threat.

"A price I will gladly pay, my love," Yemaya said before turning back to Death. "Thank you for honoring us with your presence. We look forward to seeing you next year."

"At our party," Dakota said quickly.

"I understand," It replied. "Until then." Death vanished.

Yemaya pulled Dakota against her body and wrapped both arms around her. "You are getting quite brave, considering who you were talking to."

"I'm just making sure Death stays in its place. On another note, I'm ready to collect on that remark you made earlier. Move it!" Dakota ordered pointing toward their bedroom.

"Your wish is my command!"

CHAPTER 5

THREE HUNDRED THOUSAND twenty-nine thousand six hundred and forty-seven Cassidy thought. I can't believe I have that many to go. How does Death do it?

"I see you are having problems." The calm voice could belong to only one...

One what? Person? Cassidy thought.

"That will suffice for now. You're not very good at this," It said and then held up its hand to stop her objection. "I am not criticizing you."

"I hope not! I mean I did manage to kill... guide over a hundred and fifty thousand souls to the right destinations. It wasn't easy, you know." Cassidy was clearly piqued.

"Indeed you did and for you, quite an accomplishment," Death agreed calmly. "I am surprised you managed so many."

Cassidy looked at her toes and blushed. "I know you're making fun of me now, but... well... it was easier to practice on bugs. I was building up to something bigger."

"So I see," Death said, noticing several thousand spiders and rodents were highlighted. "I commend you for your efforts, Cassidy, but you not are quite ready to be my assistant."

"I'm sorry. I really did want to do this, I mean... Do my job."

"I know. I have no complaints about your performance. My driver will take you home. You will forgive me if I do not pay you tonight. There appears to be a lot of catching up to do and time is of the essence... something I am not used to."

*  *  *

The black limo silently pulled up to the curb in front of Cassidy's house. Except for a dog barking several houses away, the neighborhood was eerily quiet. The driver, the same one who had picked her up earlier, opened the door and stepped back, offering his hand to assist her out of the vehicle.

"Thank you," Cassidy said.

"You're welcome, Miss Donnelly. Have a good night." Tipping his hat with his right hand he got back into the car and left.

Cassidy walked slowly up the sidewalk and entered her house. The barking stopped.

*  *  *

"The mail's here," Brandon yelled. "Nothing but junk except for a large letter or something. Can I open it?" he asked, waving it at Cassidy excitedly. "Please?"

"No, but you can shred all the junk mail."

"Cool!" Handing his mother the envelope, he ran for the paper shredder. Brandon loved watching paper disappear into the slot and then come out as tiny diamonds.

The envelope, nine-by-twelve, was made of white linen. Cassidy had never seen anything like it before. Her name and address were beautifully written in an old Calligraphic style. Not wanting to destroy it or the handwritten part, she gently pried the flap open and slid the two documents out. The first was a check for several thousand dollars. The second a letter addressed to her. At the top was a name she didn't recognize. Cassidy's eyes grew wider and wider as she read the contents.

Dear Miss Cassidy,

Please be advised that you have been selected for sponsorship by our organization. Enclosed is the first installment of twelve checks you will be receiving over the next year. The money comes with no obligations or conditions other than those imposed under normal tax codes. If you choose to use the funds for educational purposes, an additional amount will be at your disposal. Should you have any questions, you may contact Mr. Quinton at the phone number supplied at the bottom of this letter.

Respectfully,

Daedi Masters,

Chairman of the Board

Additional information followed the signature which mirrored the writing on the envelope. Cassidy reread the letter several times.

It's a joke, she repeated over and over.

"Hey mom, what's up?" Charging into the room, Brandon flung himself onto the couch and threw his booted feet on the coffee table.

"Feet off!" Cassidy ordered automatically. "Nothing. I mean I don't know." Handing Brandon the letter, she gave him a few minutes to read it. "What do you think?"

"Cool! Who's this Masters person?"

"I don't know."

"Maybe he works for the guy you were supposed to meet last night?"

Cassidy gave Brandon a strange look.

"What guy?"

"Aw mom, you know, the man who interviewed you a few days ago. You said he might hire you to do some work for him on Halloween night. It sounded a bit creepy to me. Who wants to work on Halloween? You know, ghosts and things." Brandon raised both hands in the air and made a face. "Bwwahhh haaah haaaahhh!"

"Oh, him. I never heard back. I guess he picked someone else... and he was a bit creepy." Secretly Cassidy was glad she didn't get the job. The interviewer was a bit strange, especially his questions. She couldn't remember much after he had asked her about life and death. Shaking her head, she quickly put him out of her mind. "Say, how would you like to go out for a hamburger or something? I think we can afford to splurge a bit, don't you?"

"Cool!" he replied, jumping up.

"Cool!" Cassidy agreed. "And afterward, we're going to the bank and then the university. I'd like to check into a few courses. It's time I went back to school."

Hurrying toward her car, Cassidy didn't notice the tall, slender figure walking down the sidewalk.

"Oh, sorry," she said, almost bumping into him. As his hand reached out to steady her she couldn't help but admire the long, beautifully formed fingers.

"Be more careful, Miss Donnelly," the stranger's deep calm voice warned. "You can't afford another accident." Before she could answer the man moved away.

"Wow, is he creepy!" Brandon exclaimed and then lost interest. "Come on, Mom. I'm starving to death."

"Me too," Cassidy said and grinned. Life was definitely looking pretty good for the moment.

The Wish

by RJ Nolan

Copyright © 2011 by RJ Nolan

All rights reserved.

Acknowledgements

A big thank-you to Pam. You provided the spark to my muse just when I needed it most. Maybe she does take requests after all.

Thanks to my critique partner, Jae. Maybe next time I can write that other story. Turkeys and ostriches are too funny to pass up.

Dedication

To everyone who is still looking for their soulmate. Never give up. You never know when or where that special someone will come into your life.

Author's note

This story takes place prior to the events in L.A. Metro.

The Wish

Yacht Club — Grosse Pointe, Michigan

New Year's Eve — 11:40 p.m.

THE FLOOR-TO-CEILING windows provided a panoramic view of the water. The clear black sky shone with muted stars. Kim Donovan longed to step out into the night and away from the press of people in the ballroom behind her. How did I let myself get talked into this? She sighed. The charity event sponsored by a women's group from her mother's country club was for a worthy cause. The money raised tonight would go to a foundation that helped children with AIDS.

That would have been all well and good if her mother hadn't used the charity bash as an excuse to push every single and some not-so-single men she could find at Kim. Her mother was well aware of her sexual orientation. Kim had been out since her freshman year in college. But no matter how many times she reminded her mother she was a lesbian, her mother refused to accept it. If her mother warned her one more time that she wasn't getting any younger and soon all the good men were going to be taken, Kim was going to explode.

Although she had only been here eight months, Kim already realized that moving back to Michigan and accepting the job at Memorial Medical had been a mistake. Tonight was just one more example of how useless it was to try and please her mother. She will never accept who you are. She won't be happy until you're married to some guy and have six kids. Kim shook her head. That's never going to happen.

Kim stared at her reflection in the window. Her hair was swept back from her face, allowing her blond curls to cascade down her neck. A dark blue floor-length evening gown hugged her curves. The color brought out the blue of her eyes. The image was marred by the sadness in her eyes and the slight slump of her shoulders.

"Kim."

She started, then smiled. "Hey, Brandon." She turned and accepted the champagne glass he held out.

Kim had met Brandon earlier in the evening while getting a drink from the bar. He had been lamenting the fact that his partner had gotten called away for an emergency at work. She had quickly enlisted his help in keeping her mother at bay.

"Sorry I took so long," he said. "Everyone is getting ready for the midnight toast." His gaze darted around the room, and his mouth pursed as if he had tasted something sour. "Where is she?"

At least she wasn't the only one who found her mother hard to take. Kim laughed and her mood lightened just a bit. Her mother had seemed shocked when she came up to them earlier with yet another man for Kim to meet and found her standing with Brandon. She had quickly recovered and tried to grill him on the spot. They had escaped only when Brandon asked Kim to dance.

She patted his arm. "I have no idea." He really had gone above and beyond tonight in helping someone he had just met. "I really appreciate all you've done tonight in putting up with her. It's too bad I wasn't smart enough to insist on driving myself. I could just leave."

Brandon shrugged. "No problem. I know how families can be." His gaze shifted to a point over her shoulder. His eyes started to sparkle and a loving smile covered his face.

Kim turned around to see a handsome blond man approaching. His smile matched Brandon's. Ah. This must be Donald. Brandon had spoken glowingly of his partner several times. Kim couldn't help the wistful thought, If only I could find someone who would look at me like that. Her current lover was so closeted she might as well have been in a cave. Kim pushed away the bitter thought. Enough of this. You have a lot of things going for you.

"Donald!" Brandon said.

Donald lengthened his stride. He reached for Brandon's hand and gave it a firm squeeze. "I told you I'd make it back in time."

Brandon beamed at his lover.

Kim was saddened but not surprised that the men did not embrace. This was Michigan after all, not California. The tolerant attitude toward public displays of affection between same-sex couples that was common in California was nowhere to be found in suburban Detroit.

Smiling warmly at Brandon, she reached out and touched his arm. "Thanks again for your help. Happy New Year." After giving Donald a brief smile and a nod, she started to walk away.

"Wait, Kim. You don't have to go." Brandon tugged his partner closer. "Donald, this is Kim. I've been helping her keep her mother from shoving men at her all night." He rolled his eyes, then waggled his eyebrows. "Now if they had been women..."

A blush heated Kim's face.

Donald laughed. "Nice to meet you. Brandon's right, you don't have to go. Stay with us and ring in the new year. Otherwise, I'm sure your mother will find more than one man eager to kiss you at midnight."

Kim shivered. "Thanks, but I think I'll just find myself a quiet, out-of-the-way spot."

"Are you sure?" Brandon's voice was full of concern.

"I'm fine. Honest." She smiled at both men. "Thanks again."

"Anytime," Brandon said. "Oh... Wait a sec. See those tall plants over there?" He pointed to the end of the room.

Kim nodded.

"Just on the other side is a small, glass-enclosed alcove that juts out over the water. You'd be out of sight there."

Tipping her champagne glass in salute, Kim smiled, then turned to make her way to the offered sanctuary. She waved off a waiter who offered a paper hat and party horn. Her gaze swept the room. She hoped to spot her mother before her mother saw her.

Kim sighed with relief when she reached the indicated area without being intercepted. A pleased smile appeared at the sight of the curtain covering the alcove. She crossed her fingers that her luck would hold and the area would be empty.

It was.

She allowed the curtain to fall shut behind her and was cocooned in darkness. Kim felt as if she was suspended over the water. The brightly lit boats floating at anchor contrasted sharply with the darkness where she stood. She imagined, for just a moment, what it would be like to sit in the stern of a boat, gently rocking on the waves, while being held by someone who loved her. She forced her gaze away and once more focused on the night sky.

*  *  *

Jess McKenna's residence — Los Angeles, California

New Year's Eve — 8:50 p.m.

Jess set the split of champagne and a single glass down on the coffee table. She didn't know what had prompted her to buy the champagne. New Year's Eve was no big deal. It wasn't as if she had someone special to celebrate with and look forward to the coming year. There had not been a woman in her life for well over a year.

Sam, her younger sister, had invited her to a party with some of her police officer friends in San Diego, but Jess had declined. She was not the party type.

With a sigh, Jess flopped onto the couch. She reached down and patted the dog lying in front of the couch. "Just you and me as usual, big guy."

At the sound of Jess's voice, Thor lifted his head, then lay back down with a contented sigh.

"I'm glad one of us is content." This is why you always work the holidays. Most of the year, Jess kept so busy at the hospital, it was easy to push aside the realization of how empty her personal life had become.

She glanced at the clock. It was almost midnight in New York. She contemplated turning on the TV and watching the ball drop in Times Square. She was working early tomorrow, so had no intention of staying up until midnight California time.

Shaking off the sense of loneliness that seemed to permeate the air, she sat up and poured herself a glass of champagne. "Enough with the pity party," she said into the silence of the room. "A lot of people have things a lot worse than you do."

Jess knew she was fortunate. Her family loved and accepted her. She had seen far too many people in the ER over the years with families that refused to accept them for who they were. She had a job she loved. She glanced down at Thor and couldn't help smiling. She had Thor.

That didn't stop the small wistful part of her that hoped for someone to share her life with.

Careful not to step on Thor, Jess rose from the couch. She took her champagne and made her way to the sliding glass door.

Jess glanced at her watch. It was almost time. Midnight on the East Coast is close enough.

She stepped out onto the deck and walked over to the railing. The temperature was mild, in the mid-sixties. The stars were dimmed by the surrounding city lights. Seeing the brightly lit windows of the surrounding houses made Jess, for just a moment, long to be inside her own home, sitting in front of a crackling fire, while holding someone she loved. She sighed and turned her gaze back to the night sky.

*  *  *

Grosse Pointe, Michigan, and Los Angeles, California

Unknown to each other, Kim and Jess stared up at the night sky. Cradled by the darkness, each alone in her own thoughts.

A shooting star blazed across the heavens.

Together they tracked its path, and each lifted a glass of champagne to the sky and whispered,

"I wish..."

The End

Readers can follow Kim and Jess's love story in L.A. Metro by RJ Nolan.

The Christmas Grump

by Jae

Copyright © 2011 by Jae

All rights reserved.

Acknowledgments

A big thank-you to Melanie for being the muse who provided me with the idea for this story.

Thanks to Krystel for helping me pick a picture for the cover and editing it for me.

As always, thanks to Marion for test reading and to my critique partners Astrid and RJ for their feedback.

The Christmas Grump

RACHEL LEWIS glanced at her wristwatch and groaned. Not even six. Wonderful. Five more hours in this seventh level of hell, otherwise known as the shopping mall one week before Christmas.

Jingle Bells blared from the mall's sound system for the hundredth time. Rachel weaved around shoppers loaded down with bags and kept an eye out for shoplifters and pickpockets. Normally, she stopped to chat with the cute barista in the coffee shop and the grandfatherly man working in the toy store, but today the overworked salespeople were busy with the flood of customers, so Rachel just peeked in on the stores and continued on her patrol.

Oh, yeah. Christmas — time of quiet contemplation. Right.

Her walkie-talkie flared to life. "Phillips to Lewis." Mike's voice was almost drowned out by Christmas carols and shouts in the background. "Where are you?"

Rachel pressed the button on her two-way radio. "Heading up to the food court."

"Want to meet me for a quick break?"

"Sure."

They met up in front of the pretzel stand, as they always did. Mike handed her a paper cup of coffee while Rachel bought two pretzels. "Thanks." She sipped her coffee and, over the rim of the cup, let her gaze sweep over the crowd. "I can't wait for this carnage to be over and for things to go back to the normal level of craziness."

"Carnage?" Mike laughed. "Where's your Christmas spirit?"

"Maybe one of the fourteen pickpockets and shoplifters I caught this week stole it," Rachel said.

"Oh, come on." Mike nudged her, nearly making her spill coffee over her light gray uniform shirt and the black tie. "Don't be such a Christmas grump just because we've got a few more pickpockets and shoplifters than during the rest of the year."

Rachel squinted against the blinking lights of the giant Christmas tree that made her wish she had brought her sunglasses to work. "Oh, it's not just the shoplifters. Or the hours of incident reports and paperwork we have to fill out for each of them. But look around. Does this look like a celebration of love, peace, and family harmony?" She pointed at a red-faced mother who yanked a little girl out of a store by her arm, making the girl cry as if she were being dragged over hot coals. They nearly collided with the stretched-out legs of a man who sat on a bench, surrounded by half a dozen shopping bags. With his glassy-eyed stare, his lolling chin, and his arms hanging limply down his sides, he looked as if he had just returned from a trip through the desert. In front of a jewelry store, a young couple was having a shouting match that nearly drowned out Bing Crosby's White Christmas.

Mike waved around his half-eaten pretzel as if to wipe away her arguments. Crumbs landed on the security services badge above his left breast pocket. "A few hours of stressful Christmas shopping is a small price to pay for the glow in your partner's eyes or the happy laughter of a child when they open their presents in front of the Christmas tree."

Rachel didn't even have a Christmas tree. Her ex had taken her artificial Christmas tree with her when she left, and Rachel hadn't bothered to get a new one this year. "Wow." She forced a grin. "Were you always such a softie, or did having a family turn you into a big marshmallow?"

He flicked a piece of pretzel in her direction. "Maybe you should try it. Might help your attitude."

Still keeping an eye on the shoppers around them, Rachel quirked an eyebrow at her colleague. "There's one problem with that."

"Your sexual orientation? Lame excuse! I have one word for you: sperm bank."

"That's two words. And it's not the problem I was talking about." Rachel threw her empty coffee cup into a nearby trash can and walked away from the pretzel stand.

Side by side, they patrolled the food court, then rode the escalator to the lower level of the mall.

"What then?" Mike asked after a while.

Rachel stopped in front of a store and let her gaze wander over a group of teenagers lingering in front of a locked glass display that held gaming consoles. "In case you forgot: I'm single." After growing up as the only child of a hardworking single mom, she knew she would never have a child if she wasn't co-parenting with another woman.

"Yeah, what's up with that? Must be... what? Ten months since Jessica dumped your sorry ass?"

"Twelve," Rachel mumbled.

Mike gave her an awkward pat on the shoulder. "Shit, I forgot. Happened over the holidays, right? Is that why you're moping around, being a Christmas grump?"

"I'm not moping around, and I'm not a Christmas grump." The ugly end of her last relationship was just one more reason to hate this time of year.

A salesclerk joined the teenagers in front of the display case, so Rachel and Mike continued on their way down the row of stores.

"Why don't you come over and have dinner with us on Christmas Eve?" Mike asked. "The kids would love to see you again, and Beth's parents will be there too."

Rachel shook her head. A pity invitation for the adopted spinster aunt. No, thanks. "Maybe another time." She would order pizza, ignore the sappy movies on TV, and go to bed early.

"Ah, come on, Rach. You can't leave me alone with my in-laws." Mike groaned.

"Sorry, pal. You married the woman, so her parents are all yours." She had never met Beth's parents, but if only half of Mike's stories were true, she had no desire to change that anytime soon.

They passed a toy store, and Mike slowed to look at something displayed in the window. "Hey, think Hannah would like that horse over there?"

Rachel glanced at the pink horse, took in its braided, glittering mane, and shrugged. "I haven't got a clue what a six-year-old would want for Christmas. Why don't you ask Beth?"

"Yeah, I better. She wasn't happy when I bought Josh that radio-controlled Hummer last Christmas."

Rachel snorted. "Because Josh was barely two. The only kid playing with that Hummer was you."

The reflection in the store window showed her Mike's rueful grin.

Something on the other side of the glass caught Rachel's attention.

The aisles looked like Egypt during the locust plague. Children and adults swarmed the toy store, leaving salesclerks scrambling to restock. In the middle of all the hustle and bustle, one child stood motionless.

The boy — Rachel guessed him to be around six or seven — stared up at a box of Legos, not even looking away when other shoppers jostled him. Tousled black hair stuck out from under a knit cap, and a pair of gloves made of the same wool dangled around his neck. From where Rachel was standing, it looked as if the thumb of the left glove was a bit too long. The boy's coat seemed to be clean and warm, but the colors were faded as if a succession of other kids had worn it before him, and his boots looked two sizes too big for a boy of his size.

His clothing told a story that Rachel knew only too well. Whoever the kid's parents were, they couldn't afford the brand-name clothes the mall sold. And they sure as hell can't afford the overpriced toys and gadgets in that store.

"What are you staring at?" Mike had turned toward her.

Rachel didn't glance away from the kid in the toy store. "That boy."

"Boy?" Mike chuckled. "And here I thought you had an eye only for the ladies."

"Very funny." Rachel dragged him around by the shoulder. "Keep an eye on that boy over there. Look at how he's staring at those toys. I think he's about to become arrest number fifteen."

"There you go again, being a Christmas grump," Mike said. "Why do you always assume the worst? Maybe the Lego robot is on his wish list for Christmas and he just can't decide if he wants his parents to get the red or the blue one."

"Yeah, right." Christmas was turning her colleague into a sentimental fool, but she would keep an eye on the boy.

Their walkie-talkies crackled. A tinny voice shouted, "Phillips? Lewis? I need help in the parking lot. Someone's jacking a car!"

One hand on the Taser hooked to her duty belt, Rachel started to run, Mike right behind her.

When they returned, dragging two cuffed teenagers to the security office, the boy in the toy store was gone.

*  *  *

The EAS alarm went off at the exit of a toy store just as Rachel passed by. She rolled her eyes. Christ, that must be the twentieth time today.

With a neutral expression, she stepped up to the shopper who had just left the store. "Sir, would you mind walking through the gate again, please?"

"I didn't steal anything," the wide-eyed older man said. He lifted his hands in the air as if she was about to shoot him.

"I'm not saying you did." Rachel kept her voice calm. "Just step through the gate again, please, and we'll clear this up in no time."

When he stepped back into the store, the alarm beeped.

"Is there anything you might have forgotten to pay for, sir?" Rachel asked. That, of course, was security guard speak for "Did you, by any chance, try to rob the store blind?"

"No. I just bought a video game for my grandson, that's all." He opened his shopping bag and showed her the game and the receipt.

After working at the mall for three years, Rachel had developed a sixth sense that worked better than the unreliable EAS gates. This guy didn't set off her personal alarm. "Do you mind if I take this back to the cashier? They might have forgotten to properly deactivate the security tag on the game."

Nine times out of ten, that turned out to be the cause of the problem.

When the customer followed her to the cash register and they stood waiting for the cashier to check the tag, Rachel looked around the busy store.

Her gaze wandered along an aisle — then snapped back to the shelf with the Lego robots.

Right there, in the exact same place as the day before, stood the boy with the uneven gloves.

Rachel watched him, making sure that he wasn't trying to conceal any of the toys beneath his worn coat, but he just stood there and stared at the robots.

Where are his parents? She looked up and down the aisle, but found no adult who seemed to belong to the boy.

The boy couldn't be older than seven, yet he was alone in the middle of the huge, crowded mall.

She took one step toward him, but before she could reach him, the cashier started to apologize profusely to the customer with the video game. At the same time, the EAS went off again.

Biting back a curse, Rachel whirled around to repeat the whole process.

*  *  *

Rachel rode the escalator up to the food court and nodded at a uniformed police officer who passed her. Her stomach rumbled when the aromas of pizza and chow mein wafted over. She glanced at her watch. Her shift was far from over, but things had been too busy for a proper lunch break. Maybe a quick burger while I walk.

She headed toward one of the fast food places, about to enter, when the door was pushed open, nearly hitting her in the face.

A petite woman in the fast food chain's uniform rushed out. She almost collided with Rachel and paused in her mad dash. "Oh, officer!" Fear-widened blue eyes looked up at Rachel. "Have you seen my son? He's seven and about this tall," she gesticulated with a trembling hand, "and he... he's got... black hair." She ran one hand over her long, black hair, which was pulled back into a ponytail that threatened to come undone any moment. A few strands already fell into her pretty face.

"Ma'am, calm down." Rachel laid a calming hand on the woman's upper arm. Beneath the odor of deep-frying fat, she caught a whiff of the woman's scent — just shampoo and soap, no cloud of perfume or overpowering Christmas scents. Nice, she thought, then chided herself and directed her attention back to the problem at hand. "Where did you last see him?"

The woman bounced on her tiptoes and craned her neck as if hoping to catch a glimpse of her son. "I couldn't get a babysitter this week, so I had to bring him to work. He was supposed to wait in the back room, but he somehow slipped out without me noticing and now he's gone!"

Rachel's thoughts returned to the many afternoons she had spent coloring in the back room of a diner while her mother worked one of her three jobs. "He probably just got bored," she said in her most soothing tone. "Do you have a photo of him?"

"Oh, yes, sure." Her hands still trembling, the woman opened her wallet, dug inside, and fanned out half a dozen pictures. "This is Tyler."

A grinning boy, black hair mussed, looked back at Rachel with eyes the same startling blue as his mother's.

Rachel squinted down at the photo. I've seen him before. Isn't that...? She gently gripped the woman's elbow. "Come with me, ma'am. I think I know where to find your son."

*  *  *

"Ty!" The woman rushed toward the boy in the Lego aisle and wrapped him in her arms as if she never wanted to let him go again.

Rachel paused a few yards away, not wanting to interrupt their private moment.

Slowly, the woman let go of her son and bent down to be at eye level with him. Her hand still trembled as she smoothed an errant strand of hair under his cap. "God, Tyler, you scared me half to death! Please, don't ever do that again. You can't just run around the mall without me knowing."

"I didn't run away, Mom," he mumbled and pointed at the shelf. "I just wanted to look at the robot."

The woman glanced at the toy. Her full lips compressed into a tight line. "I know." She straightened and wrapped one arm around his shoulders. There was something vulnerable but at the same time strong about her. When she turned, her gaze fell on Rachel. "Thank you," she said quietly. "I —"

Rachel's walkie-talkie chose the worst possible moment to interrupt. "Rach?" Mike's voice came through the walkie-talkie. "Can you come over to the office? Winona is at it again."

Dammit! The woman nicknamed Winona was caught shoplifting at least once a week, and while Rachel normally found her entertaining, she didn't want to go and deal with her now. "I'm on my way," she said into the walkie-talkie. She glanced down to find two sets of blue eyes looking at her and gave a regretful shrug. "I have to go."

"Thanks again and take care," the woman said, making eye contact.

"You too." With one last glance over her shoulder, Rachel strode toward the office.

*  *  *

"Pretzel?" Mike asked when they met up for a quick break.

Rachel shook her head and lifted her lunch. "I already got something."

"Fast food again? You got a thing for burgers now?"

"No," Rachel said. Not for burgers. She had gone by the burger place twice in the last two days, but Tyler's mother hadn't been behind the counter either time.

When they passed the toy store, her gaze automatically zeroed in on the spot in front of the Lego shelf. She halted midstep.

Tyler stood in the middle of the aisle again.

"Hold this." She pressed the burger into Mike's hands and entered the store. "Hello, Tyler." She stopped some distance away so she wouldn't scare the boy.

He whirled around and stared up at her with his electric blue eyes.

"Did you get bored in the back room again?"

He shrugged.

"Does your mom or dad know where you are?" Rachel asked.

The boy hesitated but then said, "I don't have a dad."

Ah. So his old man cleared off just like mine did as soon as he found out Mom was pregnant. "I don't have a father either," she said so he wouldn't feel so bad. "Your mom seems pretty great, though."

"Yeah." He shuffled his feet.

Rachel knew the expression on his face only too well. "She's working a lot, huh?"

Tyler looked up at her and sighed. "Yeah." He hesitated again, as if unsure about talking to a stranger. When Rachel just looked at him without trying to pressure him into conversation, he added, "She used to stay home with me before Mama Maggie died."

A huge lump formed in Rachel's throat. "Mama Maggie?"

His small shoulders squared as if he was preparing for battle. "I have two moms." His face fell, and he stared at his feet. Barely audible, he corrected, "Had."

Oh, Jesus. Rachel squeezed her eyes shut. The pain on his face reminded her too much of losing her own mother. "I'm so sorry," she mumbled because she didn't know what else to say.

"Tyler?" his mother called as she walked down the aisle. "Are you ready to —?" She looked toward Rachel and stopped. "Oh, hello."

Rachel stood caught in the gaze of her expressive blue eyes. Normally, knowing that Tyler's mother was a lesbian would have put a smile on her face, but the lump in her throat still hadn't dissolved. Gosh, I'm moping around because Jessica left me, and she lost her partner and has to take care of her son on her own. The woman looked a bit younger than Rachel, probably in her late twenties, and to find herself a widow and a single mom at that age... Rachel couldn't imagine dealing with that.

"Tyler didn't cause any trouble, did he?" the woman asked when Rachel, still speechless, didn't return her greeting.

"Oh, no. We were just... talking." Please don't let her ask about what. Rachel didn't want to see the same pain on her face that she had just seen on her son's.

The woman reached out a hand and tousled her son's locks. She was wearing a much-too-thin jacket over her fast food uniform.

But she made sure her son has a quilted coat, Rachel thought.

Tyler tugged on his mother's hand to get her attention. "She doesn't have a dad either, Mom," he announced.

His mother looked from Tyler to Rachel. "I'm sorry to hear that." Curiosity glittered in her eyes, but she didn't ask any questions.

Maybe because she doesn't want to answer any painful questions either.

The petite woman glanced at her watch. "We need to be home by seven, Ty. The new babysitter is coming over, and you said you wanted to take a look at the Nerf guns before we have to leave."

Tyler studied the equipment on Rachel's duty belt. "Do you have a gun?"

"No," Rachel said. "No gun. Think I should get a Nerf gun too?"

Tyler giggled, and his mother smiled, making the lump in Rachel's throat ease.

"You should get the big blaster," Tyler said. "They're the best."

"Is that what you want for Christmas?"

Tyler's gaze veered up to the robots, then he shrugged. "I guess."

Rachel understood. The Nerf gun probably cost just a few dollars, while the robot... She stared at the price tag on the shelf. Fifty bucks for one measly plastic robot? Geez, you'd think it was a gold-plated C-3PO for that kind of cash.

"Rach?" Mike called from the store's entrance. "Your burger's getting cold."

Heat traveled up Rachel's neck. She was grateful that Tyler's mom had no way of knowing that she had lived on a steady diet of burgers for two days.

The woman reached for Tyler's hand and gave Rachel a friendly smile. "Hope the rest of your shift is quiet. Maybe I'll see you around."

"Yeah," Rachel said. "I'm sure you will. Have a nice evening." With a wave to Tyler, she walked toward Mike, who was still holding her burger.

"Who's that?" Mike asked.

Rachel just shrugged. She realized she still hadn't found out the woman's name. Tyler's mom. Maggie's partner. She wondered if the woman was sick of being defined just by these two roles. Was she ready for someone to interact with her as just a good-looking woman?

She unwrapped her burger, took a big bite, and chewed. Finally, she crumpled up the wrapper and slam-dunked it into the nearest trash can. "Can you lend me fifty bucks? I'll pay you back tomorrow."

"What for?"

"Just a Christmas present."

Mike made a "boing-boing" sound, like a comic character whose eyes had just dropped out of his face. "The Christmas grump is buying presents?"

Rachel threw a playful punch to his shoulder. "Shut up and hand over the money."

*  *  *

The next day, a knock on the office door interrupted Rachel in the middle of typing the third incident report of the shift, even though her work day had just started. Oh, please, don't let that be someone reporting another stolen wallet or a drunken Santa.

When she got up and opened the door, she glanced into a pair of by now familiar blue eyes — only now they looked more like a stormy gray than a clear blue. "I'm sorry to interrupt," Tyler's mother said, fidgeting in the doorway. "But I need to report a theft."

"Oh." The smile on Rachel's face dimmed. So she was here for business, not for pleasure. Well, better than nothing. Any contact with the interesting woman was better than none. "Come on in."

Tyler's mother stepped into the office and lingered in front of Rachel's desk, her hands still behind her back.

Rachel pulled out a chair for her. "Take a seat, please."

"No, thanks. I just want to... I need to return this. I will pay for anything else he might have..." The woman squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. "...stolen." Worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, she brought her hands out from behind her back and set a familiar box on the desk.

Oh, shit.

"Ma'am..." Rachel cleared her throat. She went back around the desk as if she needed its protection. "Tyler didn't steal this."

"That's what he said, but I know the shopping mall Santa doesn't just wander into fast food places to leave gifts for little boys."

They do if you pay them to.

"Tyler usually knows better than to make up stories like that, but he just wanted that robot so badly and I..." Tyler's mom sighed and sank onto the chair in front of the desk. "It's been a really tough year. I'm still paying off hospital bills, and my job doesn't pay much. I'm saving up to buy him the robot, but I won't have the money in time for Christmas."

Rachel could see how much the admission cost the brave woman. "He didn't steal the robot," she repeated, then took a deep breath and added, "I bought it for him."

For several seconds, only the low hum of the computer filled the office.

"What?" The woman stared at Rachel. "Are you serious?"

Rachel nodded.

"But... I don't understand. Why would you do that?"

"I saw Tyler staring at the robot a few times, and I guess I just..." How could she explain what kind of feelings meeting the boy and his mother had triggered inside of her when she didn't fully understand it herself? "I wanted him to have something that would make him happy and forget about... things, even if it's just for one night."

Burning blue eyes seared into hers. "Officer —"

"Please," Rachel said softly. "Call me Rachel."

The woman hesitated and then nodded. "Lillian." She touched her chest. "Lillian Coleman." She leaned forward until she sat on the edge of the chair. "Happiness can't be bought, Rachel."

"I know. I wasn't trying to do that."

Lillian sighed. "Listen. It's not that I don't appreciate the gesture, but you're a total stranger and I don't want charity from —"

"It's not charity," Rachel said. She got up and crossed to the other side of the desk, no longer wanting the barrier between them. "I was in Tyler's shoes once. My mother worked three minimum-wage jobs to make ends meet. I never went hungry, but there wasn't much money for extras."

Lillian lifted her chin. "Tyler and I are doing just fine."

God, she's proud and apparently not used to accepting help from anyone. "I know. Anyone can see that you're a great mother. Maybe I went about it all wrong, but... giving Tyler the robot is as much for me as it's for him."

"For you?" Lillian repeated, looking doubtful.

Rachel shrugged. "Guess I'm tired of being such a Christmas grump."

Now a tiny smile softened Lillian's serious expression. She lifted one brow and directed a questioning gaze at Rachel.

"I've had a really tough year too." Rachel swallowed against the lump in her throat. "I lost my mother and my partner."

Lillian paled. Her hands clenched around the armrests of the chair. "I'm so sorry."

"No, I mean... My mother died. She had been sick for a long time. But my partner... She just left me for another woman. It was nothing like..." Rachel paused and gestured toward Lillian, not wanting to say it out loud and reopen barely healed wounds.

"You know." It was a statement, not a question.

Rachel nodded. "Tyler mentioned it."

Lillian stared at her for a few moments. "He never talks about her. About Maggie."

"I never talk about my mother either."

Their gazes met, holding an entire conversation while neither of them said a word.

Finally, Lillian cleared her throat. "So where does that Christmas grump thing come in?"

Rachel smoothed her hand down her tie before she looked up again. "I've been... My colleague Mike has called it moping around and being a Christmas grump for weeks, feeling sorry for myself because of what I lost instead of appreciating what I've got. Meeting you and Tyler... well, it put things into perspective." She took the box with the robot from the desk and held it out to Lillian. "So, please, take this as a small thank-you from an ex-Christmas grump."

Lillian glanced at the robot, then up into Rachel's eyes. She reached out her hands to accept the box but stopped inches from it. "Under one condition."

Holding her breath, Rachel nodded. She would accept that condition, no matter what it was.

"You come over to our house on Christmas Day and have dinner with Tyler and me."

Rachel nearly dropped the box. That was the last thing she had expected. "You don't need to —"

"I know." Again, they stared at each other until Lillian laughed shakily. "Guess you're not the only one who's tired of being a Christmas grump."

Wow. Suddenly, Rachel felt like singing a Christmas carol. She suppressed a laugh. "Can you cook?"

"I'm not a chef, but... yes."

"Great. Then let's make a deal."

Lillian regarded her with a cautious gaze.

"You cook," Rachel said. "I pay for the food."

"You don't need to —"

"Well, we could also share the costs, but to be fair, that would mean I need to do half of the cooking, and trust me, you don't want that."

After a moment's hesitation, Lillian nodded and finally lowered her hands the rest of the way to accept the box with the robot. "Thank you," she said quietly and then stood. "I need to go now. I have to apologize to Tyler for not believing him when he said Santa gave him the robot."

Rachel scratched her neck. "Sorry if I caused any kind of trouble between you and your son."

Lillian nodded in acknowledgement and moved to the door. When she laid her hand on the door handle, she half-turned and said over her shoulder, "Would Christmas Day, eleven o'clock be okay?"

"Of course." The mall was closed on Christmas Day, and Rachel hadn't been looking forward to sitting around all day. Now she had a hard time not jumping up and down with giddiness.

"Great." Lillian opened the door. "And Rachel?" Again, she looked back. "Just so there are no misunderstandings... This won't be a date. I'm not ready to —"

"I know," Rachel said. For now, she was perfectly happy just to spend Christmas in the company of Lillian and Tyler. And who knew what next Christmas would bring? Now that she was starting to believe in the miracle of Christmas again, everything was possible.

The End.

The Haunting at Quantman's

by Helen Dunn

Copyright © 2011 by Helen Dunn

All rights reserved.

The Haunting at Quantman's Wharf

Dec. 31, 1950

CHARM COLE SEEMED to have the perfect beauty of face, figure and sensuality. Her hair was long, pale, shimmering like moonlight as it fell in a manner that concealed half her face, coming to rest atop her shoulders. The expression on her face, however, was not one of happiness, despite its great beauty. The blue-green eyes with their thick cloak of dark lashes looked haunted, the full lipped, red mouth seemed to reflect vulnerability and an overall look of sadness encompassed her features.

She moved about the room restlessly, going at last to the long, ornate bar and getting a crystal decanter of amber colored liquid. She poured it, letting it splash over the ice cubes in her glass. She had been drinking fairly steadily, downing the brandy so quickly the ice from her first drink hadn't yet had time to melt.

Charm didn't care, but she knew Santo Rapetti would. I do not want to deal with one of his rages this evening. I probably shouldn't get falling down drunk, if only to avoid a possible beating at the hands of the man who now owned her, Charm thought bitterly.

She lifted the glass to her lips. I'll make this my last drink. I can handle this much liquor. She had built up a rather strong tolerance for alcohol, she realized.

Charm sat down in a blue velvet chair and turned on the box radio that sat on the table beside it.

"Hello, gossip seekers, time for Nostalgia News and my Ten, Five, One Report! Ten years ago this month, author F. Scott Fitzgerald drank his last sip of booze, five years ago this month actress Gloria Castle's body was found floating off Quantman's Wharf, and just last year, Eddie Monticello, alleged to have gangland connections, was found in his car sporting three well aimed bullet holes —"

Charm turned off the radio sharply.

She was not surprised to find the pain as keen as ever at being reminded of that fateful day, five years ago, at Quantman's Wharf. It wasn't like she didn't know December thirty-first was the anniversary of Gloria's death, but she hadn't expected it to be brought up on the radio show.

She downed the rest of the contents of her glass.

Gloria hadn't been a big star, she had just been getting started with some good secondary roles, and people in the business were beginning to notice her.

Charm got up from the chair and returned to the bar, putting aside her earlier resolve regarding how much she would drink.

Damn! We're almost out of brandy.

She picked up the phone and automatically twirled the dial.

"Powell's Liquor Store," Aidan Powell said crisply into the phone.

"This is Charm Cole..."

"No more orders tonight, Aidan," his sister, Erin, said from where she was getting her next delivery ready. "It's New Year's Eve and I'm covered up already."

"One moment, please, Miss Cole," Aidan said, looking toward Erin.

Charm Cole was a frequent customer, not one to brush off lightly.

At the realization of who the caller was, Erin strode over and took the receiver from her older brother's hand. "What can I do for you, Miss Cole?" she asked.

"I know I'm calling on short notice," Charm apologized, recognizing Erin Powell's voice.

Suddenly the phone was snatched from Charm's hand, and the receiver slammed down upon her fingers before it was returned to its cradle.

"Who was that!? Who were you talking to?" Santo Rapetti demanded.

"No one," she replied, nursing her bruised fingers inside her other hand. "The liquor store, for Christ's sake. We're almost out of brandy."

Santo's lips twisted down and he stared threateningly into Charm's face. "Don't even think about cheating on me, Charm!" He reached out and grabbed her arm, twisting it until she cried out, before releasing her.

"I'm not! I'm not!" she protested before moving away from him and rubbing her arm. "Besides, who would have me anyway?!" she suddenly shouted, her voice bitter and angry. She reached up and pulled back the hair that covered almost half of her face.

"Yeah, you're right about that, baby. I'm the only one who could stand looking at the real you," Santo flung at her as he momentarily stared at the vivid white-and-pink scars that made a tangle on her skin, and the black patch she wore over her left eye. "And don't you ever forget it either."

"You don't have to worry about me ever forgetting that night, Santo," she said as she let the hair fall, concealing the mutilated flesh and producing, once again, the illusion of total loveliness. "That's not something I'll ever be able to forget!"

"Yeah, you sit here and moon over her and drink, don't you? Well, it's New Year's Eve and we're going out tonight, baby. I want you looking your best, you hear?"

She knew how much Santo enjoyed showing her off at the clubs, waltzing in with her on his arm, the envy of every man... As long as they never see my face completely, Charm added to herself.

Damn women! Santo thought as he went to the bar and fixed himself a drink. His father had been right; you couldn't trust them. How many times had he witnessed the fights between his parents, and how many times had he also discovered his mother entertaining other men in his father's absence?

*  *  *

Erin hung up the phone, her face registering disappointment.

"What happened?" Aidan asked.

"Oh, nothing," Erin muttered. "The order got cancelled."

At twenty three, she looks more like a handsome teenage boy than a young woman, Aidan noted with disapproval, taking in her height and firm arms.

She had a natural olive skin tone that made her look as if she had a good tan year round, along with thick, wavy black hair that she wore cut short in the back, longer in the front, so that when she leaned over while working, it fell in an attractive manner onto her forehead, just above the long-lashed brown eyes.

Aidan knew by comparison, he looked like the man in the Grant Wood painting American Gothic, gaunt and dour-faced with thinning, ginger colored hair, dry skin and flinty eyes.

Erin had gotten the Black Irish good looks from their mama's side of the family. In fact, the two of them didn't even look related; people were always surprised whenever they learned they were brother and sister.

There simply wasn't anyone to take Erin properly in hand during the crucial years she was growing up, he reflected. Pop had passed away in a car accident and then years in the garment factories had ended with brown lung taking Ma.

He had always seen to it there was food on the table and a roof over his and Erin's heads, but what the hell could he be expected to know about raising a girl to be a woman? He'd thought it would all work itself out, nature would take its course and all that, but it was beginning to look as if that wasn't going to be the case with Erin. She'd never get a husband looking so much like a boy herself. He'd tried to point that out to her, but she stubbornly insisted on going her own way.

"The way Santo Rapetti treats Charm!" Erin suddenly burst out. "It just really gets to me sometimes!"

Aidan Powell's thin, sandy colored eyebrows lifted, and he gave his younger sister a censuring look.

"You'd best not be concerning yourself with Charm Cole or what might or might not be going on with her," he advised. "Santo Rapetti is a dangerous man. He's got connections with the Mob, or so they say."

"Rapetti treats her like dirt, you know he does," Erin replied.

"She made her bed and she can lie in it," Aidan snapped.

Erin said nothing more — arguing with her brother's closed mind was a waste of time — but her thoughts were still dwelling on Charm Cole.

*  *  *

"I like you looking good, baby," Santo commented, eyeing Charm approvingly.

The strapless dress she was wearing was floor length and close fitting, made of deep, rich, red velvet. Diamond earrings glittered from her earlobes and a matching necklace rested above the swell of her breasts. More as an adornment than a protection against any possible chill in the California air, a mink stole was draped casually about her shoulders.

Santo was likewise attractive with dark hair, silvered at the temples, and dressed in a black tuxedo with satin lapels. He had wide shoulders, a broad chest, and at age forty-six, his waist still tapered to an enviable thirty-four inches.

"So glad I meet your criteria," Charm replied sarcastically.

"You always got to mess it up, don't you?" he snarled. "I say something nice and you got to make some wise crack. Well, come on, we're going to The Dove Club."

Santo had never openly admitted it, but the fact he had come up the hard way without much education made him especially sensitive whenever someone used a word like criteria, of which he wasn't sure he knew the meaning. However, he hadn't missed the sarcasm in her voice.

*  *  *

The uniform-clad chauffeur stood with stiffly straight posture beside the long, black, gleaming limousine. "Good evening, sir, Miss Cole," he said with a polite nod as he opened the back door smartly and stood beside it, holding it as Santo helped Charm into the car.

As the chauffeur closed the door, it made that muffled sound an expensive car's door always makes. Crossing behind the car, the chauffer opened the driver's door and got behind the wheel.

"Where to this evening, sir?" he inquired.

"The Dove," Santo replied briefly, before closing the window between them to settle back against the plush upholstery.

*  *  *

Sitting at their usual table at the club, sipping from the glass in front of her, Charm half listened to the conversations around her, half watched the performer on the small stage, highlighted by a spotlight.

Once, it had been her under the bright lights. She had been known as the most beautiful woman in Hollywood. Not only had her beauty been raved about, but she had more than proven herself in the acting roles she had taken on.

Oh, how she had loved it all. She'd not only thrown herself into those roles, but had lived her own life to the fullest. She had laughed and danced and loved to the max. She had spent too, like there was no tomorrow, because the roles and the money had just kept coming — until that one night, when her entire world had stopped.

She moved her memories further back.

It hadn't been an easy childhood back when she had just been plain little Alice Jane Wallenstecker from the Midwest. Half the time they'd had to go on welfare when Moma's health would break down from the long hours of work — that was, when she could even get a job — but somehow they'd kept food on the table, at least most of the time, after Papa had died. She had wanted so badly to help. She had wanted to quit school so she could go to work and support Momma and herself, but Momma had put her foot down on that.

Charm could still remember the withering looks from the other kids, when she'd worn clothes that were secondhand and patched, or hand -me downs from the better-off kids in town.

She still got a bad taste in her mouth ever time she thought about those gushing do-gooder church ladies and their fucking charity that they did just so they could guarantee their souls a trip to heaven, or so they thought.

After she'd made it big in show biz, she had been able to give Momma the kind of life she deserved to have. She had vowed Momma would never be poor again, never have to live like that, no matter what.

She had never dreamed there would be an end to it all — the love she'd found with Gloria, the fabulous career and the life she had come to enjoy so much — but it had all ended in a single night.

She hadn't saved so much as a dime of the money she'd made. Santo Rapetti had made it possible to continue caring for her mother. He had also made it possible to keep her safe from the pity she hadn't wanted to ever see in anyone's eyes, and certain truths she'd never wanted Momma to know.

If you only knew how I live now, Momma, Charm thought with a slight shudder. But you're not going to know. No, I don't want you to ever know the level to which I've sunk.

She glanced at where Santo sat at the table, not bothering to veil the hatred and contempt she felt for him... and that I feel for myself too, she added silently. I've become someone Momma never raised me to be.

*  *  *

It was New Year's Eve, nearing midnight, and Santo lay sprawled on the living room couch after their return from the club. Charm knew he'd be like that the rest of the night.

She picked up the keys to the Hudson, wrapped her mink around her, and went down the stairs and out to the garage.

Sitting behind the wheel of the Hudson, she drove past where people were still partying until she came to quieter, darker streets. She stopped the car at last and turned off the motor and sat there staring out at the dark water past Quantman's Wharf.

The moon was on the rise and its light glinted off the tops of the gently moving waves. She hadn't planned to go there. She hadn't been there since the night of the accident. Was that why she'd failed in her previous attempts? This was where she should die — in the same place, in the same way — as Gloria had.

I'll dive into the bay and swim out toward the open ocean. I'll keep swimming until exhaustion takes me under the water, and by then, I'd be too far from shore to possibly make it back.

After all, there was no need to go on living any longer; the contract was air tight and guaranteed her mother would be taken care of, and she didn't think she could go on with the painful, zombie-like existence she'd had for the past five years.

Having made up her mind, she opened the car door and got out. She could hear the water's rhythmic lapping against the thick posts of the wharf. A fog was rolling in beneath a high moon. Except for the sound of the water and a foghorn blowing ominously in the distance, everything was still and quiet. No one was here at the old, abandoned wharf on New Year's Eve.

"Happy fucking 1951!" Charm shouted.

The voice came whispering on the wind, making her wonder at first if she had really heard it.

"I have waited so long for you to come, my love."

She was imagining Gloria's voice, she told herself, but it was good. Soon she would be with Gloria.

As she looked out across the water, a thicker, gray-white fog seemed to be separating from the rest and approaching her. She knew she must be losing her mind, but she didn't care, as the face and figure of the woman she had loved so much began to form, emerging from the fog like a separate vapor. Charm stood mesmerized, unable to move a limb, rooted to the gray planks of the wharf, as the vision floated out of the fog and came nearer. The cold, wet mist formed the shape of a human hand. It touched Charm's face.

