“Tell me how you do it, Vidar,” she whispered softly.
He could play dumb, try to make her verbalize what she was beginning to realize about him… but he had insisted on complete honesty between them. Now it was time for him to keep his end of the deal. He tugged her in closer, kissing her forehead more to for his own comfort than hers. “I am ready to tell you now, Beth. You may find it hard to believe, but please hear me out.”
He just wished he knew where to start. “There are more papers to come, you know,” he began. “I know you won’t like the idea of becoming a joint owner on my personal accounts, but I’m putting you on all of my business stuff, too. I want you to have access to everything I have.”
“I don’t want all of that.”
He smiled down at her. “I know. In that way, you’re different from almost every other woman I’ve ever known.”
“Do tell,” Liz said sarcastically. “I guess I should be glad I came out near the top of the heap, huh?”
Vidar colored, and it was so unusual for him to blush that Liz couldn’t help but smile. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
“I know you didn’t,” he grumbled.
“Get on with the story already. I still haven’t heard anything that explains what’s going on.”
“I know. But it’s important that you understand that I don’t want any secrets between us, of any kind. Not business secrets or personal secrets. And that, in telling you how I was able to do what you saw me do, I’ll be giving you information that could very easily be used to kill me.”
Liz sobered up immediately. “I would never do that,” she vowed, and meant every syllable.
Vidar caught her eyes. “Even when you thought I was going to sell the cabin out from under you?”
She gulped painfully, but said, “Even then. I love you. I couldn’t do anything that would get you killed. But why, Vidar? Are you in some kind of trouble? Did you do something wrong?”
He shifted to sit up in their bed, fluffing the pillows behind him as he adjusted position. Liz scooched up with him, resting her head against his shoulder. He was stalling, she knew, but she didn’t understand why. She was beginning to realize how impatient it must make him when she did the same thing, when she didn’t tell him something immediately when he asked her about it. No wonder why he spanked her for that! If he didn’t start talking soon, she was tempted to give him a few well-places swats as well.
He closed his eyes at her words, then opened them again to gaze at her closely for a long moment, before saying, “I believe you.” Then Vidar reached behind her to the nightstand, where her current bouquet of apricot roses was displayed. He plucked a long stemmed bud out of the vase, and turned back to her with it in his hand. And as she watched, he turned it into a kitten. A fluffy, calico, purring ball of fluff.
“Aww,” she cooed, as most women did when they saw kittens. She sneezed, and was about to pull it up to her face to rub noses with it, when he turned it into a puppy, then a parakeet, and finally a box of chocolates.
“For you, my lady,” he said, presenting them to her.
Liz couldn’t believe her eyes, and wasn’t at all sure she wanted a box of kitten-puppy-parakeet-chocolates.
Vidar could see how hesitant she was, so he reached in and grabbed a chocolate himself, dropping the entire thing into his mouth all at once and sighing. “Mm. Caramel.”
Caramel was one of Liz’s favorite things in the whole world. “Hey, I want one too!” She popped one into her mouth and it was, indeed, a scrumptious caramel encased in the deepest, richest milk chocolate she’d ever tasted.
Then he took the box of candy back into his palm and it began to transform again – despite her whimper at its loss – first into a remote controlled car, then a bunny, an mp3 player, and finally into a large bottle of very expensive champagne and two gorgeous crystal glasses.
He poured each of them a glass, then wrapped his arm around hers in a lover’s toast. “To you, Beth. The wait was almost interminable, but you brought me something I never thought I could have – love.”
She wanted to say something in response about him, but he pressed his finger over her lips, saying, “Drink the toast.”
He put the champagne aside, then turned back to her, his palm open in front of them both. As she stared at it, a box appeared. A ring box.
Liz just continued to stare at it, afraid to consider what it was.
“Open it,” he coaxed.
Inside was a huge princess-cut diamond, with complementary baguettes both around it and down either side of the band.
“I’m going to ask you to marry me, Liz –“
“Yes!” she answered eagerly, even before he’d asked her the question.
He was wearing the look she least liked to see on his face. “If you interrupt me again, you’ll be wearing both an engagement ring and a very red bottom.”
“Yes, Vidar.”
“I won’t ask you until I’ve told you what I am, and how all of this is possible. It might make you change your mind.”
Liz highly doubted that, but he could try.
Vidar took her hands in his and looked her directly in the eye as he said, “I’m a warlock.”
Chapter Twelve
“A warlock.” She had to think exactly what that meant. She would have been much more prepared if he had said he was a vampire, or a werewolf, or even a zombie. But he was way too pretty for the latter.
It took her a moment, but eventually she came up with it. “Oh – you’re a male witch! Like Darren on Bewitched – no, not like Darrin, like Samantha’s father. The one played by Maurice Evans.”