"It's been so lonely here without you," Gloria's voice said. "I need you so much. I need you with me. I love you..." The dear, familiar face neared her own, the lips, oh so cold, touched her own.

She had planned to join Gloria, to drown in the waters off Quantman's Wharf, but now, touched by the otherworldly hand of her dead lover, a terror filled her and she raced back to the Hudson, yanked open the door and flung herself behind the wheel. A clammy perspiration claimed her as she started the engine, wrestled it into gear, and with a screech of the tires, drove away from the dock.

*  *  *

The image haunted her. She couldn't seem to get it out of her mind. Had she been that drunk? Had her drinking reached the point where she was beginning to hallucinate?

It had been frightening and at the same time exhilarating, Charm realized, as she lay in the center of her Hollywood style bed and stared up at the ceiling.

She had insisted on having her own bedroom. Santo hadn't liked the idea, but she knew she had to have some space that was her own — well, as much as anything was her own anymore, she conceded. She'd had to agree to have sex with him, distasteful as it was to her, but never, she had contended, never would it be in her room.There, at least, he never touched her. She could be alone with her own feelings, her own thoughts and memories.

It was there that she had lain many nights, thinking of Gloria, remembering all the little things: the silky feel of Gloria's hair trailing through her fingers, the scent of her when she buried her face against Gloria's neck, the taste of her as she'd deftly licked Gloria's skin with her tongue. She had loved the warm, round, soft feel of Gloria's body snuggling against her own, sleepy and sated, after all the lovemaking between them.

They had often slept entwined like fallen leaves, or sometimes with Gloria's arms around her waist, Gloria's front to her back. When she closed her eyes, she could not only remember Gloria's low, soft laugh, but almost feel the touch of Gloria's lips against the back of her neck.

Gloria's hand would reach up; her fingers would begin toying with a sensitive nipple, rousing it into rigid hardness, causing Charm to emit a moan of desire. Gloria's hand would encompass the entirety of her breast, and then move to the other one, playing with the nipple, which had already become rigid in imitation of its twin. Gloria's hand would go downward, brush against her belly, reach between her thighs, her fingers moving into the hot, delicate folds of flesh there.

Charm would moan, roll over onto her back and spread her thighs in invitation. Gloria would move over her, would place her lips over each nipple in turn, sucking on them, tonguing them. Her hands would knead Charm's full breasts, gathering up their ripeness. Her leg would be between Charm's opened thighs and she would begin to press against Charm rhythmically.

Charm moaned and seized her pillow, gripping it with a desperate tightness, until the knuckles of her fingers were white. "Oh Glory! Glory! Why?! Why did you have to be taken from me?! Why so soon?! Oh God..." Tears surged from her eyes, flowing in rivulets down her face. The black eye patch was soaked.

*  *  *

Charm Cole was not the only woman lying alone and sleepless in her bed that night, Erin Powell was likewise finding it hard to sleep. She couldn't hold back her tears any longer. She seldom cried — she considered it a weakness — but sometimes the loneliness, and the feeling of being outside of it all, was just too much to bear.

She'd always felt she was different. It hadn't been so apparent to her when she was a kid. They'd called her a tomboy then and it had actually been said in a tone that conveyed a certain admiration for her, but that had changed in her late teens. The other girls had begun to get interested in make-up and hair styles and pretty dresses and they were seeing boys in a whole new light. Erin couldn't figure out what made boys suddenly so wonderful. To her, they were just the same old gawky kids she'd always known. There wasn't anything about boys about which to get excited. However, she'd found herself noticing the girls in a way she hadn't before. Previously, she'd never paid much attention to other girls her age; now she noticed how nice they smelled and how their hair swung when they walked, and the curves some them had.

She had soon discovered she was in no man's land, with no interest in boys and with girls not wanting her the way they wanted the boys. There didn't seem to be any place in the world for her, and every year the painful loneliness had built, layer after layer, upon her soul.

*  *  *

They were at a new club tonight down by the waterfront, but they were really all the same, Charm thought, as she raised the glass of amber colored liquor to her lips.

Tonight she was clad in a black satin gown, trimmed in a deep rose-color with lace across the bosom, concealing her breasts just enough to keep everything legal.

A spotlight roamed about the heavy, dark blue curtains across the front of the small stage and a drum roll came from somewhere off to the left. "And now, ladies and gentlemen, it gives me great pleasure to introduce everyone's favorite here at the Playhouse!" The masculine voice came through the off-stage microphone, introducing the performer.

A man in a ridiculous looking checkered suit came out from between the curtains to mediocre cheers and clapping. He went up to the floor mike and began his set, mostly comedic one-liners.

It felt too hot in the club — the air seemed stuffy and it was hard to breathe with all the cigarette smoke in the air. The laughter and other noises seemed too loud to her. "Excuse me," Charm murmured, slipping out of her chair and moving in the general direction of the ladies room.

Santo, along with his male friends and their dates, who had arranged to meet them at the club, seemed engrossed in the comic. The men leaned forward in their chairs and then rocked back, mouths open wide, laughter bellowing forth, hands coming together in applause, while the women with them laughed as well, but with more subtle expressions.

Charm veered away from the path to the ladies room and headed toward the exit sign. As the doorman held the door for her, Charm stepped out into the cool night air. It was well lighted here, with plenty of people milling about, safe enough, she reasoned. Moving down the sidewalk, she noted several places were still open. It was not yet that late in the evening. She supposed rambling along as she was, in her long gown and mink stole, she looked a bit out of place, but she really didn't care.

*  *  *

Erin looked up from where she was opening boxes and shelving the tall liquor bottles. The beautiful blonde woman had paused outside the window of the liquor store, and Erin realized, with an increased beat of her heart and respiration, that it was Charm Cole.

Seeing how she was dressed, she surmised she must have walked down from the new club up the street.

Their eyes met through the window and held for a moment. Then, self-consciously, Erin returned to her task. When she looked up again, Charm was gone. Erin put down the utility knife she'd been using to cut open the cardboard boxes and moved toward the door. Charm couldn't have gone very far; she could still catch up to her. It didn't immediately hit Erin that she didn't have an idea in her head as to what she could possibly say to her.

*  *  *

Her high heels rang out on the hard, grey planks of the wharf as Charm began walking the length of it that stretched out into the bay. There were no people here and she was now several blocks away from the well-lighted club where she had been, as well as any other businesses.

A heavy, white fog was rolling in off the water and somewhere in the distance she could hear the low, lonely sound of a foghorn. A nearby street lamp provided some illumination, enabling her to see her way.

"I'm here, Gloria," she said simply.

The face and form of the woman she had once known and loved, Gloria Castle, began forming. Separating itself from the rest of the fog, it floated toward her.

"Come to me," the voice whispered. "Come to me, my love."

The vapor approached closer, its mist becoming more and more the image of a woman, until at last, it stood before her; the head, hair and face bore the exact features of Gloria Castle. The upper part of her was formed and defined, but she dissolved into a fog-like mist about the knees, so that the calves, ankles and feet were only a whirling, smoke-like vapor.

Charm shivered as the cold, damp arms came about her neck. Gloria smiled and slid Charm's mink stole from her, letting it fall unheeded onto the planks of the dock. With the skillfulness of a long-practiced lover, Gloria removed Charm's clothing, until she stood there totally nude. Gloria placed her cold, wet lips to Charm's and kissed her, then kissed her yet again.

"Oh my love, I have been so very cold and lonely lying there, waiting where it is so deep and dark."

Charm returned her kisses, her passion growing as her fear lessened. The cold wetness of the lips and body against her own seemed to become less so with each kiss they exchanged.

From a discreet distance, Erin Powell watched in dumbfounded amazement. Charm Cole was lying on the planks of the dock, her beautiful body totally nude, while a gray white whirling mist that exhibited the face and body of a woman made love to her.

As Erin remained concealed, watching, the two women kissed and embraced, then began stroking one another in the most intimate of ways. Erin could hear moans of pleasure. Her mind reeled from what she was apparently seeing: What is this? How could anything like this even be happening!?

Charm, sated from lovemaking, gradually became aware that Gloria's image was fading away.

"No! Wait! Don't go! Don't leave me!" Charm implored. She reached out, but her arms grasped nothing.

"I have to leave," Gloria's voice whispered. "Come to me again, another time...." Then the voice, the image, all of it was gone, and the fog that remained was only the fog, as it had been before.

*  *  *

1945

They had met and become friends on Charm's picture, The Blue Carousel.

Gloria had been more than half afraid of the famous Charm Cole, so she had been pleasantly surprised and pleased when she had found her to be friendly and helpful. It had grown from there, with each of them looking forward to seeing the other on the set. They sat together and chatted while waiting between takes, invitations to lunch had quickly followed, and then invitations to each other's homes. Charm already owned a luxurious home in Hollywood, while Gloria was renting a studio apartment, that until recently, she'd had to share with a roommate to make ends meet.

They had just kept getting closer and closer, always wanting to see each other, be with one another. They talked on the phone for hours any time they were separated. The warm embrace upon meeting and parting came to them with mutual naturalness, soon followed by a kiss on the cheek. They automatically touched each other any time they were together — brushing back a strand of hair, resting a hand on an arm, grasping the other's hand and walking together, or putting their arms about the other's waist. It didn't register with them immediately that some line had been crossed when that first kiss on the lips occurred.

*  *  *

From where she sat on Charm's sofa, Gloria's face took on an acutely serious expression and the gray eyes looked searchingly into Charm's as she haltingly said, "This probably isn't the proper thing to say, but I feel like I've fallen in love with you. Perhaps we'd best discuss it."

How absolutely precious Gloria looked at that moment, Charm thought, with her little girl innocence on her valentine shaped face as she sat looking so earnestly at her.

"I mean, I realize we're both women and all...." Gloria stopped uncertainly, taken with a sudden lack of words in the face of a situation she had never dealt with before.

Charm cupped Gloria's chin in her hand. The gray eyes pouring into hers were questioning, yet trusting. Charm placed her lips solidly against Gloria's and felt an immediate response.

"Who could possibly love a woman better than another woman?" Charm had said softly.

*  *  *

Despite being in Hollywood, neither was sexually experienced and lovemaking was a pleasure they discovered together. They had delighted in sharing intimacies they were certain no lovers before them could have ever possibly known in the entire history of the human race.

Being actresses had added to it, with dramatic make-believe, role playing and creating characters — once Charm had been the Empress and Gloria the slave girl. Another time Gloria was a female warrior and Charm the damsel in distress. Some of it was whimsical, such as the time Charm had spread whipped cream all over Gloria, planning to ecstatically lick it off every single inch of her beloved's skin, only to discover Gloria was very ticklish.

*  *  *

She and Gloria were with friends at The Top Hat nightclub and restaurant, occupying a large corner booth, where talk and laughter were equally avid. The group consisted of other actors and actresses as well as the renowned director, Patrick Harris, and the talk, as usual, revolved around show business.

Gloria was particularly animated as she was quite excited about having just acquired the role of Hattie Vent in an upcoming film. It was a big step up for her from the secondary parts she had been playing. Everyone said it could be the breakthrough role that would lead to stardom for her.

Charm and the others liked The Top Hat nightclub and restaurant because it was very exclusive. Reporters, photographers and fans were not allowed to harass the famous at The Top Hat, either inside or directly outside. It was a "classy joint," as Humphrey Bogart put it. He and his cronies frequented The Top Hat, as did Charm and her clique.

She and Gloria couldn't keep their eyes off one another, and beneath the table they interlinked fingers from time to time. They were so in love, it made it difficult to remain cautious. Charm leaned over and whispered in Gloria's ear, "Let's leave pretty soon."

Gloria smiled deeply and nodded.

A waiter, immaculately attired in black trousers, crisp white shirt and black bow tie, came over to the table murmuring, "Excuse me, Miss Cole, but the gentleman at the bar sent over the drink."

She looked in the direction of the bar.

"Mr. Santo Rapetti," the waiter informed her.

She didn't really know him, but she had heard the name. Santo Rapetti had been around the edges of Hollywood society for awhile, trying to cozy up to the money men and the Hollywood elite, or so she had heard. She had also heard he wasn't quite respectable. She understood he had put up the money for a couple of low-budget movies for one of the less prestigious studios.

A man nodded and smiled when she looked toward the bar.

"Another star-struck thug," Patrick Harris commented, his lips curling with slight contempt as he, likewise, glanced toward the bar, not moving his head, only shifting his eyes toward Rapetti.

Charm shrugged. "I hardly think one drink leaves me indebted to him."

"Believe me, men like that don't need much encouragement," Patrick warned. Being gay, he knew men very well.

Charm took one sip of the drink Rapetti sent and set it down, as she was anxious to leave. Gloria's hand was moving beneath the skirt of the cocktail dress she wore, stroking with purpose on her thigh, just above her knee.

"Early studio call in the morning," the two said almost in unison as they excused themselves.

Santo crossed the floor and intercepted them on their way to the door. "Didn't you like the drink?" he rumbled.

"Thank you for the drink, Mr. Rapetti, but I'm afraid I'm rather in a hurry this evening," Charm said, attempting to move past him.

"Was something wrong with the drink? I'll complain to the management..."

"No, the drink was fine. I'm sorry, I'm pressed for time this evening."

"Maybe you won't be so time pressured next time, eh, Miss Cole? Maybe you'll even do me the honor of having a drink with me." There really was no question mark behind the latter statement.

"I have a very busy schedule, Mr. Rapetti, but we'll see."

He then reluctantly let her pass. He stood looking after her with a stance of splayed legs and crossed arms, "like a hungry wolf," Patrick Harris noted to his table companions.

*  *  *

"What's all this?" Gloria asked as she came into Charm's dressing room. The room seemed filled with red roses. She looked at the card on one of the bouquets. "Santo Rapetti?" Her forehead puckered. "Isn't that the guy who had the drink sent over when we were at The Top Hat?"

"One and the same," Charm replied. "These have been arriving all afternoon. I'm going to have them sent to the Riverdale Nursing home for their residents and staff."

"I don't understand."

"Neither do I."

"Do you know him or something?" Gloria asked.

"No. I mean, I've heard of him, but that night at The Top Hat was the first time I've even exchanged sentences with him. I guess he's some kind of stage-door Johnny." From where she was seated, Charm shrugged, lifting a shapely leg and pulling on a nylon stocking.

"What do you want to do tonight, darling?" Charm asked.

Gloria laid Rapetti's card down. "Whatever you want. I understand there's an art exhibit showing at Matterson Hall. It's supposed to be quite good. That new artist, Ravenstock, who everyone is talking about, is being featured."

"Oh yes, I've been wanting to see his work," Charm agreed, getting up and going over to give Gloria a delayed kiss, which threatened to have them attending the exhibit late.

*  *  *

They walked about the exhibit, sipping white wine and nibbling at the olives and cheese served by the gallery owner.

"I especially like this one," Gloria commented, admiring a painting of a coquettish looking nude nymph in a Fourteenth-Century setting, who stood waist deep in a pool of water while another young woman, wearing a toga-style garment, poured water over her from an ancient-looking jug.

"Oh do you?" Charm teased, knowing the subject matter was what appealed to Gloria. "Actually, I like it myself. Why don't I buy it for you?"

"Oh no, I couldn't let you do that." Gloria protested.

"Not even for your birthday?"

"My birthday is four months away!"

"So?" Charm shrugged eloquently. "It'll be an early present."

Gloria laughed.

"I think it would look perfect in the living room over our fireplace."

"Our fireplace?" Gloria questioned.

"I think it's time we united our efforts and started living together, don't you?"

"How can we?" Gloria asked as the two continued to walk, steering clear of others, and keeping their voices lowered.

They both knew the risks of even being seen together too often, just the two of them.

"Well, it will involve some arranging," Charm admitted, "but I think Patrick Harris would be agreeable to marrying one of us."

"What? I don't want to be married to Patrick Harris, and I don't want you married to him either, even if he is gay!"

"Not married married." Charm hastened to explain. "Whichever one of us married him, it would be husband and wife in name only."

"Oh. Well, I still don't like the idea all that much."

Charm sighed. "Unfortunately, such arrangements are often necessary in Hollywood. For that matter, we both should at least have a boyfriend. We're going to start looking conspicuous before long without those necessary attachments."

"I haven't had a boyfriend since Leon Burgess," Charm continued.

"And he married Meredith Totten," Gloria supplied, remembering. "It had all of Hollywood talking."

"Um-hmm and I was heartbroken, of course," she exaggerated the words and Gloria laughed. "But one can only nurse a broken heart for so long. I'm overdue for a new love of the male variety, as far as the public is concerned."

"Is Leon...?" Gloria asked.

"...gay?" Charm supplied. "As gay as spring daffodils."

"Well, that explains why a young man like Leon would marry a woman her age. And Meredith, is she...?"

"No, but she liked getting a husband so much younger than her. It was a feather in her cap, whether he ever slept with her or not. It got her some great publicity that she hadn't had in years."

"Evening ladies," a deep voice said from slightly behind them. Santo Rapetti moved up beside Charm, standing closer than she preferred.

"Interesting exhibit, don't you think?" he commented.

Charm frowned slightly. Was it just coincidence he was here?

"Good evening, Mr. Rapetti."

"Call me Santo."

"Hmm," she murmured.

"You get the flowers?"

"Yes. Thank you, but I must ask you not to send me any more."

"Why? You don't like roses? I thought all you dames liked red roses."

"Yes, I like roses. They were quite lovely, Mr. Rapetti, but —"

"Call me Santo, honey," he interrupted.

"I'd rather you didn't get the wrong impression, Mr. Rapetti."

He gave a grunting sort of laugh. "You got nothing to worry about. I can tell class when I see it. I'd treat you right."

"Yes, but you see, I'm not interested in furthering our acquaintance," Charm said coolly. "If you will excuse us, please." She linked her arm through Gloria's and the two women walked away.

*  *  *

Santo Rapetti's campaign immediately picked up intensity. Charm could only surmise he had a spy, or spies, around town, perhaps even on the set. He seemed to invariably know just where she was going to be, and he would then turn up there.

Even the presence of Patrick Harris as her date did not deter him.

She spotted Rapetti at nightclubs, concerts, plays, and movie openings. She was likely to see him just about anywhere or any time.

One evening during the intermission of the play she and Patrick were attending, Sarah Downing's Sorrow, Santo stepped into her path as she started across the lobby.

"I know you can't be here because of any deep interest in this play, Mr. Rapetti," Charm said coldly. "I'm quite aware you are following me, and I highly resent it."

"Why are you going out with that fag? Why don't you go out with me? I got plenty of money and I can take you to all the right places."

"As I have explained to you already, Mr. Rapetti, I simply am not interested in going out with you. If you persist in this disturbing behavior, you give me no choice but to speak with Ambrose Mandel, who, as I'm sure you know, is the head of Mandel Studios."

Santo laughed. "I don't think you'll find Mr. Mandel wanting to chase me off."

"I guess we'll see about that, won't we Mr. Rapetti!" she snapped and marched past him into the ladies room.

*  *  *

"Rapetti? Santo Rapetti?" Ambrose Mandel muttered. He looked a great deal like a small, pink frog seated behind his huge desk, and after hearing Rapetti's name spoken, he seemed like a very nervous frog as he moved various papers around for no particular reason and then ran his plump fingers through his decidedly thinning white hair.

"He's been pestering me," Charm said from her chair on the opposite side of the desk.

Ambrose seemed almost hidden behind the enormous desk and Charm fought back the urge to stand up and peer down to try and see him better. As he said nothing, she continued, "It's become quite bothersome. I don't want him hurt or roughed up. I just want him spoken to in a way that will make him realize he should leave me alone."

Ambrose cleared his throat. "Well, Charm, you see... Things aren't always that simple. I mean, he really hasn't done anything has he?"

"No, but —"

"Charm..." Ambrose lowered his voice to a confidential tone. "Rapetti is one of the boys, if you know what I mean. He's family."

"Family?" What was Mandel talking about? Family was a term used by Patrick Harris when he meant someone was gay or lesbian, and surely that wasn't possible with Santo Rapetti?

"The Chicago family," Ambrose clarified.

"You mean... the Mob?"

Ambrose looked around with quick glances as if he feared hidden microphones had suddenly been installed in his private office, and then he nodded."Every now and then one of them gets a case on one of actresses we have under contract. It's never a problem. These wiseguys, they just like to be seen with a quality woman, that's all. It's sort of a status thing with them, you see?" he explained.

"What I see is that you seem to expect me to go out with him," Charm flared, getting up from her chair and marching angrily toward the door, feeling she had just wasted two hours of her time talking with him.

Ambrose Mandel gave a weak shrug as she exited.

*  *  *

"Good evening, Charm." Santo's low baritone voice came over the phone line. "Hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"Actually you are," she retorted.

"Now why take that kind of attitude?" His tone held a martyred note to it. "What makes you think you're so much better than me? I've checked up on you, Charm. Hell, you and your ma were on the dole half the time."

"You checked up on me?! How dare you!"

He laughed, "Oh, I dare a lot." Then the voice went low and ominous, with a barely concealed threat behind it. "I'm a man who gets what he wants, Charm. What I want is you, and I'm going to have you too, one way or the other." He hung up before she could do so.

Charm slammed down the receiver anyway, wishing it had banged in his ear. She was shaking, partly with outrage, but she realized, also, with a trace of fear she wished she didn't feel. She would get the number changed again, she vowed, although she knew that wasn't going to stop anything.

*  *  *

Santo Rapetti soon knew even more about Charm Cole.

"A lesbian? Whadya mean she's a lesbian?" Santo demanded of Eddie Monticello, a private eye he frequently hired for various jobs, a few of which actually had to do with legitimate detective work. "Are you saying she's some kind of foreigner or something?" Homosexual men, Santo knew about, but homosexual women weren't something with which he was familiar.

"Nah, I mean she's getting it on with that Gloria Castle," Eddie explained. He laid some pictures he'd recently taken down on the desk in front of Santo.

"Jesus, these are pretty hot, Eddie," Santo said approvingly. "I knew she was dating that fag, but I didn't have no idea she was this way." He looked up at Monticello. "Any real boyfriends around?"

"Nah, just her and the other dame. Harris is just for show."

Santo wasn't alarmed; in his view; women couldn't do without a man.

*  *  *

"This package just came for you," Gloria said, returning from the front door of Charm's home and carrying an oblong cardboard box. She read the name of the store and its address. "Hmm, expensive," she noted.

"I didn't order anything from Jerricks," Charm said, coming over and taking the box from Gloria and setting it on a nearby table. "Their delivery man must have made a mistake."

"Has your name and address on it," Gloria replied.

Puzzled, Charm undid the string holding the box, tore away the cardboard tabs that were inserted along the sides, and lifted the lid.

Gloria gave a long, low whistle. The gown was gorgeous, a deep, rich burgundy velvet with black lace. Two small boxes had been placed on each side of the gown — and upon opening them, it was obvious the jewelry within was the real McCoy.

"Here's the card," Gloria said, reaching past Charm and into the box. She read from it. "'I'll pick you up at eight, doll. Can't wait to see you in these.' The card is signed S.R." Gloria looked at Charm. "Is there something you want to tell me?" she asked. She had thought Santo Rapetti was just a persistent admirer in whom Charm had zero interest, but the expensive presents couldn't help but make Gloria wonder.

"Santo Rapetti!" Charm bit off the name. "He doesn't seem to know how to take no for an answer. Well, this is all going right back to the store!" she said, replacing the white tissue paper and quickly re-closing and re-sealing everything.

*  *  *

"What?!" Charm shouted into the phone. "I can't believe you're asking me to do this, Ambrose! What kind of hold does Rapetti have on you!?"

"I just don't want any trouble, Charm, and you shouldn't either. He's not a man to antagonize. You'll be perfectly safe, my dear, it's just dinner at the Capricorn Club. You can even arrange to meet him at the club; I'll send a studio limo to pick you up and escort you home."

"No, absolutely not! It's out of the question," Charm replied, ending the conversation.

*  *  *

"Ambrose is freezing me out. It's been more than six months and I'm not being offered any decent scripts," Charm related to Gloria as she paced the length of their living room. "I'm going to be finished in this town before much longer. The public has a short memory!" She put her hands to her face and broke into tears.

Gloria came over to her and put her arms around her. "Maybe you should just go ahead and do it, darling. If you're boring enough, that should end his interest."

"I don't know," Charm said uncertainly. "Do you really think if I see him it'll put an end to this?"

"Whatever he likes, you're the opposite," Gloria told her, giving her a reassuring kiss.

*  *  *

She felt she'd been lucky Santo had agreed to a studio limousine taking her to the restaurant of her choice and home, minus him on either ride. They would be in a group and the evening would consist only of two hours at the restaurant, excluding time for dinner.

"Why ain't you wearing the dress and jewelry I sent you?" Santo asked from around the large cigar in his mouth.

More than six months and he hadn't forgotten that, she thought, with a tingle of alarm. "I wouldn't feel right accepting such expensive presents from you, Mr. Rapetti," Charm replied as she sat down opposite him at the table.

"How many times I got to tell you to call me Santo, honey? You ain't never going to get to know me with that mister stuff going on."

"I'm having dinner and a drink with you as a favor to Mr. Mandel." Charm wanted to make that quite clear. And to save my career, she added silently to herself.

"I'm glad you came tonight, Charm, and I think I'll change your mind about me before the evening is over," he said with a confident grin.

*  *  *

The others in their party helped make the time pass, not that it could pass too quickly for Charm's liking. She did not start any conversations with Santo Rapetti, mostly ignoring him and giving him monosyllabic answers when she was forced to reply. When he spoke, whether to her or to someone else, she didn't even bother to look at him.

Unknown to Charm, her very iciness intrigued the mobster. Santo liked a woman who was a challenge; classy dames always played hard to get, in his opinion. A woman who was too friendly was nothing but a slut that anyone could have.

"What a pansy," Santo commented as Gloria and her date, an up-and-coming young actor, Kenny Claven, left the table to dance.

Charm glanced at him with a raised eyebrow — the first time she had really acknowledged him that evening. Santo quickly locked gazes with her. "Your friend," he emphasized the word, "is out with a poof." He took a healthy swig from his glass. "The guy's a queer," he added, as if for clarification.

"Do you suppose that's why he dances so well?" Charm commented, straight faced, her irony lost on Rapetti, who did not dance at all.

"Yeah, he's what you'd call musical," Santo replied with a dismissive laugh. "She'd better not be counting on any real action from him," he added. He leaned across the table toward Charm. "Or maybe you'd rather Gloria didn't get any man-action?"

Aware Santo was staring at her with a borderline leer, Charm made no answer.

Another dame could be fine for the warm-up, Santo conceded, but nothing can take the place of the genuine thing, and only a real man could provide that. That's what Charm has been missing.

*  *  *

"Thank God that evening is finally over," Charm groaned as she collapsed on the sofa in Gloria's arms. "Do you think I had any luck discouraging him?"

"I don't know," Gloria answered doubtfully. "He didn't look very discouraged, and he definitely wanted to see you home. He wasn't happy about the limo arrangement at all, but he didn't seem to be mad about anything."

No, he hadn't seemed angry, Charm thought, reflecting back over the evening. He had merely laughed when she had given him the usual rejection, and made a joke about it.

*  *  *

Three weeks later, Santo was in no joking mood. His patience had run out. He was fed up with Charm continually putting him off.

"Why don't you just forget about that dame?" Eddie Monticello advised, leaning back in his chair in Santo's office after Santo had snarled viciously into the phone before slamming it down in Charm Cole's delicate ear. "There are plenty of lookers in this town," Eddie soothed.

"No woman tells Santo Rapetti no," he raged. "Are you sure there's no man she's seeing besides that fag director, what's his name, Patrick Harris?"

"Absolutely none," Eddie said, turning his head from side to side. "Any time she isn't working on this film she just started, or doing publicity, which includes dates with Harris, she's with Gloria Castle."

It was a hard nugget of truth that was getting harder for Santo to ignore. The plain facts were looming so close to his face it was difficult to continue denying them. Charm Cole wasn't missing sex with a male at all; she preferred to play footsies with her girlfriend rather than a man, including him.

"According to Dr. Freud, some women over-bond that way with their own gender," Eddie supplied, whose knowledge of Sigmund Freud's theories was based on what he'd heard in a bar somewhere.

"Oh yeah, tell me all about it, Dr. Fraud!" Santo growled.

"Hey man, I didn't make her that way," Eddie protested. "That's just how some of 'em are."

"No female ever puts another woman ahead of a man," Santo insisted.

Eddie gave a slight shrug of his narrow shoulders, then licked his lips, but didn't part them to say anything more.

Santo glared at him for a moment, and then his own shoulders slumped in temporary defeat. A moment later he was on his feet and raging again. "Damn women!" Santo yelled. "Damn 'em all to hell and back!" He picked up a heavy glass ashtray from his office desk and heaved it across the room. The glass shattered noisily against the gray stones of the fireplace opposite, shards falling onto the hearth and the carpet. His voice lowered to an ominous tone. "Take out that Castle bitch. On second thought, take both of 'em out. Make it look like an accident."

"You want Charm wasted too?" Eddie was surprised.

"Yeah, that's right! No dame treats Santo Rapetti that way and gets away with it! They like screwing each other so much, let's see how much they enjoy being dead together!"

*  *  *

Santo picked up the phone and dialed. This would be Charm Cole's last chance to save her fucking ass, he decided.

"I don't know how you keep getting my unlisted number, Mr. Rapetti!"

"I have my little ways," he said and gave a humorless laugh. "Since I have you on the line, I want to invite you to the New Year's Eve party I'm having at my home."

"I couldn't be less interested," Charm said icily, placing the receiver back in its cradle.

"You're dead, baby, you and your female lover!" Santo roared into the mouthpiece as the dial tone came humming into his ear, his threat coming too late for Charm to hear.

*  *  *

Charm drove the green roadster with one hand on the steering wheel, her other hand holding Gloria's on the car seat between them. Charm knew she'd had a bit more to drink than she should have during the party, but she was familiar with the road, the traffic was light, and she was being extra cautious.

The top was down and the California night air was refreshingly cool without being overly cold on this starlit New Year's Eve. Neither of them had ever felt more young, alive, and in love than they did at that moment.

The party at Patrick Harris' had been in keeping with the festive mood of the upcoming year, and the two young women in the green convertible felt they had everything to look forward to. With the new film Charm was working on, things seemed back on track. Her popularity with the public had been too great for Ambrose Mandel to ignore, and Gloria's career was also continuing to rise. They talked and laughed as they rode along, jumping from one subject of interest to another.

"Why don't we go down to Quantman's Wharf, darling?" Gloria suggested.

"There's never anybody around down there, you know," Charm answered with an impish smile. She moved her hand up to play with the ash blond curls of Gloria's hair for a moment and to stroke her cheek.

"Um hmm," Gloria answered with a flirty glance at Charm. "Wouldn't it be delicious to make love there on the dock, under the stars, with the sound of the water all around us?

"What a romantic you are," Charm teased.

As she started to slow for the turn onto the dock, Charm frowned.

"Wow! We about took that on two wheels, didn't we?" Gloria said with a little laugh.

It seemed the roadster was actually picking up speed, although she hadn't accelerated. Charm took her hand from Gloria's, feeling the need to have both of them on the wheel. She hit the accelerator to get it to come back up, but instead the rubber coated pedal responded by going lower and increasing their speed.

"Charm? What's happening?!" Gloria cried out, alarmed.

"The accelerator is stuck!" she shouted.

She tried to hook the toe of her shoe underneath it, but there wasn't room. Gloria bent over and tried to get her fingers beneath the pedal but, likewise, had no success.

"Hit the brakes!" Gloria shouted.

They were going quite fast now and were very close to the end of the wharf. As Charm came down on the foot brake and pulled back on the emergency brake, the sudden halt was too much for the car and it flipped over, back to front.

Gloria screamed as she went flying up, out of the car seat, over the windshield and past the hood. Unbeknownst to Charm, Gloria's head hit one of the posts of the wharf, knocking her unconscious just before she struck the water.

"Glory!" the name tore its way out of Charm's throat as she felt her own body bolting forward.

A terrible pain shot through her left eye!

When she came to, she was lying on the edge of the dock and beyond her the car was sinking into the bay. Agonizing pain greeted her and she thought for a moment she was going to pass out again. I must have a head wound, she surmised; blood was obscuring the vision in her left eye.

"Glory! Gloria!" It took all her strength just to call out the name.

And then she saw her, floating atop the dark waves. The moon had risen and its light reflected off the moving water, creating valleys of shadow on the woman in the bay.

Charm tried to crawl forward. She had to swim out there! She had to rescue Gloria! The blackness came over her again. She fought against it, but the blackness won.

*  *  *

"She's coming around," a man's voice said.

Charm opened her eyes. She still couldn't see out of the left one. She looked around with her good eye, trying to get her bearings. She focused on the face above her; he was young and serious-looking and there was grave concern in the blue eyes that were studying her so intently. She noted he was wearing a stiffly starched white coat.

"You're at St. Andrew's Hospital," he informed her. "I'm Dr. Robert Martin. You were in a pretty severe automobile accident, Miss Cole."

"Glory? Gloria Castle?"

"I'm sorry," he said softly.

"Noooo..." The word came out in a long, low moan of such agonizing despair and emotion, even the medical staff flinched, as used to death as they were.

Dr. Martin patted her hand in a comforting gesture. "I'm going to give you a shot now," he explained. "It'll help the pain so you can get some rest and sleep. It's going to take some time for you to heal."

*  *  *

She was mostly out of it over the following days. Gradually, the staff informed her of all her injuries. She learned they had done immediate surgery upon her arrival, but had been unable to save the vision in her left eye.

Dr. Martin had suggested she see Dr. Barnes, a plastic surgeon, for further repair to her face. She was too depressed to really care, but an appointment was set up and Dr. Barnes came to the hospital and examined her. "I'm going to be frank with you, Miss Cole. The prospects for repairing your face to how you formerly looked are not good." He went on to explain how certain muscles and nerves had been damaged and how bone had been shattered.

It doesn't really matter anyway, Charm thought. Nothing did. She couldn't get Gloria out of her mind, the sight of her body floating in the bay. The impression was so persistent, she found it impossible to remember her any other way. It was as if it had burned an indelible image into her mind, and when she finally was able to think of Gloria in other ways, it was with the knowledge that she would no longer share any part of her life any more. With it was the guilt, the overwhelming weight of which was like ten tons of stones piled on top of her. I should have been able to stop the car safely. If only I'd turned the wheel sooner. If only I'd gotten into the water. Could I have saved Gloria? Was she already dead when I saw her in the bay? She endlessly tortured herself with such questions.

*  *  *

"Hello, Charm. They told me you were up to having visitors now." Santo Rapetti came into the hospital room. He was wearing an expensive, tailor-made suit and carrying a large vase filled with red roses interlaced with tiny white baby's breath blossoms. After a moment, during which Charm did not validate either him or the flowers, he set the vase down on the small table by the bed.

Charm sat in a chair near the one single, large window, staring out without any real interest at all at the park-like hospital lawn. She had taken to arranging her hair so that it fell over her left eye. She was wearing a lightweight, golden-yellow, silk robe over a matching nightgown, and her bare feet were thrust into a pair of gold colored, satin slippers.

She looked at him at last, listlessly, but said nothing. Santo crossed the room, and bent to kiss her on the cheek. She turned her head away.

"They tell me you'll be getting out of here soon. I bet you're looking forward to that."

"Oh yeah, I have so much to look forward to. My future is definitely bright," she said, voice heavy with sarcasm. Suddenly she pulled back the hair that covered the left side of her face. Crisscrosses of vivid scars were on her forehead and below her eye, as well as a noticeable depression in the left temple like the dent in a car fender. "I'd say my days in film are pretty well over wouldn't you?"

To his credit, Santo didn't even blink. "The good life doesn't have to be over. You can continue living in high style."

What kind of fool is this man? Does he really think my acting career and the money that provided, the finer material things, was the main motivation in my life? She looked at his highly polished, obviously expensive shoes, the gray tailor-made suit, and realized, Yes. To Santo, those would seem the most important things.

Ambrose Mandel had paid her a nervous visit recently, chattering aimlessly about the studio and saying they would find a way to finish the film on which she had been working, while hinting at future roles, but she'd known he was lying through his teeth. Patrick Harris had already told her the film had been shelved until they settled on another actress, and Kenny Claven had confirmed it.

She had spoken on the phone to her mother, lying to her just like Ambrose Mandel had lied to Charm. She had made light of her injuries, convincing her mother there was no reason for her to make the long trip to California. She had told her that she would soon be back at work on her film. It had been hard to put on the performance, but somehow she had managed.

"By the way, you don't need to worry about the hospital bill or any other bills. I can take care of all that for you," Santo said.

Friends had come forward offering financial help, but she didn't want to become a charity case for them, and she surely did not wish to be indebted to a man like Rapetti, she added to herself.

"Please, don't concern yourself," she told him. She turned her face back toward the window. After a moment, she said, "Would you mind leaving, please."

"Hey! I came here to cheer you up and help you out. Some appreciation you've got!"

She didn't reply or look at him, and after a moment, she heard him walk out of the room.

A total futility encompassed her. Gloria had been what had made her complete. Gloria had been her great happiness, and now she was faced with a huge void and with it the knowledge that the emptiness would be there forever.

There is no reason, no purpose at all to even continue my worthless, pointless existence.

Charm stood up and moved closer to the window, and looked down at the pavement eight floors below. She tried to open the window, but it was either made not to open or she was unable to open it.

She went over to where the heavy vase with its bouquet sat on the small table and returned to the window with it. Holding the vase in her right hand, she brought her arm back and struck the window with as much force as she possibly could. Glass shattered, the shards spraying into her hair and onto her clothes, as well as onto the carpeted floor of the hospital room.

There was a hole in the glass, but it wasn't large enough.  Gripping the vase, she began to pound at the glass until strong hands gripped her and she was pulled, struggling, back from the window. Charm began crying hysterically as she shrieked, "Let me go! Let me go! I want to die! You have no right to stop me!"

It took two male orderlies to finally pin her safely to the floor. A doctor came running and Charm felt the sting of the needle in her arm. It was only a matter of a few minutes before the drug took hold and she went limp, unable to keep her eyes open or fight to continue what she had started.

*  *  *

She opened her eyes slowly and allowed the room to come into focus. It was a white room with no windows, and the door was closed. She realized someone was sitting in a chair near the bed, a woman.

"Glory...?" She spoke the name before the memories came hauntingly back causing her to burst into tears.

"It's me, dear. It's Momma."

"Momma? Oh Momma, I didn't want you to have to come."

"Don't you know this is where I'd want to be?" Ida Mae Wallenstecker assured her daughter as she took one of Charm's hands between her own. There were bandages on Charm's hands and forearms from where the glass had cut her. "And I'll stay just as long as you need me," Ida added.

She stroked Charm's forehead gently with her other hand. "I'm so sorry dear, about all of this, and about your friend, Gloria. I know you must feel terrible. Time does have a way of healing, although I know it doesn't seem like it now. You mustn't blame yourself for what happened."

Charm looked at the small, fragile woman seated in the chair beside her bed. It had to have been difficult for Momma to come all this way. There is someone to consider besides myself. I have to look after Momma, no matter if I deserve to live or not, or what my life has become. In fact, I deserve to suffer.

*  *  *

It was only after she had persuaded Momma she was her old self again and was now going to be all right, and had insisted on Ida Mae returning home, recognizing the beginnings of exhaustion for the elderly woman, that she had given serious thought to the question of how she was going to take care of Momma.

*  *  *

"You won't regret this, baby," Santo said enthusiastically as he came into her hospital room.

He bent and kissed her cheek and when she did not turn her head away, ventured to kiss her lips. Charm allowed it, the same way a statue might allow it.

I'll warm her up soon enough, Santo thought.

"I want my mother taken care of..."

"Yeah, I know, I know, you told me all about that on the phone earlier."

"Papers," she said. "It will be a legally binding contract regarding the money that will go to Momma until the day of her death, without exception. If anything should disrupt our arrangement or either you or I should pass away first, Momma's allowance will not terminated."

"We don't need a piece of paper between us, baby, unless it's a marriage license."

"I have no interest in legalizing our relationship, but the other will be a contract in writing."

"All right, all right," he agreed.

What the hell, the old lady can't last that long, can she? He'd met her when she'd come out to see about Charm and sized her up as being on her last legs. He figured her to be in her seventies and Charm had mentioned that  her mother was in bad health.

The amount Charm mentioned for the old lady didn't really bother him. It was a drop in the bucket; he'd never even miss it. If that was all it took to get him Charm Cole, Santo figured it was well worth it.

*  *  *

1951

"You're jumpy as a flea tonight, Erin," Aidan observed as his sister scurried about, rushing through the re-shelving. She had even made the deliveries in double time, he realized.

"Yeah, well, I want to get off early," she said.

"You've been taking off early for about a month now," he commented.

"I get the work done. You've got no complaint," she said defensively.

"Weren't complaining," he answered. "Just wondering what's going on with you? You got some fellow you're slipping off to see or something?" He couldn't imagine who, and if she was sneaking around about it, then it had to mean the guy was pretty undesirable.

Erin looked momentarily startled.

"Cause if you are, I suggest you bring him around. I want to get a look at him, you hear? I won't stand for you taking up with some riff-raff or other," Aidan told her sternly.

"It's none of your concern who I take up with!" Erin retorted.

"It is when it involves this business!"

"Don't worry, I'm not fixing to marry somebody. The precious liquor store is safe, Aidan."

"Well, if you're messing around with some man and get yourself in the family way..." he began.

"Jesus! Give me a break. Do you really think I'm that stupid?"

"I think you might be that desperate," he replied bluntly. "You've never had a man take a look at you before, you could well lose your head over some piece of trash with a silver tongue on him, filling your head full of all sorts of nonsense and lies. I know how you women are, even you, even if you don't look much like a woman or act much like one, you're still a woman!"

Erin's jaws tightened and she felt her hands curl into fists. She'd never felt so much like punching Aidan in her life. In fact, she was pretty sure that was exactly what she would do if she didn't get out of there right that minute. Without saying anything further, Erin snatched up her black leather jacket, flung it on, and strode purposefully out the back door of Powell's Liquor Store.

Her motorcycle was parked in the alleyway as usual. She flung a jeaned leg over it and kick started it, revving the motor a little to get it running smoothly, before she slipped it into gear.

She went where she always went, down to Quantman's Wharf. She could feel the excitement building inside her as she approached the area.

Reaching the vicinity of the wharf, she eased the bike and herself into the shadows and took up a position where she had a clear view of the dock that went out into the bay. As usual, no one was around. There was a spooky stillness to the place with its dark, closed warehouses and intermittent street lamps for illumination.

She never knew for sure when Charm would arrive, or even if she would at all. During the times Charm was there, Erin always remained quietly watching. She never ceased to marvel at the strange sight that greeted her eyes as the two women interacted with one another — one a flesh-and-blood human being, the other formed in some strange way from fog into the image of a woman.

The rest of the time Erin thought about it and about Charm Cole in particular. She had learned that the other woman's name was Gloria Castle. She'd gone to the library and dug through the records until she had located the information she wanted. She had learned a great deal about Gloria Castle's burgeoning career that had been nipped early in the bud. She had also read about the accident and discovered that it had happened at this very wharf.

Erin went over dialogue in her head a dozen times a day as to what she might say to Charm and what Charm might say to her. She wanted so much to reach out to her. The dialogue sounded perfect inside her head, but whenever she made deliveries to the ritzy house where Charm Cole lived with Santo Rapetti, even if Charm was just there by herself, Erin's mouth would go dry and her tongue seemed to stop working. The entire situation seemed awkward and out of place in the reality of the everyday world.

If Rapetti was there, she didn't even look at Charm. She sensed an animosity toward her coming from him, although she couldn't figure out why that should be.

She'd thought of approaching Charm at Quantman's Wharf, but it had somehow felt too intrusive.

Eventually, she'd wondered why any of the verbal exchanges she'd worked out so often in her head had ever seemed like good ideas.

*  *  *

At first it had been such a revelation just to hear Gloria's voice again and see her image, and then had come the joy of lovemaking between them, but now Charm found herself complaining, "It's not enough. Oh Glory, Glory, I need you with me more than this."

"I know," Gloria answered as the two of them lay together naked in each other's arms upon the bare, gray planks of the dock. "I want to be with you too, Charm. I want to be with you every day, but without a body, I have no way of being with you beyond this."

*  *  *

Santo Rapetti stopped the car, parked and left it. Even with its quiet running motor, he didn't want to risk being detected. With moonlight and the faint illumination from street lamps guiding his way, he approached the ancient, abandoned wharf on foot.

He had followed her car to the street that led down to the wharf. He had hung back and then parked when she hadn't re-emerged. He knew she must still be here, but why? What a strange, eerie place to rendezvous with a man, if that was why she was here. He could think of no other reason she would stealthily take herself out alone into the night to an old, deserted wharf.

While Rapetti knew all about the accident at Quantman's Wharf that it had taken Gloria Castle's life — considering his right hand man had caused it at his orders — he saw no reason why Charm would be endlessly re-visiting the spot. He had become aware, however, that lately she had been sneaking out of the house in the evenings at every opportunity. She has to be seeing another man.

"Whore!" The word tore itself roughly from his throat at the sight of the two intertwined, and he began to run down the length of the gray-planked wharf. It was only when they separated at his shout that he realized one of them was not fully human, although he immediately recognized her.

The wraith-like image of Gloria Castle rose up into the air and began to whirl about him, hissing horribly one word over and over: "Murderer! Murderer!"

"What kind of fucking setup is this?!" Santo roared. "No bitch double crosses me! Not even you, Charm!" He lunged at her, his fingers locking powerfully around her throat as the phantasm of Gloria swirled around them.

The struggle on the pier lasted only a few brief seconds before Santo and Charm fell into the dark waters of the bay, where they separated.

"I can't swim! I can't swim!" Santo screamed.

As he reached up, he felt the edge of the gray planks and grasped them with both hands, gasping with relief. Then the fog was there again! The fog that was Gloria literally wrapped itself around him. He felt himself drowning in its mist, felt his hands sliding off the slippery wetness of the planks. He was being drawn back into the water, beneath the dock — by Gloria!

Erin Powell, who had been witnessing what was taking place from the concealment of the shadows, raced forward. She ran to the end of the pier and flung herself in a low dive into the blackness of the bay. She went down, kicking out her legs, reaching out with arms and hands, trying to find Charm in the darkness of the water. Even opening her eyes, she could see nothing — but then she touched something and realized it was another body. It was Charm! A few moments later she saw her in the light provided by the shimmering fog that hovered over them, quivering like a living, breathing thing, but no longer discernible as being Gloria Castle.

"Hang on!" Erin yelled. "I see you!"

"It's all right. I can swim!" Charm shouted back.

The tide took Erin partway beneath the dock. A body was there, no longer struggling, just drifting and floating, and Erin realized it Santo Rapetti. She felt herself becoming entangled with him and adamantly pushed against him to free herself. As she rose back up for air, the back of her head struck one of the thick, round dock posts.

What happened? Where is the woman who called out to me in the water? Charm wondered. Then she saw two bodies floating — one of them was Santo, who was no longer struggling and she assumed he had drowned. The other one wasn't struggling or swimming either, but Charm hoped she was still alive, knowing it must be the young woman who had attempted to save her. She swam to her would-be rescuer and got an arm around her, and with an effort, began pulling them both up onto the wharf.

On the dock, Charm bent over Erin and frantically worked to bring life back to the woman who had risked her own to save her. It was a moment before she realized she knew her slightly — and recognized her as Erin Powell, the young woman who made deliveries from the liquor store.

What in God's name is Erin Powell doing here?

Charm pumped a desperate rhythm on the young woman's chest, and then blew air into her mouth. There was no response, no pulse, no heartbeat, but she continued. However, Charm was rapidly reaching the end of her strength and realizing she was going to have to accept the fact Erin Powell had drowned, when the young woman spat out a quantity of sea water before opening her eyes to look into Charm's.

"Dear God, are you all right?" Charm asked.