He had always been of a mind that she watched entirely too much television, and here was his case in point. “No, not like anything you’ve ever seen on TV, or in a movie.”
“Oh. Well, then, what does it mean that you’re a warlock?”
“Warlock isn’t exactly the right term. There isn’t a word in your language for what I am. But I will try to make you understand, anyway. I was born in Iceland, in the year 942. My mother, Dagmar, was the daughter of a Chieftain, the head of a large, extended family. We all lived in a long house together – parents, grandparents, siblings, cousins, slaves, and unmarried farm workers who had no home of their own. There was always the threat of being attacked, it was a violent time. So it was a common practice to procure the services of a Vardlokker – a spell-singer, the Norse equivalent of a magician. The spell-singer was bound by oath to protect the family at all cost, using any means necessary – including magic. To be a Vardlokker was a great honor, they were treated with respect, second only to the chieftain. My father was a Vardlokker. And so, too, I became one as well.”
“Then you’re…”
“Hush, dear. Let me finish.” Vidar closed his eyes, thinking back on those long ago days, the happy childhood he experienced, loved by all in the tribe. He was mortal, growing up as normal, mortal boys did, as was his mother. His father, though, like most Vardlokkers, was basically immortal. He could be killed in battle, but he would not die a mortal’s death from old age. Magic would heal him from the usual ravages of time. His father tried to teach Dagmar to recognize magic and be able to control it, but she refused, having been recently converted to Christianity. And so, she died in childbirth, attempting to bring forth another son.
His father had been devastated. For a long time, it looked like Vidar was going to lose him, as well. Finally he rallied, and devoted the rest of his life to training his son. Vidar had become Vardlokker, too. His life was sworn to the protection of his people. And at some point, he realized that he too had stopped aging. He did not know exactly when it had happened, only that when the son of his chieftain died an old man, Vidar still looked like a young man.
He had been quite a womanizer in his time. The Vikings had been a lusty lot. They lived hard, fought hard, and their passion was legendary. But he had been careful to guard his heart, lest he fall victim to the dark depression that haunted his father the
rest of his life. Somewhere in the thirteenth century, his father had followed his current people into the crusades and never returned.
Vidar was passed from one kingdom to the next, a valued asset, but no longer honored or quite trusted. As Christianity spread, so too did fear of magic. Any who practiced it was said to be in league with the devil. Eventually, Vardlokkers learned to live in secret, and when they broke the ancient “vow” to protect those around them, they became known as “vow breakers” or warlocks.
They really were not the “male equivalents of witches”. The correct term for a male witch was “male witch”. Vardlokkers were always Norsemen, their use of magic as different from Wiccan culture as Christianity was from Judaism. The magic was the same, but the control of it was completely different.
“So, now you know,” Vidar whispered, finishing his long tale. “It means I can do pretty much anything I want… as long as I keep under the radar.”
As if to prove it to her, he transported their beautiful bed from the cabin on the edge of a lake in New Hampshire to a deserted tropical beach, then to the top of a mountain, and then to the middle of a dense jungle and back again, all within the blink of an eye.
Liz was amazed. She couldn’t really even begin to take it in, but she was just flabbergasted at what he could do. “So, all your money… is it real or just an illusion?”
“No, that is real,” he sighed. “I had to have something to entertain myself with over the years. I am still a Viking, but you can’t just go around lopping of heads these days. Someone would notice.”
“So you like to lop of corporate heads instead,” she said, smirking.
He shrugged. Guilty as charged. It was a cheap thrill, but satisfying.
Liz looked back at the exquisite diamond ring. Her answer hadn’t changed. She loved him, no matter who – or what – he was. But what could she possibly offer him? This man was not just a little older than her – he was older by centuries! Math had never been her strong suit, but she could add and subtract with the best of them. Vidar was eleven hundred and four or five years old, depending on when his birthday fell. By comparison, she was still an infant. No wonder he found so many opportunities to spank her! She would never catch up to him in wisdom or experience!
“I’m hungry,” she stated, jumping out of bed. “Let’s finish this discussion in the kitchen!” She tugged on a bathrobe, still clutching the precious ring box, and dashed out of the room.
Vidar followed her, but had taken the time – or perhaps he’d just used magic? – to dress. No wonder why he nearly always looked so impeccable! Oh, how she envied him that! What if she could learn magic – and she never had to set her hair again, or exercise, or eat right – except, he was a stickler about right living. Why?
She brought a pot of oats to boil, stirring slowly as she added a scoop of brown sugar – just one – to the cereal. She divided it into two bowls, topping them with slices of a fresh peach and a light shake of cinnamon, knowing it was the way he liked it best. “Tell me, Vidar, if magic can keep you healthy, then why do you insist on eating only healthy foods?”
He chuckled, shaking his head at her. “I tell you that I can conjure up mountains of jewels, riches, take you to exotic lands, and all you’re thinking about is eating junk food!”