"Charm!" The way the name was said sounded so familiar, although the voice was slightly different, a little deeper tone. "Darling, I'm here! I'm alive again!"

Charm stared questioningly into Erin Powell's dark eyes, feeling it was too impossible to be true.

"I'm in the body, but I seem to sense her somehow here with me as well. Not her spirit — it chose not to come back — but her memories. All her memories are still here, along with my own. Oh Charm, she loved you too," Gloria added gently.

Although overwhelmed by what had occurred, both women realized the need to leave the wharf as soon as possible, considering Santo's dead body was floating in the bay.

They decided that, at least temporarily, they would go to Erin Powell's apartment.

*  *  *

It was a sparsely furnished, three-room apartment on the second floor of an aged building in one of the older neighborhoods, and it was obvious it had not been much of a home for Erin, basically just a place to sleep and eat.

They changed out of their wet clothing and took a hot shower together that afterwards culminated in lingering lovemaking on the bed. It was an unusual but highly erotic experience for Charm — the personality, the way she was being touched, the responses she received, were all Gloria's, but whenever she looked at her lover, it was another woman's face, another woman's body.

Gloria sensed Charm's dilemma. "I know it must seem odd to you, darling, like being with a stranger."

"At least she was attractive," Charm said, trying to lighten the feeling of incongruity that existed between them.

"Hmm, I could get jealous of that," Gloria said, half teasing. Then her face and voice grew somber. "I'm sorry she died," she said. "And from her memories, I know she never got to have the kind of love we found with each other."

"Yes, I'm sorry too," Charm said, as she lay in Gloria's arms looking into her eyes, feeling that was where she saw Gloria the most.

Neither of them had wanted Erin Powell to die so they could be together.

"She wanted to go into the light," Gloria said softly.

"Why didn't you go into the light after the accident, Gloria?" Charm asked.

"I wasn't ready. I was too earthbound. I loved you so much, Charm, I couldn't leave."

*  *  *

Gloria stood before the mirror combing and re-combing the short black hair that had been Erin's. At last, she managed to arrange it in a way that suited her better; Erin Powell's butch look was not reflective of Gloria Castle's personality.

Gloria looked over the wardrobe offered in the small closet. Erin Powell had owned exactly one dress; Gloria took it out and held it up. It was pitifully out of style.

"Maybe I shouldn't make too many drastic changes right away," she mused.

She chose a light blue shirt and a pair of gray slacks which, while mannish, were women's clothing, and put those on, along with a pair of penny loafers she found in the back of the closet.

"I probably had better put in an appearance at Powell's Liquor Store," Gloria told Charm, "until we have time to figure everything out."

"I guess I'd better go over to Santo's house," Charm said. "There are bound to be questions asked."

Briefly she discussed with Gloria what she would tell the police.

*  *  *

Charm wasn't surprised when she answered the door later that morning to find a man there identifying himself as Detective John Letres with the LAPD. He was a middle-aged man of ordinary looks with a tired face, wearing a slightly rumpled, tan suit, over which he had thrown a well-worn trench coat.

"Charm Cole?"

"Yes."

"Do you mind if I come in, Miss Cole?" Detective Letres asked.

"No, of course not."

"I understand this is the residence of Mr. Santo Rapetti?"

"Yes," she replied.

She sat down on the sofa and the detective took a nearby chair.

"Is there a problem?" Charm asked.

"I'm afraid there is, Miss Cole. Santo Rapetti was found this morning near an old abandoned wharf down in the warehouse section. A complete autopsy hasn't been performed yet, but all indications are he drowned."

She had known, of course, that was why the detective was there, but his words brought the scene vividly back regarding what had happened, along with the entirety of its shock.

Feigning complete lack of that knowledge, Charm said, "I don't understand. I mean, how —?"

"That's what the LAPD would like to know as well, Miss Cole. Just what was he doing down there? Any ideas?"

She shook her head.

"Did he happen to mention something in passing or a casual comment?

She shook her head again. "Nothing I can think of."

"We know Rapetti had connections with the Mob. Anything you'd care to tell me about that, Miss Cole?" He gave her a sharp look.

"I never asked Santo what connections he might or might not have. I thought it best not to."

"I see."

Although she was telling the truth, she wondered if he really believed she didn't know anything about Santo's possible criminal activities.

"You think it was a Mob hit then?" she asked after a moment.

"We don't think anything yet, Miss Cole. It doesn't have the earmark of a Mob hit, but that doesn't mean it wasn't one.

"His car was found near Quantman's Wharf, parked and undisturbed. Nothing was missing from the car or his person, as far as we can determine."

"Santo doesn't," she paused and corrected herself, "didn't swim."

"By the way, Miss Cole, just where were you last night?" he asked, and gave her a sudden direct look.

"I was here most of the evening. Later I went over and visited a friend, Erin Powell." She knew he might well discover that, so she might as well say it now. "I was tired so I didn't drive back. I spent the night at her place."

He asked for the address and Charm supplied it.

"What time did you go over to Erin Powell's apartment?"

Charm shrugged: "I'm not sure, around midnight probably. I couldn't sleep."

"And Mr. Rapetti?"

"He'd already gone up to bed. He was asleep when I left. I had no reason to think he would go out."

"So you left him a note, or what?"

"Yes." She got up and walked over to the bar and picked up the note she had written only an hour before his arrival, and which she was sure the detective knew proved nothing. She held it out to him and he took it, glancing at it dismissively.

"When you returned this morning, Mr. Rapetti wasn't here?"

"No."

"Where did you think he had gone?"

"I had no idea," Charm replied.

"And that didn't concern you?"

"No. He wasn't in the habit of checking in with me."

"I see."

Detective Letres had been surveying Charm closely since his arrival. She had reacted with shock and surprise at the announcement of Santo Rapetti's demise, he had noted, but beyond that she'd had little reaction to the man's death. That was not completely unexpected. Letres knew men like Rapetti frequently kept a mistress, and that love had nothing to do with it.

Assessing Charm Cole's size in comparison to Rapetti's, it seemed unlikely she would have been able to push him into the bay, unless she had knocked him unconscious first. Even in that scenario, she would have had to have been standing behind him with something capable of striking a heavy blow and Rapetti would have needed to be near the edge of the wharf when she did. Again, it seemed unlikely.

Since the evidence clearly pointed to Rapetti having drowned, and the water in his lungs contained salt, it was pretty safe to assume it had happened at Quantman's Wharf. However, at this point, there was nothing to connect Charm Cole with the crime — if indeed a crime had even been committed. Santo Rapetti could have driven himself to the wharf and committed suicide by jumping into the bay. For that matter, with Rapetti's underworld dealings, there were any number of reasons why he might have been in the area late at night — all of them, no doubt, unscrupulous.

"Just what kind of relationship would you say you had with Santo Rapetti?"

"I'm not going to clean it up for you, Detective. Santo offered me a luxurious lifestyle in exchange for my company. We had an understanding; love wasn't involved."

She doesn't seem to have any motive to kill the goose that laid the golden egg, unless... there is some other boyfriend in the wings, Detective Letres mused.

At that moment, as if reading the detective's mind, Charm brushed back the hair from the left side of her face. She had purposely left off the black eye patch in order to fully reveal the horrible, twisted scarring that went from her hairline across her blind eye to the upper portion of her cheekbone.

Being a seasoned detective, Letres gave no reaction beyond a couple of swift blinks. Like others, he had heard rumors about her, but of course had never seen the results, not even so much as a photograph.

"My film career was over due to an automobile accident I had some five years ago," she calmly informed him, as she allowed the hair to fall back into place, once again concealing her appalling secret. "I was grateful Santo Rapetti was willing to accept me as I am."

Not likely there's a boyfriend lurking off stage, Detective Letres said to himself in answer to his earlier question. She was lucky to snag Rapetti. "How would you say Santo's frame of mind was the last few days?"

"As always," she replied.

"He didn't mention any particular problems? He didn't seem worried or depressed about anything?"

"No, but then he was never one to confide a great deal."

"Um hmm, I see. Well, thank you for your time, Miss Cole." He rose from the chair.

Charm started to rise also, but he put out a hand as a gesture for her not to. "Thank you. I'll see myself out."

*  *  *

Aidan Powell answered the phone: "Powell's Liquor Store."

"This is Charm Cole," she said tensely." Is Glor, er Erin there? I need to speak with her."

Aidan looked surprised. His sparse eyebrows arched questioningly.

"Well, yes, Miss Cole," he said tentatively. "Just a moment."

He laid down the receiver and walked to the back of the store where Gloria was bent over unpacking a box, more slowly and less efficiently than Aidan was used to seeing his sister do.

"That Cole woman wants to speak with you," he told her in a disapproving tone.

"Thanks," Gloria said quickly, moving past Aidan to the front of the store to pick up the receiver.

Briefly Charm relayed the visit from Detective Letres.

"Are you all right?" Gloria asked.

"Yes, but I'm thinking I need to be getting out of here. Santo's family will be arriving later today and it could get uncomfortable. As soon as everything is legally settled, I'd have to leave anyway, so I might as well go now."

"Don't worry. We can both stay at, uh, my place." She turned her head and saw that Aidan was making no effort to conceal the fact he was listening. "You need some help packing? I don't know just when I can get away."

"That's okay. I can manage. I won't be taking much."

"There's a key under the door mat. I'd better go," Gloria said. She had checked that morning and discovered the most likely hiding place had been Erin's choice.

"Love you. See you later."

Gloria stopped herself from replying in kind, and just muttered, "Same here. Bye."

"What's all this about?" Aidan demanded as Gloria hung up the phone. He'd heard enough of one end of the conversation to know he didn't like the sound of it. "I warned you not to get involved in that woman's affairs!"

"Sorry, Aidan, but you're too late. I'm already involved."

"Then you'd better damn well get yourself uninvolved, and I mean right now!"

"Sorry. I can't."

"You can and you will!" Aidan thundered. "I just heard on the radio that Santo Rapetti turned up drowned in the bay down by an old abandoned wharf. We could turn up just as dead! Those are dangerous people! If that Cole woman is having problems, you stay out of it."

"I intend to be there for her."

"You've gone mad!" he yelled. "You've turned into a stark, crazy, raving lunatic!" He followed after her, ranting, "Did she have something to do with it? Lord have Mercy! You didn't help her do something, did you?!"

Gloria swung back around to face him. "For God's sake, Aidan, Charm and I didn't dump Santo Rapetti into the bay! I realize you didn't understand Erin much, but..."

He was staring at her.

"I mean me! I realize you've never really understood me, but I never thought even you would think anything like that of me!"

"Well, no, no, of course not," he replied hastily.

Gloria went back to the storeroom to continue unpacking boxes, but her mind was wholly on Charm. She walked back to the front of the store again. "I'm sorry, Aidan, but I'm going to leave now. I'm not comfortable with Charm being over there by herself with those relatives and cronies of Santo's due to show up any time." She whipped off the work apron and flung it onto the counter in front of an astounded Aidan Powell.

"If you walk out that door Erin, I'll... I'll..." Aidan was still groping for an appropriate threat as Gloria left.

*  *  *

Detective Letres deduced the only motives Charm Cole had were if there had been an argument between her and Santo and she had finally had enough, or if she was named in Santo's will or was the recipient on a large life insurance policy.

It had not taken much checking to get the answers to those questions. While he heard rumors of some verbal abuse, there were no physical injuries confirmed, and the only financial connection aside from Rapetti's family was one that stipulated a regular monthly payment to an Ida Mae Wallenstecker. This woman, he learned, was the widowed mother of Charm Cole, and the amount was to continue per a contract, until the death of Mrs. Ida Mae Wallenstecker. The amount was not extreme and would have been no financial hardship for Rapetti.

As it turned out, Santo Rapetti had not made any long-term arrangements for his mistress in his will. Charm was free to keep whatever jewelry or gifts had been given her during the duration of their co-habitation, but other than that, she received nothing. Santo had, instead, named a brother and his mother as recipients. His life insurance, likewise, named his mother and brother. The brother had an air-tight alibi, and the mother was practically an invalid, so both of those were dead ends, Letres concluded. And Erin Powell had confirmed Charm Cole was with her that evening, and that there had been nothing unusual in her behavior.

Nor were there any witnesses or evidence to place Charm Cole at Quantman's Wharf the night Santo Rapetti had decided to go for a dip in the bay, whether willingly or unwillingly. It appeared Santo Rapetti's death was going to remain one where he met his end by unknown, presumed accidental, means, and as far as Detective Letres and the LAPD were concerned, it made little difference. Santo Rapetti had been a low-life thug with social aspirations and nothing in particular to recommend him.

*  *  *

A few months later

"I can't get over the change in you," Aidan commented for perhaps the third time as he looked in amazement at the woman he took to be his sister.

He had daily witnessed a gradual transformation from the sister he had always known to that of a far more feminine-looking woman. Erin, as Aidan thought of her, had let her hair grow out and it was now well below the collar of the attractive blouses and women's slacks she wore when she was working, and the pretty dresses she wore when she wasn't. She'd even taken to wearing a bit of costume jewelry from time to time, and her face definitely showed increasing signs of make-up having been applied.

Aidan definitely approved — not that Gloria gave a whit whether she had his endorsement or not. In response to his sparse compliments, she said little more than polite thank yous.

While he didn't ask for specifics, and had come to realize there was no boyfriend in the picture, he knew Charm Cole was an important feature in Erin's life. He was aware the two women had not only begun living together in Erin's old apartment, but had continued doing so when they had moved into a larger apartment in a newer building. The changes all had to be Charm Cole's influence, he figured. I never dreamed any good could come out of that friendship! Aidan thought.

Unbeknownst to Aidan Powell, Charm actually had had nothing to do with the metamorphosis he was witnessing. Gloria's own personality had taken over, and with it had come the changes. Aidan was not the only one noting the differences. Charm was beginning to feel that she was seeing more of the Gloria she had known emerge.

*  *  *

Two days after the six-month anniversary of Santo Rapetti's demise, Gloria told Aidan she would like it if he bought out her half of the business. Aidan had felt a mild conflict of emotions, but after mulling the matter for a brief time, had agreed to end their business partnership and buy her out.

"I'll have the papers drawn up," he informed her in his usual terse tone.

*  *  *

Gloria still had some slight concerns about having to sign anything with Erin's name, knowing Aidan had to be quite familiar with his sister's signature, and that the papers might be examined at some point. When she had first taken on the other woman's identity, she had practiced for hours trying to match her writing to Erin's, but  eventually, she had discovered if she totally relaxed and blanked out her own mind and allowed the dead girl's memories to take over, she could write Erin's signature perfectly.

*  *  *

Aidan's payment to Gloria and the selling of the jewelry and other gifts that Santo had given Charm, which she turned into cold, hard cash, enabled the two of them to completely leave the past behind and build a future life together.

THE END

Anatomy of a Commitment

by phair

Copyright © 2011 by phair

All rights reserved.

Acknowledgements

This story could not have been written without the tireless efforts of Mary and Patrick, Matt and Susan, Maureen, Brenda, and Amanda. Without their support, shelter and comfort, I would not have healed enough to ever write again. Also, I might have frozen last winter if Dakota and the brothers Cats had not shared their furry warmth when the storms blew in, so let me say thanks to them too.

Anatomy of a Commitment

August 9, 2008 - 11:58 pm

"WOW, YOU ARE so friggin' hot! Long, strong legs, long black hair, deep soulful eyes. Do you have half a clue how hot you are? Your hotness could just about eclipse the sun."

Caelin easily caught the slight woman swaying at the bar and steadied her before shouting back over the blaring music. "And you're so friggin' drunk your drunkenness could eclipse your consciousness."

"Ooo, take me home with you and keep talkin' dirty like that."

"Pretty sure my girlfriend would not be happy with you in our bed," Caelin said with a smirk.

The drunk frowned. "Should have known somebody would already be with you. You're too gorgeous to be up for grabs on a Friday night. A Thursday night, maybe, but never on a Friday night."

"I think that might be a compliment, but it's hard to tell." Caelin chuckled but the drunk didn't.

"Yeah, it was. You're a real cutie pie."

Caelin, seeing the woman was getting teary-eyed, decided not to order another round and prepared for a hasty retreat. "Then thanks for the compliment. I gotta get moving."

The woman fumbled as she dug into her back pocket and Caelin needed to steady her once more. "Please, take my card. I'd crawl through flaming dung piles for just an hour of undivided attention from a cutie pie like you."

Caelin glanced at the card and nodded before stuffing it into her own pocket. "I'll be sure to remember that, Jaye."

*  *  *

December 19, 2008 - 7:32 pm

"So, you're just going to dump me a week before Christmas?"

The bored redhead with matching nail polish rolled her eyes from across the couch. "That's right, get all dramatic. Lay down a heavy-handed guilt trip like some stoic martyr making us mere humans feel all worthless."

Caelin wiped a tear desperately trying to form in her right eye away with her thumb. "I don't do that."

"Ha! Right, you're perfect. Fine. I'll be the bad girl. I'm done. I'm leaving. My ride will be here in a half hour. The movers will be here tomorrow morning to pack the rest of my stuff up."

"Can't you even stay through the holidays?" Caelin heard the pleading in her voice but could not stop her begging. "I mean, it's Christmas and Eric's in Stowe and you're the only family I've got here."

"Had. I was the only family that you had," the redhead smugly corrected. "And who gives half a crap about Christmas? It's just a bunch of stupid hype to get us to spend money we don't have. Really Caelin, act like an adult."

"I thought we were in love."

The redhead laughed at her.

*  *  *

December 20, 2008 - 8:16 am

Caelin was cleaning out her desk drawer. She wanted to stay out of the way of the burly moving men, although they were nice enough. True to the name on their truck, they seemed to be Great Big Gentle Giants. But she was not entirely sure she could keep from crying with each box removed from the apartment. She was sure she did not want a bunch of great big giants, gentle or not, standing around watching her sob like a little girl.

Their job was to take away half of the stuff filling her home. Caelin figured she might as well make her job cleaning the remaining half. With a little work, she might rid the apartment of three-quarters of the crap she gathered with her girlfriend of three years.

"Ex-girlfriend." Caelin practiced the word out loud to get a feel for it.

It sounded lonely. It felt worse. She refocused on the stack of business cards she stored in the right-hand drawer of her desk. Most were business associates she no longer did business with. A couple were repairmen she still needed. But, only one was creased into a fold that defied stacking.

Jaye Cosgrove, Event Coordinator

Whip It Up

Caelin racked her brain trying to remember who this person was. Her own job as an annuity actuary required no events to coordinate. A rare meeting at corporate headquarters in Sherborn would hardly constitute an event. A coordinator would have little to do beyond setting out water bottles.

The smash of a glass broke her concentration on the card in her hand. One of the big men stuck his head around the door frame to peek in at her.

"Sorry, it was one of yours."

"A coffee mug?" He nodded and she made a little notation on the pad of paper on her desk.

"If you have a receipt —" he began to say but Caelin interrupted.

"We can figure out the damages at the end. I'm estimating your team will break three pieces of glassware, one wooden piece of furniture, and an electronic component. Maybe some paint chipping in the hall. Total dollar value will be under five hundred."

He blinked in surprise with her cool assessment of damage which had not occurred yet.

She shifted slightly, growing uncomfortable with his staring. "Give or take a hundred and fifty-two dollars."

"Oh, okay." He scratched his head a little. "I'll bring whatever we break to you at the end."

"Sure," she agreed and waved him away.

The grief of the end of her relationship and the certainty more personal items would be smashed before the end of the day started to overwhelm her. Her fingers traced over the embossed lettering on the card in her hand.

Jaye Cosgrove

With no clear plan in her mind, Caelin grabbed her phone. She punched the numbers as rapidly as she could so as not to lose her momentum. Her heart was thumping wildly in her chest when the phone rang on the other end.

"Whip It Up, this is Elle. How can I help you?"

The voice was young and sweet and rich. Caelin was sure she had never spoken to this woman before. Her confusion inched up, forcing her to press onward.

"Yes, I'm trying to reach Jaye."

"Hold on, please," the woman said but did not mute the phone. "Hey, Jaye, call!"

Caelin winced a little at the shout.

"Okay." The voice was muffled. "Could you help Buddy while I take this?" It was growing stronger but Caelin still had no idea who she was about to talk to. "Thanks, cutie pie."

"Oh God!" Caelin remembered the bar and the drunk immediately. She wanted to hang up but there was caller ID. The woman could easily find out who she was. She didn't need to get reported for crank calls today.

"This is Jaye, what can I do you for?"

"Um, hello..." Caelin struggled to think of what to say.

"Yes?"

"This is going to sound crazy but I just found your card in my desk and couldn't remember who you were."

"And?" There was humor in the voice.

"And, well, this is crazier but..."

"Go ahead, honey, I'm up to my ass in crazy right now. One more crazy thing won't bust my day."

"Well, I was at a bar this past summer and a woman — you, I guess — gave me this card and said something about crawling through fire for me." Caelin hushed the remark but still blushed.

"Oh no." The voice was very sad. "Look, I'm sorry if I spilled, ripped, insulted, or embarrassed you. My girl dumped me for some dude and my friends took me out to get me drunk."

"They did a really good job at that part," Caelin kidded.

"Right you are. Well, I don't really drink because I'm so bad at it. Always causing a scene. Anyway, sorry for whatever I did. What do I owe you for whatever my offense was?" Jaye was resigned to paying her penalty.

"Dinner," Caelin blurted.

"Huh?"

"Well, you said something about if I ever got available and I'm available. So, what about dinner to thank me for catching you twice that night?"

"Are you serious?

"Sorry." Caelin thought she was going to get shot down and her blush turned to a flush.

"Don't be. I'd really love to have dinner with you, but I'm on a deadline this weekend. Christmas is a biggie for us; we're working around the clock. I doubt I'll get home until tomorrow night. And that will be only to shower."

"You folks have to eat," Caelin noted. "Your work efficiency will decline fifteen percent for every hour you go without refueling or rehydrating."

"Is that so?" Jaye's amused tone returned. "What do you propose to keep my team and me efficient?"

"I could, you know, only if you want, I could bring in something for you. You know, for everybody."

"Really? You'd do that?" Jaye said softly. "That would be so great. I'll pay, though. We got five of us here and I owe you dinner for being a drunken slob."

"What do you folks want to have?"

"I'll call it in to TiTu Gardens. It will be under Jaye. Do you know where that is? My shop is down the street from there."

"I'll Google it." Even the sound of breaking glass could not wipe the smile from Caelin's face.

*  *  *

December 25, 2008 - 2:49 am

"Merry Christmas." Jaye's voice was husky.

Before Caelin could answer, her nipple was sucked into a hot little mouth. Caelin cuddled Jaye closer. The reward for the outward display of affection was a longer suck on her nipple. Caelin placed one hand on Jaye's hip and with the other she stroked the soft blonde hair at the back of Jaye's head. Jaye responded by sliding her thigh between Caelin's and nestling against her slick opening.

"You are a wild woman," Caelin gasped with renewed excitement. "I've already come more tonight than in the last year."

Jaye raised her face from her task and shook her head sadly. "Then your last girlfriend was a moron. You are so amazing. I can't keep my hands off of you."

"Or your mouth," Caelin moaned with the pressure building between her legs. "Or your fingers. Or your thighs."

"I'm never gonna leave you alone, baby."

"Okay." Caelin trembled with growing excitement.

"Come on, cutie pie, come for me," Jaye whispered before resuming her mouthing of Caelin's breast.

"Oh yeah, okay, yeah," Caelin squeaked as her orgasm swept through her.

She shivered with the aftershocks in the safety of Jaye's arms. Gentle kisses traced her neck and face and back again.

"Why are you so quiet?" Jaye asked.

"Exhausted."

"No, I mean, why are you so quiet when you come? You almost bite through your lip trying not to scream. The walls are pretty solid. I don't think you'll stun the neighbors with a shout or two."

Caelin looked at the beautiful but concerned face studying her. If another lover had asked that question so early in a relationship, Caelin probably would have showed them the door. But Jaye's question was filled with worry. Caelin could not resist answering.

"I don't want to lose control. Bad things occur when people get out of control. Most property losses, losses of life, and financial losses are rooted in somebody losing their self restraint."

"Sometimes the best part of life is the loss of self restraint," Jaye said with a broad grin. "Maybe tomorrow, we should hurry out and get matching nipple rings? It'd be fun. It'd be wild. It'd be out of control."

"It ain't gonna happen," Caelin countered. "That's just not who I am. Sorry, Jaye, letting my guard down to do something so whimsical isn't really on my agenda."

Jaye shrugged and settled her head on Caelin's shoulder. "We'll have to work on that."

Caelin giggled with the absurdity of the thought.

*  *  *

March 3, 2009 - 4:22 am

"Why are you up so early?" Jaye groaned from under the comforter.

Caelin was pulling on her jeans but managed to reply, "I have to go back to my place. Forgot to get my boots. Going out to inspect some bridges today. The flooding might wash more than a few away. They are going to need dollar amounts before end of business."

"You wouldn't forget things and have to run back to your apartment if we moved in together." Jaye pushed the blanket back and sat up. "We are missing over an hour of snuggle time and maybe an orgasm or two because you have to go back home. That wouldn't happen if you kept all your stuff in one place." She paused a moment before adding, "And by stuff, I'm including me in with your boots, underpants, and spatula."

Caelin looked up from tying her shoe. "Odd grouping of possessions. But, I don't really have time to talk about why you'd put yourself in the same category as utensils. Although I'm sure there's a really good reason."

"You are dodging the real topic here."

"Yes, I am," Caelin agreed. "I have to run. See you tonight?"

Jaye shrugged. "Sure, another date. Just like high school, only we get to stay out later."

*  *  *

August 16, 2009 - 11:03 am

Caelin had carried the heavy and awkward trunk as close to the walk-in closet as she could. Her knees wobbled, letting her know she was out of steam. Setting the trunk down at the foot of their new bed, Caelin dropped to the floor beside it. She took a deep breath. The smell of cleanly scrubbed windows tickled her nose.

"I gotta take a break," she called out.

"Slacker," came the amused reply from the living room.

Caelin grinned. She sat back against the footboard to rest. They had been moving the entire weekend. All their combined belongings were now under one roof — a roof they owned and owed on together. Caelin had reservations about buying property with Jaye because statistics were not in their favor for the relationship lasting as long as the mortgage. But the deal was so good and the house was just perfect and Jaye was everything Caelin ever hoped for in a lover and a friend that she plunged ahead against statistical evidence.

The thought of it bothered her still and she tried to shake off the emotion. Her eyes caught sight of the awkward box she lugged in from the living room. Jaye told her to dump it in the closet and she'd sort it out later. Caelin initially suspected it might hold sexy underwear, but once she picked it up, she knew it was too heavy to be lacy bras.

"Unless they're chain mail," she muttered as she lifted the lid.

Several velvet bags were arranged on top. Just beneath, Caelin saw and smelled leather. Her mouth went dry realizing this was Jaye's toy box.

"Oh, when you said break I thought you meant to catch your breath. Didn't think you wanted to play, what with the sun up and everything, but I'm game," Jaye joked as she strolled into the room with an armload of blouses on hangers.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have pried. I was thinking it was underwear and wanted..." Caelin stuttered.

"...a cheap thrill?" Jaye teased from inside the closet.

"Sorry."

"Hey," Jaye spoke in that soft voice Caelin loved so much. "Babe, you don't have to be sorry. I don't care if you go through my diary. What's mine is yours. Besides, I got nothing to hide."

Caelin looked over as Jaye squatted down next to her. "I didn't mean to embarrass you."

"Honey, I think of the two of us, you're the one who's embarrassed, but don't be." Jaye reached out and stroked Caelin's thigh. "I'm not. In fact, I hope to get you to play with my toy box one of these days. I'd love to show you my collectables."

Caelin shrugged. She reached into the box and pulled out one of the velvet bags. Undoing the string, her hands began to shake. Jaye took the bag from her and freed the contents in one upended flip. A thick black plug dumped into Caelin's lap. It was all she could do not to jump. The weighted object silently gleamed up at her as if to prove it was harmless.

"Is that a butt plug?"

"Why yes, yes it is," Jaye chuckled.

"Would you please put it back into the sack?"

"Sure but there's someplace else I'd rather put it."

Caelin cringed. "You know, a lot of people get really hurt doing edge play and bondage."

"More people get hurt in the bathroom."

"Some insurers won't cover sexual misadventure under life insurance agreements," Caelin countered defensively.

Jaye removed the offending object from Caelin's lap and tossed it back into the trunk. "Hey, I was kidding. I'd never do anything risky to you. And, I certainly wouldn't do something you didn't want. Caelin, I'm never gonna hurt you like that."

"I'm really sorry, maybe we should have talked about sexual parameters before we signed the purchase and sale. I don't want to disappoint you, but I have limits."

"Caelin, this is not a deal breaker." Jaye raised her hands in mock surrender when Caelin flashed her a look of disbelief. "I admit, I did have a very good time with my toys. Such a good time, I wasn't quite ready to throw them away yet. But I would never enjoy using them if you were uncomfortable about the prospect. Not my style, babe."

"But you'll feel cheated," Caelin claimed.

Jaye laughed and slammed the lid on the box. "The only way I'll feel cheated is not getting to spend my life with you. Those toys are nothing more than a cold beer on a hot August afternoon."

"Well, the house might be air conditioned but it's still August," Caelin noted.

"But you," Jaye would not be interrupted, "You are Cristal at midnight on New Year's Eve. You are beyond comparison."

"God, you are so smooth." Caelin leaned in for a kiss.

"I know," Jaye agreed and welcomed Caelin's tongue in her eager mouth.

*  *  *

November 25, 2009 - 9:30 pm

"Why would anybody do something like that?" Caelin asked as she navigated the Camry down the dark streets toward home.

"What? It was adorable. Eric is showing his undying love for his new bride," Jaye said before giving a weary sigh, "And please don't give me the statistics on marriages ending in divorce or domestic violence or insanity. Can't we just say, your brother and his wife were lovely to have us over to share their first Thanksgiving as a married couple?"

Caelin chuckled. "No, I won't give the grim stats. Besides, I think they're going to beat the odds. I've never seen Eric this happy. But, to have a needle jammed under your skin to inject ink spelling out the name of your lover is extreme."

"Oh, honey, you're only saying that because you've never licked the sweat off your own name tattooed on a lover's bicep. Trust me, it's awesome."

"What?" Caelin almost choked on the word. She glanced over when an answer did not follow and the car swerved a bit, forcing her full attention back to the road. "You're asleep? For God's sake, how could you just nod off like that?"

A deep snore was her only reply from the passenger seat. "Shoot, didn't get to tell you about my promotion," Caelin mumbled.

*  *  *

December 28, 2009 - 10:46 pm

"It's late." Jaye rolled over in bed when Caelin walked into their dimly lit bedroom.

Caelin pulled off her clothes before replying, "Go back to sleep. I've got to hit the shower."

"Want some company?"

"Just go back to sleep, will you?" Caelin snapped.

"What's wrong?" Jaye sat up and turned on the light.

"Jesus! Can't you just go back to sleep and give me some peace?" Caelin scowled at Jaye as she rubbed her eyes, trying to wake up.

"Hey, you're four hours later than you said you'd be and I'm not giving you any shit about it. The least you could do for me is be pleasant."

Caelin stalked toward the bathroom and shouted over her shoulder, "I've got corporate up my ass and a client that won't fuckin' tell me the truth and hours of friggin' paperwork to dig through. I don't need you harping on me too. So, go back to fuckin' sleep or pretend to, but please just shut your mouth for five minutes."

The door slam ended the argument and any chance Jaye would be able to fall asleep again that night.

*  *  *

February 14, 2010 - 9:54 pm

Caelin walked into the darkened house. The flowers she sent had been left on the porch. Nobody was home when the delivery man brought them. She put the box on the dining room table and went to the bedroom. Snapping on the light revealed their bed was still made.

Caelin let out a sigh. She rejected the idea of calling Jaye's cell and began to undress. A car door thudded in the driveway. Seconds later, Caelin heard the key in the front door's lock. Familiar footfalls pounded across the living room.

"You eat yet?" Jaye asked as she walked directly toward the bathroom.

"Yes. Your flowers are on the table."

"Great. Thanks so much. Good night."

Caelin was left naked and staring at the bathroom door. She grabbed the comforter and her pillow and headed for the guest room.

*  *  *

August 9, 2010 - 6:21 pm

The brass name plate on her office door claimed she was a VP. Most days she felt like the title was a euphemism for gopher. Caelin was moving up in the company, but it was at the cost of long hours and frayed nerves. She did not see any end in sight anytime soon either.

She snatched up her cell phone on the second ring. "Caelin here."

"Are you coming home tonight?"

Caelin rolled her eyes. "Yes, but I won't be there for dinner. I've got this deadline..."

"Right, another day, another deadline."

"Jaye, don't start this over the phone."

"Not now? Then when? You're hardly home anymore. You might sleep here a total of forty hours a week. We never eat together and we haven't been together in months."

"Can't this wait? I'm really in the middle of something."

A sniffle sounded on the other end of the call. "Sure, it can wait forever. I'm moving out. I'll be gone before you manage to get home tonight. Sleep on whatever side of the bed you want. I won't be coming back. I'll have movers come by in a few days or whenever."

"Is that what you want?"

"You're a real riot, Caelin. By the way, happy anniversary."

The call disconnected.

"Fuck you too," Caelin muttered before going back to work.

*  *  *

December 17, 2010 - 4:03 pm

Caelin had five minutes and fifty bucks. She hurried into the toy store to get her brother's baby a Christmas present. It was also a welcome-home-from-the-hospital and shower gift.

Caelin had been working nonstop for months. She was close to bankruptcy after buying Jaye out of her half of the house. Jaye insisted there was no rush, but Caelin wanted it over with, once and for all. She liquidated her meager retirement plans and sold the few bonds she had held onto since graduating from college. It left her on the tightest budget of her entire life. But she was determined to work her way back from the brink. Besides, working kept her from thinking about being alone.

Her head was throbbing. A nagging two-week-old headache had been worsening all day. The brilliant lighting inside the store made her wince. It seemed to snap her headache into overdrive. Caelin was walking down toward the section for infants and toddlers when stars flooded her vision. She was blinded and staggered. Then she fell.

*  *  *

Still December 17, 2010 - 4:21 pm

"Don't fight us." The voice was close.

Caelin ignored the command and tried to surge away from the hands grabbing at her.

"Hey, hey, stop thrashing! You need to listen. You've had a seizure. You're at Cushing General. We're trying to help you. So relax, Caelin."

Caelin forced her eyes open. Inches from her face was a middle-aged guy with a fuzzy, salt-and-pepper beard. He had one hand on her shoulder, holding her down with little effort. His other hand was holding onto to her hand. She squeezed it tightly and he smiled.

"Help me," Caelin slurred the words.

"Welcome back," he said. "You're okay. We're going to help you."

"Doctor?" Caelin's mouth was sore and her tongue was twice its usual size.

The man shook his head. "Sexist. I'm your nurse, Steve. There's another nurse, Carol, cutting all your clothes off."

"Hi there, Caelin," a voice called from near her feet, followed by the loud rip of her slacks rending.

"Shit! Those were new," Caelin slurred and felt drool on her chin.

Steve gave her hand a squeeze. "Sorry, but you've been out of it and we needed to strip you to take care of you."

Caelin nodded. Her eyes drifted closed while the hospital types buzzed important facts about her back and forth. They sounded efficient. Nothing seemed urgent.

"Nope, don't you go back to sleep on us," Steve ordered.

"Sorry."

"It's okay. First time?" Caelin nodded as she tried to focus her eyes on the blurry images around her. "Well, don't worry, we'll get you fixed up. Dr. Billings is excellent, but don't tell her that — she's too tough to live with as it is." Laughter echoed in the cubicle.

"Nice intro, Steve."

Caelin turned toward the older woman. She was short and plump. Her blonde hair was dulled and too long for somebody over forty. But she had an infectious smile. It calmed Caelin.

If she's smiling, then I can't be dying. You can't tell somebody they're dying and smile like that, Caelin thought to herself.

"We started some bloodwork already and got a urine sample when you came in. You'll go to CT in a few minutes. I have a couple of questions for you first." Caelin nodded, understanding. "Do you have pain anywhere?"

"Mouth, tongue, head," Caelin listed.

"Yep, you bit the hell out of your tongue and cheeks. Your head hurts because you smashed it on a display stand when you fell. Sadly, the model trains could not be saved. Any other pains?" she asked as she  assessed the range of motion of Caelin's limbs.

"No."

"When did you eat last?"

"Umm, this morning? Maybe it was last night?"

"Have you had any water or tea or coffee or milk?" Caelin shook her head no to each item on the list. "This is really important: When was the last time you had something to eat and drink?"

"I think yesterday lunch. Yes, we had a buffet at the managers' meeting."

"How have you been sleeping? Are you getting the full eight hours a night?"

Caelin shrugged, "Kind of, I guess."

Dr. Billings stepped closer to the head of the gurney. "Caelin, you can't run an engine without fuel and rev it up at max horsepower for days on end without cracking the block."

"Huh?"

The doctor smiled. "Sorry, I'm a huge NASCAR fan. What I mean is, you have to eat, get lots of fluids, and plenty of rest. If you don't, you'll die."

Caelin swallowed hard. "Am I gonna die?"

"Not today. But, if you don't start taking care of yourself, all bets are off. Now, let's get you to nuclear med."

*  *  *

Still December 17, 2010 - 5:16 pm

The gurney hit every bump in the old concrete corridor. Cushing General's remodeling seemed to have stopped at the lobby doors. They left the road to nuclear med a rocky path of torn linoleum and divots in the poured concrete beneath.

Caelin's head was throbbing and her belly was gnawing for attention. She was trying to focus on her most immediate problem: getting home. Her cell phone was in her pants pocket but her pants were history. She'd never been to this hospital so they had no records for her contacts. And Caelin could not remember one phone number — not her own, her office, her brother. She was even unclear about the three-digit emergency number.

Call 9 and then what? She came up blank. What if my memory doesn't get better? she thought to herself as they arrived back in the ER.

"Welcome back, Caelin. Your cubicle awaits," Steve said as he came up beside the gurney to guide it the last few feet behind the curtain. "And you have a visitor, so things are looking up."

Caelin was startled by the news of company. She tried to look around to see who was there, but the gurney was swung wide, flipping her worldview —and her stomach. Her eyes slammed closed in an automatic defense. She took three deep breaths trying to ease the upset. This only served to set off an alarm and did little to calm her nausea.

"Hey there, you okay?" Steve asked. "Let me pop the back up higher for you."

"Sick." Caelin gagged.

The side rail of the gurney snapped down with a clang. A cool hand soothed her forehead even as a plastic basin was shoved against her bruised mouth. She wanted to ask something but as soon as she opened her mouth, she retched. It was foul and bitter and Caelin was humiliated to be seen as so weak by strangers.

"It's okay, cutie pie, I got you," the soft, familiar voice whispered.

A chill ran from Caelin's ear to her fingertips and back again. She forced herself to stop vomiting. She squinted open her eyes to an amazing view; Jaye was holding her.

Jaye gave a half smile. Her face was chalk white with raw, red rings around her eyes and nose. She wasn't crying but looked like she could start at any moment.

"What? How?" Caelin was lost.

"I was the emergency contact on your phone." Jaye understood Caelin's confusion.

"Excellent," the doctor announced as she entered the cubicle. "Your family is here right on time."

Caelin was surprised Jaye did not correct the mistaken assumption.

The doctor was flipping over papers and scribbling notes as she spoke. "CT looks good. Labs look okay. You are dry and your blood sugar must have sucked because we pumped you full of glucose and you're only cracking 80." The doctor looked up with a more sober expression. "Caelin, you have a choice here. You can keep working yourself into the ground or take this as an urgent message from your body. It needs to be tended. Eating, drinking, and sleeping are basic demands which cannot be ignored. I'm writing you a note for two weeks off work and you need to follow up with your PCP before you're cleared to go back."

"No, don't..." Caelin panicked. "I don't have short term disability or sick time or vacation. I gotta be at work on Monday —"

Jaye interrupted. "What about a week and then, only if her PCP agrees, back for half days?"

Dr. Billings groaned but relented. "It's against my gut instinct because I know people like Caelin think a half day is nine hours."

"Doc, I promise you I'll make sure she does no more than four. And, I'll make us a great breakfast and pack a nutritious lunch every day."

"Will you be able to provide twenty-four-hour care for the first seventy-two hours?" Dr. Billings clarified, "And, I don't mean taking her Christmas shopping with you. Caelin needs to stay home and rest for at least three days."

"No problem. I live there and the shopping's done."

Caelin listened to Jaye's easy lie and wondered why she'd bother to help her at all. "I was such a great girlfriend last year she had to move out. Now she's standing here lying for me."

*  *  *

Still December 17, 2010 - 9:53 pm

The car ride home was silent except for soft, non-Christmas music from a pleasant home-burned CD. Jaye drove carefully and stayed slightly under the speed limit. The smooth ride and gentle music lulled Caelin to sleep.

A warm hand on her shoulder woke Caelin when they reached the driveway. She let Jaye lead her into the house and then bedroom. It was unchanged since Jaye moved out. Caelin had not even put her clothes on Jaye's side of the closet.

"Want me to run a bath or a shower for you?" Jaye asked.

Caelin gave a careful head shake but the room still spun and she needed to sit on the edge of the bed.

"Whoa, careful there. No fancy tricks for a while, okay?"

"Okay." Caelin's voice was hoarse but she didn't trust herself to shake her head again. "I think I want to go to bed. I know I'm gross but I'm so tired."

"Let me help you get these clothes off. You want a tank top and boxers to sleep in?"

"Naw, the pjs you brought to the hospital will do." Caelin glanced at the outfit and noticed the clothes were actually her own. "Hey, I've been looking for these. They're my favorite pajamas. Where'd you find them?"

Jaye sighed and sat next to Caelin. "I could lie and say I came by here and found them under the bed. But the truth is, I took 'em with me when I moved. Sorry, Caelin, those are my favorite pj's too."

Caelin chuckled at the image of her petite, former lover swamped in her flannel jammies. It was the first time she laughed all day. It was the first time she could remember laughing all week. Perhaps it had been months since she laughed.

"I have to forgive you because you lied for me tonight. Thank you for saying you'd stay with me until I got myself together. The doctor totally bought it."

Jaye grew serious and said, "She had every reason to believe it. I'm going to stay here until you get yourself together."

"What?" Caelin pitch rose unexpectedly and startled Jaye.

"Oh, sorry, are you with somebody? I should have figured. Want me to call her? Wait, why isn't she here? You should really have made her your emergency contact  number. You're gonna be in the dog house for that, Caelin. Maybe we could tell her I just happened to be at the hospital?"

"No."

"You're right." Jaye nodded agreement. "That's a bad lie. What else can we go with? Oh, I know, we were shopping in the same store by coincidence. That'll work. Okay, where were we shopping?"

"There's no need to lie."

"Oh, honey, she might seem all understanding when things are good, but she's never gonna be okay with you keeping me as your emergency contact. Nobody is so self confident that a former lover can be their girl's emergency number."

"No, new girl. No roommate. No other lovers since you," Caelin confessed.

Jaye was confused. "Then what's the problem with me taking care of you for a few days?"

"Not fair to you," Caelin said. "I treated you so shitty for no reason. Not fair to interrupt your plans."

Jaye chuckled and got off the bed. She guided Caelin under the covers, then gave a gentle pillow fluff.

"And, such great plans you are interrupting. Now go to sleep. I'll wake you with something to eat in about an hour."

*  *  *

December 18, 2010 - 12:01 am

Caelin woke to a soft humming in her ear and a sweet kiss to her brow.

"Time to wake up. I let you sleep as long as I could. You gotta eat. Let's go. Soup's on," Jaye whispered.

Caelin rolled back over. She let Jaye adjust her pillows and fix the blankets. The smell of the soup on the nightstand made her stomach growl loudly.

"Hungry, I guess," Jaye joked as she offered the bowl to Caelin.

"I think I'm shaking too hard to hold it. Everything inside is shivering but I'm not cold."

"Okay, it's okay. The doc said you'd feel shaky for a few days. If it is still bad in the morning we'll head back to the ER. Okay?"

"Okay."

Jaye grimaced a little. "I think I need to feed you. Sorry, but you're gonna have to bite the bullet with this."

"Okay." Caelin put her hand on Jaye's thigh to steady herself. "Thank you so much."

"Thank me by eating."

*  *  *

Still December 18, 2010-  2:17 am

Caelin woke to the muffled voice. It was tense. The conversation was one sided. She realized Jaye was on the phone in the living room.

"Give me a some space on this... Look, it's a few days, or a week at the most... I'd do it for any friend... No, no, it's not like that... Elle, please... Listen to me... But I do care... Yes... Oh... Well, if you are issuing an ultimatum, then there's no contest... No, none... I'll be out by the end of the month... Don't you dare toss my clothes in the street... If you push me, I will call the cops... My rent's paid... You have no right... Fuck it! You heard me. Fuck you!"

Caelin never heard Jaye use language like that. In all their arguments, Jaye never reduced herself to profanity. She was way too dignified for foul language in the heat of anger. Caelin always admired Jaye's skills in avoiding trite and overused curses to get her point across.

The moment Jaye walked into the bedroom, she knew Caelin had heard the call. "Another one bites the dust, I guess."

"Should have known somebody as gorgeous as you wouldn't be up for grabs on a Friday night," Caelin echoed a long-forgotten compliment.

"Technically, it's Saturday. You slept away Friday night. And, I officially went up for grabs thirty seconds ago."

"I'm sorry. It's my fault. You should go home and patch things up before it's too late."

"Too late was an hour after I moved in with her," Jaye joked, but there was a pain filled truth behind the humor. "I've completely collapsed in under six months — lost two girlfriends, two homes, and my business. A totally spectacular turn from good fortune."

"Whip It Up?"

"A fatality of the economy." Jaye walked across to the bed and Caelin scooted over to give her room to climb in on Caelin's usual side. "You sure? Don't most injuries in the bedroom occur when bedmates unexpectedly switch sides?"

"True, but most people don't wipe out in a toy store chewing on their tongue while Christmas shopping and have to call their ex to get their piss-covered ass back home. As long as we're bucking odds, we might as well go for the mother lode."

Jaye smiled and got in. Caelin moved closer. Jaye let her. Caelin put her head on Jaye's shoulder. This, too, was tolerated.

"I'm sorry for everything."

"You weren't the only player in this, Caelin. I could have tried harder or something different or maybe not given up so easily."

"Then don't give up easily." Caelin lifted her head to look in Jaye's eyes. "Stay with me. Come back home."

"I don't know. I just don't know."

*  *  *

February 13, 2011 - 11:43 am

"Caelin, it's too cold to be running around the beach. Do you think you should be out in the freezing cold like this?"

"Come on, Jaye, the sky is so blue and the clouds are so puffy..."

"And the wind chill makes the temperature so close to zero." Jaye groaned and snuggled her face deeper into her scarf. "Really, brunch was great. The scenery is lovely. But I'm worried you're overdoing it. Wednesday you were out late and you've been so cold at home since, you've left your pjs on in bed. Which, I might add, I'm not wild about you doing."

Caelin took Jaye's gloved hand and pulled her toward the refurbished bathhouse. The century old building was designed in a southwestern style as a novelty attraction for the once popular Massachusetts' beach resort . It was a rare beauty but completely unsuited for northeast weather, yet it had withstood more than a dozen hurricanes and winter storms without much more that a broken window. Caelin told Jaye they were having a private tour of the facilities so Caelin could write a risk assessment for the next hundred years.

Caelin used the key to unfasten the padlock and chains holding the side door closed. She aimed a remote control device on the keychain at the back of the building before heading inside. Once out of the wind, it seemed ten or so degrees warmer, but that still kept the thermostat hovering near freezing. The bathhouse was closed for the winter. Even if it was not, there was no heating system in the building.

"Come on into the back room, it's a little warmer. I want to show you something cool," Caelin said and tugged at Jaye's bulky jacket.

"Okay, show me, do your work, then let's go home. I'm frozen solid."

They walked toward the back office with the sound of their boots reverberating off the concrete walls. Water dripped from someplace nearby but unseen. The office door was unlocked when they reached it. Caelin pushed it open and let Jaye walk into the warmth first.

"A heater?" Jaye was surprised to find the space warming quickly with the remotely started device. "And champagne chilling? Caelin, what's up?"

Caelin shut the door and pushed the bolt across it. "Early start on Valentine's Day. I missed last year, so I gotta make this one count."

"You're gonna miss this year too. Tomorrow is Monday and Monday is a work day."

"I'm off. In fact, I'm off all week. We're spending the week at the hotel down the street, across from the beach."

"Seriously?" Jaye was stunned and felt a wave of heat hit her. "It's getting really warm in here."

"A toasty 75 degrees, my dear. Or, it will be in a few minutes. And the Cristal Champagne is chillin' for your refreshment, after you work up a sweat."

"Caelin? Are you trying to seduce me in a bathhouse?"

"Technically, the manager's office, but yes," Caelin said as she stripped off her winter gear, followed by her clothes. "There's a futon pad right behind you and me right in front of you."

Jaye looked over her shoulder to see the pad, then back. She was stunned when she saw Caelin was already naked, and silenced by the sight of Caelin's pierced nipple. Jaye's cheeks flushed when she saw Caelin's crotch was shaved. The expanse of skin was not bare, however. Letters were carefully, artfully etched into the skin with a flattering hue. Jaye stepped closer to get a good look.

"My name," she breathed.

Caelin swallowed hard, feeling uncertain with the scrutiny. "If you check behind the desk, there are some things to play with. I already have one lodged in my ass for your convenience. I read a book that said you had to practice if you were a newbie. I've been practicing all week. I'm horny as hell, by the way. I can see why you like those toys."

Jaye gulped at the revelations. "Are you sure about all this?"

"Oh yeah, I'm horny alright." When Jaye frowned, Caelin quickly ended her kidding. "Yes, I'm sure about all this."

"I'm not trying to be rude or glib, but you hit your head awful hard just a few weeks ago. Maybe —"

"Maybe it knocked some sense into me." Caelin started to feel braver that Jaye didn't laugh her action off as a foolish whim. "I was playing by all the rules and look what happened. I lost you. I damn near worked myself to death. Maybe it's time to lose control to somebody I trust completely. Somebody who promised not to hurt me and who didn't, when handed a golden opportunity. You could have paid me back big time for all the moments I messed up. Instead, you drove me home, put me to bed, and made sure I got well. I can't think of a better risk management strategy than signing myself over to you, literally."

Jaye dropped to her knees. She let her tongue sample the sweaty skin decorated with her name. Each stroke brought a gasp. Each suckle was followed by a moan. When her tongue plunged between Caelin's swollen lips, both women gave quick approval of their final contingency arrangement.

The End, but also a new beginning.

Millennium Christmas

by Rrrose Carbinela

Copyright © 2006 by Rrrose Carbinela

All rights reserved.

Millennium Christmas

CHRIS WAS STANDING under the Happy Holidays 2000 banner, hoping to avoid the mistletoe trap at this, her first office party in Annapolis, Maryland. She watched a man approach, and mentally braced herself.

"Merry Christmas," he said.

"Thank you. You too."

"You're new, aren't you?"

"Yeah. Just moved from Tucson to take this job."

"What department?"

"Accounting."

"You don't look at all like an accountant!" He looked her up and down, appreciation gleaming in his eyes. But he wasn't leering at her.

"Thank you, I think."

"You're welcome. May I have this dance? My name's Drew."

"Chris." Chris looked at the handsome guy in front of her, smiled a little, and said yes.

"You dance well," she commented afterward.

"I enjoy it. Don't do it often enough." Drew looked up and noticed some other guys coming over. "Excuse me. It's been a pleasure."

"Sure, bye."

The other guys were much closer now.

"Hey cutie, you new? How ‘bout a dance with some men? Huh?"

"Uh, yeah sure." Chris allowed one of them to take her out on the dance floor, wondering about the comment. Was Drew gay? He worked in IT, so maybe these guys thought Drew was a nerd or something. Chris didn't really care. Drew had been much nicer than any of these jerks, and danced better, too.

When the music slowed and the so-called he-men drifted off to their own women, Drew rather diffidently approached. "Hi. Sorry I ran off. Those guys..."

"It's all right. I wasn't too impressed by them." Chris smiled.

"Um." Drew swallowed. "May I have this dance?"

"I'd love to." Chris moved into Drew's arms like she belonged there, and they had a lovely dance.

"Hey, dance is over," came Drew's quiet voice.

"Bummer."

"Doing anything New Year's?"

"Sorry. I never go out on New Year's. Too many drunks out there."

"Oh. Maybe some other time?"

"I'd... like that."

*  *  *

At the office the next week, one of the other women came to her.

"Hey, Chris, I know you're new and don't know everyone yet... I saw you with Drew at the Christmas party."

"Yeah? And?"

"Well... not everything is as it seems with Drew, you know what I mean?"

"Thank you for the warning. Or whatever it is. What is it with you people?"

"Just don't want to see you get hurt, is all."

"I'm a big girl."

"OK, but don't come crying when it all blows up on you."

"Sure, whatever." Chris had already noticed that most folks avoided Drew as if he had the plague or something. She figured it was because he was gay, that had to be it. Big whoop. Her best friend in Tucson was her brother's partner. It wasn't that big a deal to have a gay buddy.

*  *  *

They went out to dinner several times, movies once or twice. She liked Drew. She really liked him. He was kind, considerate, gentle... sometimes quite tender. Some of the other guys in the office asked her out, but she didn't particularly enjoy herself with them. A few started to say things about Drew, but she'd cut them off, and the date would end either in silence or in her departure.

*  *  *

Winter ended, spring began. March and April flew by. She stopped dating the other guys entirely. Drew never said anything about other girls, or many other friends, even. Some days she wondered about that, but she enjoyed his presence so much that she didn't try to dig any deeper. The seasons changed, the months passed, and soon it was December again.

They'd gone to the office dance, and she'd declined requests from anyone else. She noticed Drew hadn't asked anyone else to dance again. Drew escorted Chris back to her house. Chris said, "Come on in."

"Thanks. Nice place," Drew said, shedding the coat and giving it to Chris to hang.

Chris took her time, gathering up her courage for what she wanted to do next. No, what she needed to do.

"Um, Drew?"

"Yeah?"

Chris swallowed, then moved closer to Drew. "I think... I'm falling in love with you."

Drew went absolutely still. "I have a confession to make."

"You're gay, I figured that out."

"Well... that's part of it. I don't know what they've told you in the office...." Drew paused.

"I haven't let them tell me anything."

"In a whole year? No one has —? Whew. This is a little harder than I thought. Chris, I— I'm not male. I never have been. I don't plan on ever being. I'm a woman. I cross-dress. It's not... discussed, at work."

Chris stepped back, searching Drew's eyes.

"My god." She couldn't believe that in a whole year, she hadn't picked up on Drew's gender. He was such a perfect gentleman!

"I'm sorry, I didn't really mean for us to get so close but... I..."

"Do you have any idea what you —?"

"I'm sorry, I'll leave."

"My god. No. Drew," Chris said, swallowing, reaching for his — her — hand.

"Feel what you do to me."

Chris's crotch was throbbing and sopping wet.

"My god. Nobody's ever made me feel... I think I'll go mad if I don't..."

She pulled Drew closer, pulled her head down, and kissed her — a hot, open-mouthed kiss. She practically ripped her pants open to give Drew access to her bare flesh, and moaned when she felt Drew's fingers among her curls, stroking her folds. She was frantic, undoing Drew's buttons, almost ripping her shirt off, unwinding the bindings so she could touch Drew's breasts.

"Yes..." she whispered into Drew's mouth as her hands felt the fullness of breasts beneath them.

Drew left her mouth and kissed her neck while Chris stroked, kneaded, and pulled on Drew's nipples.

"Yes, oh, yes," Chris groaned as she undid Drew's pants and slipped her own hand between Drew's legs.

"So soft. Slick. Oh Drew. Oh, god, I'm inside you. You're inside me. Ohhh, Drew!"

No further verbal exchanges were made, though there was a lot of moaning and gasping. Kissing and grasping. Panting and rasping. Chris came first, but she wouldn't let herself go completely until Drew came too.

Still recovering their breath, they leaned against one another for a few minutes. When they finally moved apart, they looked at each other and — well, they giggled. Their pants were around their ankles, tops opened, hanging off them.

"God, we're a lewd pair!" Chris said, stepping out of her pants and pulling her sweater all the way off.

"I didn't know you were gay," Drew said, pushing off her shoes with her feet and kicking her pants off.

"Neither did I."

"What?"

Chris smiled apologetically. "I've been with guys, but not with a woman." She looked Drew up and down, appreciating the view. "And what a woman!"

"I'm not —"

"Don't say it. Don't even think it." Chris reached over and cupped Drew's face.

"I think I want to savor every bit of you."

She drew her hands down Drew's arms, and took her by the hand.

"Bedroom's this way."

Much later, Drew kissed Chris' temple.

"I have to go. I'm scheduled to monitor the weekly backup."

"'kay. Come back here when you're done?"

"Um, I may be really tired by that time. It'll be four a.m. at the earliest."

"That's okay. Keys are by the front door."

Drew leaned over and kissed her.

"See you then, then."

"Yes."

*  *  *

When Drew returned, Chris was asleep. She looked at Chris, shook her head. She hadn't even dared hope, but Chris seemed to be completely at ease. Look at her. She was asleep, trusting her to come back. Drew undressed and slipped under the covers. Chris, half asleep, turned over, said "welcome back," and nestled. Head on Drew's breast, arm across her chest, leg draped over Drew's, Chris murmured and fell back into a full sleep. Drew sighed contentedly and drifted off.

*  *  *

Drew woke alone in bed. Startled, for a moment she didn't know where she was — then the previous night's passion seared through her mind. She flipped the covers off and got out of bed, stretching.

"What a delightful sight!" Chris said from the doorway. She was wearing a t-shirt with little Christmas wreaths all over it, but that was all. She pushed Drew back onto the bed, and straddled her, pulling the t-shirt off. She leaned over Drew and whispered, "I'm hungry. Can I eat now?"

Drew was instantly wet.

"Ah... I don't let... usually... ever... Yes."

She closed her eyes as Chris's breath caressed her chest.

"Mmmm — two, sunny-side up," Chris teased as she swirled her tongue around Drew's nipples.

"Toast!" Chris said as her tongue teased her belly.

"Hash browns?" Chris rubbed her chin, then her nose around Drew's hairs, enjoying Drew's writhing attempts to hurry her up.

"And a pot of honey," Chris whispered. Drew's breathing deepened, then sped up, as Chris reached her sweet spot. She arched, thrusting, holding Chris's head to herself. When Chris's fingers entered her and found her G-spot, she gasped and lost all control.

She had never come so hard in her entire life.

"God, Chris, are you sure you've never done this before?"

"You liked that?"

"Oh, babe. I've never come like that. I can't make me come like that!"

"And you don't let people touch you there, do you?" Chris asked.

"Not... Not usually, no."

"But you let me touch you."

"Yes. You. Do you want me to say it? I have a hard time saying it, you know, but for you... I'll say it."

"I think I'd like to hear it, Drew. At least once."

Drew sat up, cupped Chris's face. "I love you." She kissed her, briefly, then pushed her back. "Love you, love you love you. God, I love you!" She was between Chris's legs, thrusting, and with each thrust, she repeated it, and Chris repeated it back. They lost track of words rather quickly, though.

*  *  *

Drew lay on Chris. "It doesn't bother you that I cross-dress?"

"Why should it? You're awfully handsome all dressed up, you know! What you wear — that's your outside. I'm in love with your inside first. Outsides are easy to change. You could even get a dick if you wanted to, and I wouldn't object — as long as you, the essential you, is the same woman I've fallen in love with. Well, I guess you'd have to be the same person in that case, but you know what I mean."

"You want me to get a dick?" Chris stiffened.

"Nooo!" Chris pouted. "Then you wouldn't have your naughty bits anymore, and I've just discovered I kinda like those! I'm just saying: It's you I love. Not how you dress or what your body's like. Okay?"

"I'm sorry. I get a little touchy about that."

"You'll have to tell me all about that sometime. But right now, do you think you could get touchy-feely instead of just touchy?"

Drew's half-smile blossomed. "I think that can be arranged!"

"Oh? OH! Mmmm... Yesss."

The End

Ara and Kirste

by Rae D. Magdon

Copyright © 2011 by Rae D. Magdon

All rights reserved.

Ara and Kirste

A Legend of Amendyr

HERE FOLLOWS A NOTE from the anthologist:

While some critics have derided my interpretation of the Amendyrri legends as unrealistic and even inappropriate, most scholars regard the characters and major plot points as factual. I admit to using some poetic license in order to fill the gaps, but I left the basic outline of the story unchanged.

If skeptics were to view the sources I have included at the end of this anthology, they would find that my version is much more firmly rooted in historical fact than the diluted version that is more widespread. Serian writers in particular have heavily edited this legend before including it in their own anthologies, changing the names, genders, and even the actions of principal characters.

The spelling of the protagonist's name is one source of contention. While later editions use the male name 'Kirstin' and make use of masculine pronouns, earlier works clearly use the feminine spelling, 'Kirste.' I have chosen to use the older, feminine version because I believe it to be more accurate, and also, I admit, because of my own interest in love stories concerning women.

If you, dear reader, remain unconvinced that the events of this story actually occurred, I urge you to visit the white-cliffed city of Kalmarin for yourself and take a tour of the royal palace. During my own visit, I was able to view the modified room where the mermaid Ara was imprisoned. The architecture and unique structural modifications remain mostly unchanged to this day.

Lady Eleanor Kingsclere of Baxstresse

*  *  *

Many years ago, the land of Amendyr was made up of two kingdoms, divided into North and South. The towering Rengast Mountains and the mysterious Forest below made up the Northern province, while the Southern province began halfway through the plains and stretched all the way to the white sea-cliffs of Kalmarin, the great capital city. There was no clear border between them, and so the two kingdoms were always at war with each other.

While the northerners lived a harsh life among the rugged mountains, protecting their land from the barbarians of the Northern Sweep and the magical creatures that lived in the Forest, the trading ships that sailed the southern seas made the other kingdom wealthy, and they were accustomed to a life of luxury. The southern King in particular had managed to accumulate great wealth throughout his reign, and when he celebrated the solstice with his son and daughter, a pair of twins that he doted on even though they were full-grown, he spared no expense in selecting their presents.

"Enjoy your solstice present, Joran," the King said to his son, gesturing at the large glass box that was being brought into the throne room by four men. Everyone gathered in the great hall stared in awe, but it was the King's daughter Kirste who was truly entranced. The sight of the beautiful creature before her sucked Kirste's breath right out of her chest. She had heard about mermaids before, of course, but seeing one in person was an entirely different matter.

The creature's light-colored hair was long and swept to one side, and a filmy white sheet had been draped over her shoulders and chest in a feeble attempt to protect her modesty. Her eyes were the peculiar blue shade of cornflower petals and her cheeks carried a rosy pink flush. The princess had never seen such an incredible sight before. Kirste's eyes were drawn to the smooth skin of the girl's stomach and the beautiful blue-green sheen of the scales that crawled up her hips. Six oysters adorned her fish's tail and there were thin, translucent webs between her fingers.

She remained curled in the open glass box with water up to the half-mark, but she clutched the edge with small hands, her eyes searching fearfully around the unfamiliar throne room. Kirste noticed the tears in the mermaid's eyes and felt her stomach twist. She had obviously been brought to the palace against her will.

Joran stood up eagerly from his seat, leaving three of his friends that always seemed to follow him like obedient dogs and striding over to inspect his birthday present. He reached out and curled his fingers through the mermaid's hair, jerking her face towards him, forcing her to look at his face. Kirste flinched as Joran flicked the gauze off of the girl's shoulders, his eyes roving over the human part of her body. The tears gathering in her eyes spilled over as he ran his thick, blunt fingers down the sides of her arms.

"I like her, father," the prince said. Something about his expression made Kirste's skin prickle uncomfortably, but she had not been at ease around Joran in years. The King nodded and waved his hand, ordering the four men who had brought the mermaid to bear her out of the room. Joran returned to his three companions, adjusting the belt that carried his sword and throwing knives. While Kirste studied magic, her brother preferred to spend time with his blades. He could hit fast moving targets like birds and mice almost unerringly, and Kirste hated watching him practice.

"Are you ready for your next present, Kirste?" the King asked, reaching out to pet his daughter's hair. Kirste hardly felt his touch, turning her head to watch the mermaid's box being carried through the door. She was not in the mood for a present after the spectacle she had just witnessed. Her father was not a cruel man, but he was accustomed to a life where gold could buy him anything, even living souls. Watching her twin transform from a generous child into a selfish and cruel adult had colored her view of the world. The thought of purchasing the mermaid as if she were some kind of exotic pet made Kirste's chest ache.

Nevertheless, she said, "Yes, thank you, father," and desperately hoped that her present was something glittering and cold instead of a living, breathing creature.

Losing interest in his father since he had already gotten what he wanted, Joran stepped backwards and rejoined his pack of friends, nudging one of them with his elbow and nodding towards the exit. Kirste scowled as she watched her twin leave the room, instinctively knowing that he was up to no good, but the sound of footsteps drew her attention away from Joran. She turned to watch as the large double doors at the far end of the room opened a second time. Another man entered with a beautifully carved wooden box, and once he reached the king's throne, he lowered himself to one knee and offered it to Kirste. She smiled and reached down to open it. Inside the box was a necklace, resting on a plush cushion of dark velvet. The princess was relieved.

Kirste lifted the necklace out of the box and could almost see the slender silver chain swim with magic when she touched it. The necklace carried only one ornament, a black stone cut in the shape of a teardrop. Kirste felt a smile pull across her face, and she reached out to trace her fingers over the delicate links. It was obviously an ancient object of power. She was touched that her father had thought about her interest in magic while choosing her gift. Despite his many faults, Kirste knew that he loved her very much.

"Father, it's beautiful.... Thank you."

The king got to his feet and kissed his daughter's cheeks, brushing her dark hair away from her face fondly. "I thought you would like it," he said, taking the necklace from her hands. Careful not to twist the chain, he lowered it around his daughter's neck and closed the clasp. "And I knew it would look beautiful on you. It is a necklace of protection, and as long as you wear it, most weapons and magical spells will not harm you."

Kirste felt the magic burn through her like a living fire, crawling somewhere deep inside of her chest and resting there, waiting to be called. She blinked her eyes to clear her head and hugged her father tight. "Father, where is the mermaid being kept?" she blurted out, backing out of his embrace.

"I modified a room in the west wing for it with a pool and some sand strips. I suppose Joran is going there now."

"I'm going to see." Knowing that a longer explanation was pointless, Kirste left the room without saying goodbye to her father and hurried towards the western part of the castle. She hadn't been able to help the mermaid before, but maybe she could prevent her brother from tormenting the terrified girl this time.

*  *  *

It took Kirste several tries to find the room that had been prepared for the mermaid. She hurried through each hallway, opening unlocked doors and listening for footsteps to lead her in the right direction. Eventually, it was the sound of running water that led her to the right room. She followed the noise down beneath the palace, almost as far as the passageways that her family's ancestors had carved into the cliff itself. Fortunately, she did not need to descend that deep. At the lowest inhabited level of the castle, Kirste came to a sturdy door with ancient-looking brass handles. She pressed her ear against the wood, and behind the rush of water and its hissing spray, she thought that she could hear someone whimpering in pain. Kirste pushed the door open, relieved to find it unlocked, and stepped inside.

The princess was only aware of a blue-and-gray blur before she lost her balance on the wet floor. Throwing out her arms, she managed to catch herself against the wall beside the door. The walls were made of white stone that looked darker because of the poor lighting, but the floor was covered with blue tiles. Not wanting to slip a second time, Kirste kicked off her heeled shoes and continued without them.

Once she was confident that she wouldn't hurt herself, the dark-haired princess took a second look. There was a large pool in the center of the room, and the design kept water constantly flowing in and out through grates in the wall. Someone had dumped piles of white sand around the edge of the water to imitate a beach, and rocks and plants had been provided to add to the illusion. Kirste's head snapped up at the sound of a soft whimper echoing from somewhere further in. A pair of blue fins flicked near the far edge of the pool and she followed them with her eyes, losing the movement behind a large boulder that jutted out of the water.

"Hello?" Kirste half-whispered, walking closer. There was a set of blue-tiled steps cut into the side of the pool so that a swimmer could descend easily. Unlike a real beach, the stretch of sand ended in a sudden drop. A pair of sad eyes stared at Kirste from behind the boulder, and the princess extended her hands in a gesture of peace. After several minutes of quiet waiting, a shadow started to swim toward her beneath the water, and Kirste thought she caught a flash of blue-and-green fins.

Once she reached Kirste's side of the pool, the mermaid surfaced, her blonde hair dark and heavy with water. She hovered by the lowest step, unsure of herself, watching Kirste with a mixture of fear and hope. Instinctively, Kirste climbed into the water, royal dress and all, and held out her hand. A wet, icy hand clutched hers, and Kirste was amazed at how familiar it felt, just like her own after a cold swim. The thin webs between her fingers were the only difference. The mermaid's face was almost human, too, although there were a few subtle differences. When the girl's lips parted, Kirste noticed that her front teeth were slightly pointed.

When the princess held out her arms, shivering as the soaked fabric of her dress twisted itself uncomfortably around her legs and shoulders, the mermaid floated into them. Surprised at the physical affection she was being offered, the mermaid rested her cheek against Kirste's shoulder. The unexpected kindness and gentleness made more tears leak from her eyes. "Shhh... Shhh..." Kirste whispered. "You're all right. I won't hurt you."

The mermaid looked up into Kirste's face and the princess noticed the angry red color of the skin around her neck and across one cheek. In a few days, she suspected that there would be an ugly yellow-and-purple bruise around her eye. "Did they hurt you?" she asked, her fingertips gently tracing the swollen half of the mermaid's face. The mermaid's entire body quivered and she jerked her head back, trying to squirm out of Kirste's arms. The princess immediately let her go, but refused to release her grip on the mermaid's hand.

After she realized that Kirste wasn't going to hurt her, the mermaid stopped crying. "Kirste," the princess said, pointing to herself. Then, she pointed at the mermaid and waited.

"Ara."

"I won't hurt you, Ara. I promise." Ara smiled, not understanding the princess's language, but knowing that for the first time since she had been taken from her home, she was safe.

*  *  *

The next morning, Kirste's first thoughts were of the beautiful mermaid. She had managed to piece together what had happened the night before without too much difficulty. Joran and his friends had tried to force themselves on Ara, but hadn't been able to figure out how. It explained her black eye and the finger-shaped bruises on her arms. Kirste was relieved that nothing worse had happened, but anger at her twin still simmered in her stomach.

After wrapping herself in a dressing gown, Kirste hurried down to Ara's room, eager to see how the mermaid was doing. On a whim, she also brought a quill and inkbottle from her room. Maybe a Sign of power would allow Ara to communicate with her. Kirste was the only member of her immediate family with a talent for magic or an interest in studying it.

The princess headed down several flights of stairs and walked through several corridors before she found her way back to the familiar wooden doors with the bronze handles. She looked over her shoulder to make sure that no one had followed her and opened them eagerly. Ara swam up to the edge of the pool as soon as Kirste entered the room, waiting to meet her. Kirste was touched by the mermaid's friendly greeting. So far, most of Ara's interactions with humans had been painful, and she was glad that Ara seemed to view her differently.

Hesitating only for a moment, Kirste slipped off her dressing gown, set down the inkbottle and quill in a shallow patch of sand, and climbed into the water to embrace the mermaid again. Ara was obviously starved for affection, and the princess wondered how long it had been since she was taken from her family. "You must be so frightened," she whispered, holding her new friend close. "You're far away from your home, but maybe I can help you speak to me." She released the mermaid's small body and climbed back out of the pool.

Ara's face was crestfallen as Kirste pulled away from her, and she waited by the side of the water as her human dipped the tip of the feather into the dark bottle. Kirste considered the best way to draw a Sign of power on Ara, and finally decided that the best solution was not to write on her skin at all. Instead, she unclasped the necklace of protection her father had given her the day before. Holding the black stone in the palm of her hand, she started writing on the back, watching as the glossy streaks of ink flashed a brilliant gold and faded into the texture of the cool gem. Kirste felt threads of magic pour from her hands, and her mouth and tongue began to tingle.

Ara watched Kirste curiously as her skin began to glow, and she was aware of a strange hum that rolled off of the human in waves. It was almost like the hum that surrounded the merfolk deep beneath the surface of the ocean, and so she trusted it. Tired from pouring her magical energy into the sign, Kirste held up the necklace and studied it in the poor light. The stone did not look any different, but hopefully the Sign would allow Ara to understand her.

Satisfied, the princess waded back down the steps and into the water until she was submerged up to her waist. Ara swam up to her, looking down at the stone in Kirste's hand and then back up at her face, obviously asking a question. Kirste reached out for Ara, keeping her movements slow so that she wouldn't startle her new friend, and coaxed the mermaid to hold up her wet hair. Once her pale throat was exposed, Kirste draped the chain around her neck and fastened the clasp.

Ara lifted a hand to touch the necklace. "What happened?" she asked slowly, looking up at Kirste.

"I used magic," Kirste said. "Do you understand me now?" The mermaid looked surprised, then pleased as she realized that she could finally talk to someone.

"Yes. Where am I?"

"In the palace of Kalmarin. My father is the king here. You were given to my brother as a birthday present."

"They took me away from home," said Ara. "I want to go back."

"I don't know where you belong. I can try and find out, but for now, you have to stay here."

"I don't want the... the men to come back," the mermaid said, clutching tightly at Kirste's shoulders with her small hands. "Don't let them hurt me. I know they will come back if you leave."

Kirste pulled Ara against her, letting her nuzzle her face into the safe, warm space where her neck met her shoulder. "I won't let anyone hurt you. No one else will ever touch you." She was so determined to protect Ara that she did not think about how possessive her own words sounded.

*  *  *

To Kirste's relief, Joran seemed to forget all about Ara, much like spoiled children grew bored with their toys. Instead, the prince occupied himself with his other Solstice presents, as well as other female targets. Kirste, on the other hand, spent several hours a day with Ara, reading her poetry from the Kalmarin library and telling her stories. In return, Ara sang for her. The mermaid's voice was as enchanting as the legends said, and the princess listened, spellbound, as she sang about her lost home in the sea.

Kirste found herself falling more deeply in love with Ara every day, but she knew that she had to be very careful. The mermaid was still scared of any other visitors, and so Kirste quietly made it known among the servants that only she was to bring Ara her food and anything else she might need. Kirste was pleased to have Ara all to herself, but she knew that her friend longed to return home with her own kind.

One day, the princess and the mermaid were resting together on the marble steps leading down into the pool. "Do you think that mermaids have a soul?" Ara asked, surprising Kirste with the unprompted question. It took her a moment to respond.

"I don't know much about mermaids, but I know you, and you seem to have a soul. Why?"

"The story you told me about the littlest mermaid," she explained. "It says that the merfolk don't have souls and cannot live with the Maker after they die. They turn into seafoam instead."

Kirste frowned. "Humans are frightened of things that are different. They are threatened by the thought of a mermaid or a Liarre with a soul because it means that humans are not the greatest creatures on the planet. The legends say that mermaids and Liarre were once human." Like the merfolk, the Liarre had human heads and torsos, but their lower halves belonged to beasts. Some had the bodies of horses or wolves, and a few even looked like spiders and lizards. They lived in their own territory far to the west of Kalmarin, but Kirste had never seen one outside of a Bestiary.

"Then why do you think differently?"

Kirste tried, but she couldn't come up with an answer. "I don't know. Maybe you are the one who showed me."

"I'm glad that I have you, even though I hate this place and miss my home."

"I wish I could take you home," Kirste said, half-truthfully. Part of her wanted to ask the king where Ara had been found so that she could return home, but another, more selfish part of her wanted to keep the beautiful mermaid with her forever. She had been close to Joran when they were children, but as they grew apart, and as Joran became bitter and twisted, she had felt painfully isolated.

"Would you miss me?" Ara asked, clasping Kirste's hand in both of hers.

"I would ache for you every day."

Kirste lowered her eyes to the water, but Ara reached out and lifted her chin. "Do you love me?"

Kirste's mouth fell open, and she felt her heartbeat racing as she looked into Ara's blue eyes. "Yes," she whispered.

"I see it in your face." Ara reached out and ran her fingers along Kirste's cheek, drawing the princess's face towards hers. Their lips met for a brief second and Kirste sighed, losing herself in the soft kiss. The simple, innocent trust that the mermaid had placed in her hands made the princess feel giddy.

After a long moment, Ara pulled away from her, looking down nervously at her fins. Kirste gave her a confused look, trying to figure out what she was thinking. Then, she saw a shimmering light pulse below the water, and slowly, Ara's fins began to separate into two beautiful legs.

"Oh," Kirste gasped, staring down at Ara's new lower half in astonishment.

"Are you pleased?" Ara's shy voice whispered in her ear.

"I — I didn't know you could..."

"Surely you remember that mermaids were once humans," she said. "We can take on a human shape for a short time, but we grow weak far from the water." Ara rested her small hand on Kirste's shoulder. "I have never given myself to a human before, but..."

"You will have me even after what my brother and his friends tried to do to you?" Kirste asked as she pulled Ara tightly into her arms.

"I love you," said Ara. "You were kind to me when no one else was, and I trust you." The small blonde kicked over to a narrow strip of sand at one edge of the pool, crooking her finger and smiling over her shoulder. Kirste's eyes widened and she hurried after Ara, not exactly sure what was going to happen, but eager to find out.

*  *  *

Two weeks passed and the lovers spent them exploring each other. They broke boundaries and created new ones, enjoying a closeness that neither of them had experienced before. The castle noticed Kirste's absence, but it was never mentioned. No one suspected the identity of the princess' new lover, but it was obvious that she had one. Her constant smile and the marks on her throat that she tried to cover gave her away. Kirste and Ara kept their love a secret, and no one gave them any trouble until the day they were discovered.

Joran was passing through the lower corridors on his way to the wine cellar, hoping to convince one of the attendants to spend some time with him when he heard familiar sounds. Soft gasps and muffled whimpers came from one of the rooms, occasionally punctuated by high-pitched squeaks. The prince listened, trying to guess the identity of the lovers. The low male grunts that most couplings produced were strangely absent, and he guessed that both of them were female. Even better for him.

The prince pushed open the door, stepping into the room and demanding to be included, when he realized just who he had walked in on. There was Kirste, his sister, her head thrown back in ecstasy and her long dark hair falling between her naked shoulder blades. Worst of all, his present's face was buried between her thighs. Immediately, Ara stopped what she was doing and looked up at Joran, her mouth falling open in a silent scream. Kirste abandoned her perch on one of the steps, climbing out of the water and reaching for her dressing gown.

"Joran."

"Kirste. So, this is your mystery lover? At least now I see why that thing wasn't interested in my friends and me. It seems that her tastes are backwards." Kirste glared at him, stepping forward in challenge as she shoved her arms through the sleeves of her dressing gown. She was not going to let her nakedness or her embarrassment prevent her from defending Ara.

"She isn't a thing. You tried to force yourself on her, Joran. What did you expect? Women don't respond to violence."

The prince caressed the hilt of his throwing knife, fingers flexing around the grip. "It doesn't matter. She's my solstice present. This is none of your concern."

"You don't deserve her. You don't even know her name! Ara isn't a present or an object to be used. She gives what she will freely, to whomever she chooses."

"Why do you care? You are welcome to make use of her, as long as I'm not occupied with her. You only had to ask."

"The only permission I needed was hers, and she gave it. Now, leave."

"Not even my sister has the right to take what is mine!" Joran shouted, his voice bouncing off of the stone walls. "If I can't have her, neither can you." He grabbed one of the torches from its bracket beside the door and held it forward, brandishing the flame at Ara like a weapon.

Still in her dressing gown, Kirste retreated back into the water. Her posture remained defiant as she joined Ara in the shallow water of the pool. Instead of ducking behind the rock, the mermaid chose to remain with the princess, unwilling to let her face Joran alone. "Are you really that stupid? You can't use fire against us in here."

"Water won't stop metal," Joran forced out through clenched teeth, throwing the torch onto the wet tiles below his feet and reaching for the dagger in his belt instead. Kirste knew that he practiced with his knives and could hit a target. She braced herself as best she could, the skirt of her gown billowing around her legs in the swirling water.

As Joran pulled back his arm and prepared to throw, Kirste raced through all the spells of protection she knew, trying to remember one that would stop the knife. Instead of directing his throw at the mermaid, he let the blade fly directly towards her. There was no time. Before Kirste could begin to move, Ara used her powerful fish's tail to launch herself out of the water, blocking the princess's body with her own as the blade sank into her neck.

Kirste grabbed for Ara as she fell back into the water, both of them shaking uncontrollably. Then, she realized that there was no blood coming from the wound. Ara's face looked frightened, but it wasn't contorted with pain. Tentatively, Kirste reached forwards and pulled the blade out of Ara's throat. The wound closed over as the tip exited her flesh, leaving nothing behind but smooth skin. At first Kirste didn't believe what she had just witnessed, but then she saw the black stone hanging around the mermaid's throat. The necklace of protection had worked, but instead of saving Kirste's life, it had saved Ara's.

Joran howled, enraged that he had missed his target. He reached into his belt and drew his sword this time, charging over the slick blue tiles that covered the floor. Then, his arms shot forwards and he screamed as he slipped in a puddle of water, falling straight onto the point of his blade. Ara screamed and Kirste held the mermaid's trembling form tight as she watched Joran's body give a long jerk and then fall still.

After a moment, Kirste let go of Ara and waded to the edge of the pool, climbing onto the sand bank and past the edge of the small beach to inspect her brother's corpse. His sword point had entered his skull through one eye socket and lodged itself in his head. Blood seeped through the grooves of the tile, dribbling down to the sand bank and gathering the fine white sand into sticky brown clumps.

Attracted by the loud screaming, a group of servants had gathered behind the double doors, peering in timidly and gasping as they took in the gruesome sight of Joran's body. Ignoring the blood on her feet, Kirste adjusted her wet, clinging dressing gown and tried to calm her rapid heartbeat. "One of you, go find my father. Tell him his son is dead." With those orders, she headed back into the water to wash herself and comfort her frightened lover.

Ara swam straight into Kirste's arms, kissing her forehead, cheeks, and eyelids frantically before capturing her lips, relieved that she was still alive. She didn't stop until she had reassured herself that the princess wasn't hurt. Kirste wept, fingering the silver necklace of protection that hung around Ara's neck. "Don't ever take it off," she pleaded, hugging Ara tight. "You saved my life, but I would have died of a broken heart if Joran had taken you from me."

"I won't," Ara said softly. "Never."

*  *  *

Kirste was miserable for the rest of the week. Her brother's funeral was relatively subdued, considering that a member of the royal family had died, but the circumstances of his death were so embarrassing and gruesome that the king did not want to make matters worse. Kirste grieved in her own way, but for the young, innocent brother that had once been her playmate, not for the hardened man that had tried to kill her.

The knowledge that she was the only heir to the throne weighed heavily on the princess, but it also gave her more influence. With Joran out of the way, there was nothing to prevent Kirste from helping Ara except her own selfishness. It was time to let her return home.

Once Joran's funeral was behind her, Kirste summoned the swiftest trading ship in the royal fleet and ordered the glass blowers to make a comfortable box for Ara to travel in. Even though the mermaid could take on human form for a short time, Kirste wanted her to be as comfortable as possible. The Northern Sweep was two weeks away at best by sea, but when she showed the box to Ara, the mermaid started to cry.

"Why do you want to send me away? Do you blame me for your brother's death?"

Kirste's first instinct was to comfort Ara and dry her tears, but her lover's words stung. She pulled her hand away from where it rested on Ara's upper arm. "My father had you kidnapped and given as a Solstice present. You don't belong in this palace as a prisoner. It's time for you to go home."

The princess expected Ara to be happy about her freedom, but instead the mermaid turned away from her and ignored all of her attempts to explain. She refused to speak to Kirste for the rest of the day.

The next morning, Kirste felt like she was sinking into the deepest part of the ocean. It hurt to breathe when the men came to take Ara to the ship. The mermaid took her two-legged shape in a surprising show of independence and refused any help. She hardly said a word to Kirste and only took her arm reluctantly. Even though she wanted to stay at the palace so that her goodbye to Ara would be a brief sting instead of a long ache, Kirste decided to accompany her lover to the northern part of the continent. She did not want to leave the mermaid completely alone for the journey.

The voyage to the Northern Sweep took less time than the captain and crew expected. The currents and the wind remained favorable despite the season, and the sailors all agreed that having a mermaid on board the ship brought them good luck.

Ara was friendly toward the traders, and Kirste was pleased to see her interacting well with other humans, but part of her was also jealous. The blonde mermaid was still doing her best to ignore Kirste whenever possible. The princess tried not to be hurt, and she almost managed to convince herself that Ara was only doing it to make their final goodbye less painful... Almost.

The rocky coast of the Northern Sweep came into view within the following week. The bluffs were gray instead of white, and the water was cold and choppy. The closer the ship sailed to shore, the closer Kirste came to crying, but she tried to hide her tears for Ara's sake. For her part, Ara did not seem overjoyed to be returning home. Even though she remained mostly silent, she began following Kirste around the ship, unwilling to let her lover out of her sight.

When the ship dropped anchor in a small rocky cove to wait out a storm, Ara decided that she had had enough. "I don't want to leave you," she told Kirste, clutching the tall woman's hand and forcing her to listen. "I don't care if I have to stay in that awful room for the rest of my life. I love you and I want to stay with you."

At first, Kirste thought she was dreaming, but Ara did not take the words back. A great weight lifted from Kirste's shoulders and warmth spread through her chest, pulsing all the way out to her fingertips. "You want to stay with me? But —"

"Yes, I want to stay." Ara paused, looking hesitantly up at her lover. She pulled at her tunic, still uncomfortable in the human clothes she had borrowed. Instead of wearing her six oysters around her tail, they were draped around her neck, along with Kirste's necklace of protection. True to her promise, she had not taken it off. "I didn't say anything because you kept trying to make me leave and it hurt my feelings."

Kirste opened her arms and Ara settled against her chest. Both of them breathed a sigh of relief. They had missed touching each other. "I never wanted you to leave. I was convinced that if I really loved you, I had to let you go instead of keeping you locked up like a prisoner or some kind of pet."

"That's noble of you, but stupid. I'm not a prisoner anymore, and I choose you."

A sudden rock of the ship reminded Kirste where they were: in the middle of an ocean, a week-and-a-half's journey away from the palace. "Not to ruin the moment, but why didn't you tell me that before we left?"

"I was mad at you."

Kirste rolled her eyes. "All right. I guess this was mostly my fault anyway. I'm the one that forced you to come here."

"Since we're already this far north, can I still go home? Not to stay," she hastened to assure her lover. "I want to let my family know that I'm alive."

The princess bent down and pressed her lips to Ara's, beginning the first kiss they had shared since leaving the palace. "I think we can do better than that."

True to her word, Kirste did do better. Two days later, Ara was reunited with her family and friends, who were relieved to see that she was alive and unharmed. They were wary of Kirste at first, but she won them over once Ara explained how the princess had saved her life and taken care of her for the past several months.

Kirste and Ara made several journeys to the Northern Sweep over the next few years, and eventually she became known to the northern settlements there. When the barbarians began to threaten the villagers, Kirste convinced her father, who had softened considerably by that time, to send weapons, supplies, and soldiers to help them through the winter. For the first time in hundreds of years, the Northern and Southern kingdoms stopped skirmishing over the central border of the continent and became allies.

It wasn't until several generations later that the Kingdom was united under one ruler, but when the northern council of chieftains swore allegiance to the Southern King, they remembered how his ancestors Queen Kirste and her consort, Ara, had worked for peace between their nations. And to this day, whenever a child with exceptional magical ability is born into the royal family, the people of Kalmarin say that they must receive a strong dose of their ancestors' mermish blood, along with a talent for sorcery and particularly dry skin.

The End

Holiday Special Edition

2010 Edition

L-Book ePublisher

Table of Contents - 2010

Holiday Special Edition  2011

Holiday Special Edition  2010 Edition

Manhattan Moon   …………………………………… Jae

The Halloween Party  …………………… Fran Heckrotte

Planning

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

The Party

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Double Trouble – A Family Holiday ………… RJ Nolan

A Very Smokey Thanksgiving  ………Jeanine Hoffman

The Quest – A Holiday Fantasy  …… Rrrose Carbinela

The Ball  ………………………………… A.L. Hotchkin

Winter Solstice, Night of the Wolves…... Fran Heckrotte

The Christmas Oak  ………………………………… Jae

Hamilton Horse Ranch

Baker Prairie, Oregon

December 24th, 1857

Hamilton Horse Ranch

Baker Prairie, Oregon

December 25th, 1857

Manhattan Moon

by Jae

Copyright © 2010 by Jae

All rights reserved.

Acknowledgments

As always, a big thank-you to my beta reader, Pam, and my critique partners, RJ and Astrid. RJ also provided me with inside information about emergency rooms in the US — thanks for that too.

I also want to thank Marion for test reading. I promise that no wolves were harmed in the making of this story.

Author's note

This short story is not really a sequel to 'Second Nature' — more of a spin-off. While it takes place in the world of the shape-shifting Wrasa too, the story has two entirely new main characters.

I'm a psychologist, not a psychiatrist, but I tried to be thorough in my research. If there are any inaccuracies, please blame them on the full moon.

Manhattan Moon

SHELBY CARSON hip-checked the car door closed and crossed the psych ER's parking lot. She breathed in the crisp fall air, preparing her sensitive nose for the smells that would hit her as soon as she entered Bayard Medical Center.

When she glanced up at the dark sky, she realized a full moon was shining down on her. "Oh, wonderful," she murmured. "A full moon on Halloween. Just what I need."

Contrary to popular belief, the moon had no effect on her fellow shape-shifters, but humans seemed to go crazy during a full moon.

The automatic doors of the back entrance whooshed open. Shelby strode down the hallway and through two sets of locked double doors. She unlocked the door to the attending's on-call room and squeezed past the desk and the narrow bed. With practiced movements, she slipped out of her street clothes and into a set of scrubs. She clipped her ID badge to the scrub shirt and the beeper to her waistband and shoved a pen into the chest pocket, feeling like a knight getting ready for battle.

As she walked toward the triage area, weaving her way around gurneys and wheelchairs lined up in the corridor, the sounds and smells of the psych ER engulfed her. In one of the seclusion rooms, someone shouted and banged on the door, and in the next room, an off-key voice sang Broadway musicals. Sneakers squeaked on the linoleum tiles as one of the nurses rushed down the corridor. Beneath the stench of sweat, disinfectants, and metabolized alcohol, Shelby picked up the subtle scent of jasmine.

Shelby grinned. She would recognize that scent anywhere. Nyla.

Just inside the front door, Nyla Rozakis sat behind the triage desk.

Shelby paused and drank in the sight of her.

In the midst of the typhoon that was the triage area, Nyla was an island of peace. She brushed back a midnight-black strand of hair that had escaped her French braid as she rounded her desk. Her eyes, almost as dark as her hair, didn't seem to register the psych techs and security guards to her right, who were wrestling to restrain a screaming patient. She was focused solely on her own patient.

"Do you know where you are?" Nyla asked. She stooped a little as if she didn't want to loom over the patient, who was sitting in a wheelchair.

"In hell," the patient grumbled.

Wrong answer, buddy. Shelby suppressed a grin. A psych ER is not a good place for sarcasm if you don't want to appear psychotic.

"Can you tell me today's date?" Nyla asked.

The patient told her, and Nyla made a quick note in his chart without taking her gaze off the patient for more than a second.

"Do you have any weapons on you? Any sharp objects?"

The patient shook his head, but his hands went to his coat pockets.

Shelby tensed, ready to step in should he pull out a weapon.

But Nyla didn't need her help.

"Ben." With a wave from Nyla, one of the security guards helped her search the patient's pockets. They laid the contents of his pockets onto the triage desk: a lighter, a glass pipe, and — Shelby squinted — a pair of vampire fangs.

Humans. She shook her head.

When another nurse led the patient into an interview room, Nyla looked up and saw Shelby. A welcoming smile dimpled her cheeks. "Hi, Dr. Carson."

"Hello, Nyla."

"You're working tonight?" Nyla asked, one eye on the intake sheet she was filling out. "I thought you volunteered to work Thanksgiving and Christmas?"

She knows my on-call schedule! Shelby held back a delighted grin. "I don't mind covering the ER on holidays," she said. Wrasa didn't celebrate human holidays anyway, and she'd volunteered to work the night shift on Halloween when she'd seen that Nyla would be on duty too.

"Famous last words, Doctor."

"Busy night, huh?"

"Full moon on Halloween in New York City — if that's not a recipe for madness, I don't know what is. We have twenty new admissions and five still on triage. All seclusion rooms are in use, and EMS keeps bringing in new patients."

Before Shelby could think of a way to ask Nyla out for coffee later, loud grunts and moans from the waiting area interrupted them.

Shelby turned and took in the crowded waiting area. On one of the blue plastic chairs that were bolted to the wall sat a young woman clutching her belly. "Has she been cleared by the medical ER?" Shelby asked.

"Oh, yeah. Nothing physically wrong with her. She just thinks she's giving birth." Nyla walked over and stood shoulder to shoulder with Shelby, gazing at the moaning patient.

Shelby wanted to moan too as she breathed in the intoxicating scent of jasmine. She tried to keep her voice light and professional. "Another baby Jesus?"

"No, this one thinks she's giving birth to the child of the vampire slayer."

"Vampire slayer?" Shelby arched her brows. Every time she thought she'd seen it all, a new patient surprised her. "Didn't anyone tell her that Buffy is a woman and can't get her pregnant?"

Nyla's dimples deepened. "Welcome to the twenty-first century, Dr. Carson. There are plenty of options for a lesbian who wants to get her partner pregnant."

Shelby marveled at the casual remark. Does she know I'm gay? Is she? She had asked herself that question for months now, but her diagnostic skills failed when it came to figuring out Nyla's sexual orientation.

When silence grew between them, Shelby finally said, "I better get to work. See you later. And please keep her," she pointed at the grunting patient in the waiting area, "away from Mr. Fangs." She peered up at the board that listed patients still waiting to be seen, then grabbed a chart from the rack and went to see her first patient of the night.

*  *  *

Hours later, Shelby dropped into a chair at the nurses' station. "Frank, is Mr. Sheridan's urine tox back?"

"Just got it." The nurse slid a sheet of paper in front of her.

She initialed the lab report and took a look. "Just what I thought. Strung-out on meth. Put him in one of the observation rooms. And get me the number of Mrs. Clayburn's therapist, please."

While she wrote a discharge order for another patient, she became aware of the tingling of her skin. Her body buzzed as if charged with electricity. That's what the constant chaos of a night like this always did to her. Working in the psych ER was like diving into a hurricane: a maelstrom of loud, unpredictable action; the unpleasant smells of sweat, urine, and booze almost drowned out by the stench of fear and the heady tang of mania.

Her job was exactly what every other Wrasa would hate. She was the only shape-shifter on staff and, as far as she knew, the only Wrasa emergency psychiatrist in the world. Few Wrasa could handle the constant adrenaline rush and still be able to focus on their job while fighting against the urge to shift.

But Shelby was different. For some reason, she had a very high threshold for changing into her coyote form.

It had made her an outsider as a teenager and still caused her family to shake their heads in puzzlement and humiliation when she had problems shifting during family get-togethers in the forest, but it also enabled her to do her job.

And Shelby loved her job. She was drawn to the fast pace and the challenge of helping so many different patients during the course of a shift.

"Dr. Carson?"

Shelby looked up. An automatic smile spread over her face when she saw Nyla, one shapely hip propped against the counter.

After watching her for months, she knew Nyla was a leaner, constantly leaning against something as if it grounded her in the middle of chaos. Her presence had the same effect on Shelby.

"Can you come look at a patient with me?" Nyla asked.

It was an unusual request. Normally, the nurses did the initial evaluation and psychiatrists like Shelby only spoke to the patients afterwards. "Sure, but what's so special about him? He one of our frequent fliers?"