“It's a valid question,” she said, pouting slightly. She toyed with the lid of her ring box, never taking her eyes off the beautiful diamond.
“I put a protection spell on you before I left. That time I visited you in college.”
“You mean, when you spanked me in college.”
“The same. The protection spell should have kept you safe from harm, but somehow you managed to break your spine. Can you guess why?”
“Um… because I landed wrong?”
“No. Because you weren’t eating well. You weren’t sleeping well. Good health is a kind of magic, but it’s also science. You take care of yourself, and the magic works to help you. If you don’t take care of yourself, the magic weakens.”
She was humbled by the thought that he had been protecting her for longer than she had ever imagined. “Speaking of my back… it really hasn’t hurt since you gave me that back rub. Did you fix it?”
He nodded, then closed his eyes over a spoonful of oatmeal. She’d never known anyone to enjoy their oats quite like he did. Then she wondered if it was something that he remembered from his childhood, a millennium ago. Did peaches even grow in Iceland?
“It took several therapies, and I managed to heal your back, but not to make it so that it never happened. You still have a scar, although magic could hide it. It will always be there.”
“I’m not worried about the scar, Vidar. But, do you think I could go riding again some day?”
He grunted, nodding his head reluctantly. “It’s still dangerous,” he said.
“But if I eat my vegetables, you’ll let me, right?”
“Right.”
Liz jumped up and did a happy dance all around the kitchen. “I’m going riding, I’m going riding! Oh, Vidar, you’ve made me so happy! Can I put on my ring now? Please, can I? Can I?”
Vidar grabbed her up in his arms and hugged her, burying his face in her hair as he wept. He hadn’t realized just how important it was to him that she not be frightened by his ability, but that she accept him – all of him – just the way he was. “Yes, Beth, my darling,” he said hoarsely. “Yes! Let’s get married. Immediately! Today, if you like.”
She put on the ring, not the least bit surprised that it fit perfectly. “Well, darling, yes, I will marry you, but I want a bit of time to plan my wedding. Please? I only plan to get married once, you know, so I want everything to be perfect.”
“I can make it perfect,” he started.
“Yes, but I don’t even know what I want yet, so let me think about it. And I want Tracy to be my maid of honor. Whom would you like to ask to be your best man?” Her expression immediately dimmed as she cradled his face between her palms. “Oh, you poor dear. How many friends you must have buried through the years. I cannot imagine how hard that must be for you.”
He nodded gruffly, then straightened and cleared his voice. “Well, yes, there is that. But not all my friends are mortal, darling. The Vardlokkers are not extinct.”
She giggled. “Of course not! Oh, I’m so happy, happy, happy! The only thing that would make me happier would be if I could open up a stables again. I’ve missed that! And, and… I could earn an income, too. I know you’re incredibly wealthy, and you might not understand this, but it’s important to me. I know you want to provide for me, and take care of me, and mostly, I love how that makes me feel, but by not having any income, I feel a bit like your love slave.”
“I would never –.”
“I never said you did, Vidar. Trust me, this is just something that happens. It’s probably the difference between a tenth century Viking and a twenty-first century woman.”
“Well then,” he said slowly, leading her towards the big picture window in the living room. He pointed toward the northeast, where their closest neighbor used to live. “You now own that property, and the next and the next. The buildings have already been razed. If you would like to build a stables on Lake Scrimshaw, you may. We will probably have to speak with the town authorities about building codes, and some people are going to be devastated that the casino won’t be going through… but this is your decision, darling.”
“Oh, I’ve got a lot of thoughts about that, too. I’d like to run them past Tracy, if you don’t mind. I realize that Scrimshaw needs work, but it doesn’t have to cater to tourists. There are a lot of shepherds in the area, and I was thinking that maybe we could build a small fiber mill to process the fleece. Maybe include a shop front, where locals could sell their hand-spun wool, crocheted and knitted items, maybe even start a small company that manufactures spinning wheels. That way we could help build on the local economy without completely changing it. What do you think?”
“I think you’re br
illiant,” Vidar said. “I’m glad I made you my partner. It’s not wise to be working with you on the other side.”
She kissed him, hugging him so tight it was a wonder he could even breathe. “I will marry you, Vidar Gulbrandt!”
“It’s a lot to ask of you, Beth,” he cautioned. “Vardlokkers, like wolves, mate for life. That’s why I’ve never offered myself to any other woman in that way. And if you accept this ring, you’ll be bound by the same rule. No other ceremony is necessary, although we will have whatever kind of wedding you like. But we will already be sealed to each other. We will never be parted.”
“And you’ll teach me to do magic, just like you. I don’t want to leave you, Vidar.”
“Elisabeth Dagmar Shelburne, will you do me the honor or becoming my forever wife?”
“Oh, Vidar! I thought you’d never ask!”
THE END
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