"No, I've never seen him before. But I have a weird feeling about him, and I thought it might save us some time to talk to him together."

Shelby had learned to trust the instincts of a good nurse. She got up without hesitation. "What's his story?" she asked as they walked over to the triage area.

"He's a twenty-two-year-old white male," Nyla said. "The police brought him in for a pre-arraignment eval because he says he's hearing voices."

Voices? Shelby's diagnostic mind came up with half a dozen possible causes for auditory hallucinations. Schizophrenia was high on her list, especially since the patient's age was typical for a first psychotic break, but she also couldn't rule out drugs. An interview would tell her more. "What are the charges?" she asked.

"Assault with a deadly weapon." Nyla met Shelby's questioning gaze. "He attacked his girlfriend with a scythe."

"A scythe?" It never ceased to amaze Shelby how inventive humans were when it came to hurting each other.

Nyla nodded. One corner of her mouth lifted in a sarcastic half-smile. "Apparently, they were at a Halloween party and he was dressed up as the Grim Reaper at the time."

"The Grim Reaper..." Shelby shook her head. "Looks like I can add another famous patient to my list of references." She unlocked a set of double doors and motioned at Nyla to step through first. Side by side, they entered the triage area, which looked more like a police station than the entrance to the psych ER.

Two police officers stood around, trading war stories with the security guard, while two other officers guarded a struggling and shouting patient.

"This is him," Nyla said. She glanced at her clipboard. "Joseph Linwood."

Shelby wrinkled her nose at the smell of blood, alcohol, and smoke that clung to the man. She resisted the urge to step between him and Nyla. She doesn't need a shifting-handicapped coyote to protect her.

"Officers," she greeted his guards and nodded down at their weapons. "You guys shooting blanks?"

The officers glowered at her, but Nyla chuckled. "If you mean did we unload our weapons before coming in, yeah," the taller officer said. He hiked his uniform pants up over his slight potbelly. "We know the rules."

"Sorry," Shelby said with a grin. "You know us shrinks. We have a weird sense of humor."

"You can joke around all you want as long as you take this creep off our hands," the officer said.

Shelby stepped closer to the patient, trying to catch a whiff of the man's body chemistry. But the stench of violence and partying was too heavy for her to use her nose for diagnosing. "If we take off the handcuffs, will you behave yourself?"

"Sure," he said. "The voices are quiet for now."

She motioned toward the handcuffs. "Let's take these off and get him into an interview room."

While the officers led the patient into the interview room, Shelby rearranged the chairs, positioning hers and Nyla's next to the door. Just in case.

"Mr. Linwood, my name is Dr. Carson. I'm one of the attending psychiatrists here."

"Then you can help me. I need help. I'm hearing voices, constantly. They're driving me crazy. You should probably admit me to the hospital. You can hold me for seventy-two hours, right?"

No psych history and he's that well-informed? Shelby glanced at Nyla. She's right. Something about this guy is off. "We can," she said carefully, "but we rarely do. If you need help beyond just a night, we'd admit you to a unit upstairs or to a psychiatric hospital."

"Whatever." Linwood kicked out his heels, sprawling in his chair as if he intended to make himself at home. "I just think I need to be admitted. Maybe it can help stop those damn voices."

"So these voices... What are they saying?" Shelby asked.

"They're telling me to kill people. To kill myself." He swung his hands as if hitting someone with a club... or a scythe.

Hm. Unless he's faking it, he might be a danger to himself and to others. This was her number one criteria in deciding whether to admit a patient. When the police brought over prisoners, she didn't have to decide if they were mentally ill or might plead an insanity defense. For now, the police just needed her to decide whether the prisoner was stable enough for the arraignment.

"How long have you heard the voices?"

"Oh, I don't know. For as long as I can remember. Started when I was just a little kid." He indicated the size of a toddler.

Shelby met Nyla's gaze. She bit her lip when she saw Nyla suppress a "gotcha" smile. They both knew that auditory hallucinations rarely started in childhood. And if he has heard voices for so long, how come he never sought psychiatric help before? Why now that he's been arrested? Something wasn't adding up here.

"So with hallucinations that severe, you probably see little green men too, right?" Shelby asked. She sent Nyla another quick glance, willing her not to react.

Nyla kept adding notes to the patient's chart. Not even a muscle moved in her face.

Good. Play along.

"Yes, yes, I do!" Linwood looked at Shelby as if he were in awe of her professional insight. He sent her a smile. "How did you know?"

No blunted affect, Shelby thought. This guy didn't suffer from schizophrenia any more than she did. "Let's just call it women's intuition," Shelby said.

A dimple appeared in Nyla's cheek. She clicked off her pen.

"Okay, Mr. Linwood," Shelby said. "Thanks for your patience. I think we can wrap up this interview now." She got up but was careful not to turn her back to Joseph Linwood.

Eyes glinting, Linwood jumped up. "So you're gonna admit me?"

"No."

"No?" A scarlet color shot up his neck, and a vein began to pulse in his temple. "But I'm hearing voices!"

"Good for you, Mr. Linwood," Shelby said. "It's what we call having a conscience. Maybe these voices are now telling you that it's not nice to lie to a psychiatrist to avoid prison." She stretched out her arm, herding Nyla out of the door.

"Bitch!" He tried to pick up his chair and throw it after them, but the chair on his side of the table was bolted to the floor.

The two police officers rushed in and were on him before he could follow them out of the room.

Nyla glanced over at Shelby, merriment dancing in her dark eyes. "Little green men?"

"You ever heard of any truly psychotic patient who saw them?"

"No, but the night's still young and it's a full moon on Halloween. Anything could happen."

Shelby grinned. Anything? She liked the sound of that. Maybe she'd find the courage to ask Nyla out before this crazy night was over.

*  *  *

The double doors crashed open, and two paramedics pushed a gurney into the psych ER.

Shelby barely glanced up from her discussion with one of the psych techs.

But then one of the patients in the triage area started screaming, "A werewolf! A werewolf! I knew it. They've come to kill us all."

Shelby whirled around.

The person on the stretcher was covered with a sheet, and one of the paramedics blocked Shelby's view. All she could see was a bit of fur peeking out from beneath the sheet.

Fur?

It was light brown, streaked with a few ginger highlights. Shelby had seen that color before — it was the same as her own hair color and that of most coyote shifters.

Her heartbeat sped up at the thought of a Wrasa being wheeled into the ER, where someone would surely discover what he really was. She tried to catch a whiff of his smell, but from this distance all she detected was a dizzying mix of sweat, fear, jasmine, and fish sticks that had been somebody's lunch.

Calm down. If this were one of us in coyote form, they would have taken him to the vet, not the psych ER. Besides, even in human form, Wrasa rarely suffered mental illnesses. Those who did were kept under close surveillance by their pack or pride.

She circled around and took up position next to Nyla, who was trying to take the fidgeting patient's blood pressure. But instead of encountering human skin, she found long fur. A bushy tail hung limply down the gurney.

This can't be true. Wide-eyed, Shelby stepped even closer. Then she let her gaze trail up his furry chest. Torn clothing covered the fur in some places as if the urge to shift had overcome him too fast to undress first.

Her own skin started to itch as her adrenaline level shot through the roof.

Her gaze traveled farther up. Shelby froze.

The patient's face was all human.

A mask, complete with wolfish ears and large fangs, dangled on an elastic band around his neck. Shelby inflated her cheeks and blew out a long stream of air. It's just some dumb Halloween costume.

Instantly, she vowed never to work the night shift on Halloween again.

When Nyla stripped off a glove that ended in fake claws, the patient pulled off the other one, then tried to get rid of the rest of his costume. "You wanna see more of my body, baby? Look, I have a perfect six-pack."

"No, thanks." Nyla helped the paramedics restrain his wandering hands. "Hairy chests aren't my thing."

Oh, really? Her comment caught Shelby's attention. Had she been in her coyote form, she would have swiveled her ears to hear every nuance of Nyla's tone.

"Why not?" the patient asked, his voice loud and enthusiastic. "We're all one. All of us. Only once you give away all your worldly possessions and accept that all people, all things in the universe, are connected, only then will you be enlightened as I am."

"Patient's name is Lee Bowdan, twenty-six years old," one of the paramedics said over the patient's non-stop rambling. "No known allergies and not on any meds. He also claims he doesn't have a psych history."

Nyla shot her a quick look, and Shelby answered by arching a skeptical brow. Yeah, right. Hypersexuality, pressured speech, loose association... He's manic for sure. But was it drug-induced or did he have a bipolar disorder?

"NYPD called us with an EDP," the paramedic said, using the cop slang for an emotionally disturbed person. "He was standing in the middle of a Halloween festival, trying to get people to throw away their wallets."

"It was for their own good," the patient shouted. "They need my guidance to realize they won't get to the heavenly spheres by clinging to money!"

"Let's go and talk about your fascinating ideas inside," Shelby said. This was when most patients lost control and ended up medicated and restrained, so she wanted to get him inside as unobtrusively as possible.

Without pausing in his speech, the patient let himself be wheeled down the hall. He never noticed when the doors clicked shut behind him.

"Frank, can you help Mr. Bowdan change out of his costume and into one of our fashionable gowns?" Shelby asked one of the nurses.

When Frank and Mr. Bowdan disappeared into the bathroom, Shelby turned to Nyla.

"My money is on bipolar disorder," Nyla said. "He probably went off his meds."

Wanna bet? Your money against one date, Shelby wanted to say, but of course she didn't. Cowardly coyote. "I'm not sure," she said instead. "My nose is telling me it might be drugs."

Quite literally, but Nyla didn't need to know that. When she had stood next to the patient, she caught a whiff of mushrooms on his breath.

"You're thinking psilocybin?" Nyla asked.

Shelby nodded. "It's possible." The symptoms of a manic episode and the effect of psilocybin mushrooms sometimes appeared similar. "Can you make sure we get a urine sample from Mr. Bowdan?"

"Of course."

When Nyla turned to walk away, Shelby called after her, "And —"

"Make sure to keep him away from the vampire slayer mom and Mr. Fangs," Nyla said for her. Her laughter rippled over Shelby. "Will do."

*  *  *

Shelby closed the tiny fridge in the staff room and carried her ham-and-bacon sandwich to one of the tables. Next to her, the copier and the fax machine whirred, but Shelby ignored the familiar sounds in the small room and focused on the conversation going on at one of the other tables.

Nyla sat with two of her colleagues, eating Chinese takeout. Her chopsticks moved in graceful arcs as she picked pieces of broccoli from her box and put them aside. Whenever they got Chinese takeout, Nyla ordered the Sesame Chicken and she always picked off the broccoli.

Others might have wondered why she didn't just order something else, but Shelby found Nyla's persistence endearing.

"Anyone ever have a patient with lycanthropy?" Julie, one of the third-year medical students, asked. "I read about it in one of my textbooks, and it sounds fascinating."

Shelby rolled her eyes. What was it with humans and their strange fascination with werewolves?

"I don't know about lycanthropy, but I once had a patient who came in growling and barking and bit one of the techs," Frank said.

Hmpf. No shape-shifter Shelby knew had ever bitten a human. In their animal form, Wrasa were more likely to run and hide if they encountered humans.

Julie laughed. "Did the tech by any chance develop a strange preference for raw meat and start howling at the moon?"

We don't howl at the moon. Shelby frowned down at her ham-and-bacon sandwich. And we rarely eat raw meat.

"Do they really think they can turn into wolves or other animals?" Julie asked. "You'd need to be pretty delusional to believe you can survive such a rearrangement of bones, joints, and organs."

"Maybe they read too much of that paranormal romance stuff like someone else I know," Frank said and flicked a bean sprout at her.

Julie threw her fortune cookie at him. "Hey, don't knock it 'til you've tried it. Some of those novels are really good."

"Too stereotypical for me," Frank said. "I mean... silver bullets, people who turn into wolves after being bitten... That just exceeds my suspension of disbelief."

Shelby secretly pumped her fist under the table. Amen, brother.

"Not all of them are like that," Julie said. "The latest J.W. Price novel isn't even about werewolves. Her main character is a tiger-shifter."

Yeah, but she killed off one of the canine shifters, Shelby grumbled. Okay, it wasn't a coyote-shifter, but still, there should be some loyalty among canines, right?

Her gaze traveled to Nyla, who sat digging in her box of Chinese takeout but said nothing.

Strange. Usually, Nyla joked around with the others. Like most of the staff in the psych ER, she used her sense of humor to ease the constant stress in their line of work. But now Nyla kept silent. She fiddled with her chopsticks but didn't eat.

The urge to go over and ask if everything was okay made Shelby forget about her own food, but if she did that, she would have to admit that she had observed Nyla from across the room.

The staff room's door opened.

"Dr. Carson?" one of the nurses called. "I have Mrs. Clayburn's therapist on the phone for you. He said you tried to reach him."

With one last glance at Nyla, Shelby laid down her sandwich and rushed out the door.

*  *  *

Shelby let the door of the on-call room click shut behind her and leaned against the wall for a moment. Through the room's tiny window, early-morning sunlight filtered in. Finally, the long and chaotic shift was over. The joking with her colleagues during sign-out had invigorated her for a while, but now exhaustion settled over her like a lead apron.

Stripping out of her scrub shirt, she crossed over to the narrow bed where she'd left her street clothes.

A knock on the door caught her halfway in, halfway out of her henley shirt.

"Yes?" she called and tugged down the shirt.

The door opened, and Nyla stood in the doorway without entering. "I'm sorry to bother you. I know your shift is over and you have to be exhausted, but..."

"Oh, no, I'm not exhausted at all," Shelby said. She was never too exhausted to talk to Nyla. "Please come in."

Nyla still didn't enter. Her gaze was fixed on Shelby in a way that made her heart beat faster.

She followed Nyla's gaze down and realized that she hadn't buttoned her shirt. Her bra peeked out from beneath the shirt's placket. "Oh." Quickly, she fastened two of the buttons.

Now Nyla stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. Her gaze darted around, bouncing from the littered desk to the scrub shirt on the bed. She still didn't say anything.

Hurriedly, Shelby lifted the latest edition of 'Journal of Psychiatry' from her desk chair. "Please, sit down."

When Nyla sat, Shelby perched on the edge of her bed. That left Shelby in the position of power and would hopefully make her feel more equal. She balanced her elbows on her knees and leaned forward, giving Nyla her full attention.

They gazed at each other across the desk.

Nyla licked her lips.

Why's she so nervous? A sudden thought made Shelby giddy. Is she trying to ask me out?

Still not saying anything, Nyla reached up with her right hand and massaged her left shoulder.

Shelby stifled the urge to get up and take over the massage. "Hey. You look exhausted. Everything all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Just pulled a double shift. Tina's out sick." At the last word, she painted quotation marks in the air with her index and middle fingers, which probably meant that Tina was out partying on Halloween.

Hm. Then I doubt she's got romance on her mind. Shelby swallowed her disappointment. A hot shower and a bed were probably the only things Nyla wanted right now. So why was she here instead of going home, now that her shift had ended? "How can I help?" Shelby asked. "Want me to talk to administration about your shift schedules?"

"Oh, no. That's not why I'm... There's something else I wanted to ask you." In the silence of the on-call room, Nyla sucked in a breath. "Let's say someone is seeing things that aren't possible..."

"Is there another patient you want me to see? I can stay a bit longer if you want."

"No. It's more of a... hypothetical situation."

Hypothetical situation? Shelby struggled to keep her expression neutral. What was going on with Nyla? "So this hypothetical person... What kind of things is he or she seeing?"

Nyla looked down and studied her hands. "A werewolf," she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. She looked up. "And I'm not talking about Mr. Bowdan. I really saw —" She stopped and pressed her hand against her lips as if she wanted to take back the words. "I mean the hypothetical person saw a man change into a wolf."

This isn't a practical joke, is it? It wouldn't be the first time her colleagues tried to pull her leg, but Shelby sensed that this was different. The smell of Nyla's fear burned her nose. Shelby's heartbeat hammered in her ears. Great Hunter, what's going on? Had a Syak been stupid enough to shift right in front of Nyla? She crossed the room with two steps and knelt next to Nyla. "Nyla. Look at me."

Slowly, Nyla raised her gaze from her hands. Her eyes were even darker than usual, obsidian with fear and doubt.

"What did you see?" Shelby asked.

Nyla hesitated.

Shelby squeezed her hand. Nyla's fingers were cold against her own warmer skin. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes." The answer came without hesitation.

"Then tell me."

"Earlier, when I got takeout from that Chinese place across the street..." Nyla squeezed her eyes shut. "Something rustled in the bushes next to the parking lot. When I glanced over, I saw a man dropping to his hands and knees. He groaned and obviously was in a great deal of pain. I wanted to go over and help, but he changed into a wolf before my eyes." A shiver shook her. She opened her eyes and glanced at Shelby. "Am I going crazy?"

Shelby clenched her teeth. When I find the damn stupid Syak who did this to her, I'm gonna have his pelt. "No." Her voice boomed through the small room, louder than she had expected.

When Nyla stared at her, she gentled her voice. "No, I'm sure you're perfectly fine. You're the most normal person I know."

She desperately needed to convince Nyla of that — not just for her peace of mind. If Nyla told others about her encounter with the wolf-shifter, the Saru might hear about it. The Wrasa's elite soldiers still liked to shoot first and ask questions later if a human knew too much about the shifters' secret existence.

"Maybe what you saw was just a large dog," Shelby added. "Or even a coyote. You know there were a few of them running around in Central Park a few months ago."

At least, that was what they'd made the media believe. Only a handful of Wrasa knew that it had been a couple of Ashawe teenagers losing control of their newfound ability to transform into coyotes.

A mix of hope and doubt shone in the obsidian eyes.

She wants to believe me, even if her eyes told her something different.

"That still doesn't explain why a man changed into a canine, may it be a wolf, a dog, or a coyote," Nyla said.

"Let's look at this logically, okay?" She stroked her thumb across the back of Nyla's palm.

"Okay."

"Then tell me, nurse," Shelby made her voice playful, "what are the most common causes of visual hallucinations?"

A half-smile crept onto Nyla's lips. "Well, I'm fairly sure we can rule out dementia and brain damage."

"So, what other causes can hallucinations have?"

"Drug intoxication or withdrawal."

"You taken any drugs?" Shelby asked.

"Not counting the two gallons of coffee I drank to make it through this shift, no."

"Next cause."

"Schizophrenia and other psychotic disorders," Nyla said. She tried to sound textbook-like, but fear flickered in her eyes.

Shelby pulled the desk chair around so that Nyla was now facing her directly. "Psychotic patients with visual hallucinations usually have more severe disorders than patients without visual hallucinations, right?"

Nyla nodded.

"Then it's pretty unlikely that a person with isolated visual hallucinations and no other symptoms suffers from schizophrenia, don't you agree?"

"Yes." The answer sounded like a relieved sigh.

"What else is there?" Shelby asked.

Nyla thought for a moment, then answered, "High fever."

With the hand that wasn't holding Nyla's, Shelby reached up and gently cupped Nyla's cheek.

Nyla leaned into the contact, and Shelby let her hand linger before she withdrew it. She cleared her voice. "You don't feel overly warm. What else?"

"Prolonged visual deprivation."

"You been blindfolded for any length of time lately?" Shelby asked with a playful wink.

Nyla's dimples appeared for the first time since she had entered the on-call room. "Do you ask all of your patients such indelicate questions, Doctor?"

"Of course. Right out of the textbook. Are you avoiding the answer, nurse?"

A gentle nudge made Nyla chuckle. "I think we can rule out visual deprivation too."

"Any other possible cause come to mind?"

"Extreme stress or sleep deprivation," Nyla answered.

Shelby cocked her head. "Oh, you mean like working a double shift in a psych ER on Halloween during a full moon in The City That Never Sleeps?"

Now serious, all hints of a smile gone, Nyla stared at her. "You think that's it? Just stress and lack of sleep?"

"During my residency, when I was working crazy hours, I once thought I'd seen a grizzly in my rocking chair." The so-called grizzly had been her roommate, a bear-shifter, and she had turned Shelby's beloved rocking chair into a pile of firewood when she sat down in it. But of course Nyla didn't need to know those details.

Nyla rubbed both hands over her face, hiding her expression. "God." She groaned into her palms. "I feel so foolish. I never should have bothered you with this."

"Hey." Gently, Shelby pulled Nyla's hands away from her face and made eye contact. "You were worried about your mental health. You of all people should know that's never foolish."

When Nyla rolled back the desk chair, Shelby stood and took a step back, giving Nyla room to stand too.

"Thank you, Dr. Carson." The intense gaze of Nyla's dark eyes conveyed her gratitude even better than her words could.

"You're very welcome. I'm glad I could help. And since we're both no longer on duty, please, call me Shelby." She had wanted to make that suggestion for months now, but since nurses didn't usually call doctors by their first names, she hadn't known how to offer a first-name basis.

Nyla hesitated but then nodded. "Shelby."

A pleasant shiver raced through Shelby at the sound of her name on Nyla's lips.

With one more nod and smile, Nyla turned and walked to the door.

This is your chance. Ask her now! Her thoughts ping-ponged through her mind, and she desperately searched for the right words. Come on. Emergency psychiatrists are supposed to be so good at persuading others, chatting people up, improvising to get people to do what they want.

But when it came to Nyla, her professional skills meant nothing.

Nyla reached out for the doorknob. She opened the door.

"Nyla," Shelby called just when Nyla crossed the threshold.

"Yes?" One foot already out the door, Nyla looked back over her shoulder.

Shelby said the next best thing that came to mind. "You really should relax more, take more time away from work."

One dark eyebrow crept up Nyla's forehead. "I think the pot is calling the kettle black. Aren't you the one who volunteered to work Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas?" She didn't sound accusing, just amused.

"Guess then we both need to have some fun away from work." Shelby clutched her hands behind her back. "We could go for a coffee sometime. Together, I mean."

"You don't drink coffee."

Damn. Caught. She thought of something else humans usually considered fun and relaxing. "Then maybe we could go see a movie or something."

Nyla tilted her head and studied her. "Are you asking me out on a date?"

Shelby straightened to her full five-feet-six-inches. Now or never. "Yes, I am."

"Just when I thought nothing else could surprise me on a night like this," Nyla mumbled.

"I know it might not be such a good idea," Shelby said. "I mean, we work together. I'm a doctor, and you're a nurse." Not to mention I'm a Wrasa and you are an unsuspecting human. "I know theoretically, I'm your boss, above you in the hospital hierarchy, and our bosses frown on that kind of relationship." She knew she was rambling, but she couldn't stop herself, too afraid that Nyla would clearly voice a "no" should silence descend on them. "Chances are you're not even gay, and you're free to tell me to take a hike, but —"

Nyla took a step back into the room. "Yes."

Shelby froze, mouth half open. "You want me to take a hike?"

"I mean yes, I'll go out on a date with you." A broad smile brought out Nyla's dimples. "With Shelby, not Dr. Carson."

Suddenly, Shelby felt like a manic person on meth. She wanted to shout out her joy but instead simply asked, "When?"

Nyla laughed. "Not today. I need eight hours of sleep, or I'm afraid I'll see you turn into a frog should I kiss you goodnight." A touch of red colored her olive complexion at her daring words.

Heat pulsed through Shelby at the mention of kissing. "How about tomorrow?"

"On one condition," Nyla said and lifted her index finger.

Anything. Shelby gave an eager nod, prompting Nyla to state her condition.

"Let's make the movie we see a romance, nothing with vampires or werewolves."

Shelby grabbed her jacket and followed Nyla to the door. "No werewolves," she promised. "A good romance is just what I want too."

The End.

The Halloween Party

by Fran Heckrotte

Copyright © 2010 by Fran Heckrotte

All rights reserved.

The Halloween Party

Planning

Chapter 1

"I WANT TO HAVE a party," Dakota declared, stroking the warm skin on Yemaya's stomach.

"What kind of party?" Yemaya asked, clasping her lover's hand to keep from being distracted. When Dakota wanted something she usually got it... but a party? Few people were invited into her home. It was the one place she could truly relax; her sanctuary. The thought of having it invaded by a bunch of people made her cringe.

"A Halloween party... like in the old days... with costumes."

Dakota rolled over onto Yemaya, trapping her with her weight — not that Yemaya couldn't have reversed their positions at any time. When Dakota crossed her arms over Yemaya's chest and rested her chin on them, Yemaya's eyebrows shot up questioningly.

"And who would you invite to this party?"

"Everyone!"

"Everyone? Everyone cannot fit into our banquet room, nor does it accurately answer my question."

Dakota's green eyes twinkled with mischief.

Not good, Yemaya thought, knowing she had a hard time denying Dakota anything.

"Well, you know, there's mom, Raidon and Reymone, of course... and a few of your friends from town... ummm...  Sonny, Suzanne, maybe my publisher..."

"I am not —"

"Then there's Granny, Mari, Sarpe... oh, and Ekimmu. We can't invite Sarpe with inviting Ekimmu," Dakota mused.

"You want to —"

"Let's see... Arbora, Ursa... Heck, we can invite all of the Spirits," Dakota said, grinning.

"You want to invite the Spirits and humans?"

"Sure! Why not?"

"First," Yemaya said, "I doubt if the Spirits would care to mix with humans and second, the humans would be terrified."

"Don't be ridiculous. Our friends are used to being around weird people... Well, I don't mean weird like weird. You know what I mean."

"I am afraid so," Yemaya said. "I will think about it."

"Great! Then it's settled. Oh, and we can't leave out Intunecat."

"Intunecat! Are you serious? And what do you mean, it is settled?"

Dakota shrugged

"I kind of like him, in an odd sort of way. And when you say you'll think about it, it's a done deal."

"You like Intunecat? He has caused us nothing but trouble," Yemaya said. "I have obviously spoiled you."

"Me? Spoiled? I'm not even going to go there," Dakota said. "And I happen to like Intunecat... in a strange sort of way. He did help save you in New Orleans... and I think he's just lonely."

"Lonely." Yemaya rolled her eyes. "How did you come to that conclusion?"

"He acts lonely. Besides, Lilith can keep him company... and the ladies from the nightclub."

"You also want to invite Demons? Demons, Spirits and humans, all in the same room... at the same time? It is a disaster waiting to happen. There is no way I am —"

"Oh come on, Yemaya. Isn't it time everyone put away their biases?"

Rolling Dakota off of her, Yemaya sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed.

"Why not just invite a few Angels too?" she asked, her voice tinged with sarcasm.

"Do you know any?" Dakota asked, ignoring the tone. "I think that would be awesome."

"No, I do not know any Angels, but I am sure Lilith does. Hell, we might as well invite Dis, too. Why leave him out?"

Dakota gave Yemaya a thoughtful look and then smiled.

"Now you've got the idea. Dis definitely would arouse a lot of interest."

"Dakota, I was being facetious. We cannot invite Dis."

"Why not? It's a Halloween party. No one will take him seriously."

"Everyone will take him seriously. He will make sure they do."

"Yemaya, you can be such a pessimist. If Lilith comes, she'll keep him in line."

Shaking her head, Yemaya stood and walked toward the bathroom. Dakota jumped up and ran after her.

"You have a lot of expectations for Lilith. Are you inviting her to have fun or babysit the boys?"

"Paleeze," Dakota begged, wrapping her arms around Yemaya from behind. "It'll be so much fun."

Yemaya turned and wrapped her arms around Dakota. Leaning down, she kissed her gently on the lips and then pushed her lover away.

"I will think about it," she said, knowing Dakota was right. She was going to give in, just not too quickly.

*  *  *

Dakota was thrilled when Yemaya finally agreed to the party, especially after she offered to pay for everyone's airfare... humans, that is. All Dakota had to do was send the invitations and make the arrangements. That meant enlisting the aid of others.

Mom will help. She can send the invitations to everyone in the States, Dakota thought. I'll send her an email outlining the plans and the date. This is going to be so much fun! Now, who to invite? Chin cupped in her left hand, she stared at the blank sheet in front of her and then grabbed a pencil.

Snick!

Damn pencil!

Flinging it into the fireplace, she picked up a pen and began scribbling names. Let's see. There's Sonny, Suzanne, Robbie, and all of Yemaya's crew. Mom, of course.

For a moment, a great sadness swept over Dakota. Memories of her grandmother flashed through her mind. Paz had died less than a year ago. I wish you could be here, Grams. I miss you so much. Dakota sighed and then perked up thinking of others to add to the list. Granny Dakota and Mari, and all the Spirits... and I can't forget Ekimmu. Sarpe wouldn't like that. The list grew longer and longer. Lilith and all the Demonesses from the club... oh, and Dis. Who else? Gypsies! Yemaya will be hurt if I don't invite them... and a few of the townspeople. I'd better get her approval on which ones. Some of them are a bit superstitious and might freak out.

"Surely you're going to invite me," a soft voice to Dakota's left said, making her jump. Spinning around, she saw a ghostly apparition floating near the fireplace.

"Saira! How —"

"I was called. Apparently your party is going to be quite an event... if the tug is any indication," the Traveler said.

"I hope so. And I would never leave you out of any of my parties."

"I'm not so sure you'd be able to keep me away. Such a gathering has never occurred before... if you can make it happen."

Saira's comment was like a splash of cold water in the face.

"Oh, I hadn't considered —" she said, suddenly feeling depressed. "Maybe no one will want to come."

"That's a possibility," Saira agreed, gliding toward the desk. "But you'll never know if you don't try."

That's true! What do I have to lose? Dakota thought.

"You're right," she said aloud and then snapped her fingers. "Saira, would you help me with this?"

"What do you need?"

"If I write up the invitations, could you deliver a few for me? I don't have a way of contacting Dis... and... well, maybe you could take one to Sabnock and Constance. I know it's only wishful thinking, but I'd like them to know I'm thinking of them."

Saira gave Dakota a thoughtful look.

"I'll let them know. Dis is unpredictable and very self-absorbed... and he has little use for humans. I'd be surprised if he showed up. Sabnock and Constance? Their journey would be extremely difficult," Saira said.

"I know. I appreciate your help. I didn't think about how much work was going to be involved in just getting invitations to some... and I still have to make arrangements for —"

The den door opened, interrupting Dakota.

"Who are you talking to?" Yemaya asked, walking into the room.

"Hi sweetie. Saira dropped —" Dakota motioned toward the fire and then frowned.

"Apparently she had another calling," Yemaya said, her lips curving slightly upward as she suppressed a smile. "How are the plans coming along?"

"I didn't realize parties were so much work. I'm just finishing up the guest list and haven't even thought about the decorations or menu."

"Maria can take care of the menu. Perhaps you should focus on the decorations, since this is going to be a Halloween party. Andrea can take you to town to check out the local shops."

Chapter 2

THE SOUND OF FALLING water was faint, far quieter than it should have been, considering the volume of water pouring over the precipice thousands of feet in the air. Dakota stood transfixed, mesmerized by the white mist swirling inches above the crystal blue lake.

"It's so beautiful," she said and then turned and hugged her spirit grandmother. Maopa hugged her back.

"I nevah grows tarred of it," Maopa said. Mari, her partner, stood quietly beside them. "But that tain't why yer here, Chile. What be a troublin' yah?"

"Nothing, Granny. I'm planning a Halloween party and want you two to come."

"A Hallerween party! Why in tarnation would yah be wantin' us tah be thar? We're just a couple of old Spirits."

"All the more reason," Dakota replied, grinning. "What better reason to come! Besides, it'll be fun. I'm inviting a bunch of people... Well, not people exactly... Some people, of course."

"Chile, yah bez as flustered as a flock of hens. Who yah be a askin' to this here party, anyways, that got yah so excited?"

"No one you don't know, I think. If you'd let the Council know, I'd appreciate it. And tell Sarpe to bring Ekimmu. Oh, and Intunecat."

"Intunecat?"

Maopa and Dakota turned to look at Mari.

She is so like Yemaya, Dakota thought. If it wasn't for the silver hair, they could be twins.

"Sure! Why not?"

"I really don't think Intunecat's into partying," Mari said. "He likes his solitude."

"I think he's lonely," Dakota said. "And I can't invite the other Council members and not him. He'd be hurt."

"Chile, tain't nothin gonna hurt Intunecat's feelins."

"Maybe not, but I'm not taking the chance. He's been sort of nice lately."

"I believe you're right, Dakota," Mari said. "It certainly won't hurt to tell him. I wouldn't get my hopes up too much, though. Who else are you inviting?"

Dakota's green eyes sparkled with enthusiasm and she smiled proudly.

"Lilith, Kali, Agra and the other Demonesses from the club, Also Cammie. Some of Yemaya's crew... and mom, of course."

"Of course. I haven't talked to Lilith in awhile. She's a fascinating person."

"She certainly bez that," Maopa agreed.

"Yes, I've also talked to Saira. She's going to contact Dis and see if he'll come."

"Dis?" Mari's eyes widened in surprise. "You're asking Dis to a Halloween party?"

"Yah bez purty brazen to ask that un," Maopa chimed in. "Why would yah be a wantin' that rascal, fer goodness sakes?"

Looking down at the ground, Dakota scraped her right foot back and forth. Mari and Maopa made eye contact and shook their heads simultaneously. Mari winked and nodded her head toward Dakota. Maopa smiled.

"Nevah yah mind, Chile. If'n yah wants that un tah be thar, tain't no skin off our necks. I bez a-doubtin he'd showed up... but I has tah say it'd make thangs mighty interestin', seein' him and Intunecat tahgether in the same room."

Sighing with relief, Dakota looked at the two Spirits, her enthusiasm returning.

"I was thinking the same thing. Okay, I have to see if I can find Lilith now. I hope she's not out of town... or the planet, for that matter. See you soon." Giving Mari and Maopa a hug, Dakota vanished from the Spirit world.

"I hope that chile knowed what she's gettin into."

Mari laughed.

"She's your daughter, Love."

Chapter 3

LILITH FROWNED AS she listened to Kali's report on the Sisterhood.

"Some of the whores are being harassed by a new pimp in town. Two Sisters have been attacked, but no one knows for sure if it was the pimp's thugs."

"Who is this man?" Lilith asked. "And where is he from?"

"His name is Franklin Wilson."

"Senator Wilson's son?"

"The same," Kali replied.

"I'm not surprised. The Senator's escapades are well known amongst the less reputable businesses. His day is coming soon. Take Agra and pay young Franklin a visit." The energy around Kali crackled. No one touched her whores. Teaching Franklin a lesson was going to be a pleasure. "And Kali, make sure he understands that his own whores are now forfeited. They are under the protection of the Sisterhood."

"He's not going to like that," Kali said, smiling broadly.

"His likes are of no concern to me... and I'm sure your gift of persuasion will make him quite agreeable to any terms you wish to dictate to him, should you think of a few more."

"I can always think of ways to make pimps amenable."

"Excellent. I'm looking forward to your next report," Lilith said.

As Kali turned to leave, Lilith's phone rang. Holding up her hand, Lilith signaled for Kali to stay.

"Lilith's Den. This is Lilith."

"Lilith, this is Dakota. How are you and the girls?"

"The girls are fine," Lilith said, her lips twitching slightly. "As am I. How are you and Yemaya? It's been quite awhile since you've visited the Den." An audible sigh on the line made the Demoness smile. "Is something wrong?" she asked.

"Oh no. We flew back to Moldova a couple of months ago. Hopefully we'll be back in the States in a few months. Yemaya is planning a new show... But that's not why I called. I'm having a Halloween party and want you and all the girls to come."

"All the girls meaning all the girls or just the Den's girls?"

"Well, I was mostly thinking about the nightclub employees, but..." A slight pause was followed by an almost inaudible giggle. "If any of your girls want to come, all the better. Yemaya said she'd pay for everyone's airfares. Maybe she'll charter a flight."

"I can afford my girls' fares, if any wish to attend. They're due for a little vacation. Is this party going to be formal or informal?"

"It's a costume party," Dakota said.

"You convinced Yemaya to have a costume party? I'm surprised. She doesn't strike me as one who would participate in such an event."

"Well, it wasn't easy... and I'm not sure if I can actually get her into a costume, but she's a good sport. If nothing else, she can always wear one of her performance outfits. Ummm... The girls won't mind coming in costume, will they Oh, damn! I forgot to tell Mari and Grandma Dakota it's a costume party."

"You've invited the Spirits?"

"Yeah, all of the Council. Mari's going to see if Intunecat will come. She has little hope of that though."

Lilith could hear Dakota's disappointment and was surprised.

"I didn't know you liked Intunecat," she said.

"He's okay. I think he's lonely. A little socializing would be good for him."

"You may be right, Dakota. Perhaps I'll pay him a little visit and see if I can help persuade him. It would certainly make the night more interesting."

"Oh would you? That would be wonderful. Listen, I've set the date for ..."

Lilith scribbled the details on her calendar.

"I'll pass on the information. Thank you for inviting us," she said and then turned to Kali once she hung the phone up. "You heard?"

Kali rolled her eyes and nodded.

"I'll let everyone know. Now I'm going to have to think up a costume."

"You could always go as a Demoness," Lilith suggested and smirked.

"Now there's an idea." Waving goodbye, Kali left to take care of business.

Chapter 4

THE WRITHING BODIES looked like a mass of intertwined worms locked in a struggle for freedom. Laughter, grunts and groans filled the room, making it impossible for anyone to have a conversation, not that anyone wanted to. The pleasures of the body were all that mattered.

Dis yawned. Bored with the activities around him, he climbed out of the enormous bed and strolled from the room, not even bothering to put on his robe. Several minions scrambled after him, anxious to fulfill his every wish.

"You something wish, Master?" Gornich asked, wringing her hands nervously.

"No. Yes. Bring me a drink."

"What wish you, Master?"

"I don't know. Something with ice. Bring me a cola."

Gornich bowed and rushed from the room. The Underlord loved soft drinks, especially those that came in red cans. A special freezer had been designed to store ice and cold beverages. Snowballs did have a chance in Hell, as long as they were the property of the Underlord.

*  *  *

Sipping his drink, Dis stared at the flames dancing in fireplace. Life was no longer exciting. The Great Battle had ended eons ago. His Twin had all but abandoned the mortal world, preferring to remain secluded in a laboratory filled with thousands of experiments. Many humans had grown bored with religions and no longer believed in Angels and Demons.

At least I can still count on the fanatics to keep my minions and Demons occupied. Without them, this place would be become bedlam. Sighing, he raised the glass to his lips, when the air around him shimmered.

"Don't you ever knock?" he asked as the apparition appeared in front of him.

"What would you have me knock on?"

"A door... a wall. You females just pop in uninvited as if you own the place."

"I'm assuming you are referring to Lilith as well as me," Saira said.

"Who else? Gornich!" he bellowed, standing up. "Bring me my robe."

"No need to dress up for me," Saira said. "I'm only here to deliver an invitation to you."

"An invitation? To what?"

"Robe here, Master." Gornich and several minions offered the garment to Dis, making sure it didn't touch the floor. Dis waved them aside.

"To a Halloween party. Yemaya and Dakota are having one. Dakota has asked me to extend an invitation to you."

Dis threw back his head and laughed.

"What a ridiculous idea! Me at a Halloween party?"

"I'm just the messenger. No one expects you to show up."

The remark caught Dis by surprise.

"Why not? I love parties."

"You love orgies."

"Of course. Is there any other type of party? Naked bodies thrashing around in bed, indulging every sexual whim and perversion the mind can conceive?"

"Yes, a costume party."

"Costume! You mean like monsters and clowns stuff?" Dis strolled over to the fireplace and rested his right arm on the mantle. "Has this human lost her mind?"

"Not at all. She invited Lilith and the other Demonesses, as well as the Spirit Council. I believe she's under the impression that you are lonely."

"Me? Lonely? Absurd! I am the master of my domain and those that live here. How could I possibly be lonely?"

Saira moved to the balcony and pointed to the fiery world in front of her.

"How could you not?" Saira replied. "Your world is beautiful. The oranges and blues are a striking blend. You have millions of inhabitants who either worship you or fear you, but does anyone love you?" Saira held up her hand to keep Dis from answering. "An unfair question and none of my business. My mission was to give you the invitation. I've done that. Now I must be gone. I feel a new tug."

Saira disappeared just as suddenly as she arrived.

"Damn female!" Dis bellowed, clenching his hands into fists and throwing his arms into the air. "I get no respect!" Only the presence of Gornich and the other minions kept him from stamping his hooved foot. "Out!" he ordered and then watched with satisfaction as they scurried from the room.

"Me! At a Halloween party! Ridiculous!"

The Party

Chapter 1

THERE WERE OVER a hundred people at the party. The costumes were as diversified as the people and entities wearing them. Vampires and werewolves were the most popular choices, although not by the villagers. Their fears of such creatures were deeply embedded. Elves, skeletons and clowns followed. Only the humans chose the typical outfits, with the exception of the gypsies. They came as themselves, believing that being colorful was what really mattered.

*  *  *

"Just about everyone took your wishes seriously," Yemaya said, staring at the milling crowd from the balcony overlooking the banquet hall.

"I'll say." Dakota clapped her hands together like an excited child. "I recognize most of the people and a few of the others. The Demons and Spirits showed very little imagination, though. That's kind of disappointing."

Yemaya laughed. "What better costumes than being themselves? Everyone has been asking where we got such well-trained animals."

That's true, Dakota thought. Dressed as an exotic snake charmer, Ekimmu had Sarpe draped around her neck and over her shoulders. The snake Spirit rested her head between her lover's breasts, obviously quite contented. Her elliptical eyes were closed. She appeared to be asleep. Dakota knew better.

Arbora was simply Arbora. Dark green hair cascaded down her olive green back. A wreath of purple flowers circled her forehead. Her short, thigh-length gown was purple and made of woven spider silk. Arbora's left hand rested on Ursa's broad, furry shoulders, her fingers casually scratching the sensitive spot at the base of the neck. Dakota was surprised the forest Spirit had managed to talk the bear Spirit into coming to the party. Ursa was normally grumpy and somewhat anti-social.

Mari stood a few feet away from the other Spirits with Ladyhawk resting on her right shoulder. She had chosen a shimmering pale blue, ankle-length gown, emphasizing her height and perfect figure. Her silver hair flowed like water over her shoulders and back while her face was concealed behind a mask the color of her dress. Considering her likeness to Yemaya, Dakota thought the mask was a good idea.

Granny Dakota wore Eighteenth-Century buckskin breeches, boots and shirt. Simple, but one-hundred percent Granny.

Needless to say, the Spirits were attracting a lot of attention, something they weren't used to, but appeared to be taking in stride... and enjoying.

"I would say your party is a success," a sultry voice said from behind Yemaya and Dakota.

Turning, both women watched the costumed figure of Lilith approaching.

"Morticia!" Dakota exclaimed. "What a great outfit! It suits you."

"Thank you," Lilith said, her bright red lips curling into a smile."It did seem appropriate, although for the life me I don't know how she walked in such a tight dress. I think I'd rather be wearing your costume, Yemaya."

Everyone laughed. Yemaya had chosen one of her performance outfits, a sleek, form-fitting, single-piece black jumpsuit with flames running up both legs and down the arms. Her mask had a similar design. Icy blue eyes twinkled through the slits.

"I bet you do," Dakota said. "It's hot!"

"You don't look so bad yourself. There was once a time when women were highly prized if they were skilled exotic dancers."

"As property, you mean." Dakota grimaced.

"Yes. The world has changed a lot, but not always for the better. Well, I really should check on my girls. This may be a bit overwhelming for them."

Dakota touched Lilith lightly on the arm.

"Thank you for bringing them... and for coming. It means a lot to me."

"You're welcome, Dakota. It was an honor to be invited. Perhaps we'll have some time to talk later. I'd like to know more about your next show, Yemaya."

"I look forward to it," Yemaya said and then turned to Dakota. "We should join our guests."

*  *  *

No one knew for sure what made them look up toward the balcony overhanging the banquet room... no one, that is, except the Demonesses and Dis. Even the Spirits' eyes were irresistibly drawn to the two figures standing quietly together, arms wrapped in a gentle embrace. Lost in each others' gaze, the two women appeared oblivious to the curiosity and admiration of the crowd below.

"What a stunning woman," Suzanne whispered to the small group around her. As Yemaya's senior assistant, she was used to seeing beautiful people in the entertainment community. None of them compared to the taller woman, who seemed to be shielding her partner.

"I'll say," Bobby said. "She's even more gorgeous than Yemaya."

Suzanne hit him on the shoulder with the back of her hand and looked around, hoping their boss, Yemaya, or Dakota wasn't within hearing distance.

"As beautiful," she corrected.

"Yemaya wouldn't care if we thought someone was better looking," Paula piped in. "She's the most unpretentious person I've ever met. Knowing her, 'she'd agree with Bobby... and I have to say: Wow! What a body!"

From the conversations taking place around them, others were voicing similar thoughts.

*  *  *

Tall, lightly tanned and lithely muscled, the woman had a thick mass of wavy red-orange hair spilling onto her shoulders and down her back like molten lava. A two-piece, coal-black bikini top and short loincloth trimmed in fiery orange emphasized her physical perfection. The loincloth barely reached her thighs. A slit on the side of each leg exposed an orange brief underneath. Strapped to her hip was a sword sheathe similar to the Japanese Katana. There was no doubt this woman was a warrior. Sandals with leather laces wound around and up her calves, ending just below the knees.

"That bez a mighty fine 'lookin' woman," Maopa said nudging Mari in the ribs. "I sweared 'if'n I 'weren't yourn, I'd be houndin' her like a coon dog in heat."

Mari gave her Spirit-partner a wry look and shook her head.

"It's a good thing I decided to come with you, then, isn't it?" she teased.

Maopa grinned. "Naw. Ain't no one as good lookin' as you. Still, ain't no denyin' that one is something else. The li'l one next tah her is as cute as a button. They makes a mighty fine couple."

"You're right about that. I wonder who they are."

"Let's go ask 'em," Maopa said, pulling on Mari's arm. "And find out if'n them thar tattoos is real. I always wanted me a tattoo and them's the best I ever seen. They almost looks real from here, all flickery, I mean."

*  *  *

Maopa was right. Several brilliant orange flames ran up the warrior's left arm and down her right forearm. Each glowed and wavered faintly whenever an arm moved. Had it not been for that, she could have been mistaken for an exquisite statue.

Leaning slightly against her was a shorter woman, with black hair fixed in coils on top of her head, and wearing a Roman-style, golden, floor length dress. Golden bands surrounded her biceps. A gold chain hung around her slender neck. Attached was an iridescent green pendant that seemed to pulsate, as if mimicking the heartbeat of the wearer. Her pale complexion gave the impression of vulnerability. Perhaps that was why her companion seemed to be supporting her with her left arm.

The whispers continued. It was only when the two turned their gazes from each other to the crowd below that the room grew silent... and then returned to normal. Several guilty giggles, mostly from the whores, could be heard above the hum of conversations. The only thing they liked better than gossiping was fantasizing, and the latest arrival had stimulated their imaginations well beyond anything they had ever experienced before.

*  *  *

Yemaya was chatting with Kenyon and his wife, Gerda, when she sensed a new presence. The beast also felt something. It shuddered and withdrew deep into its lair, afraid. Surprised, Yemaya shook her head feeling momentarily disoriented.

"Are you alright, Miss Lysanne?" Kenyon asked, his expression showing concern.

"I am fine, Kenyon, thank you. Please excuse me. If I ignore Dakota too long, she will think I have forgotten about her. I appreciate you and Gerda coming to the party."

"It was our pleasure. The missus and I haven't enjoyed ourselves this much in years."

Watching Yemaya as she walked away, Kenyon leaned toward Gerda and whispered in her ear, "Such a wonderful person."

Gerda nodded and then tugged Kenyon in the opposite direction.

"I just have to talk to that woman with all those animals. Maybe I can get her to bring them to my classroom. The children would love it."

"Yes, dear," Kenyon said. His wife was now on a mission, and he was being dragged along as an accomplice.

*  *  *

Dakota watched Yemaya weaving her way through the milling guests and frowned, sensing something was wrong.

"Are you okay?" she asked, her concern evident in her voice.

"Something frightened the beast," Yemaya said. Dakota would know what she was referring to.

"Are you in danger? Can I help in any way?"

"No, I am fine. It has been quiet for so long, I had almost forgotten about it. I was caught off guard when I felt its terror."

"Well, I'm all for anything that keeps it at bay," Dakota said.

"Normally, I would be —" Yemaya stopped and looked up toward the balcony. As if on cue, everyone around them did the same and the room grew quiet.

"Holy shit!" someone exclaimed, breaking the silence, and then the whispers began.

"Is that? It is! It's Sabnock!" Dakota grabbed Yemaya's hand and pulled her toward the stairs. "Who's the woman with her? Why isn't Constance —?"

"I believe that is Constance," Yemaya said. Dakota stopped so suddenly, Yemaya bumped into her, almost knocking her down.

"It can't be. Constance is an old woman. I mean... this woman is young and... and handsome." She turned her attention back to the couple and her eyes widened. "That's Constance!" Yanking Yemaya's hand again, she ran up the steps. Yemaya had no choice but to follow.

"Constance!" Dakota squealed, tears running down her cheeks. She rushed to the librarian and gave her a long hug. "I missed you sooo much. You look stunning... and Sabnock, you're gorgeous! How are you?"

Constance looked up into the eyes of her lover and smiled. Her black eyes twinkled with suppressed humor... and something else.

"We're fine!"

Sabnock gave a slight nod.

"I never had the chance to thank both of you for all that you did for Constance," the Demoness said.

"We were honored that you trusted us," Yemaya replied. "And there is nothing we would not have done for her."

"You know I'm in the room, don't you." Hands on hips, Constance gave everyone an indignant look.

"Apparently, everyone knows you are in the room. How long can you stay?" Yemaya asked.

"Only a few hours," Sabnock said. "Perhaps we can go somewhere more private for a chat after we've circulated amongst your guests. I'd like to pay my respects to Lilith. I owe her more than she can ever imagine."

"Let's meet back here in an hour," Dakota suggested. "That way you can talk to... Uh oh. Granny's on her way up. Make that two hours. She's going to want to know everything about you."

"I think we'll be able to handle her," Constance said, smiling. "Besides, it should be an interesting conversation. I haven't met many Spirits in my lifetime. Have you?" she asked, turning a questioning look to Sabnock.

"No. It will be an honor to talk to your ancestors. Constance has mentioned your grandmother Dakota and the Earth Mother."

"Then we will see you later. Dakota?" Yemaya said, extending her hand to her partner.

Chapter 2

LUCIAN AND NICOLAE had been friends all their lives. Where one went, the other followed. Usually Nicolae was the instigator.

"I tell you we do this," Nicolae said, trying to reassure Lucian. "No one pay attention to us while in these costumes."

"But if we get caught, Nicolae, we —"

"We what? What they do? Eat us? Drink our blood? You scared of boogie man, Lucian?"

"Mama and Papa say the Lysannes are not human. Maybe even Drac!"

"Your mama and papa like villagers in old movies —superstitious and scared of own shadows. Come on, Lucian, nothing happen, I promise."

Reluctantly, Lucian agreed. He and Nicolae had spent an entire week putting together costumes. They would dress as Romani. Wearing bright red vests, white shirts, head scarves and sashes around their waists, they felt secure they would blend in with the other guests. The biggest obstacle was slipping out of their homes and traveling several kilometers up the road to the castle without getting caught.

They had taken a practice run with their bikes three days before and knew they could make the trip in less than an hour. Stashing the bicycles behind some trees about a half kilometer away, Nicolae and Lucian crept through the woods, guided mostly by the noise of music and voices. Fortunately, the sky was cloudless and a full moon lit the forest, making it easy to see where they were walking. What they didn't see, however, were the creatures of the night lurking nearby, each intent on preventing the trespassers from reaching their destination.

*  *  *

"Look!" Nicolae said, lying on a rocky precipice overlooking the castle. Several people were standing on a wooden bridge spanning a moat. Others wandered around the manicured property, obviously fascinated with the structure if their pointing to the gargoyles on the crenulated walls were any indication.

"There are wolves down there," Lucian said, his voice quavering slightly.

"So what? They don't know who invited... unless you think they read. Come on. We sneak down to cars and then just walk..."

"Grrrrrrrrrrrrrr!"

The low growl startled the two boys and they froze.

"Did you hear that?" Lucian whispered.

"Shhhhh! Be quiet!" Nicolae ordered, looking around. The growl had come from his right, but he didn't see anything.

"Grrrrrrrrrrrr!"

Another growl came from the left. Turning his head slowly, Nicolae gasped. White glowing eyes and fangs gleamed in the moonlight. Slowly, deliberately, a large black wolf stepped from the darkness, followed by two smaller ones.

"We're dead!" Lucian cried out, and crossed his chest with his right hand.

When two more wolves approached them from the right, Nicolae knew his friend was right and called out to the Virgin Mary to save him. He would be disappointed.

*  *  *

Yemaya had just finished chatting with Lilith, Kali and Cammie, when her housekeeper touched her on her left shoulder. Leaning down to hear better, Yemaya listened to Maria's words and nodded.

"Where are they now?"

"Andrea has brought them to the kitchen. Regina and Voinic are guarding them."

"Good! Keep them there. We must think of a proper punishment."

"Trouble in paradise?" a deep baritone voice asked.

Maria and Yemaya looked up to see a large, partially naked, red-skinned man with horns strolling toward them. Polished hooves clicked on the marble floors.

"Dis!" Even Yemaya couldn't conceal her surprise at seeing the Underlord.

Dis' laughter rumbled through the room, temporarily silencing everyone. The guests turned toward the source and quickly averted their eyes when they saw the huge, muscular Demon. A burgundy loincloth barely concealed the enormous bulge beneath it.

"He's big!" one of the whores said.

"In more ways than one," another added. "Would you look at the size of that package!"

"I'd like to see if it's real."

"See, my ass," a third replied. "Any man who can dream up a costume like that has to have a great imagination. I bet he knows a hundred ways to pleasure a woman."

A young man standing near them giggled.

"Or a man. All those bulging muscles. Mmmm... mmmm... mmmm... mmmm... mmmm. He's yummy."

"Yummy?" Dis wasn't sure whether to be insulted or amused at the description.

"Consider it a compliment. Jacque is hard to please," Yemaya said.

"Maybe I'll see how hard later tonight," Dis said. "But that's not why I'm here. You wish to punish someone? I'm an expert at punishment."

"Nothing drastic, Dis. Two young villagers wanted to join the party. I would prefer they not interact with my guests, and be discouraged from any future ambitions. Without harming them, of course."

"Of course. Even I understand youthful indiscretions... and that you have an image to maintain. Perhaps a man-to-man... boys... chat will suffice."

"Why are you being so helpful?" Yemaya asked, suspicious of Dis' motives. "This is not like you."

Dis' eyes flared momentarily and Yemaya felt the beast slink deeper into its lair. A pain shot through her temples. Closing her eyes, she pressed them with her fingertips, trying to alleviate the residual ache that followed. When it disappeared, she opened her eyes and looked up into Dis' calm gaze.

"I have my moments. Consider it a thank you for the invitation. This night has been quite entertaining. Some of the humans are trying to figure out how I was able to attach my horns and make them stay in place. Others think I'm wearing a body suit. They tell me it looks very real. Naturally, the Spirits know who I am. I find them interesting, especially Sarpe. She is very old."

"Mari says she is ancient. I am surprised Sarpe talked to you. She can be distant at times."

"Sarpe and I have a lot in common. Enough about her for now. Do you want me to deal with your intruders or not?"

Yemaya thought about it for a few seconds and then relented.

"Why not? As long as you do not do irreparable harm."

Tipping his head at a slight angle, Dis nodded and then turned to Maria, who had remained quiet and inconspicuous during the exchange.

"You will show me the way," he ordered.

Maria straightened up and puffed her chest out. Hands on hips, she leaned threateningly toward the Underlord.

Dis sighed.

"Please," he said, sounding disgusted.

"That's better." Maria stalked off, her back rigid with pride. She had just bested the head Demon... not that anyone would believe her.

*  *  *

Dakota had watched the exchange between Dis and Yemaya. When Yemaya touched her temples, Dakota began pushing her way through the crowd, anxious to reach her partner.

"Are you all right?" she asked, reaching her goal.

"I am fine."

"What did Dis do to you?" Dakota asked.

"Nothing. I think the beast is going to be in hiding for a long time after tonight. It appears extremely intimidated by Sabnock and Dis."

"I can't believe he actually came, can you?"

"I am as surprised as you. He seems to be enjoying himself, though," Yemaya said.

Smiling, Dakota's eyes followed the Underlord as he made his way through the crowd. There was no doubt he was a magnificently intimidating figure.

"Cool!"

*  *  *

Two figures sat huddled on stools in the kitchen. The wolves lay in front of them, their eyes never leaving their captives. Whenever the boys moved, the wolves growled menacingly.

"We're dead!" Lucian repeated. Nicolae, who was normally the leader, said nothing.

The kitchen door swung open, making both of them jump. The housekeeper walked in, followed by a monstrous-sized devil. Eyes widening, Lucian and Nicolae gasped and then trembled. A wet spot appeared on Nicolae's crotch and spread down his thighs.

"Mother Mary, protect us!" he prayed aloud, crossing his chest and then clasping his hands in prayer.

"You dare invoke the holy in my presence?" the devil demanded, striding determinedly toward the frightened boys.

"No... No, sir."

"You have pissed yourself, boy," the devil said, his voice filled with disgust."

Cheeks flushed, Nicolae lowered his head in embarrassment.

"Look at me, boy, when I am talking to you."

Nicolae's head shot up.

"You piss yourself and then call on Mary to save you?"

"Noo... I mean... Ye... Yesss, sir."

"She will not save you. Nothing can save a liar. You are mine, now."

"You... Yours?"

"Yes, mine! You trespass on this property. You sneak out of your parent's home, hoping to crash a party you aren't invited to. Such behavior deserves a reward. I'm going to enjoy your company for a long time."

Lucian, who had remained quiet, leaned toward Nicolae and whispered.

"I told you we shouldn't come here."

"Quiet! You were not told to speak," Dis ordered. "At least you have not fouled yourself like your friend. I like bravery. If you please me, I may reward you. I can be generous, when I want. Now, what should I do with you for now?"

"Please... Let us go home and we'll be good," Nicolae begged.

"Good! You think I want you to be good?" Hands on his hips, Dis threw back his head and laughed. "I get no pleasure from good little boys."

"We'll do whatever you want. Just let us go home."

"Well now. Whatever I want! That is a bargain I like. Perhaps I will let you go... this time. If I do, I will collect the debt owed. Make sure you are willing to pay it."

"Yes, sir," Nicolae and Lucian promised, simultaneously.

"Go then! And remember, I know your names and everything about you. You are mine, now."

Dis turned and left the room, but stopped just outside of the boys' sight.

"Are you going to keep that promise?" Lucian asked Nicolae.

"No. Didn't you hear him? He said he had no use for good boys. I be good from now on. Real good!"

"Me too!"

Neither heard Dis' chuckle as strolled away to rejoin the party.

This is turning out to be a lot of fun, he thought.

Midnight Strikes

The chiming of the large clock hanging on the wall rang in the hour of midnight. Everyone stopped to listen.

Small clusters of costumed figures were scattered throughout the banquet hall, each involved in their own private conversations. Several whores were questioning the Spirits about their costumes, while others flirted unapologetically with Dis, making it clear their services were available at no cost. Yemaya's crew was torn between their admiration of the Spirits' costumes and fascination with Sabnock and Constance. The villagers roamed from group to group, trying to interact with as many guests as possible. They sensed this night was like no other they would ever experience again, but didn't know why.

Needing a break, Dakota wandered to a secluded corner and relaxed against the wall. The party was a huge success, beyond her wildest dreams... and yet, something was missing.

If only —

"Ah, here you are, Little One. I've been searching for you."

Straightening, Dakota looked into the black eyes of the hooded figure in front of her.

"Intunecat!" she squealed, throwing her arms around the dark Spirit. "I didn't think you would come."

Caught off guard, Intunecat remained still until Dakota released him and stepped back.

"Oh, gosh, I'm sorry," she said, embarrassed. "That was rather undignified for you, wasn't it?"

"No need to apologize. No one saw you," Intunecat said. "Both our reputations remain intact."

"As if I'm worried about my reputation. Besides, it would give the Spirits something to talk about."

"Just what those females need. More gossip material." Dakota smiled. She could just imagine the razzing Intunecat would get from Granny Dakota. "So, how are you doing? It's been awhile since our last encounter."

"I'm fine. Things have been quiet. Thankfully," Dakota said.

"And Yemaya? She is well?"

Dakota knew he was referring to the beast. It had been quiet since the New Orleans trip. The fact that it had reappeared tonight was troubling, even if it was in retreat mode.

"She's... fine."

Damn! Dakota thought. Intunecat would notice the hesitation and know something was wrong.

"I wouldn't worry too much about it," he said. "As long as she has you, it will never win."

"I know, but I still worry. There was a time when I thought you controlled the beast."

"How can you be so sure I don't?" the dark Spirit asked.

"New Orleans. When you helped us, I knew you didn't."

"Beware of jumping to wrong conclusions, Little One. Helping you served my purpose. The priestess had perverted her religion and was using Yemaya to gain more power. I couldn't allow that. But tonight isn't the night for serious discussions. Let us enjoy the moment."

"You're right." Taking Intunecat's hand, Dakota led him from the darkness. "Let's go find Yemaya. I'm sure she'd like to say hi."

"Yemaya never says hi," Intunecat replied, but relented to the human holding his hand.

*  *  *

Sabnock and Constance had returned to the balcony after visiting with a few guests and Lilith. When the black-cloaked figure appeared at midnight, they watched as it looked up at them and then glided silently through the crowd to the steps leading upward.

"I never expected this," Sabnock said, her right arm pulling Constance closer.

"If it makes you nervous, we can leave."

"No. There is no one who knows me better, or who I know better. It's strange, but I feel like I've gone back in time. I always looked forward to our meetings."

"I've only met it once," Constance said. "I never had the opportunity to say thanks. Shall we go and greet our benefactor?"

Sabnock nodded.

*  *  *

"It's good to see the two of you finally found each other." Its voice was calm and irresistibly soothing.

"Thanks to you," Constance said.

"Was the wait worth it?" The question was directed more at Sabnock than Constance.

"Yes. I would endure a thousand more deaths to be with Constance."

"I thought you were tired of that life."

"Happiness has a way of dulling the pains of the past," Sabnock said.

"Then I, too, am happy. No one deserves it more than you. Have you seen Dis? I sense his presence."

"No, we've managed to avoid him."

"That's wise," It agreed. "He was furious when you disappeared. You were his favorite. If he sees you, he'll want you back."

"Dis has no hold on me."

"Perhaps not, but that won't stop him from trying... And never underestimate the Underlord."

"I don't. Nor should he underestimate the strength of our love. Why are you here? I can't imagine you being invited."

"I'm rarely invited to parties," It said. "Nor do I normally like them. This one, however, is quite unique. I thought it would be fun walking amongst the living without being feared. For now, I'm just another guest in costume."

*  *  *

A shimmering in the air next to It attracted the attention of several costumed figures.

"What a great trick! Yemaya and Dakota must have spent a fortune on special effects," one guest said.

"She is The Illusionist. Who better than her to make this party interesting? I just wish I knew how she did that one. Hello!" the other person called out, waving to the apparition. When Saira waved back, everyone laughed. "That's so cool. An interactive hologram. It must have cost a fortune."

*  *  *

"So, at last, the final guest has arrived," It said. "What took you so long?"

"The same reason you took so long," Saira replied. "I had to wait until you arrived, although I didn't know it was going to be you. I hope you aren't here on business."

"I have no business here tonight, or anywhere else for the next hour."

"Then this is indeed a momentous occasion. It's too bad the world will never know."

*  *  *

"Hey! Hey you — hiccup — in the black robe and hood," a voice called out, the owner obviously intoxicated. "That's the worst costume — burp — here tonight." Turning abruptly back to his friends, the man staggered and then up-righted himself. "He thinks... he's the Rim Creeper — hiccup. No imag... nation. I ought to — burp — take that... sickle from his hands and —"

"Shut up, Jaimie," a girl said, pulling him toward an exit. "You're such an ass when you drunk."

*  *  *

"It's a good thing for him you decided to take a vacation," Saira said.

"His time is near. Perhaps then he will like my costume better."

"I doubt it."

"No matter. As you say, I am on vacation. My time is short. I think I shall take advantage of what's left and mingle. In the entire history of sentients, there has never been such a gathering of so many egos. This should prove most interesting."

It glided slowly away. Strangely, almost every human stepped aside, unconsciously clearing a path for the guest masquerading as the Grim Reaper. Others felt irresistibly drawn to the person in the black robe and hood. Obligingly, It stopped and patiently listened to the comments and even took time to answer a few question. Socializing was a new experience for Death.

*  *  *

Yemaya could feel the beast slinking cautiously toward the entrance of its lair. Apparently the fear of the Demons had eased enough that it had decided to test the barriers Yemaya had erected to keep it under control.

Go back into your hole.

The beast snarled, testing Yemaya's willpower for weaknesses. Even the smallest crack could give it the opportunity it needed.

"It will never give up," a voice calmly said, startling her and the beast.

Before Yemaya stood a hooded figure dressed entirely in black. The right emaciated hand held a long, curved sickle. Light reflected off the polished, gleaming blade. Rarely could anything or anyone leave Yemaya speechless. This was one of those occasions. She knew exactly who the person in front of her was. During one of her performances, she had felt its presence, something she would never forget.

"If I make you uneasy, I will go," Death said, turning to leave.

"No. No," Yemaya replied. "You caught me by surprise. Dakota and I saw you talking with some of our guests earlier and thought... she thought..."

Death cocked its head slightly. White eyes glowed from the blackness of its concealed face.

"She thought what? That I was mortal?"

"I am sure she did, although she did not mention that. She found it strange that no one else had dressed like the Grim Reaper, since it is a popular choice for Halloween parties. She thought you wore it well and commented on how you seemed to glide across the floor."

"And you? What did you think?"

"I knew you were real."

"Yet you didn't tell her. Why?"

"Dakota is a very caring person. She worries about those she loves."

"Yes, I felt her sorrow when I took her grandmother and again when I took Constance. She feels deeply."

Yemaya nodded and couldn't resist glancing at her partner who was in a conversation with Tee, Granny Dakota and Mari.

"She would think you came for her mother... or for me. Dakota would take even you on to protect us. She's like a mother hen defending her chicks. No matter how futile the effort, she would fight to the death." The irony of her comment didn't escape her and made a wry face. "You know what I mean."

"Your Dakota is tenacious, a worthy companion for you. Even now she comes to make sure you are well."

"You must allow me to do the introduction," Yemaya said.

"As you wish," Death said.

*  *  *

"Hey, Yemaya, I see you've found our mystery guest."

"Yes. Dakota, this is... Mr. Maortae, an old friend of... the family."

Dakota gave Yemaya a strange look. She obviously wanted to say something, but decided against it.

"I'm glad to meet you, Mr. Maortae. I'm at a slight disadvantage, since Yemaya has never mentioned you. No doubt an oversight."

"Understandable, Ms. Dakota. I travel a lot and rarely have time for casual visits."

"Oh, that's too bad. Yemaya and I always enjoy visitors. Since you're an old friend, perhaps you could squeeze us into your schedule while you're here. You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Dakota said, turning to Yemaya for confirmation.

"I would say that is completely up to Mr. Maortae," Yemaya said.

"It will be an honor to spend some time with you and Yemaya, but I'm afraid it won't be for awhile. I have several appointments that must be kept, the first less than twenty minutes away."

"Oh, can we get Andrea to drive you somewhere?" Dakota offered. "The car's just outside."

"That's kind of you, but I have my own transportation. Another day, maybe." Lifting Dakota's right hand, It leaned forward and placed a kiss on the back. "Until the next time." Turning, It gazed into Yemaya's eyes, its own gleaming white eyes narrowing almost to slits. "I've yet to determine when I shall return, but I can assure you it won't be soon,"

"I understand. Thank you." Yemaya understood the meaning.

"You have nothing to thank me for. Were it your time, nothing would keep me away."

"I know."

"Because this has been such a wonderful experience for me, I'd like to give you a gift, Yemaya."

"That is not necessary."

"Maybe not, but take it none the less." Reaching into his robe, he withdrew a small silver pendant with a matching silver chain. "This was your mother's. She wore it to keep her demons at bay. It will do the same for you."

Placing the pendant and chain in Yemaya's hand, he cupped his over hers. The beast whimpered and shook its head frantically. Then it yelped as if stung and charged into its lair, disappearing into the darkness.

"It will be a long time before it gets enough courage to return. This beast is powerful, but a coward. Wear the pendant. You have nothing to lose."

"You are protecting me. Why? And what price will I pay?"

"I enjoyed myself tonight. It felt good to walk among the living and not feel their fear. That is payment enough. Besides, as I said, the pendant was your mother's. I promised her that one day I would return it to you. I just didn't think it would be while you were alive. Goodbye, Yemaya. May you and Dakota live long and be happy."

"Thank you for this and for coming," Yemaya said.

Dakota listened to the conversation without interrupting. It wasn't hard for her to put two and two together.

"I'd also like to thank you for coming, Mr. Maortae. Feel free to attend any future parties... but keep the visit pleasure. Yemaya and I like to separate our work from our play... if you know what I mean."

"I know exactly what you mean, Ms. Dakota. Thank you for the invitation and the warning. Now, I must be gone. I look forward to seeing you one year from today." Without ceremony, Death vanished.

"What did he mean by that?" Dakota demanded, glaring at the spot where It had stood.

"I think he expects us to have another Halloween party next year," Yemaya said.

"Right, as if one close brush with Death isn't enough. I'll think long and hard before I do this again. Can we just sneak out and go to bed? I'm tired."

"You're forgetting that we have an appointment with Sabnock and Constance."

"Oh damn! That's right. We'll make it short. Sabnock did say they have a long journey. The other guests can leave whenever they want. Maria and Andrea will lock up."

"They have already gone to bed."

"Oh. That means it's just us." Dakota sighed.

"The wolves will make sure everyone gets off the property. They have done it before."

Taking Dakota's arm, they walked toward the stairs and looked up. Constance was leaning heavily against Sabnock, her head resting on the Demoness' shoulder. Eyes closed, she appeared to be sleeping. Sabnock stood straight and tall, her muscular arms wrapped gently around Constance's waist. Her chin rested on her lover's head as she gazed somewhere in the distance. The pendant around Contance's throat had ceased to glow.

"Maybe we should just let them alone," Dakota whispered.

"We will just say our goodbyes and hope they will be able to visit us another time," Yemaya said.

*  *  *

Sabnock didn't move when she saw Yemaya and Dakota walking toward her. Constance was asleep and Sabnock didn't want to awaken her. Their trip would be a long, exhausting one. No one could ever imagine the enormous distance they would travel to reach the Great Beyond.

"We're so sorry we didn't get here sooner. Is she alright?" Dakota asked, concerned for her friend. Asleep, Constance looked fragile.

"She will be fine once we are home. I'm sorry we can't stay. She was looking forward to talking with you. I would have liked to get to know you better."

"Maybe you can come another time... when things are less hectic," Yemaya suggested.

"Maybe. It isn't an easy journey."

Saira appeared beside Constance and leaned forward to look at the exhausted woman's face.

"Your journey will be quicker if I take you," she said. "I already have a strand leading there, so it will be no longer than the blink of an eye for you."

"I would be in your debt," Sabnock said.

"A favor among friends requires no debt. Are you ready?"

Sabnock nodded.

"Goodbye, my friends," she said. "We will return when we can. Thank you for thinking of us."

Dakota's eyes filled with tears. Walking to Sabnock, she stood on her tip toes and planted a kiss on her cheek. "I will miss both of you. It seems we are always saying goodbye."

"Goodbyes are only painful when they are final. Ours will never be that. Goodbye, Dakota. Goodbye, Yemaya."

Saira waved and then the three vanished, leaving Dakota and Yemaya alone on the balcony.

"Come, love," Yemaya said, wrapping her arm around Dakota's waist. "Your Halloween party was more successful than anyone could ever have imagined. We can relive it tomorrow, but tonight our bed calls to us."

Neither noticed Dis strolling out of the hall, surrounded by eleven whores. Lilith and Kali did, but decided to let things slide. They had promised their whores a good time. Dis was just the one to provide it. The two Demonesses also knew those particular whores were highly skilled in their trade. The Underlord would enjoy hours of entertainment and stimulation. Halloween was officially over, but for some the party was just beginning.

The End.

Double Trouble — A Family Holiday

RJ Nolan

Copyright © 2010 by RJ Nolan

All rights reserved.

Double Trouble

A Family Holiday

ERIN SNATCHED THE phone off the desk before the echo of the first ring faded, never bothering to check the caller ID. Right on time. Kris called every morning before she left the hotel for the day.

"Hey, honey. I miss you," Erin said.

Her greeting was met with dead silence.

"Kris?"

"No."

A grimace marred Erin's face when she recognized the voice of her caller.

"It's Scott."

Her good mood evaporated faster than rain on hot asphalt. Scott wouldn't be calling the day before he was supposed to take the kids unless he was going to cancel. He frequently made promises to Jenna and Christopher, then reneged at the last minute. Most times, Kris made it up to the kids with a special outing whenever their father let them down. But this time, she and Kris had plans of their own.

"What do you want, Scott?" Her anger leaked into her voice. The fact that their father didn't seem to give a shit about his children's feelings was more than she could take sometimes.

"Hello, Erin. So nice to talk to you too," Scott said.

Erin mentally counted to ten. She forced herself not to respond to Scott's sarcastic tone. Her continued anger would just make him feel justified in doing whatever he was going to anyway.

"I'm in the middle of work." She glanced at the computer screen with the half-completed report. And more importantly waiting for Kris's call. "What was it you called about?"

"I can't take the kids this weekend."

Big surprise there. "It's the week before Christmas. You've been promising them a special weekend with you since before Thanksgiving." Erin struggled to keep her tone even. "They've been talking about going to Legoland for weeks."

While Erin was a little ambivalent about letting the four-year-olds spend the night with their father for the first time, he had promised them an overnight stay with him.

"And I'll take them. Some other weekend," Scott said, his exasperation clearly evident in his tone. "I'm leaving tonight. I have to meet some important clients in Vail."

And you're just telling me now!

Her simmering anger boiled over.

"Fine. I'm sure Kris would be more than happy to take the kids to Legoland in your place."

Erin was sure she could hear Scott's teeth grinding together. Satisfaction quickly turned to guilt that her temper had gotten the better of her. At the best of times, Kris and Scott shared an uneasy truce. She shouldn't have stoked the fire between them.

As the silence continued, Erin began to wonder if Scott had hung up on her.

"Scott?"

"I will take them to Legoland. Just not this weekend," Scott said, sounding as if he was speaking through clenched teeth. "I have to work long, hard hours so I can support them. I don't have a job where I can sit at home and work when I want."

You are such an asshole. The call-waiting tone saved Erin from giving vent to a caustic reply. She glanced at the screen. Yes! "All right, Scott. I'll let the kids know. Bye."

With the click of a button, he was gone. Too bad it's not that easy in real life.

"Hey, honey. I missed you," Erin said.

"I missed you too, babe."

Erin could hear the smile in Kris's voice. Some of the stress of her conversation with Scott drained away. Still, she was not looking forward to telling Kris that their plans were ruined. Her anger at Scott rose anew for putting her in this position.

"How are things going? Do you think you'll be able to make your flight tonight?" Erin asked, trying to keep her tone light. She didn't want to drop this kind of thing in Kris's lap while she was away from home and trying to deal with a problem at work.

"What's wrong?" Kris asked. "You sound upset."

Nice going. You blew that one. "I didn't want to say anything until you got home, but Scott just called."

"He better not," Kris muttered under her breath.

Erin sighed. "I'm sorry —"

"Don't you dare apologize for him," Kris said, her voice tinged with anger. She blew out a breath. "Whatever it is, it's not your fault." Her voice softened. "What's going on?"

"Just what you thought," Erin said, letting some of her own anger out. "Bastard cancelled on the kids — again."

"That son of a bitch! Doesn't he care how much this hurts the kids?" Kris paused, then continued, "Never mind, stupid question, of course he doesn't."

She's already pissed, might as well get it all out. "Ah... with Alice and Robert still on their cruise, um... we won't be able to get away either." Kris had surprised her with tickets to a play she had been wanting to see, as well as an overnight reservation at a local luxury hotel right on the waterfront. It was to be a romantic getaway.

While Erin had taken satisfaction in managing to silence Scott, the silence from Kris made her stomach hurt. How long before she gets tired of dealing with all my baggage?

"I'm sorry, honey," Kris said.

What? "Why are you apologizing? My ex-husband is the one who just totally screwed our plans."

"I know. You're upset. The kids are going to be upset. I'm sorry I'm not there for you guys when you need me."

Tears sprang into Erin's eyes. A lump formed in her throat, making it hard to speak. She brushed at her tears. "You, Kris Rawlings, are one special lady — you know that? I love you."

"I love you too," Kris said, her voice thick with emotion. "My flight leaves at one. I should be home by four-thirty with luck."

"It's not a problem... You leaving early?"

Kris had gone to Portland earlier in the week to sort out some lingering problems with the new security software implementation. Erin had not expected her until late tonight.

"No. I've got things squared away here. I tried for an earlier flight, but wasn't able to get it. Don't worry about anything. I'll be home soon."

"Okay, honey. I love you. See you soon," Erin said.

"Love you too. Bye."

Erin hugged the phone to her chest. How did I ever get so lucky?

*  *  *

Kris lounged on the bed, watching Erin try to make up her mind what to pack. After their earlier phone conversation, she had spent the rest of the time before her flight home canceling reservations and making new ones. All she had told Erin and the kids was that they were going on a trip to someplace fun.

An open suitcase lay at the foot of the bed. She had already added her toiletries and clothes to the suitcase they were sharing.

Erin strode over to the side of the bed. She stood with her hands on her hips and scowled at Kris. "This would be so much easier if I knew where we were going."

You're as bad as the twins. Kris might have thought it, but she had enough sense not to actually say that to Erin. She wasn't buying the scowl either. The happiness shining in Erin's eyes was unmistakable.

Gazing up at Erin, she grinned. "I told you what to take when you packed for the kids. And I can't tell you or it wouldn't be much of a surprise."

"I don't like surprises," Erin whined.

Kris didn't believe her for a second.

It wasn't the romantic getaway they had planned or the kid's trip to Legoland, but she was sure everyone would be happy. She laughed to herself. If Erin doesn't strangle me first.

"Are you sure about this?" Erin sat down on the side of the bed next to Kris. Her expression turned serious. "You just got home. Are you really sure you want to leave tomorrow — for two days? With the kids? In a hotel?"

Where's all this coming from? An icy ball started to form in Kris's stomach. This would be their first trip away from home as a family. Had she overstepped her bounds making these plans without consulting Erin?

"Um... we don't have to go if you don't want. I should have asked you before making plans." Kris met Erin's gaze, trying hard to hide her rising anxiety.

"Oh, honey. Of course I want to go. It's wonderful you did this."

Warmth flowed back into Kris at Erin's open, loving expression.

Erin cupped Kris's cheek in her hand. Tears glimmered at the corner of her eyes. "I just didn't want you to feel you had to fix Scott's screw-up — again."

Scott, you bastard. You're not even here and you make her cry. She was glad Erin had not been in the hotel room to see her mini-meltdown after their phone call. She knew Erin worried about her getting sick of dealing with Scott. He had almost managed to break them up early in their relationship. Kris had vowed never to let him cause problems between them again.

Kris stroked a hand up and down Erin's thigh. "That's the last time I want to hear his name mentioned this weekend. This has nothing to do with him. This is about us — going on a family trip." Kris captured Erin's hand and brought it to her mouth. She placed a soft kiss on her palm. "We're going to have a great time."

Erin leaned down and kissed Kris. "I love you," she whispered against her lips as the kiss broke.

"I love you too. Now go pack."

After a quick peck on Kris's lips, Erin stood. She took two steps away, then turned back with a stricken look on her face.

"Oh, no. How could I have forgotten? I was just so excited about the trip. Damn."

Now what?

Kris sat up. "What's wrong?"

"What are we going to do about Willy?"

"Oh ye of little faith. I've got everything covered." I hope. Kris flopped back down onto the bed. "Willy is going on his own adventure. He's going to doggie camp."

"Dog camp?"

"Okay, that's what I'm telling Christopher," Kris said sheepishly. Christopher had really bonded with the big dog. Kris knew he was going to have a major issue with being separated from Willy. "Willy's going to that new kennel Dr. Garrett recommended. And they do let the dogs out to play together."

"You're learning." Erin laughed.

Before getting involved with Erin, Kris had not had any experience dealing with young children on a day-to-day basis. It had led to her getting herself into some interesting predicaments.

Erin finished putting her clothes in the suitcase and sealed it up. She moved to sit next to Kris on the bed. Erin smiled down at Kris. Her hand slid under Kris's shirt and began to stroke her belly.

"Kris?"

"Yeah?"

Erin's fingers moved higher and just brushed the underside of Kris's breast.

Her breath hitched. She resisted the urge to pull Erin's hand onto her breast.

As if responding to her thoughts, Erin's hand moved up and covered her breast. "Where are we going?"

"Hm..." Kris's eyes slid shut. She tried to focus as Erin began to caress her. "We're going to D —"

Kris's eyes flew open. You little minx. She laid her hand on top of Erin's. "That's dirty pool."

"Almost had you." Erin laughed as she removed her hand from inside Kris's shirt.

"Ha! I'm not telling and you can't make me."

A spark of challenge lit Erin's dark eyes.

"Really?"

Ah, oh. Anticipation shivered down Kris's spine at the predatory look on Erin's face.

Without warning, Erin swooped down and took Kris's lips in a searing kiss.

By the time Erin pulled back, Kris was panting. Her heartbeat tripped double time.

"Well?"

It took Kris a moment to gather her scattered thoughts. She shook her head and stepped up to the challenge. This could get interesting. She grinned. "Nope. Not telling."

"Okay. I guess I have to get tough." Erin sauntered over to the door.

Kris followed the sexy sway of her hips.

With a flick of Erin's wrist, the lock engaged with a resounding click. "Ready?"

Oh, you have no idea.

Kris tried to put her most resolute expression on her face. "Whenever you are."

Given the confident grin that spread across Erin's face as she made her way back to Kris's side, Kris was less than successful.

Erin climbed onto the bed and straddled Kris's hips. Arousal shone in her eyes.

Her blood already singing in her veins, Kris reached out to tug Erin down.

Grabbing her wrists before she could make contact, Erin smirked at Kris. She guided Kris's hands around the tubes of the brass headboard.

"Oh no, you don't. No touching." Erin leaned down and nipped at Kris's collarbone through her shirt. "This is an interrogation."

Bring it on! "I won't talk."

"We'll see about that," Erin whispered.

Kris shivered at the feel of Erin's hot breath blowing over her sensitive ear.

Sliding back a little, Erin set to work. She pushed up Kris's shirt. "Sit up." When Kris complied, she pulled the sweatshirt over her head and tossed it to the floor. Kris wasn't wearing a bra. "Lay back down."

Kris struggled to keep her expression neutral as Erin systematically stripped her of her clothes. Every brush of Erin's fingers against her bare skin ratcheted up her arousal another notch.

After the last item of Kris's clothes hit the floor, Erin, still fully dressed, resumed her spot straddling Kris's hips. She guided Kris's hands back to the headboard.

"Now what?" Kris asked. She flushed when her voice came out much higher than she expected.

She met Erin's gaze.

Eyes gone dark with arousal bore into hers.

"Now the real interrogation begins."

Anything. I'll tell you anything you want. Just touch me. Kris bit her lip to keep the words from pouring out.

"Let's see... where to start," Erin said. She ran her hands up Kris's chest, circling but not quite touching her breasts.

"Please." The word slipped out before Kris could stop it.

Erin grinned. "Was there something you wanted to tell me?" Her hands closed over Kris's breasts and gently squeezed as an added enticement.

You're killing me. Kris shook her head. She didn't dare try to speak.

"Oh, tough case, huh?" Erin scooted down until she straddled Kris's thighs. "This calls for more severe techniques."

Kris nodded her head enthusiastically. God, touch me before I die.

A single finger trailing slowly down Kris's abdomen made her insides clench. When Erin's finger slipped between her legs, Kris's breath hissed out between her teeth. Yes!

"Where. Are. We. Going?" Erin asked, each word emphasized by a stroke across Kris's aching need.

Kris's eyes slammed shut. She was so close.

"Kris. Look at me." Erin's finger stilled.

No. A whimper escaped. Through force of will, Kris managed to open her eyes.

"Tell me and you will be rewarded," Erin said. Her eyes were dark pools of desire.

Kris willingly dove in. "Disneyland. We're going to Disneyland."

*  *  *

"Look, Kris!" Jenna said. "Mickey balloons."

When Kris stopped to let another family pass on the crowded sidewalk, Jenna jumped out of her stroller.

"Hey." Kris hurried to her side, afraid of getting separated in the crowd. Disneyland was packed with people enjoying the Christmas festivities. "Come on, Jenna. Get back in the stroller."

"No. Mickey balloons. I want one."

Kris took Jenna's hand and tried to get her back into the stroller.

With an adamant shake of her head, Jenna refused.

Erin caught up and parked Christopher, in his stroller, next to Jenna's. "What's up?"

Jenna said nothing.

She's sure learned who to ask for things. She knows Erin will say no. She looked down at Jenna's expectant face. Do you really want to be carrying around a balloon that you know she'll lose, just so you don't have to say no to her?

Kris glanced at Erin, who arched an eyebrow in question. "I've got this," she said. I hope.

Erin nodded and stepped away, leaving Kris to deal with Jenna.

Okay, deep breath. Repeat after me; the kids can't have everything they want. It will turn them into spoiled, whiny brats.

Fortified by Erin's repeated lecture, Kris knelt down to Jenna's level.

Jenna hugged a book to her chest. Her gaze darted between Kris and the coveted balloon.

"No, honey. You can't have a balloon. I already got you the autograph book you asked for. Besides, we are going to go on some more rides. It will just get in the way." Kris pulled Jenna's stroller closer. "Come on, get back in."

"No. No. No." Jenna stomped her feet. "I don't want the dumb book." She tossed the book to the ground. "I want a Mickey balloon."

Okay. I guess Erin does have a point. Now what the hell do I do?

She looked up at Erin in hope that she would intervene. Erin met her gaze for just a moment before pointedly turning away. Lecture number two: You can't always be the good guy and make Erin the heavy.

Okay, you're on your own. "No, Jenna. No balloon. Let's go."

Jenna burst into tears. "You're mean. I don't like you anymore."

Kris was surprised at how much the childish taunt hurt. This tantrum wasn't like Jenna at all. Usually, she was pretty well behaved.

A quick glance at her watch confirmed they had been in Disneyland longer than she realized.

"I think it's time we went back to the hotel. Someone needs a nap," Kris said.

"No!" Jenna screamed. She spun around and ran for her mother. She wrapped her arms around Erin's legs and sobbed.

Shit. Good job there. Kris picked up the discarded book. She felt like the meanest person on earth.

A small hand coming to rest on her arm drew her attention to Christopher.

She looked over and her heart melted at the sympathetic look on Christopher's face. He had stayed in his stroller and wisely remained quiet during the fracas. He patted her arm.

"Thanks, buddy," Kris said. She gave his leg a quick squeeze.

Kris stood and faced Erin. Jenna was still wrapped around her legs. Way to ruin the day, stupid. So much for trying to be a parent. "I'm sorry," she mouthed.

Erin shook her head. She offered Kris a quick smile before turning her attention to Jenna. "You heard Kris, Jenna." Erin gently peeled her daughter off her legs. She led her back to her stroller. "We're going back to the hotel."

The evil stepmother feeling intensified when Kris heard Christopher whimper in protest.

"Mommy, no. I don't want to. Please. I want to stay," Jenna said.

"No, Jenna. What Kris says goes, just like when I tell you to do something. You know that."

Jenna pulled away from Erin and ran back toward Kris.

Kris knelt down to meet her.

Big crocodile tears ran down Jenna's face. "Please don't make us leave. Please. I'll be good."

Kris almost gave in — almost. This sucks.

Keeping her voice gentle, but firm, Kris said, "Everybody's tired. We're going to go back, get something to eat, and take a little nap. We'll come back later."

Jenna's lower lip trembled. "Okay."

"Good girl," Kris said. She held the stroller for Jenna.

Jenna started to get in, then turned back to Kris and threw her arms around her neck. "I'm sorry." She kissed Kris's cheek. "I love you."

Kris wrapped her arm around Jenna and pulled her close. Emotion threatened to rob Kris of her voice. She swallowed heavily. "I love you too, sweetie." She offered Jenna her book back, then helped her into the stroller.

Standing up, Kris tried to surreptitiously brush away the tears in her eyes. She met Erin's gaze when she stepped close.

Warm, loving brown eyes shone into hers. "Good job... Mom," Erin said softly.

*  *  *

Erin stepped out of the room. After one last peek inside, she eased the door shut. It still amazed her sometimes, that extra mile Kris always went to — for her and the children. Kris had not rented a simple hotel room for them, but a two-bedroom suite. The kids had been thrilled with their specially decorated room. And she and Kris had some privacy as well.

Smiling at the sight that met her eyes as she entered the main room of the suite, Erin quieted her steps.

Kris was propped up in the corner of the couch, her long legs stretched out in front of her on an ottoman. Her head was back and her eyes closed.

Guess Jenna wasn't the only one who was tired.

Erin moved to the opposite end of the sofa. Maybe a nap isn't such a bad idea.

Sleepy blue eyes blinked open. "I'm awake," Kris said. She shifted slightly, then lifted her arm in invitation.

Gladly accepting the request, Erin snuggled close and rested her head on Kris's shoulder.

"Kids asleep?"

"Out like the proverbial light," Erin said.

"That was great, telling them they didn't have to take a nap, just lay quietly for half an hour." A sour looked crossed Kris's face. "I wish I had handled Jenna as well earlier."

"You did just fine."

"I made her cry." Kris sighed heavily. "On her first trip to Disneyland, no less."

Erin propped herself up so she could look into Kris's eyes. "You did not make her cry. She was overtired. If it hadn't been about the balloon, it would have been something else." She could see that Kris needed some reassurance. Erin placed a soft kiss on her lips. "Don't worry. You did the right thing. I was proud of you for not giving in. That's the easiest thing to do, but not what's best for them."

"I know. It's just hard. I felt like the evil stepmother."

While Kris still technically had her own place, she had lived with her and the twins for over six months now. Slowly she had been taking on more and more of the role of a parent, but today had been a real turning point for Kris. When it came to telling the kids no, Kris always deferred to her. That she had stepped up today and stood her ground with Jenna showed Erin just how far she had come in accepting the full measure of her responsibility.

"I feel like I'm being a mean mom sometimes. It's all part of being a good parent." Some of Erin's own insecurities surfaced. "I know it's a lot to take on — a ready-made family."

Kris pulled Erin tight against her. "I love you and the kids. I wouldn't trade my life with you for anything."

Emotion threatened to close Erin's throat. "I love you too," she finally managed. "I'm sorry this isn't the romantic getaway we had planned. Sco —"

"Ah." Kris placed her finger over Erin's lips. 'We're not mentioning that name — remember?" Erin nodded. "Once Robert and Alice get back, we'll have our time away together. This is all part of being a family. We have children and they should come first. Besides, you know I love doing things with Christopher and Jenna. I'm thrilled to be the one to introduce them to Disneyland. Especially at Christmas time."

Erin buried her face in Kris's neck as tears threatened. She thanked God every day for the baseball game and spilled beer that had brought Kris into her life.

"Hey, come on now. No tears. This is supposed to be the happiest place on earth," Kris said.

Laughter shook Erin's shoulders. She pulled back and smiled up at Kris. "And what other Christmas festivities does the Magic Kingdom have in store for us today?"

This was Erin's second trip to Disneyland. The first had been as a teenager, and that had been in the summer. Kris, she knew, had been to Disneyland many times.

"Oh!" Kris's face lit up. "There's a parade with all the characters. Santa even makes an appearance. Then later, a big fireworks display." A childlike delight sparkled in Kris's eyes. "And after the fireworks — a surprise. The kids will go crazy."

Erin laughed to herself. Kris was practically bouncing in place. She reminded her of the twins.

"What?"

It was a struggle to stifle her grin. "Nothing." You're just a big kid yourself.

Kris poked her in the side. "Okay. See if I tell you what the surprise is."

Come on, Erin. Let go. Have you forgotten what it's like to be a kid? Erin realized that during her time with Scott and afterward, trying to raise the children alone, she had lost some of that playful, spontaneous part of her personality. Kris was bringing that back to her.

Letting a bit of that side show, she pulled away. She straddled Kris's lap. "Tell me." Kris shook her head. Erin twisted her face into the silliest expression she could come up with and bounced in place. "Come on, tell me. Pretty please with sugar on top."

Kris burst out laughing. She slapped her hand over her mouth. Her gaze darted toward the closed bedroom door.

After several moments passed and all remained quiet, Kris turned her attention back to Erin. She grinned and wiggled her eyebrows. "What will you give me if I tell you?"

"Anything you want."

The smile dropped off Kris's face. Her vivid blue eyes went wide and darkened with arousal.

What you do to me with a single look. With a groan, Erin surged forward and captured Kris's lips in a searing kiss.

Kris pulled back, panting. "How long do you think the kids will sleep?"

Erin tried to make her passion-hazed brain work. "At least an hour."

"Long enough. Come on." Kris urged Erin off her lap.

As soon as they were standing, Kris swung Erin up into her arms.

Erin gasped. "You're a nut." She wrapped her arms around Kris's neck. "You're going to hurt yourself."

"Me, Tarzan, you, Jane," Kris said as she covered the short distance to the door of the master bedroom.

Laughter bubbled up. They had explored Tarzan's tree house earlier in the day. Erin should have known that Kris would use that line the first chance she got. "I thought you were tired, Tarzan."

"Me no tired. You charge Tarzan up," Kris said.

She ran her finger down the center of Kris's chest, then darted over to give her breast a quick squeeze. "You better make it quick, before our little monkeys wake up."

"Tarzan be very quick." Kris demonstrated.

Erin's laughter turned into an aroused groan.

Kris pushed the door shut with her foot.

*  *  *

"This is the spot," Kris said. The park bench was located in New Orleans Square, overlooking the water. The kids are going to love this.

"Are you sure we don't need to be by Cinderella's castle?" Erin asked.

Kris looked across the water at the castle in the distance. With its sparkling lights and icicle-draped ramparts, it shone in the night like a precious jewel.

"No. This will be perfect." She smiled at Erin. "I promise."

Erin glanced down at the twins, then leaned close. "Will we be able to see the surprise after the fireworks from here?"

Kris nodded.

"Are you going to tell me what it is?"

"Nope," Kris said with a grin.

Turning so that neither child could see her, Erin stuck out her tongue.

Oh, do that again later.

"Mommy, I have to go to the bathroom," Christopher said.

Kris laughed to herself. Ah, right back to reality.

"Me too," Jenna said.

"You want me to take them?" Kris asked Erin.

"No. That's okay. You hold our spot. We'll be right back."

"Let me check the map and see if I can find the nearest bathroom."

Erin held out her hands to the twins. "It's right over there." She motioned toward a nearby building.

I've got to start paying more attention to that. It was something she was learning on this trip. When traveling with small children, always know the location of the nearest bathroom.

Kris settled on the bench as Erin led the children away. She let her gaze roam the area, taking in all the myriad lights and decorations that turned it into a Christmas fantasy.

It had been a magical night. Seeing the awe and delight on Christopher's and Jenna's face during the parade, especially when the life-sized wooden soldiers had marched past, was a memory she would cherish.

Although she had always loved Disneyland, she had not been to the park in almost five years. It had been her and her ex's favorite place to spend the holidays. Unwilling to stir painful memories, she had not been able to bring herself to come back here — until now. With Erin and the twins at her side, it was once again the happiest place on earth.

Kris stood and began to scan the crowd, looking for Erin and their little monkeys. She chuckled to herself. Maybe I'll see if I can find a loincloth while I'm here. Erin sure seemed to like my Tarzan impression.

A break in the throng of people allowed her to spot Erin and the kids.

"There're my little monkeys." Kris laughed when the kids jumped up and down. They tried to hurry Erin toward her. She started to bend down to greet them.

"Kris. Kris Rawlings!"

Huh? Kris turned to see who could be calling to her in the middle of Disneyland.

Shock froze Kris in place. God. No.

Hurtling toward her, like an express train on a collision course, was a specter from her past.

*  *  *

A stunning redhead broke from the crowd and raced up to Kris.

Bewildered, Erin stopped dead in her tracks several feet from Kris. What the —?

The woman flung her arms around Kris's neck and kissed her on the mouth.

Erin bristled. Who the hell does she think she is?

She marched up to Kris's side, Jenna and Christopher in tow.

The redhead never glanced her way. She was totally focused on Kris.

"Wow. Kris. Imagine running into you here of all places. And at Christmastime." The woman beamed. "It must be fate."

Kris might have been a statue for all her response. She had yet to speak or even move.

Worry filled Erin's stomach with knots. Her gaze darted between the stranger and Kris. She had never seen Kris react like this to anyone. Who are you?

The woman seemed to finally become aware of Kris's lack of response. "Kris? Honey?" She tried to take one of Kris's hands.

Erin barely resisted the urge to slap the woman's hand away from Kris.

The touch snapped Kris out of her stupor. She jerked her hand away. Like a fast-moving storm coming in, her face turned dark and dangerous in an instant. "You've got a lot of nerve, Angela," she ground out between clenched teeth.

Angela! Anger and jealousy raged though Erin. This was the woman who had nearly destroyed Kris with her betrayal. Her fingers started to tighten into fists.

The feel of small hands in hers brought her back to her senses.

Erin looked down to see Christopher and Jenna staring up at her with wide eyes. She drew them close to her.

"But Kris, that was a long time ago. Things are different now," Angela said.

A brilliant white light exploded in the sky.

The reverberating boom made everyone jump.

"The fireworks are starting," Christopher said. He pulled away from Erin and darted between Kris and Angela.

*  *  *

A whirlwind of emotion filled Kris. The pain and anger stirred by Angela's outrageous behavior was almost overwhelming. She clenched her fists to keep from lashing out at her.

A sharp tug on her jacket drew her attention downward.

"The fireworks are starting," Christopher said.

When Kris looked down into Christopher's sweet face, which shone with childish excitement, an epiphany struck. Angela was irrelevant. The only things that mattered were Erin, Christopher, and Jenna — her family.

Her anger drained away like a wave retreating from the beach.

With a warm smile, Kris knelt down and opened her arms. This is what is important.

Christopher wrapped his arms around her neck.

Kris hugged him to her chest for a moment and then stood with him safely ensconced in her arms. She took a moment to smile at Erin and Jenna before turning her attention back to Angela.

Angela stared. She looked as if someone had sucker punched her.

It wasn't hard to figure out the reason. With their matching blond hair and blue eyes, she and Christopher were often mistaken for mother and son.

Kris sat down on the bench behind her with Christopher in her lap. She lifted an arm in invitation to Erin and Jenna.

Erin sat down next to Kris with Jenna in her lap.

She tightened her arm around Erin's back and drew her and Jenna close to her side. My family.

Kris looked up and met Angela's gaze. "You're right, Angela. Everything is different now," she said, all the earlier anger gone from her voice.

A second explosion lit the sky.

"Now if you will excuse us, my family and I are here to enjoy the fireworks."

Angela's gaze darted to Erin and Jenna, then back to Kris.

Kris wanted to be absolutely clear. It's over. Finally. "Goodbye, Angela," she said, making sure her tone left no doubt as to her meaning.

With a visible slump to her shoulders, Angela turned and walked away.

"Are you okay?" Erin whispered after Angela disappeared into the crowd.

Warmth filled Kris at Erin's loving concern. This whole incident must have been a hell of a shock to her too.

All things considered, she felt great. It was as if a small damaged part of her was finally healed. At long last, she was free of the past.

Kris placed a soft kiss on Erin's cheek. "Never better."

*  *  *

The sky erupted in a kaleidoscope of color as the grand finale reached its crescendo.

"Wow. That was incredible," Erin said.

"The best is yet to come."

The high, clear voice of a child sounded from hidden speakers wishing for snow.

Kris grinned when Erin's eyes lit up.

A second deeper voice answered, "It will only happen if you wish as hard as you can and really believe."

As music filled the air, she turned Christopher in her lap so she could see his face. "Do you believe in magic?" she asked.

Christopher looked up at her with wide, innocent eyes. He nodded vigorously.

"How about you, Jenna, do you believe in magic?"

Jenna nodded.

"Then close your eyes and wish as hard as you can for it to snow. You have to believe."

Kris knew neither child had ever seen snow except on television.

Jenna and Christopher closed their eyes. They were trying so hard Kris could almost hear them making their wishes.

A gasp from Erin tore her gaze away from the twins' faces.

Snow slowly drifted down from the sky.

"Look, kids," Kris said. She smiled at their awestruck expressions.

'White Christmas' began to play.

Kris's heart filled to overflowing. She drew her family close.

"Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night," Kris said, borrowing a line from her favorite Christmas story.

The End.

A Very Smokey Thanksgiving

by Jeanine Hoffman

Copyright © 2010 by Jeanine Hoffman

All rights reserved.

A Very Smokey Thanksgiving

"ARE YOU DONE setting up the chairs yet?"

A woman with dark brown hair and twinkling green eyes waited for her missing partner to answer her.

"Honey? Did you get lost going to the basement?" Bailey bounced their toddler on her hip as she called out again.

"What do you think, Bridge? Did Mama get lost, or is she playing video games down there?" The smiling toddler laughed and clapped her hands at the mention of her playmate, Mama.

"Get Mama!" Brigid struggled to get down from her mother's hold.

"Oh no you don't, little one!" Jay came up the stairs from the basement carrying the last of the folding chairs. "You stay with Mommy until that basement door is shut. Don't think we don't know your tricks."

"Tricks?" Bailey queried. "You mean her insatiable need to explore every crevice looking for her favorite jungle gym?"

Jay shrugged as she set up the last chair. "Not my fault I'm better than her pack and play."

Jay walked over and took the squirming child into her arms as Bailey secured the door to the basement. "What trouble are you getting into now, my mini goddess? Giving Mommy a hard time?" Jay tossed the eighteen-month-old into the air a few times, getting laughter and squeals in response.

Jay set their daughter down and moved over to her wife. "I can't believe you thought I'd be playing video games." She huffed in indignation. "I'm taking a break from the Wii for now."

"Oh, right. I forgot. Something about forgetting to charge the controllers, wasn't it?" Bailey's dimples showed as she teased the taller woman. Once again, Bailey felt slightly breathless at the sight of her wife's honey blond hair, warm brown eyes, and slightly crooked smile.

"C'mon Bail. Gimme a break. I was learning useful skills while I was playing."

"Uh huh. I'm sure being able to slice and chop on a cooking video game will translate to better prep work for our Thanksgiving meal."

Jay had the grace to blush and ducked her head for a quick kiss. "Just wait till you see me stir a pot of bubbling stuff. That's where I really shine," she teased as she moved away quickly to avoid the swat aimed at her butt.

Brigid giggled as her parents teased and played. She pushed herself up and charged at Bailey. "Mommy, Mommy! Me play!"

Bailey scooped the girl up and they both chased after Jay as she fled the room, laughing the whole time.

*  *  *

Jay watched as Brigid tumbled around on the family room floor with Bob. She was glad that she had finished the basement and used thick padding underneath the carpeting. It had saved her daughter's head on more than one occasion.

"Bob, you amaze me. No matter what she does, you just kiss her and take it, doncha girl?"

She gave Jay a doggy grin at the sound of her name and turned back to her playmate. Bob, a mixed lab, was the perfect companion for the small child — fluffy and soft, protective, and even tempered. She slept in front of her bedroom door every night since they had brought Brigid home from the hospital.

"Okay you two. Time to get upstairs and do the stuffing. If you're good Bob, there might be some meat scraps for ya." Jay lifted the mischievous toddler and carried her upstairs, followed closely by a watchful Bob. "So, can you two stay out of trouble if I pen you both in the kitchen?" Jay smirked as she closed the baby gates on both entrances to the large, well-appointed kitchen.

"Me help Mama," protested Brigid as she was set down on the floor near some toys.

"Yes, you'll help. Mama promises. Keep me company and I'll find something for you to do once I get everything ready. Want to help me mix everything, Bridge?"

Excited, the toddler shook her head hard enough that her entire body quaked. "Yes! Me help, Mama!"

Chuckling, Jay pulled out the various ingredients and chopped away, adding everything to a large stainless steel mixing bowl. As she worked, she sang to the toddler of flying dragons, yellow submarines, and rocking around a clock. Jay was so involved in her work that she didn't notice the noise of the front door. Brigid was equally entranced as her mother sang and danced around the room.

"So, this is what I miss when I'm slaving away at work? Free dance shows and concerts?" Bailey breezed into the kitchen, stealing a kiss and a bit of chopped celery from the cutting board. "You know babe, we have a food processor."

Jay smirked back at her. "Just showing off my polished Wii skills. Besides, it was your idea to work a full day the day before Thanksgiving. In fact, it was your idea to have me work only part time."

"I still think it was the right move too. You work from home and you work even harder with Brigid. Besides, once Sharon got the company to offer partnership benefits, that lame excuse about health insurance was gone." Bailey went still. "You are still happy with the arrangement, right? Jay, you'd tell me if you were sick of being home full time, right?"

Jay quickly wiped her hands on a dish towel and hugged her wife. "I'm thrilled to be able to be home with Brigid. I think if I didn't work part time from here, I might be a bit stir crazy. The way things are set up, I think I'm just as productive, but so much happier." She used two fingers to raise Bailey's chin in order to look her in the eyes. "I will tell you if that ever changes, Bail, I swear it. For now, I think this works really well."

Bailey snuggled back into her wife's arms. "I'm glad. I'm sorry for the insecurity. I don't know where that came from. Maybe it's just the holidays creeping up on me."

"No need to apologize, Bail. I'm glad we still talk about things."

"Speaking about talking, who was that who called me at lunchtime today?" Bailey gave a grin as she turned toward their daughter, who was immersed in playing with Bob again."

"Me! Me Mommy. Me call you." Brigid was on her feet in a flash and ran to hug her mommy's leg. Bailey knelt down and enveloped her in a hug before planting a kiss on her dark-haired daughter's forehead. After another moment, Bailey released her, sending her back to play with Bob before turning around to face Jay.

"Let me go get changed and I'll come out and help."

"You got it, babe. Take whatever time you need. Bridge here is gonna help me mix the stuffing," Jay boasted.

"Uh huh. That I want to see. Back in a flash!"

*  *  *

"It was your idea to give her a bowl of stuffing to mix." Bailey laughed at Jay as she tried to clean the last of the stuffing from the high chair seat.

"Well, she had fun, it was just a small amount, and we got some cute pictures. Besides, I read something about the different textures being good for her to feel." Jay blew hair off of her face as she finished her task.

"Ri-i-i-i-g-h-t. It was a learning experience. Admit it, woman! You just hope she likes to cook when she gets older."

"Well," Jay prepared to defend herself. "It is a family tradition."

Bailey replied softly as she took the towel from Jay and laid it on the table, "I know, honey. Don't worry. She's not even two yet and she's already having a wonderful, rich, love-filled life." Bailey cocked her head to one side as she studied her wife's face. "What's going on, Jay? What aren't you saying?"

"Nothing. I just worry sometimes. I want her to always know how loved she is and how much we'll support her."

"You're a wonderful mother, Jay. Never doubt for a minute that this child of ours knows how much she is loved. Besides us, let us not forget the doting grandparents, God and Goddess parents, and uncle sperm donor. Speaking of which, I figure just after Christmas would be a good time for the next attempt. Are you ready for it?"

"Honey, I have the easy part. You're the one who will go through all those hormonal changes and stress on your body again. Are you sure you want to go through with having a second?" Jay looked worried as Bailey took a moment to answer.

"Unless you tell me no, I really want Brigid to have a brother or sister. I think this is the perfect timing as far as spacing them apart ,and he or she will be a fall baby if we succeed in the first couple of attempts. Dan still has deposits on ice for us with the doctor and he's getting tested again. He said he wants to have more swimmers ready in case we need them."

"Sounds ready to me. Sorry, I just didn't want to force you into it. I know we talked about me carrying the second one." Jay looked crestfallen. "I'm really sorry I can't do it for you, Bail."

"It isn't your fault, Jay. I prefer playing it safe and if the cancer treatments you had put you at risk, then we don't risk it. Did I miss something? Was this something you really wanted to do?"

With a negative shake of her head, Jay answered, "Not really. Me giving birth was never as important as me getting to be a mom. I just don't want you to think that you have to do all the hard work."

"Hard? I get to talk to grownups all day while you are in lockdown with a toddler. Now you're willing to take on a newborn? I think that in the scheme of things, I have the easy part."

"If you're sure, then I say let's knock you up!" Jay flashed her trademark crooked grin. "And I say we go practice right now!"

Jay led her wife upstairs and into their bedroom after stopping to check on their toddler one last time.

*  *  *

"All set. The oil is heating and the bird is ready to go in." Jay looked around the living room filled with family and friends and felt her heart melt. Spying her friend Scott, she went to join him and his partner, Dan, as they talked to her parents, Steve and Laura.

Bailey entered the room from the kitchen with a tray of appetizers, while her mother carried small plates and napkins. "Good luck, Bob. No one feed her, okay? Brigid has been over generous with her buddy." Setting the food down on the table, she looked around to find her daughter, when the doorbell rang. A tiny blur raced past to the door as it opened and closed.

"MY RYE! MY RYE!" yelled the toddler as she leapt at her second-favorite jungle gym.

"Told ya." Riley smirked as she bent to scoop up the little bundle of energy.

Her partner, Sharon, Brigid's other Goddess mother, looked less than amused as Bailey came down the hall to relieve her of her burden of a casserole dish and flowers.

"Thanks for the flowers, Sharon. You didn't have to do that."

"Mmm, smells great in here! The flowers are for our Goddess daughter. I know Bridge loves to smell them."

Bailey chuckled as she watched the usually reticent woman make a grab for the child and immediately lift her shirt up to blow raspberries on her daughter's belly.

"My Rye, My Rye," mocked the woman. "What am I, Brigid? Chopped liver?" Grinning, she held the girl upside-down before flipping her upright again. "I can be a jungle gym too!"

"Competitive much, boss lady?" greeted Jay as they entered the living room. She leaned over and tickled her daughter as she pecked Sharon on the cheek.

"I see you're stirring up trouble as always, Riley. What did you do this time?" Jay mocked her best friend as she handed her a glass of iced tea.

"I just told her that I'd get run over as soon as we stepped inside, so I asked Sharon to carry the casserole dish. I can't help that the munchkin loves me more." Riley ducked as Sharon used her free hand to smack her in the back of the head.

Scott interceded by taking Brigid from the women and moving her over to play with the dog. "Can't have you brutish lesbians teaching my God daughter such violence. Come sit with the civilized folks, baby doll."

Jay stood in the middle of the room and looked around like a general, reviewing her troops. "Now that everyone is here, I have an announcement and a plan for getting dinner on the table."

Bailey joined Jay in the middle of the room while everyone else looked on. The only noise was coming from Bob and Brigid playing behind one of the couches. The smells of cooking food lingered in the air and the fireplace crackled merrily. Jay smiled at Bailey before addressing everyone again.

"We wanted to thank you all for joining us again for another family holiday. This is the first holiday that our daughter will be able to participate in, and we're grateful to have all of her favorite people here to make it memorable. We also wanted to let you know that if all goes well, this will be the last Thanksgiving where Brigid is an only child."

A cheer went up in the room as congratulations rang out. Jay and Bailey motioned with their hands to settle down again. "We haven't started trying, and won't until after the holidays are over, but we're hopeful for quick success again. Either way, thank you all for being our family."

Jay clapped her hands together and started giving out chores to help get the dinner together while she fried the turkey outside.

*  *  *

Jay stood near the turkey fryer with her father. As they waited for the temperature to hit its target, they talked softly about the new baby and the changes that would bring into her life.

"I just want to make certain that you're ready. Just think of having a newborn to take care of, as well as Brigid." Steve looked at his daughter with concern. As much as he loved his granddaughter, he had never quite gotten over the horror of seeing Jay struggle to breathe while fighting for her life in the intensive care unit.

"Dad, I get it. I appreciate your concern, but we're ready. Even if we get lucky the first try, this will time the kids pretty well. Besides, it isn't like we don't have help from our family and friends. And, it isn't like I can't afford to get help around the house." She smirked, "Oh wait! I already do! You know it isn't me that does the laundry and cleans, right? I pay someone, and in between, Bailey and I handle it together."

Steve sighed. "I get it, okay? I'm your dad and I'm allowed to worry. I love the munchkin and I'd love to have another to spoil. I just want to ensure that you and Bailey take care of yourselves too."

"Thanks Dad. Now, let me go check the oil and see if I can get this bird in already. I'm getting hungry!"

"And what else is new?" he laughed as she flipped him off while checking the oil again.

"It's ready. Let's do this!"

*  *  *

"What's that smell, Mom?" Bailey was changing Brigid's diaper.

"I don't know. What did you feed her?" She motioned to the diaper in Bailey's hand that she thought her daughter was referencing.

"No, not that. Is something burning?"

"Laura was keeping an eye on things in the kitchen while the boys finished setting out the cold items. I'm sure everything is fine."

Bailey gathered her daughter in her arms and they moved back downstairs, where the smell of smoke was stronger to her sensitive nose. Quickly, she handed the baby to her mother and moved to the French doors off the dining room to check on the situation in the back yard. As she watched, Jay lifted the turkey from the oil, drained it and set it in the butcher paper-lined roasting pan. After quickly covering it with foil, Jay moved toward the house carrying the pan.

Bailey opened the door for her wife. "Do you smell smoke, Jay?"

"Yeah, I wanted to pull the turkey before I went to check it out. Can you finish this in the oven for a few minutes while I check around the house?"

"Sure, baby. Let me know if you find anything." Bailey took over the roaster and brought it into the kitchen. After passing it off to her mother-in-law, she went to the front door to check for signs of danger to her family.

"JAY!"

Quickly, Jay moved to her wife's side, frantic that she was injured.

"What's wrong, Bail? Are you okay?"

"Look! Quick, call 911! The Bixby house has smoke pouring from it!"

Bailey stood in the doorway for a moment, horrified, before charging down the street to her neighbors' house. She started pounding on the door. "Julie? Ted? Are you in there?"

Just as Jay joined her, they both heard the sirens growing closer. "I'm going around back to see if I can spot anything. You stay here and keep trying."

Bailey just nodded while furiously pounding on the door and calling for their friends.

*  *  *

Donny and Gina pulled up to the scene of the house fire to set up a triage area for the fire crews. Positioned a couple of doors down, they commandeered a neighbor's lawn and reported in to medical command. There were reports of a partially involved kitchen fire that had started to spread before it was called in to 911.

"Why, Donny? Why did we get stuck with this call? Ten more minutes and we were off shift and on our way to your place!"

Donny just chuckled as she hung up her cell phone. "No worries. Dinner is being held for us. If this takes too long, I'll see if another crew can cover it. I just don't want to pull rank if I don't have to today."

"Rank? Hell, if you were going to pull rank, you wouldn't have pulled a shift at all today. And, before you go there, if nepotism meant anything, I'd be home with my girl, not here with my sister-in-law." Gina grinned at her supervisor as they pulled supplies out to rehab the firefighters as needed and treat anything that might crop up.

Two women walked hand-in-hand up the street to the house, the taller one comforting the smaller woman. As they drew closer, Donny heard a bit of the conversation.

"— know anything yet. Maybe no one is home. They might have gone to their daughter's house, right?"

"I know. I'm just worried. Do you have their daughter's number?"

"Let me go check, it might be in the den."

The two women looked at the medics on their lawn. Bailey drew closer and held out her hand. "Hi. I'm Bailey and this is Jay. We live here. Do you two need anything?"

Donny shook her hand and smiled. "We're fine. Thanks for not yelling at us to get off your lawn, though."

Bailey waved her hand in the air. "It's grass. Who cares? People like you helped save my wife's life once. We owe you. How about a drink? We have iced tea and soda." Pausing to look at the bulky gear the women wore, she added thoughtfully, "I have some Gatorade too, if you want. Maybe for the firefighters?"

Gina was the first one to answer. "That would be amazing. Water and Gatorade for these guys would be great, if you're sure it's no trouble."

Jay assured her, "No trouble at all. I'll be right back."

As she opened the side door to the garage, she met her father and her father-in-law coming out with a couple of forty-gallon drink coolers. Steve nodded over his shoulder. "Your mom is bringing some cups and Dan is bringing out a table and trash can."

"Thanks Dad! I was just coming in to get this stuff."

He smiled as they walked over to the paramedics and Bailey. "Here ya go. One has orange Gatorade and the other is cold water. We didn't use ice because we were afraid it would be too cold for a bunch of over-heated folks."

Donny and Gina looked at each other in amazement and then turned around to see a table being set up with cups and a large garbage can sitting next to the table.

"I don't know how to thank you. We don't usually get treated this well by anyone other than the Red Cross."

Gina tensed as the radio alerted.

"Medical Command to Triage."

Donny keyed her mike, "Triage, Command, go."

"Triage, first crew rotation coming your way. Anything you need?"

"We're good Command, thanks for the head's up. How's the situation look?"

"Triage, from what I just heard, it should be coming under control shortly. They think it was an electrical short in the kitchen. We're checking the walls now."

"Copy Command, Triage out."

Donny turned to greet the guys as they started coming over, shucking out of their bunker coats and pulling down hoods.

"Hey all. Good work. Sounds like things are calming down already. While we grab your vitals, help yourself to the drinks provided by these kind folks. Do me a favor guys — let's try not to trample the lawn too badly?" Donny grinned as she grabbed her gear to start checking out the crew while Gina excused herself from the family and did the same.

Half an hour later, the scene was declared under control. The homeowners had been located and confirmed that no one was in the residence, and the medical team was released to return to station.

A few of the guys helped clean up and even carried the coolers and table back to the garage.

Donny went over to the homeowners to let them know they would be leaving. "Thanks again for your help. We all appreciated the drinks. We'll let you get back to your Thanksgiving now."

"Donny?" Bailey called out.

"Yes Ma'am?" she said with eyes twinkling. Somehow, Donny suspected this woman was not the "Ma'am" type.

"I'm sorry you guys had to work this hard on your holiday. Thanks again for what you do."

"No problem. Smoke — it's in our blood. While we all have friends and families, I know I'm happy to work today." Donny drew closer, out of earshot of her partner, Gina. "I'll let you in on a little secret. My mentor once told me this, and it stuck with me ever since. I offer to cover days like Thanksgiving because it is a constant reminder to me to be thankful for the blessings, like my partner and our family. You and your wife go enjoy."

Donny tipped her helmet at the woman and sauntered back to her rig. She climbed into the passenger side as Gina did the same on the other side. "Let's go home to our family, G."

*  *  *

As Jay gathered her clan around the table, once again she was overcome by emotion — at least until her squirming bundle of joy started insisting, "Get down, Mama."

With a smile, and only after dropping a kiss on her daughter's hair, she strapped her into the highchair and settled her between her two doting grandmothers.

At last, the turkey was brought out and set before Dan. The women had decided to give him the honor of carving, since he was the reason they had one of their biggest reasons for giving thanks.

Everyone settled into their seats. Other than Brigid hitting the tray table of her highchair, everyone was still for a moment. Bailey cleared her throat and began what the women had declared tradition in their teen years as best friends. Everyone had to take a turn stating what they were most thankful for over the past year.

"I suppose that along with the continued health of my family, I'm most thankful that we were able to survive the start of Brigid's mobility." Bailey smiled at her rambunctious daughter. "I'm also very thankful for the chance to add to our family and that no one was hurt today at the fire down the street."

Riley was next and she took a breath before starting. "I guess it's no secret that I'm grateful as hell to have you guys as my family too. I'm thankful that my career as a coach is heading in a positive direction, and I'm most grateful of all for Sharon's love and support through what has been a tough year."

Sharon smiled at her lover. "Riley, you are the most precious thing in my life. I'm thankful every day that I met you at the right time. I was able to lean on you to affect real change in my life. I'm also very thankful to have moved past a strictly work relationship with a select few and to be included in this group as family."

The rounds continued with Jay and Bailey's parents and the two men. As things rounded to Jay, she stood.

"I don't know if I have words for how thankful I am this year for the bounty bestowed upon this family of ours. A beautiful, amazing, intelligent daughter, a wife beyond compare, who is my best friend and partner in all things. A family that has been so loving and supportive as I went through horrible times as well as good. Friends who are close enough to be counted as family, and even an oddly named dog, courtesy of Bailey and her whimsy."

Jay took her wife's hand and smiled down at her. "Most of all, I'm thankful for the wonderful life you've given me and that you are willing to carry another baby for us." She took her hand back, using it to wipe away a tear. "Enough of the mush. Let's all be thankful for the men and women of the emergency services for keeping us all safe, not just every day, but holidays too. Goddess bless them all!" With a grin, she waved at Dan to start carving. "Let's eat!"

The End.

Happy Holidays to all of our L-Book readers and your families — whatever form they take!

The Quest — A Holiday Fantasy

by Rrrose Carbinela

Our Heroine is on a Quest to waken the Sleeping Princess. After Proving herself, she succeeds.

Copyright © 2010 by Rrrose Carbinela

All rights reserved.

The Quest

A Holiday Fantasy

I SHIVERED SLIGHTLY in the cool night air. October was almost over... just a few hours left until that special hour... the witching hour, it's called. I knew what I wanted to do, and I even had a starting point, but it was still a daunting proposition. No one in my family believed it could be done, but I knew, if the time was right and the stars all aligned, that I could do it. I could. I could. I kept telling myself that, as I gazed somberly at the briars that loomed silently above me in the stygian depths of night. My small fire kept me warm, but it cast all my surroundings into darker, more menacing shadows.

Off in the distance, I heard the bell tower chime. One... two... three... I counted silently, each knell bringing me closer to my appointed hour. Twelve. I took a deep breath, and plunged into the briars.

Hours later — it felt like hours — I entered the courtyard as quietly as I could, though I was still breathing hard from the exertion of forcing my way through the briars. My clothing had been ripped beyond repair, so I had removed it. No one would take notice; they were all asleep. A soft nicker startled me, and I spun, trying to locate its source. My breath caught as I spotted the unicorn. She approached slowly. I waited, trembling. I had never been this close to being touched by magic, though magic was all around me.

Honey-brown eyes studied me, then the unicorn bumped my chest with her nose. The horn hovered above my head, but I did not have to duck to avoid being hit with it. I dared reach out and caress the magical being, and shimmers of light sparkled where I stroked.

"You are beautiful," I whispered. "I had not thought to be so blessed." I stepped to her side and threw my arms around her neck. "Thank you." She whickered, snorted, and shook her head free, moving around so she could look me in the eye. Once she had my full attention, she pointed at one of the buildings with her horn. The chapel.

"Thank you," I said again. "I pray I am worthy of your blessing."

She nodded her head up and down, then pranced backwards and... well, she disappeared. I stood rooted to the spot for minutes, contemplating, but then a mosquito found me and broke the spell. I hurried toward the chapel to escape being bitten to death.

The chapel was cool. Light streamed through the windows, scattering blotches of color on the floor. There was a catafalque in front of the altar, an open casket upon it. Before it, arrayed in a semi-circle, were four sheathed swords: saber, katana, scimitar, rapier. In the middle was a double-headed axe, a labrys. I glanced down at my naked body, and swallowed hard. This quest was no simple walk in the woods. I could see that some magic from the unicorn still clung to me, but this was my only armor. I wiped my hands on my thighs — not that it did any good — and marched forward with assumed confidence.

I paused in front of the weapons, and bowed toward the open casket. I could not see its occupant from where I stood, but I felt, I knew, I was in the presence of the one I sought. I looked at the weapons arrayed at my feet. Slowly I crouched, allowing my hand to hover over each before I made a decision. I did not need to make a decision after all; the labrys flared as my hand drifted over it, and my heart sang. I placed my hand on the haft, wrapped my fingers around it, and rose.

Something breathed behind me, loud in the unnatural silence of the enchanted castle. I turned to face my challenge. So. Not bad. Only about six feet and about two hundred and fifty pounds of solid muscle. I could handle that. I hoped. I could not tell its gender. Both chest and loins were flat. I shrugged and raised the labrys. It raised a saber. Parrying was going to be a bit of a problem. There is no hand-guard on a labrys, and if its sword struck the shaft and slid along it too far, I would lose my hold, if not my hands. It bowed, holding the hilt of its saber to its forehead. I did likewise. Then we began to circle.

I was glad of the leather grip on my weapon. My hands were slippery with sweat. I managed to parry reasonably well, catching my opponent's sword with the top of the axe head. Still, I yielded ground, again, thrice, making my way backwards until I was almost behind the altar. As my opponent swung once more, I dropped and rolled beneath the altar, immediately twisting to swipe the labrys at its feet. I met no resistance, but my opponent howled, dropped its saber, and disappeared. I remained where I was, listening through the sound of my harsh breathing to see if any other creature would materialize.

Nothing. All remained silent. My own breathing quieted. I worked my way from beneath the altar and stood, looking around. Still nothing. I glanced at the labrys, noting that there were no nicks, no blood, no marks upon it to indicate I'd just fought a furious battle. I raised the axe head to my lips and kissed the weapon, then laid it on the altar. It shimmered.

I now turned my attention to the catafalque, feeling I had earned the right to approach. I came around the foot of the casket and raised my eyes to see what I would see.

A princess lay within, as nude as I. Beautiful? I suppose so, if one judged only by outward appearances. I knew her true beauty was deep inside her; her gentle, loving, kind, generous personality had been spoken of, sung of, and revered for decades. I wasn't in the least surprised that the magic included tests for vanity (the briars tearing my clothes), purity (the unicorn), courage (knowing I must fight, armor-less), and ingenuity (how to defeat a fully-armed opponent). I was humbled that I had passed all the tests, yet I sensed that the most difficult test had just begun.

I moved around the casket until I was beside it, and examined its construction. I saw that if the lid closed, there was no way to open it again. There were hooks set into the top that would latch onto tiny rods set across a deep groove on the lip of the casket. Had I bumped into it during the fight, the lid might have fallen and locked her away forever. I heaved a sigh of relief. I glanced around for something to stuff in the groove but could see nothing that would serve. I returned to the altar, and let my hand hover over the labrys. The handle shimmered. I reached for it, and noticed a small napkin underneath. Bowing respectfully, I thanked the Beings who seemed to be encouraging me, and slipped the piece of cloth from beneath the weapon. It was easy to rip it to small strips, which I proceeded to stuff into the groove until I could force no more in.

Satisfied that the lid would not accidentally lock, I climbed into the casket with the princess, straddling her thighs. It seemed to me the casket expanded slightly to accommodate me, but I could be wrong about that. I placed my hands on either side of her head, and slowly lowered my body onto hers. She sighed as my weight settled upon her. My nose brushed the side of her neck, and I distinctly heard a murmur. I reached up and over, and brought the lid gently down upon us. We were cocooned in darkness, but not locked in.

I lay on her, reveling in the feel of her smooth skin against mine. Finally I lifted my head and sought her lips. She gasped, arched, and I felt her legs part. I shifted one thigh to lie between her legs. She wrapped a leg around mine, and her arms came up to caress my back. The kiss went on forever, until I had no more breath and had to pull away for a moment.

"You're not a man," she said.

"No."

"Take me."

"Not yet. I will bring you to ecstasy, though," I murmured, pushing my thigh against her mons.

"Kiss me, then. Kiss me again."

Fire ignited as we reveled in the feel of our entwined bodies. She writhed beneath me, and her hands roamed all over my body, coming between us to feel my breasts. I stopped one hand as it drifted lower. She whimpered, but I knew we could not fully have each other yet; it wasn't time, yet. I thrust harder against her, and she gripped my leg with hers, thrusting back. I knew she was close. I moved my hand to between her legs, and carefully touched her, finding the pearl I was seeking and sliding a finger on either side. I was wary of going further, so I concentrated on stroking her. She screamed as she stiffened in ecstasy, but since our mouths were fused, it wasn't too loud. I was overcome as well, as wave after wave of pleasure washed over me.

After I regained my breath, I lifted my head to look at her, but there was no light. I lifted myself off her, pushing the lid open with my back. She reached to stroke my cheek. I held her hand there, then twisted my head to kiss her palm. There were things to do yet, though, so I pushed myself up and clambered out of the casket. She sat up.

"Mother?" she said, looking beyond me.

I turned. A regal woman stood some few feet away, glaring at me. Her first words, addressed to me, were angry. "You have robbed me of grandchildren!"

"I've gifted you with a happy daughter," I replied.

Her face softened at that, and she looked at her daughter, who had climbed out of the casket and was standing next to me.

A whicker sounded from a patch of light, and the unicorn materialized. "Mother" gasped, staring as though she was seeing a ghost. The unicorn trotted right over to me and the princess, butting each of our bellies with its nose, the horn hovering over our shoulders. I gasped, then the princess did, as the unicorn performed a totally unexpected action. She licked my wet hairs, and then she licked my hand. Suddenly a blinding light had us all shielding our eyes. Magic reverberated throughout the chapel, thundering in our minds and hearts. When the rumbling, pounding, flashing, and echoing all stopped, there stood before us a most handsome woman, who held a unicorn's horn in her hand.

"Sorry, children," she said. "I know that was rather shocking behavior of me, but I've been waiting to shed this enchantment for almost as long as you have. I'm so glad you're awake, Belle," she said to the princess. "And you, Charmaine, have been outstanding in the fulfilling-the-quest department. I have a feeling you will be quite the best thing the Kingdom has seen in a while. As for you," she turned to Belle's mother, "I've missed you terribly."

The queen was standing with crossed arms. "You. Licked. My. Child."

"I did not. I licked Charmaine. There was no other way to break the spell, and you well know it," she said, pointing the unicorn's horn at the queen. "I had to ingest the virginal essence of two women. Belle didn't touch Charmaine. Charmaine made certain of that."

"But she —"

"No she did not, or I wouldn't have been able to approach. You know that."

Belle and I were looking back and forth between them, slack-jawed. What in the world...?

"Now come. We have unfinished — business — to attend to."

The sorceress, or fairy, or whatever she was, took the queen's hand in hers, and they disappeared as she pulled the queen into an embrace. Had they kissed? I looked at Belle, suddenly nervous. She was staring at the spot they had been standing in, and she was smiling.

"I always thought there was something between them." Then she looked at me. She pursed her lips as her eyes raked up and down my body. My nipples pearled and I got wet again. Her eyes stopped when they met mine, and we looked at each other. "I'm glad you passed all the tests."

"I'm glad too."

"The palace is going to wake up soon. Hadn't we better make our way to my bedroom before anyone comes?" Her eyes gleamed with mischief. "I think a hundred and eighteen years is quite long enough to be a virgin, don't you?"

"I, ah, yes, I do agree with you on that. Lead the way."

She grabbed my hand, and I set off on an entirely different, and most personally satisfying, quest.

The End.

The Ball

by A.L. Hotchkin

Copyright © 2010 by A.L. Hotchkin

All rights reserved.

The Ball

AFTER SHE UNPACKED the last box, I watched as Keara looked around the room with a sense of accomplishment. "Whew, finally the last box."

I walked over and kissed her on the cheek. "Thanks babe."

The decision to move halfway across the country didn't come easily. For Keara, it wasn't much of an issue. However, for me it was. It still tears at my heart to leave mom behind in Rochester all alone.

Mom still hasn't come to terms with Mama Lillith being taken from their home in the wee hours of the morning three years ago. There was no trial. Lillith accepted what was handed her, receiving a life sentence without parole in return.

I went to the prison with mom that first time. She never stopped sobbing from the moment they brought Lillith through the door. I felt at a complete loss on how to comfort her. Over my life, I've been told I'm most like Mama Lillith, so I know exactly what she was thinking that day when she walked in and saw mom so upset. Lillith knew it would slowly kill mom to see her month after month, for years to come, locked away. She told mom never to return after that day.

When mom does go, she's turned away at the gate. Still, three years later, mom makes the pilgrimage every first Monday of the month.

Keara knew this day would be rough on not only myself, but for my mother. I was always there to talk to when she got home. Now with us moving...

I looked up from my musings to find my wife smiling at me.

"It's okay to be upset today, Shane. I know even after all this time, it's still as fresh a pain as if it happened just a few moments ago. Why don't you go make us some lunch and I'll go clean up?"

I stopped what I was doing in the kitchen when I heard the phone ring. Of course I knew who it was, even though she was calling a little later than I thought she would. Knowing mom would need to talk, I had told her to call when she wanted.

"Yes, Shane's in the kitchen. Let me get her."

Hearing my name, I peeked around the corner. Keara had her finger on the mute button. "It's your mom. She doesn't sound too good."

I knew for sure that something was wrong. I'd had a queasy feeling all day, and now it was about to become reality. Taking the phone from her, I kissed her on the lips. "Thanks love."

Squeezing my shoulder, she left the room.

"Mom, is everything okay?" Listening, my world spun out of control. "I understand. We'll be home on the next flight."

Keara returned a few moments later and sat beside me. "What's wrong, babe?"

I knew she was concerned, but I needed a moment. Rubbing my hands over my face, I let out a deep sigh. While trying to purge myself of the deep anger that was building in me, I realized once more the mannerism that I had inherited from Mama Lillith. Whenever something deeply bothered her, she would rub her hands over her face and through her hair repeatedly.

"We need to go back to Rochester. Mom went on her usual visit to try to see Lillith. However, when she arrived home, there was a message on her machine to call them as soon as possible. They told her Lillith was killed this morning in the mess hall when she tried breaking up a fight." I didn't bother to wipe the tears that fell. Possibly they would help release these feelings. Yet nothing could do that, could it?

I felt Keara's arms circle me. Even with her warmth, I was still cold. "I love you Shane, we'll get through this together. I'll go pack a bag for us. Call and book the flights."

*  *  *

Three weeks later, I sat in the airport, ready to board a flight to Ireland. Keara was not happy with me when I told her this was something I wanted to do alone.

She tried one last time to talk me into letting her join me. "Shane, you don't have to do this on your own. I'm your wife, for better or worse."

Staring straight ahead at nothing, I'm sure my response sounded hollow. "I know you want to help Keara, but I really need to do this on my own. She wanted to be buried in Ireland and mom isn't up to the trip. It's my duty to do." There was so much unfinished business between me and Mama Lillith, I was hoping to work through it my own way.

Sighing, I turned to her. Pushing a stray hair off her face, I kissed her on the lips. "I love you darling, please remember that."

I saw the worried expression on her face. Putting my fingers to her lips, she stopped before she spoke. "Please listen. I won't be coming back, at least not yet. I need time to deal with all of this as well. I'll make sure I e-mail you every Friday, just so you won't worry. Mom was always right when she said I was exactly like Lillith. I caused enough trouble in my life before I met you; I have no idea how I wasn't in a cell beside her. When mom told me she was killed, I saw blood red. I wanted nothing more than to kill those who had taken her life."

I squeezed her hand. "I have to find a way to control or rid myself of it before I can return. The last thing in the world I want to do is ever hurt you or anyone else."

Keara softly cried. Quietly she asked, "But you will return?"

Taking her face in my hands, I kissed her gently. "Yes, my love, I will return."

Keara smiled. "Good, 'cause I want to go to the Masquerade Ball with your mom on All Hollow's Eve."

"Darling, it's six months away. I can't think past today." Kissing her once more, I stood.

"Yes, but it's something for me to look forward to. That way I know you'll have to return."

*  *  *

I buried my mother two days after arriving in the land she loved so much. It didn't matter that she was not Irish; the village accepted her as one of their own. Sitting on the loveseat in the little home she kept there, I thought about her and how she had saved my life more than once.

"They never gave you a chance, did they? Your destiny was laid out the moment you were born." I lifted my glass of Scotch. "To you, Mama Lillith, may you finally find the peace in death you couldn't in life." I set the half-full glass on the coffee table. Much to my mother's dismay, I had acquired a taste for Scotch. It only helped to solidify that I was a clone of Mama Lillith, seeing it was her drink of choice.

A chill crept over the room. "Damn, it gets cold fast around here. Glad I brought a sweatshirt." After retrieving it from the bedroom, I bent to pick up my glass.

I looked at it, puzzled. "What the hell?" It was empty. I quickly looked around. "Okay, who's here?"

No one answered. "Come on now, that glass didn't empty itself."

I searched the entire house, only to find no one. Bringing my leather case into the living room, I pulled out pens and a notebook. "Shit, I'm glad I brought some writing stuff. There's no way I'm sleeping tonight. I'm already talking to myself and drinking stuff that I don't remember drinking. At this rate, I'll be mad in a week." The first thing I wrote was a list of items I needed to do in town in the morning. On the top of the list was to find a place I could e-mail Keara from, since Lillith never had anything run to the house.

*  *  *

Over the next three months, I ventured out only to pick up food that I was running low on and to send a message to my wife. The pubs tempted me. I would walk up to them, look in and see the people laughing, and know I didn't belong there; at least not yet. So, I'd trudge back home and continue to write.

During that time, strange things continued to happen. Sometimes I would wake in the morning to find a paragraph or two written on the page that I know I didn't write. Several times, my computer would be on in the morning when I know I shut it off the night before.

Whoever or whatever was doing these things must have been thirsty all the time. Every time I left a glass sitting, I'd come back or turn back around to find it empty. At least once or twice a week, half my sandwich would vanish.

After the first couple of weeks, I started pouring two glasses of what I was drinking and making an extra sandwich every Friday. I would set the extra stuff on the table in the kitchen and let them have their privacy. On several occasions, they were cheeky enough to still steal half of my sandwich.

Whatever it was didn't frighten me. By the third week, I started talking to what I liked to think of as my ghost. I knew who it was in my heart. I just couldn't bring myself to put voice to it though.

*  *  *

As I wrote, the story I developed in my mind flowed onto the paper.

A young woman in her early teen years attending the funerals of her entire family — someone had wanted the land they lived on and stopped at nothing to get it. As a result, a family was nearly extinct except for one lone, angry girl; a girl left alone in the world with all her anger and grief.

That anger built into a demon inside her and she fell in with the wrong man. He nurtured her to let it feed on her soul, to consume her. She did his bidding. Eventually, she tired of taking his orders and killed him.

Feeling that power, she wanted more. For more than a decade, she honed her skills and became the best that money could buy. Then one day, along came a job that went horrifically wrong. She killed a woman whose death would change her life. She found out the woman had a wife and children and lastly, that she had been undercover to catch a crooked politician running a drug ring.

Over the next almost-decade, my heroine would try to right every wrong she could. At the same time, she met a green-eyed spitfire of a woman and fell in love. Together they had three children. Of the two younger children, one would disappear when her lover was killed in a car accident, and the other moved to Greece and never looked back. The oldest would be there until the end; she would be the one to bury her one day.

I put my pen down as I wrote the last sentence of my new novel. It was a story that needed to be told. Alas, of course the readers would think it fiction, but several of us would know the truth. Standing, I stretched so my back would pop back into place. I suddenly felt better than I had in years. I felt a weight of grief purge from my being.

"This is what I needed. Writing and purging myself... I feel like I can breathe again." Looking at the empty Scotch bottle, I realized it was the last bottle I had.

"Well, now is as good a time as any to try one of those pubs."

Opening the door, all eyes turned to me. Some of them I had seen around town on my trips before; they greeted me like an old friend. The others just stared, their mouths hanging open like they'd seen a ghost. I sat at the bar. "Scotch, please."

I downed it in one gulp and ordered another. Eyeing the menu board, I suddenly was starving. "Excuse me, could I get some of the stew also please."

The bartender nodded. "Sure thing, miss."

*  *  *

Over the next few weeks, the pub became a daily ritual. I even learned to play darts, much to my astonishment. In the morning, I would do edits on my novel and then spend my late afternoon and evening at the pub.

Many times, I had picked up the phone to call Keara, but I just couldn't do it. I wasn't quite ready yet to get on with my life. I knew in my bones there was still something left undone here in Ireland, I just wasn't sure what. I knew it had to do with the strange things that had been happening.

Looking at the calendar, I realized it was October first. Halloween was coming up. It was a special day to our family, it being Mama Lillith's birthday. I remembered Keara saying she wanted to go back to Rochester and go to the ball with mom. It was easier to communicate with the world now that I had connection here at the house.  It was one of the best investments I had made in my life. I e-mailed Keara to tell her how much I loved her and that I was doing much better.

The room became cold again. This was how I knew my ghost was here. "I know you're around, just like I know who you are. We miss you. I just wish there was a way for you to tell us you're okay, that you're finally at peace."

Clicking the mouse to save my file, I was done with the edits. Now it was up to my beta-readers to work their way through what was the hardest story I'd ever written. After sending the file off to them, I decided to go to the pub early. "Yes, sure do need a few drinks after writing this one."

*  *  *

Sitting at the bar, I was on my third beer when I heard the heavy wooden pub door open. I suddenly felt the same chill in the air that I had at home on many occasions. Behind me, a chair moved and someone sat down. Finishing my beer, I got the attention of the bartender. "Another one, please."

Instead of a beer being placed in front of me, a bottle of Scotch and two glasses appeared. The bartender smiled and walked away. I picked up the bottle and glasses. No one told me what to do with them, somehow I just knew.

Standing, I paused a moment. Was I ready for this? Turning, I came to face a woman's back. She had long black hair pulled back in a ponytail by a leather tie. She was a large, muscular woman. I knew who she was without seeing the face. I just didn't understand how.

Coming around the table, I pulled out the chair and sat. Sitting the glasses on the table, I filled them and pushed one toward her. Looking up, I stopped breathing a moment. It was her, yet she was different. Gone was the scar on the right side of her face. She wore a sleeveless tank top that showed the disappearance of the other scars she bore and her tattoos were gone as well.

Picking up her glass, she raised it in a toast. "To your mother."

I raised mine as well. "To mom." The Scotch burned on its way down. Usually it didn't bother me, but today every fiber of my being ached. Every broken bone throbbed and my head pounded.

I refilled our glasses and held mine high. "To Mama Lillith."

She smiled and drained hers. She didn't say a word, only sat quietly.

Pouring another round, I didn't wait for a toast. Draining it, I refilled it yet again. I was speechless. How could she be sitting there? "I don't understand. How? Why? Or did I get drunk, pass out and this is a wild-ass nightmare?"

"No, you are not dreaming. I have been watching you for a little while."

I nodded my head. "Ah, the disappearing drink and food. I take it you've also been using my pen and computer?"

Smiling she sipped her drink. "Yes. I thought you needed a little help."

Reality told me I should have been terrified, but I wasn't. I was puzzled. "I still want to know how and why."

Standing, she towered over me. "Not here, let us go home. I will see you there."

Upon arriving at the cottage, I knew what I'd find. Slowly walking into the living room, I found her sitting on the sofa with her feet on the coffee table. Sitting down beside her, I raised my eyebrow in a questioning look. I had to ask her. "Are you dead or was it some scheme?"

"No, I am dead. Kind of... For that, I am sorry, Shane. I had to step in."

So many things ran through my mind — all the unanswered questions about life.

She shook her head. "No, I cannot answer any of those questions for you."

My face heated at my embarrassment. "Damn, I guess I won't be able to hide anything from you."

She patted my thigh. "You never could anyway. I always knew what you were up to; sometimes even before you did."

"Okay... Why and how then." I still couldn't believe it. Sitting before me was my Mama Lillith, who I had watched being buried.

Lillith laughed. "You have always been so impatient. That trait you got from your mother, not me." She sat back on the couch and got comfortable once again.

"Well, here goes. When I died, there was no white light. I was met by Michael instead. She told me that in order for me to be at rest, I was not finished here yet. For the next five-hundred years, I must walk this earth helping all others. I understood why. I had to atone for all the pain I caused in my life."

My ire was up. "Lillith..." I sighed. "You already did that. You're a good person. I take it you're talking about Michael the Archangel, correct? Doesn't all the good you've done count for something? If she was all-seeing and knowing, I think she would see that it does."

Lillith shook her head. "Shane, I am fine with what I have to do. I have a lot to atone for. Please do not be angry, and yes, that Michael."

Tears covered my cheeks. "You're not supposed to be here, are you?"

She wiped the tears from my face, just as she had when I was a child. "No. I had to see you once more, to know that you've let go of the anger within you."

"What will happen to you for this?"

"It matters not."

I blew out a deep breath. "Mama..."

Lillith laughed. It was the full, loud laugh I remembered from my childhood when we would play. "There is no doubt you are my child. All right then. I will be here an extra hundred years. But have no fear, it was worth every minute to make sure you are okay."

Lillith stood and looked around the living room, her eyes settling on the fireplace. Bending over to start a fire, she sounded sad. "I only wish I could give your mother some peace of mind also. You will be leaving here soon, will you not? I think Keara expects you to be at a certain ball."

"I want to spend as much time as I can with you," I pleaded.

Pulling me into a hug, Lillith kissed the top of my head. "You know I cannot. It was for this one day only."

It was then that an idea hit me. "All Hollow's Eve..."

Lillith shook her head. "No, Shane."

I smiled. "Yes, it could work. It will work. I know just the costume for the both of us. Tell me, would you not risk another hundred years to see her happy one more time?" I knew I was being unfair, playing on her weakness.

Smiling, Lillith knew she had lost the battle with me before it had begun. "Okay, tell me your full plan."

Picking up my phone, I felt a spark come back to my soul that had been lost three years ago. "I will take care of the details. You just show up where I am in full costume. I have three costumes to order and arrangements to make. Luckily, I'm good friends with the person running it this year."

I knew our time was short; she was looking towards the window.

"I love you, Mama." I hugged her and turned toward the kitchen. "I'm sorry. I'm still not ready to see you leave, but I know you have to. I'll see you on the thirty-first."

When I turned back, I was the only person in the room. However, I knew I wasn't alone. She would always be watching over me. "Love you."

*  *  *

All Hollow's Eve was my favorite holiday, and not just cause it was Mama Lillith's birthday. It started as a small child. I loved the idea of dressing as someone I could never be. This also was probably what led me to be a writer.

All arrangements were set, all players in place. Not only had I ordered my costume, but I sent mom and Keara theirs. I knew Mama Lillith could take care of her own. I stood in a side hallway at the convention center, adjusting my mask, when I felt the air turn cooler. Not needing to turn around, I acknowledged her presence. "Mama... I never had any doubt." I smiled. "Shall we make our entrance?"

Lillith bowed her head. The only part of her face I could see was from her lips down. A white mask covered the rest. She was dressed in black, with a black cape and hat. I grinned. We stood the same height, wearing the same outfit; no one could tell us apart. We were two very tall, handsome Phantom of the Operas for the evening, and we had come to claim our prizes.

I had come up with the idea, because the play was the favorite of both my mothers, and it was the play they attended on their honeymoon in London. It would always hold a special place in both of their hearts. So I knew it was the only choice.

It was time. I had told my friend to have the DJ play some of the opening introductions of the play's music at exactly midnight. "Showtime."

In front of us, the ballroom doors opened and the crowd parted as if by magic. Being ushered to the center of the ballroom by two Roman soldiers were Keara and my mom.

It was a magical moment. The crowd continued to part as we made our way to them. Keara is shorter than mom, so I knew who was who. I bowed and watched Mama Lillith do the same. The intro music from the play continued, blending into the music from the masquerade ball act. I took my wife in my arms and whisked her away.

Spying on them from the corner of my eye, I saw my mothers dancing as well. Mom reached up to remove Lillith's mask. Her hand was caught before she could, and Lillith bent to whisper in her ear.

Keara squeezed my hand. "Babe, I have a question."

I shook my head. "No questions tonight. All Hollow's Eve is a night for magic. A night for putting the past to rest and new beginnings."

We danced into the wee hours of the morning. We watched as mom and Mama Lillith strolled into the hall. Time was short; I would let them make the most of it, no matter how much I wanted to run after them and beg Mama Lillith for more time with her.

Nothing in my life was going to be the same again. Never would I take for granted again that I had all the time in the world. I would gladly do those extra hundreds of years for Lillith for seeing the happiness on mom's face when I saw her the next morning.

Mom sat at the island in the kitchen, eating more than I'd seen her consume in three years. I kissed her on the cheek.

Reaching up, she pulled me into a fierce hug. "Thank you for last night, Shane. I can go on now, knowing she's at peace and watching over us. We had good years together, and I wouldn't give any of them up for anything in the world."

Yes, all was going to be okay. I felt a chill in the air and smiled. Bending over, I kissed her cheek again. "Love you, mom... Both of you."

The End.

Winter Solstice, Night of the Wolves

by Fran Heckrotte

Copyright © 2010 by Fran Heckrotte

All rights reserved.

Winter Solstice, Night of the Wolves

THE SNOW HAD been falling relentlessly for three days, covering the trees and forest floor. All signs of life were obliterated. An eerie quietness settled over the land as the clouds moved away, exposing thousands of stars and a full moon. Hunkered down, the woodland creatures had no desire to leave their warm nests and burrows. They were content to spend the cold snuggling with others of their kind or sleeping through the long winter night.

Yemaya and Dakota stared into the darkness, their eyes searching for signs of movement.

"Do you think they're okay?" Dakota asked, shifting slightly in the warm embrace of the arms wrapped around her waist. Yemaya was standing behind Dakota, her chin resting on her lover's head. A blanket was draped around both of them, shielding them from the cold air. When Dakota shivered, Yemaya pulled her closer.

"I am sure they are fine. Every year around this time they go away for a few days."

"Where?"

"Out there!" Yemaya said, unconsciously nodding toward the mountains.

Dakota sighed.

"I miss Simtire."

"I know. Once you have bonded with wolves, they become a part of you, and you, them."

"You must miss Regina and Voinic an awful lot."

"I do, but they will be home tomorrow."

"I hope so."

"Come inside. You are cold." Yemaya guided Dakota into their bedroom and closed the balcony doors. "I will run a hot bath so we can warm up."

"I've a better idea." Dakota pulled Yemaya toward the bed. "Let's warm up under the blankets."

Yemaya's lips curled up at the edges. Her blue eyes twinkled with suppressed humor.

"Are you sure? You are still recovering from the flu."

"What better way? The doctor told me to stay in bed. I'm simply following her orders."

"So you are."

*  *  *

Several wolves were gathered in a circle on the highest peak of the mountain range surrounding Lysanne Valea. The dim lights of Castle Lysanne could be seen several kilometers away. Tree limbs swayed back and forth, making the lights appear like the flickering stars of the distant worlds.

Every year, for as long as the Lysanne packs could remember, they gathered on the same day at this particular site. The young and healthy would join the old and failing. Alliances were renewed and information exchanged about the clans that lived deeper in the mountain ranges. The recent dead were mourned and their names passed on to others, never to be forgotten. Wolves cherished their kin as much as they cherished life itself. All who came before them continued to live in the wild beating heart of each wolf. Vyushir, the Wolf Spirit, deemed it so.

*  *  *

Voinic lay next to his mate, Regina, worried about her failing health. She was older than him and feeling her age. Thirteen cycles had passed since her birth, three more than his. This trip had been particularly hard for her. What normally took a few hours had taken almost an entire day. Her progress up the steep terrain had been painfully slow.

Whining softly, Simtire crept on her belly toward her dam and sire, voicing her concern. She was the youngest of Regina's last litter, but already displayed the Queen's intelligence. Simtire was brave and strong, with a youthful exuberance that often got her and her siblings into trouble, trouble she almost always managed to escape. Although proud of their offspring, Voinic and Regina often had to chastise her for her irresponsible behavior. Chastisement, by wolf standards, was often harsh, and never forgotten.

Mother? Simtire thought, nudging Regina with her nose. Wolves didn't communicate entirely by words. Often imagery and body language were used. The imagery was like watching a slide show, sometimes at high speed, sometimes slow motion. A picture of Regina lying on the snow with her eyes closed followed by the image of Clovn, her deceased daughter, showed Simtire's concern for her mother. Almost immediately, Regina flashed back a scene of her running with the pack and then lying down to rest. Simtire wasn't fooled, but knew better than to challenge her mother. After giving Regina's cheek several licks, she backed away on her belly.

"Aaawww Wooooo!" she howled, turning her nose upward. Others followed suit until a chorus filled the air and echoed across the mountains and valleys. Distant clans picked up the howls and passed them to others farther away. Within minutes, the entire Carpathian Range reverberated with the wolves' songs. Then, just as quickly as it began, their world fell silent.

Your children are worried about you. I am worried about you, Voinic flashed to his mate. Regina sent the same image to Voinic as she had sent to Simtire. Voinic knew better. We have been together too long, my Queen. You are not well. Images of the two of them running through the forests, playing with their children and their children's children, was followed by the single image of her walking slowly up the mountain.

Regina opened her eyes and looked at her mate. At ten cycles, he was still strong and beautiful. Only his graying coat and muzzle revealed signs of his aging. Voinic was the perfect consort for her, and a wonderful father to their offspring. He shared the responsibility of raising several litters, willingly, feeding and protecting his family against anything that threatened them. Rarely did he challenge her authority. When he did, though, he was usually right, and Regina was wise enough to accept his decisions.

Regina returned Voinic's images exactly as he had sent them, adding one more at the end, the face of her and Clovn standing together.

Voinic felt a pain in his chest. Clovn was with Vyushir. The pack clown, she was missed by everyone.

When? he asked.

Regina closed her eyes. Her mind went blank. Wolves could not relay time. The past was a series of pictures of events and pack members, the future a blank slate. Still, her exhaustion was a good indication that her passing was near.

*  *  *

The wolves watched the exchange of visions between their Queen and her consort. There were no secrets between kin. Secrets created distrust and a wolf's life depended on complete faith in the pack and its leaders.

An eerie calm settled around them. No one was willing to disturb it. Several distant clans called out, trying to entice the pack into joining them. When the calls went unanswered, they, too, grew quiet, sensing something was wrong.

Simtire stood and stretched, leaning her body forward and then backward. Looking at those around her, she turned and walked back over to Regina and lay next to her, placing her mother between her and Voinic. Others in the pack gathered around the three, some lying down, while others stood guard. Nothing would get between them and their Queen.

*  *  *

A cold wind blasted the trees, shaking the snow from their branches. Several dead limbs snapped and fell to the ground, the impacts muffled by the deep white blanket covering the forest floor. The wolves stared into the moonlit darkness, searching for anything unusual. Nothing was unusual, and yet they sensed something was moving toward them from over the ridge. Ears pricked forward, several moved cautiously away from the pack, intent on creating a first line of defense. Others circled Regina nervously. If their scouts failed, the rest would defend their Queen.

The moon was directly overhead. Light reflected off the snow-covered landscape, creating an almost-blinding glare. Distracted by this vulnerability, the wolves didn't see the white figure bounding toward them from the opposite direction. It leapt over the first three. When the wolves charged the intruder, it spun around and slapped them to the ground with massive paws.

Stay down! it snarled. Reeling from the blows, the stunned wolves had no choice but to obey. The remaining wolves crouched, unsure of themselves. Down! Every member of the pack lay down and rested their heads on their paws... except two. Voinic and Simtire stood and positioned themselves in front of Regina, willing to die for their mother, mate and Queen.

The intruder's hackles rose. Emitting a low growl, its lips curled upward, exposing large, white canine teeth.

You defy me?

Simtire felt a moment of fear. Her heart beat wildly as she stared at the enormous white wolf confronting her.

She is my Queen! My mother! Images of their hunts together and her tugging on her mother's ear when she was a pup filled her mind.

She is my life-mate and my Queen, Vyushir! Voinic added, recognizing the Spirit.

She is mine to do with as I wish! I have come for her, Vyushir growled.

Simtire and Voinic stepped forward, blocking the Wolf Spirit's path.

Take me!

And me!

You are not why I am here. Step aside!

*  *  *

Regina's feet twitched as she dreamt of running across the mountainous terrain. The aches and pains of age were gone. Next to her were her mother and father. Other kin either followed or were spread out along each side, enjoying the thrill of the chase. A herd of large, white bison ran in front of them. Only one interested her and her companions. The pack separated one young calf from its mother and surrounded it. When the calf gave up, bawling, the wolves moved in for the kill. One by one, they approached the terrified baby, giving it the coup de grace: a lick on the snout. Then, happy that the chase was over, they turned and charged toward the highest peak, leaving the mother bison the job of reassuring her baby. Regina never killed in her dreams.

It was a glorious chase, wasn't it Moth — A deep growl interrupted her thought. Looking around, the faces of her deceased kin faded. Regina opened her eyes slowly, feeling lethargic and confused. Before her stood Simtire and Voinic, their backsides barely a foot from her face; beyond them stood a great white wolf.

Vyushir! Regina called out, attempting to stand up.

Rest! Vyushir commanded. And remove these insubordinates from in front of you. They refuse to obey me.

Simtire! Voinic! What is this about?

Turning, Simtire looked into her mother's eyes.

Vyushir has come for you. Father and I refuse to let you be taken.

Regina looked at Voinic.

Is this true? Voinic dipped his head once.

It is too soon.

Pushing upward, Regina stood on tired legs. She raised her head proudly, looking first at her mate and then her daughter.

Only Vyushir can decide when it is time. Step aside.

Reluctantly, both obeyed their Queen, but not before Simtire turned and growled at the Wolf Spirit. Although proud of her daughter's courage, Regina bared her fangs and nipped Simtire's flank. Chastened, Simtire stepped aside. My apologies, Vyushir.

No need, Regina. You cannot be held responsible for their actions. Are you ready to come with me?

If that is your wish. Regina flashed the image of her and Vyushir walking away together... and they did.

*  *  *

Noses raised to the sky, the pack's mournful cries filled the air. Their voices carried for miles, and all that heard sensed something was terribly wrong. Even the humans who stopped to listen felt an indescribable loss. Their eyes filled with tears without knowing why.

Yemaya and Dakota had just fallen asleep when they were startled awake by the wolves' howls. Pressing her hand to her chest, Yemaya felt her heart pounding and a shortness of breath.

"What is it?" Dakota asked, feeling a sense of dread. When she saw her lover's distress, she almost panicked. "Are you okay?"

"Something has happened to Regina," Yemaya replied, taking a few deep breaths to slow the heartbeats.

"Do you know what?"

"No, but it is not good."

*  *  *

You have done well with your kin, especially Simtire. She will make a good Queen, Vyushir said. Unlike the mortal wolves, the Wolf Spirit could read and project thoughts without imagery.

She is young, Regina replied. It will be many years before she is ready to lead. Voinic will have a hard time keeping her out of trouble. Memories of her mate and her daughter flashed through her mind. She would miss them... and all of her kin.

You will see them again. Come!

Regina followed Vyushir through a wall of thick clouds and emerged in a lush green forest. The sound of singing birds and animals scurrying around was a pleasant change from the cold of winter. Hundreds of different smells filled the air. A brown rabbit darted between her and the Wolf Spirit, startling her. It was only when she heard a soft growl to her left that she realized other wolves were emerging from the dense undergrowth. Spinning, she saw a gray wolf sitting a short distance away, her tongue lolling out happily.

Clovn?

Jumping up, the wolf ran to her, almost knocking her over. Swift licks to the face confirmed that her daughter was real.

Mother!

Regina realized that she and Clovn were now communicating in a different manner. Images were no longer needed.

Mother, I have missed you.

I have missed you too, daughter. You were foolish to disobey me, Regina chastised, remembering how hard it was seeing Clovn's still body lying in the glen next to a young male from another pack.

Oh, Mother, that is the past. What is important is that we are now together. Come! Run with me and the others.

I am too old for that.

No one is old here. Listen to your body. Does it feel old to you? Clovn asked, bouncing around her like a puppy, nipping her hip playfully.

Clovn was right. Regina did feel young and energetic. All of her pains had disappeared. The exhaustion that inevitably came with age had faded.

Vyushir, who had been standing quietly to the side, nodded.

Age does not exist here, except in the mind. If you feel young, you will be young. Run as much as you want, and as long. We will talk later.

It was all Clovn needed to start the chase. Nipping Regina again, Clovn jumped backward and then loped away, daring her mother to catch her. Unable to resist the invitation, Regina charged after her daughter. The chase was on. The more she played, the younger she became. Her graying muzzle and fur regained their youthful colors. Running and leaping, she was more than a match for any of her kin.

Vyushir watched the old Queen disappear into the Eternal Forest, and decided to join her and the other wolf children before returning to the mortal world. The Wolf Spirit had more business to attend to.

*  *  *

The Lysanne pack lay quietly, sharing personal images of their life with their Queen. She had been loved and respected by all. Her name would become legendary amongst all of the clans of the Carpathian Mountain range.

I should have challenged Vyushir. Simtire sent a picture to her kin of her fighting the Wolf Spirit.

Immediately, several images were flashed of Regina knocking Simtire to the ground, the Queen's teeth bared as a deep growl rumbled from her throat. Simtire returned the image, acknowledging the reprimand. Feeling her pain, Voinic nuzzled her neck and then leapt to his feet.

We run for our Queen! We run for my mate and for your mother!

Turning their noses toward the sky, their voices united in one long howl. It wasn't the familiar soulful, lonely call of the wild. Instead, they offered a joyous invitation to all who were willing to join them as they envisioned Regina leading them in the chase. On this night, no blood would stain the white blanket covering the land.

Springing forward as one, the pack raced down the mountainside toward a clearing. A gray mist swirled around its perimeter, giving it a mystical appearance. The wolves felt irresistibly drawn to the strange phenomena.

The sound of flapping wings filled the air. Voinic glanced upward. Three owls soared gracefully above, circled by smaller birds that playfully dove at their normally mortal enemies. A small meadow to Voinic's right began filling with white balls of fur as wild hares crept from their burrows and hopped cautiously out in the open. Squirrels chattered noisily in the trees, unwilling to chance cavorting with owls and wolves. Species by species, others joined in the celebration. Creatures big and small, predator and prey, ran, romped, flew and soared together, their fears put aside for a few hours of absolute joy.

*  *  *

Vyushir watched the Lysanne Queen as she lay panting, her eyes closed.

Why do you not run?

I am tired, Regina said, not opening her eyes.

There is no tiredness here, Vyushir replied.

Not of the body. My spirit is tired. I miss my mate, my pack.

Your pack? This is your pack. All here are of your blood, before and after you, the Wolf Spirit said, motioning to the wolves frolicking nearby.

Regina took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly.

Yes, and I love all of them... but I miss Voinic and Simtire. Sonya will soon give birth to her first litter. Who will guide her in raising the pups? Her mate was killed one moon cycle ago.

She will learn through trial and error, just as you did. Voinic will teach and protect her. She will be safe with the pack.

Regina knew Vyushir was right. Still... Opening her eyes, she stared sadly into the pale gray eyes of the Wolf Spirit.

I know. I only wish... Regina sighed and then shook her head and lowered it onto her paws.

— that you were with your mortal family? I gave you an easy death... a reward for your sacrifices and your loyalty to me. Would you have preferred to die a more painful one, perhaps being injured during a hunt or falling and breaking a bone?

No —

Vyushir looked at her thoughtfully. Regina was a highly intelligent leader. She had faithfully honored the thousand-year-old pact between the wolves and the Lysannes after bonding with Yemaya, descendant of Mari, the Earth Mother. She had performed her duties as Vyushir's Queen without question or complaint.

You are wise, Regina. I would expect no less from a Queen, but you are naïve in many ways. A painful death would have traumatized your pack. The distraction could jeopardize their safety. Would you have it otherwise?

No. I am grateful for your thoughtfulness, Regina said. I'm sorry that I'm causing you problems, Vyushir. I don't deserve your kindness.

You don't deserve your misery either, Regina. Now you have presented me with a dilemma. Unlike others who have journeyed here, I believe you will not settle in so easily. My attempt to reward you is becoming a poisoned gift, not only to you, but to those who care for you. I must think on this awhile.

Vyushir vanished.

*  *  *

Exhausted, the wolves returned to the mountaintop. For hours they played with the woodland animals, taking great care not to frighten or injure any of them. A game of tag developed between the young wolves, pine martens and lynx, while the rabbits chewed on the bark of a few saplings that had managed to withstand the weight of the snow. Not to be left out, the birds would swoop down amongst the players, creating distractions with their antics and chatter.

Settling next to Voinic, Simtire sent an image of her mother lying on her side, nuzzling her newborn pups.

Yes, Voinic agreed. She would have loved this. Rest! The young will soon have hungry bellies and we are one less for the hunt.

Neither Voinic nor Simtire heard Vyushir's approach as it moved silently toward them. The Wolf Spirit made its presence known only when it wanted to.

You have honored your Queen well, Vyushir said, startling all of the wolves.

Vyushir!

Vyushir!

All of the wolves lowered their heads onto their paws... all except Simtire and Voinic. Both stood defiantly, heads held high as they confronted the Wolf Spirit.

Have you come for another of us? If so, it must be me, Voinic offered, showing Vyushir an image of himself with Regina. I want to be with my mate.

Simtire sent a picture of herself. Sonya sent one of herself. Each wolf offered their personal image to the Wolf Spirit. Vyushir ignored all of them.

I am not here for that. Your times will come soon enough. I have a dilemma that must be resolved quickly. Regina is unhappy, as are most that first join me. Your Queen is strong-willed. I do not think she will adjust easily to the Spirit World, which will make the others there unhappy. Unfortunately, I cannot simply return her to you and pretend nothing has happened. It would not be fair to those who have passed before her or those who will join me later. Have you a solution? Vyushir asked, looking first into Voinic's eyes and then Simtire's.

Voinic again sent the image of him standing next to Regina.

You are brave, Voinic, but Regina would be unhappy here if I took you. That would then become a burden to this pack. There can be no substitutions. The problem must be solved in another manner — and soon. At first light, I cannot undo what has been done.

Simtire looked toward the eastern slopes, her mind racing for a solution.

Why? she asked.

Why? I do not understand your question, Simtire.

You are Vyushir, the great Wolf Spirit. All wolves honor you and believe you to be all-powerful. Do we worship you falsely?

The question was no sooner asked than she felt a body slam into her, knocking her to the ground. Voinic straddled her, his lips curled, exposing long, white fangs. Lowering his muzzle to within inches of her face, he growled ominously. Gray-brown eyes flashed angrily.

You dishonor your pack and your Queen.

Simtire whimpered and rolled onto her back, exposing her neck to her father. Ashamed, she awaited his punishment.

Vyushir was pleased, although he admired the young wolf's courage. In time, she would replace Regina.

Enough! the Wolf Spirit ordered. Simtire's question is fair... and she has provided me the solution I need.

Without saying another word, Vyushir vanished, leaving the pack confused.

*  *  *

Voinic lay next to his mate, worried about her failing health. She was older than him and feeling her age. Thirteen cycles had passed since her birth, three more than his.  This trip up the mountain had seemed particularly hard on her. What normally took a few hours had taken almost an entire day as she slowly made her way up the steep terrain.

Simtire and two of her siblings circled the perimeter, searching for anything that might threaten the pack and her sleeping Queen. She had been guarding her mother all night, aware of the toll the climb had taken. Soon it would be daylight, and they would begin their trip back to her mistress' lair. The return trip would be long. Simtire was concerned that Regina might not be able to make the return journey. A change in Regina's breathing caught her attention. The Queen was waking up.

*  *  *

Regina opened her eyes slowly, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness. Yawning, she turned her head and looked around. Most of her pack were lying quietly nearby. Some dozed, their soft breathing barely audible. The ones who were awake lifted their heads and stared at their Queen worriedly. Simtire was standing a short distance away, watching her.

An image of the pack on the move was sent to each of its members. Regina flexed her muscles and rose to her feet. The earlier exhaustion was gone. So were the aches and pains that had accompanied it. Stretching, she tested her legs and then shook her head tentatively.

Voinic stood and licked her face.

Are you rested enough? he asked.

Regina sent him the image of her running with the pack. She was in the lead. The rest struggled to keep up with her. It was then followed by another of her and Clovn playing in a lush green forest. Because the image was slightly blurred, the wolves knew she was showing them a dream.

One by one, each pack member sent her images of their own dreams. Although slightly different, Vyushir was present in all of them. Regina raised her nose skyward. Her throaty song echoed across the mountains, followed by her mate, daughter and the pack. None doubted that the Wolf Spirit had visited them while they slept.

I am fine, she said. Vyushir has blessed me with new strength. Come! We run! I am anxious to return home to our mistress.

As am I, my Queen, Voinic said.

And I, my Queen, Simtire added.

And I, my Queen, each wolf called out.

Jubilant, the pack raced down the slope and into the woods as the sun peeked over the ridge. Sunbeams reached tentatively toward the meadow a short distance away. From a distance, the snow appeared as smooth and undisturbed as the rest of the land. It was only when the wolves passed through it that they noticed hundreds of animal tracks crisscrossing the surface and knew something unusual had occurred during the night.

Intent on reaching home before nightfall, the pack passed within meters of a large white wolf standing quietly on the edge of the forest. Regina, however, slowed and made contact with the pale blue eyes.

Vyushir!

Stay young, my Queen! Vyushir said and then vanished. The howl of a lone wolf was heard by all the clans of the Carpathian Mountains. All was well.

The End.

The Christmas Oak

by Jae

Copyright © 2010 by Jae

All rights reserved.

Acknowledgments

Thank you to my beta reader, Pam, and to my critique partners, RJ and Astrid. Also, thank you to Marion for test reading.

Dedication

Merry Christmas to all my readers!

Author's note

Christmas wasn't declared a federal holiday until 1870, and in the 1850s, Christmas trees weren't very common in the West yet.

Hamilton Horse Ranch

Baker Prairie, Oregon

December 24th, 1857

"CHRISTMAS TREE?" Luke repeated. She'd never heard of such a thing.

Nora looked up from the pie dough she was kneading on the kitchen table. "Yes. I saw a picture in a magazine. Apparently, having a Christmas tree is all the rage back East. It's usually a fir or a pine. About this tall." When she lifted her hand to indicate the tree's size, flour rained down on her, dusting her red hair and making it look as if she were covered in snow.

Smiling, Luke walked over and smoothed her hands over the soft strands. She kissed a bit of flour off Nora's nose. "You really want me to ride out in this weather to drag home a tree?"

"I thought it might make a nice family tradition." Nora slid her arms around Luke and kissed her, then moved back a few inches. Her moss green eyes looked up at Luke with an earnest expression. "But if you think the weather's too bad..."

Luke knew she wouldn't be able to say no even if a blizzard had been wreaking havoc outside. "No," she said. "The weather is no problem. I'll check on Amy's present while I'm searching for that Christmas tree."

"Mama, Papa, look!" Nattie's voice from the parlor interrupted them in the middle of a kiss.

"I'll go," Luke said. She stole a piece of dough and walked into the parlor.

Six-year-old Nattie pressed her nose against the parlor windowpane and peered outside. "It's still raining." She turned and scrunched her forehead. "Will Santa Claus come if there's no snow? His sleigh needs snow."

Amy joined her sister at the window. "Why doesn't he just use horses instead of reindeer?"

Luke suppressed a laugh. Like any rancher's daughter, Amy thought most problems could be solved by a good horse. "Don't worry, you two. Santa doesn't need snow. His reindeer can fly."

"Really?" While Nattie stared at her with wide-eyed awe, Amy glanced back and forth between Luke and the rain outside, one eyebrow forming a skeptical arch. "Hannah says there ain't no Santa Claus."

Nattie stomped her foot. "Yes, there is! Take that back."

Quickly, Luke stepped between them. "No arguing on Christmas Eve, girls. Why don't you wait until tomorrow morning? If there are gifts in your stockings, then I guess we'll know Santa really exists." Luke wanted them to believe in Santa Claus for a little while longer, maybe because she had never gotten to celebrate Christmas as a child. Christmas was a family celebration, and living with her drunken mother in a brothel, Luke hadn't been a part of a real family. Now she enjoyed the wonders of Christmas through her daughters' eyes.

She put on her jacket and gloves and took her hat from the peg next to the door.

"Where are you going?" Amy left her place next to the window.

"Looking for a Christmas tree."

"Can I come?"

Nattie hurried over to them. "Me too?"

Luke stood helplessly staring down at them. Normally, she loved taking the girls with her, but if she said yes now, she'd spoil the surprise of Amy's Christmas present. "Not this time. It's raining too hard."

The two disappointed little faces made her flinch.

"Who wants to lick the spoon?" Nora called from the kitchen.

"Me!" Nattie shouted.

"No, me!"

As their daughters rushed from the parlor, Luke breathed a sigh of relief. Good timing, love. She put on her hat and stepped out into the rain to hunt for the perfect Christmas tree.

*  *  *

Luke carefully directed Measles down a muddy slope. The mare was getting older, but she was still sure-footed. "Where is that grandson of yours hiding, old girl?"

Measles flicked her ears back but didn't answer.

Rain dripped off her hat's brim, and Luke pulled up her jacket collar.

Finally, beneath a stand of trees, she made out a band of horses. Three mares stood with their heads together, seeking shelter from the wind and rain. A few yearlings chased each other through the wet grass. Two of them rolled around in the mud. When they saw Luke, they scrambled to their feet and shook themselves.

Mud spattered in all directions.

Luke's gaze skipped from horse to horse, searching for a particular one — the red-dusted colt Nattie had named Cinnamon. "There he is."

When Luke and Measles approached, Cinnamon lifted his head and looked up from his mouthful of grass. His gaze veered to his mother, the lead mare, but he didn't run.

Good. A calm horse is just what I need for Amy.

When his mother, the red mare named Cayenne, had been born, Luke had promised Amy that the mare's first foal would be hers. Cayenne's colt had been born late in the year. When the other foals were weaned from their mothers, he hadn't been old enough, but now it was time. She'd check him out now to make sure he looked his best, and then tomorrow she would ride out with Amy and bring him home.

Just as Luke swung her leg over the cantle, she caught movement out of the corner of her eye. One foot still in the stirrup, she paused and scanned the area.

Nothing moved.

Only the Molalla River gurgled on its way north.

Had she imagined the movement?

Luke had long since learned to trust her instincts. She grabbed her rifle and dropped down. Over Measles's back, she again slid her gaze over the valley. Her skin prickled with the feeling of being watched.

She focused on the line shack near the river. She had built it three years ago, when she hired her first ranch hand. But right now, the ranch's riders were at the main house, so the line shack was supposed to be empty.

Nothing moved in the small corral, but smoke curled up from the cabin's chimney.

Someone's in there.

She checked her rifle, and, using the cover of the trees, she made her way over to the line shack.

Lifting her rifle, ready to fire, she nudged the door with one boot.

The door creaked open.

Luke held her breath.

The cabin's one room lay empty.

She released the air from her lungs and lowered her rifle but kept it cradled in the bend of her arm as she entered the cabin.

Wood smoke engulfed her. A quick touch showed that the hearth was still warm. Water dripped from the logs in the fireplace.

Luke frowned. Had someone quickly doused the fire when he'd seen her coming, not realizing that dousing the fire would create even more smoke?

A blanket had obviously been used and now hung over the edge of the cot as if someone had hurriedly tossed it there.

Had a traveler slept in the line shack and left in a hurry to make it home in time for Christmas? She had nothing against strangers using the cabin for a night or two. They were even welcome to some of the food, as long as they left enough money to replace it.

She stepped over to the rough-hewn shelf and checked the provisions.

Some of the smoked bacon was gone, and the bag of dried peaches was missing.

But whoever had helped himself to her food had left no note and no money.

Luke gritted her teeth. Even though they weren't struggling to survive anymore, she still hated when someone stole from her family. She'd have to ride to town right after Christmas Day and replace what was missing.

Grumbling, she marched to the door and stepped outside. She was just about to close the door when she paused.

Every instinct screamed at her not to turn away. Something wasn't right.

She banged the door shut, then opened it slowly, trying to avoid the creaking sound.

The blanket hanging from the cot moved.

Luke lifted her rifle. "Come out of there, thief!"

The rustling of the blanket stopped, but the heel of a scuffed boot peeked out from under the cot.

"I can see you! Come out, now!"

The rest of the boot appeared from under the cot, followed by a pant leg that was too short and stopped halfway down the worn boot leg.

Luke cocked her rifle, ready to defend herself should the thief jump out with a weapon.

"Please don't shoot!" a muffled voice pleaded as the thief crawled out from under the cot feet first.

"Turn around," Luke said. "Slowly."

Seconds later, Luke stared at a thin boy. Disheveled blond hair fell into a hollow-cheeked face, but couldn't hide the bruises around his blue eyes or the ones on his jaw. The hands he held out to show Luke he wasn't armed were dirt-stained and shaking.

Anger crawled up Luke's belly until she felt her face flush. Someone had hit the boy even though he'd barely reached puberty and couldn't defend himself.

She lowered her rifle, but the boy kept his wary stance. "Don't worry," she said. "I'm not gonna hurt you."

The boy just stared at her, watching her every movement with a rebellious scowl. The trembling of his hands gave away his fear, though.

"What are you doing here?" She nodded at the table and the cot.

"I just stayed the night. I wasn't gonna steal anything, I swear."

Except for the food. But Luke decided not to mention it. "Where's your family?"

The boy shrugged.

"Do you have a place to stay? Any relatives in the valley?"

Another shrug answered her.

Luke knew what that meant. The boy was as alone as she'd been at his age. She remembered sitting on the backstairs, shivering in the cold, praying for morning to come soon. No child deserved to go through that on Christmas.

"Come on," she said. "You're coming with me." She would make sure he'd at least get dinner and spend Christmas in a warm, dry place before he moved on. She knew Nora would never scold her for bringing one more hungry mouth to the table.

But when she opened the door, the boy slipped past her and ran.

"Hey!" Luke set down her rifle and sprinted after him. "What are you doing?"

The boy raced up the hill, slipping and sliding through the mud and the wet grass, running as if the devil were after him.

Luke struggled to keep her footing. Mud splashed her calves and slid inside her boots, and she lost her hat as she leaped over a creek. Cold rain lashed her face.

Damn, he's fast.

She gritted her teeth and tried to speed up. It wouldn't do for Lucas Hamilton, successful rancher, to be outrun by a mere boy.

The boy reached the top of the hill. His foot slipped out from under him, and he fell. He slid down the hill on the seat of his pants. When he skidded to a stop at the bottom of the hill, he jumped to his feet.

Luke leaped and tackled the boy just as he regained his footing.

They both went down and rolled around in a tangle of limbs and mud.

Instead of lying still, the boy fought like a cougar.

A fist hit Luke's ear.

"Ouch! Stop fighting me!" She managed to capture his wrists in both hands, but she needed her full weight and all her strength to keep him from bucking her off. Once again, Luke was reminded that in a physical fight, she was no match for a grown man. She had enough trouble keeping this boy from bashing her head in. "Goddamnit! Lie still. I don't want to hurt you. I'm not even handing you over to the sheriff. I just want to —"

His knee thrust between her legs.

The padding in her pants softened the blow, but pain still shot through her. Groaning, she lost her grip on the boy.

He slithered out from beneath her body and struggled to his feet.

Air returned to Luke's lungs just in time for her to grab his leg.

The boy went down again.

Panting, Luke rolled around and held him down, this time making sure to immobilize his legs by sitting on them. Whoever said a kick between the legs is only painful for men is a goddamn liar.

Despite her firm grip, the boy never stopped struggling. His blue eyes were frozen with fear, and his wild gaze seemed to stare right through her, maybe seeing something in his past.

"Stop! Stop it, boy. I won't hurt you. I'll let you up if you don't try to run away again."

The boy threw his weight against Luke once more, then sank into the mud and lay still. His chest heaved as he sucked in a breath. "All right."

"Promise not to run?"

His mud-crusted lashes blinked up at her as if he was surprised that anyone would trust his word. Finally, he nodded.

Luke rolled off him.

Gasping, they sat side by side in the mud.

"Why did you run?"

The boy shrugged.

He doesn't trust me. Maybe he doesn't trust anyone.

"Come on. Let's go get cleaned up and get some food in you." She got to her feet and reached down to help him up.

The boy hesitated, but then he took her hand and let himself be pulled to his feet.

*  *  *

Luke stepped onto the porch and dragged off her mud-covered boots. She gave a nod to the boy, who stood silently, watching her. "Take off your boots outside," she said, "or my wife will have both our hides."

Visibly paling, the boy took off his boots and placed them next to Luke's on the veranda.

When Luke opened the door, Amy hurried over. Her gaze traveled over Luke's empty hands. "No Christmas tree?" The welcoming smile slid off her face and was replaced by a frown.

Oh. Luke had forgotten all about the tree.

Then Amy saw the stranger. Fearlessly, she stepped forward and looked up at the taller boy. "Hello. I'm Amy. Who are you?"

The boy looked at Luke as if asking for help, and she gave him a nod of encouragement.

"I'm Phin." He shook the hand Amy held out to him and then stepped back.

Nora appeared in the doorway, one arm around Nattie, who was shyly clutching her mother's skirt. She took in the scene in her parlor. "It looks like you two need a change of clothes."

Luke smiled. How typically Nora. She didn't ask who the boy was and what had happened for them to be covered in mud; she just saw a boy in need and offered help, trusting that she'd get the whole story later.

And Luke knew she would tell her everything, not even leaving out the embarrassing mud wrestling and the kick between the legs.

*  *  *

Luke leaned back in her chair at the head of the table and watched Nora heap ham and potatoes onto Phin's plate.

The boy shoveled down food as if he hadn't eaten in weeks, barely chewing or looking at what he was eating. His gaze darted back and forth between the two ranch hands, who were regaling Amy with stories about wild horses, and Nattie, who chatted on and on about the gifts she might find in her stocking tomorrow.

"Phin." Nora touched his arm to get his attention.

Phin paused with the fork halfway to his mouth as he stared at the hand on his arm. He didn't lean into the gentle touch, but he didn't move away from it either.

He doesn't trust men, but he's got no problem with women, Luke concluded. How ironic that Phin had flinched away from her.

"Where are you from?" Nora asked.

The noise level at the table instantly went down, and silence spread as everyone waited for the answer.

Phin slowed his chewing and swallowed heavily. "Up north," he said, pointing vaguely with his fork.

"Canada?" Nora asked.

Phin moved his head in a half-circle that could mean yes or no.

"And no one is traveling with you? You're all alone?"

This time Phin nodded. "I'm almost fifteen. I can take care of myself."

Luke had been on her own at an even younger age, but she still remembered the many nights she went to sleep with an empty stomach and the many nights she'd forced herself to stay awake listening into the early hours for bandits out to steal her belongings. She'd finally joined the dragoons to end her loneliness and aimless drifting. Of course, with the Mexican War still going on, becoming a soldier had been a jump out of the frying pan right into the fire.

"And you've got no family left?" Nora asked. "No one who'd worry about you when you don't come home?"

"No one," Phin said between two forkfuls of ham.

Nora took in the fading bruises on his face and exchanged a glance with Luke. Her green eyes shone with unshed tears.

Luke reached out and squeezed her hand beneath the table. Don't take this on yourself, darling. You can't suffer with every homeless child who comes along, or it'll break your heart.

"Do you want a roast apple?" Nora asked.

The tense set of Phin's shoulders loosened when the questions about him stopped. He gave an eager nod.

Nora took an apple from its place over the fire, sprinkled cinnamon over it, and set it down in front of Phin.

"Don't burn your tongue," Nattie said, sounding so much like Nora that everyone laughed.

Hamilton Horse Ranch

Baker Prairie, Oregon

December 25th, 1857

LITTLE FISTS pounding against the bedroom door jerked Luke awake.

"Mama! Papa!" Nattie and Amy shouted, but, as they had been taught, the girls didn't open the door.

Nora slipped out of bed. She leaned down to kiss Luke's cheek. "Go get dressed. I'll distract them until you're ready to join us."

Ten minutes later, when Luke stepped out of the bedroom, breasts bound beneath her shirt and vest, Amy and Nattie jumped up and down in the parlor.

"Papa!" Nattie grabbed her hand and dragged her over to the window. "Look! It snowed!"

It wasn't the mountains of snow Luke had grown up with back East, but overnight, a bit of snow had fallen. Now three inches of snow covered the corral, the tree branches, and the hills around the ranch. "So Santa shouldn't have had any problems delivering presents last night," Luke said. "Maybe you should go check your stockings."

"Wait." Nora laid one hand on each of the girls' shoulders, then glanced at Luke. "Can you go and get Phin first? From the look of things, I bet he never got to celebrate Christmas before."

Luke went over to the bunkhouse, where Phin had spent the night.

When she opened the door, Toby was putting a new log into the cast-iron stove. Hank sat on his bunk, but the two other beds were empty.

"Where's the boy?" Luke asked.

"Gone," Hank said. "He'd already left when I woke up."

Luke trudged back through the snow to the main house, trying to find the right words to explain it to her family. She knew the girls would be disappointed. They had wanted to show off their presents to the newcomer, and Nora had wanted to spoil him with good food and motherly warmth on Christmas.

A strange noise from the ranch yard made her turn around before she reached the veranda.

There, in the middle of the ranch yard, stood Phin. Sweat shone on his brow, and one sleeve of his threadbare coat was ripped. Both of his hands were wrapped around the slender trunk of a young white oak.

Luke squinted over at him. "What are you doing?"

Slowly, Phin crossed the ranch yard and propped the tree up against the veranda railing. Brown leaves bobbed up and down on the ash-gray branches. "Thought since you forgot the Christmas tree because of me, I'd get one." He nodded down at the tree, cautious pride glowing in his eyes.

Oh, Lord. Luke bit back a laugh. Guess we should have told him that Christmas trees are usually pines or firs. She reached out to give him a pat on the shoulder, but when he flinched back, she settled for a nod of appreciation. "Let's get your tree inside. You're just in time for presents."

*  *  *

A tug on her sleeve made Luke look away from Phin and Nora, who were trying to find the best place for their Christmas oak.

"Papa." Nattie pointed to the tree. "That's not how the Christmas trees look in the pictures."

"Ssssh." Luke pressed a finger to her lips. "Phin didn't know that. You don't want to hurt his feelings by telling him he brought us the wrong tree, do you?"

Black braids flew when Nattie shook her head. "It'll be a secret," she whispered. "Maybe next year, Amy and I can help him pick the right tree."

Next year. Luke paused, but didn't want to lie. Since she couldn't tell their daughters the ultimate truth about herself, she'd sworn to at least be truthful about everything else. "Sweetie, Phin won't be here next year."

"Why not?"

"Nattie!" Nora called before Luke could answer. "Come help decorate the tree."

When Nattie hurried off, Luke blew out a breath. Saved again.

Nora walked over and joined her, perching on the edge of Luke's armchair.

Luke slung one arm around Nora's hip, holding her safely, and leaned her head against Nora's.

Together, they watched the girls hang apples and straw stars onto the oak branches. Phin picked up Nattie so that she could place a little doll on top of the tree. When he put Nattie back down, she threw her arms around his waist and hugged him.

He stiffened and stared down at her as if her arms were poisonous snakes slithering up his body, but then he slowly reached out and put his hand on her shoulder.

Nora chuckled. "He reminds me of you."

"Me?"

"That's exactly how you looked when Amy hugged you for the first time." Nora's grin disappeared, and she looked into Luke's eyes. "He's starved for love."

Luke closed her eyes. She knew what was coming.

"Can't we take him in and give him a home?"

"Nora..." Luke opened her eyes. "I don't know if that's a good idea."

"Why not? Surely letting him stay with us would be better than letting him fend for himself."

The armchair creaked as Luke turned to face Nora. "It would be a big risk for me. One more person around who could find out who and what I really am."

"You took the same risk when you hired Toby and Hank," Nora said. She rubbed Luke's shoulder, tenderly massaging her tense muscles. "What's this really about?"

Luke squeezed the bridge of her nose while she tried to give voice to her feelings. "Toby and Hank are adults. Phin is still a boy."

"And?"

"If we take him in, he might look to me as a father figure. A role model. I'm not sure I'm ready for that."

Nora slid closer, now almost sitting on Luke's lap. Just inches away, she frowned down at Luke. "But you're a wonderful father for Amy and Nattie. You don't still doubt that, do you?"

"No. But Amy and Nattie are girls. They'll model themselves after you."

"Oh, yeah?" Nora laughed. "When I was ten, I didn't wish for a horse for Christmas. Amy takes after you just as much as she takes after me."

A smile trembled on Luke's lips. The thought was as scary as it was elating. "Yes, but still, the girls will learn what it means to be a woman from you." She lowered her voice to an almost inaudible whisper. "How can I teach Phin how to be a man when I'm..." Gesturing down her body, she fell silent.

"How about teaching him how to be a decent human being first?"

"Yes, but —"

"Tell me one thing a man could teach him that you can't," Nora said, her voice low, but firm.

Luke's thoughts skipped from idea to idea like a flat stone over the surface of a lake. Riding. Fighting. Gentling a horse. Building a cabin. Shaving. Protecting the weak. Treating women with respect.

She'd done all of that many times.

Surprised, she looked into Nora's eyes. Could she really do this?

"A boy could have a worse role model," Nora said. "In fact, I suspect that his father beat him."

Luke's stomach clenched at the thought.

"Mama, Papa, look," Amy shouted from across the parlor. "The tree is ready. Can we open our presents now?"

There, next to Nora's rolltop desk, stood the merriest oak Luke had ever seen. Its branches hung low with nuts, apples, cookies, and colorful ribbons.

"Sometimes," Nora whispered, "an oak makes the best Christmas tree. And sometimes, a woman makes the best father figure." She kissed Luke's temple and strode over to help Nattie take her stocking down from the mantle.

Stunned, Luke stayed behind for a moment.

Phin wandered over to her, hands stuffed in his pockets. "I better go now. Thanks for the food."

A squeal from Amy distracted Luke. She looked across the room and saw Amy hold a new wooden horse in her hands. Amy ran her hands over its red-dusted coat.

Luke grinned. Just wait until you find out we're giving you a real-life horse for Christmas too.

When Luke turned her head back around, the boy was gone.

She jumped up from the armchair, crossed the room in three quick strides, and threw the door open. "Phin!"

He turned on the top step of the veranda.

Luke cleared her throat. "Why don't you stay?"

"Christmas is for families," Phin said.

"That's why we want you to stay."

Now Phin turned fully and stared at her. "I told you I can take care of myself. I don't need your pity."

Tread carefully. Don't hurt his pride. "I'm not offering pity. I'm offering..." She hesitated, and then her gaze fell on the bunkhouse. "...a job."

"A job?"

"You any good with horses?"

Phin shrugged.

Luke decided to take it as a yes. "Good. Then you're hired. If you want the job."

The wooden step creaked as Phin shifted his weight. He met Luke's gaze, silently probing. Then he nodded. "I want it."

"Then come on." Luke held open the door, and she could already feel Nora's proud gaze rest on her. "I think there's a stocking in the parlor with your name on it."

Phin stepped past her, this time not flinching away from her light touch to his shoulder.

For a moment, Luke stayed behind, silently taking in her family gathered around the Christmas oak. Then she grinned and went inside to join them.

The End.

*  *  *

Happy Holidays

from the

Authors and L-Book Staff

L-Book ePublisher, LLC

http://L-Book.com

Table of Content - 2011

Holiday Special Edition

Holiday Special Edition 2011

The Temp by Fran Heckrotte

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

The Wish by RJ Nolan

The Christmas Grump by Jae

The Haunting at Quantman's by Helen Dunn

Anatomy of a Commitment by phair

Millennium Christmas by Rrrose Carbinela

Ara and Kirste by Rae D. Magdon

*  *  *

Holiday Special Edition 2010 Edition

Table of Content - 2010

Manhattan Moon by Jae

The Halloween Party by Fran Heckrotte

Planning

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

The Party

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Double Trouble — A Family Holiday by RJ Nolan

A Very Smokey Thanksgiving by Jeanine Hoffman

The Quest — A Holiday Fantasy by Rrrose Carbinela

The Ball by A.L. Hotchkin

Winter Solstice, Night of the Wolves by Fran Heckrotte

The Christmas Oak by Jae

Hamilton Horse Ranch  Baker Prairie, Oregon  December 24th, 1857

Hamilton Horse Ranch  Baker Prairie, Oregon  December 25th, 1857