The Sorcerer King and the Fire Queen

by Ana Lee Kennedy

  Sighing, she returned to her shrimp and steamed vegetables.

  As the meal progressed, my hitchhiker prattled on about Mr. Jebbstart. After several minutes of listening to Maureen, I tuned her out. The meal tasted wonderful, but too much wine had dulled my senses, and a weepy state of mind settled over me. The last thing I wanted was for Solomon to see me cry. Three times in one day was too much.

  The waiter arrived with three slices of key lime pie, one of my favorite treats. Although Maureen and Solomon raved about how good it was, I might as well have been chewing a piece of light-green sponge.

  “Would you like some after-dinner coffee?” the waiter asked. He stood with his order pad and pencil ready, his acne-riddled face wearing a hopeful expression for a healthy tip. “Or maybe you’d prefer a nightcap?”

  I glanced at my wristwatch. Ten until midnight. Standing, I pulled five twenties out of my purse and tossed them on the tabletop.

  “I’ll pay for dinner. You two go ahead and enjoy some coffee. I’m going back to the room,” I said.

  Surprise registered on both Maureen’s and Solomon’s faces.

  To the waiter, I stated, “Keep the change. You worked hard tonight.”

  “Thank you very much!” he exclaimed.

  It wasn’t in my nature to be rude and walk out on someone during dinner. My impoliteness stemmed primarily from my mouth. However, I just couldn’t handle Maureen’s bubbly demeanor or Solomon’s brooding glances.

  Outside, a gentle rain had fallen, wetting everything just enough to stir odors. The air reeked of old fish, and the pavement and shell-strewn patches of earth smelled oily. The rumble and whir of vehicles crossing The Bridge of Lions sounded distorted and muffled in the misty atmosphere. Somewhere a parrot shrieked, followed by the scaly rustle of palms in the wind. Fog swirled through the tropical foliage, caressing the cars parked along the streets and in household parking spaces. An orange tabby cat lay curled on the bottom porch step of a large manor along the way. Upon hearing my footsteps, the feline stretched and wandered out on the sidewalk to mew a greeting.

  “Hello, kitty.” Stooping, I scratched behind his ears, and he rewarded me with a raspy purr. “What are you doing outside so late?”

  The cat meowed. Giving him a final pat on his side, I bid the cat farewell and continued down the walk.

  My mind bounced back and forth with thoughts of Anthony and Solomon. My son was a subject I could reflect upon later, but Solomon was a different matter. If only I’d refused to allow him to join us on our venture to Key West. Just like my hitchhiker, I was clueless as to why I’d allowed him to accompany us. Sure, I was attracted to him, cared for him, but it was also reckless of me.

  But he doesn’t seem to judge me because I’m different. Maybe it’s because he’s different too?

  Could it really be that simple?

  It had been a long time since I’d felt such attraction to a man, but the chemistry with Solomon went beyond anything I’d experienced before. Being close to him kindled a fire in me that I found both frightening and thrilling. What I didn’t understand was why he seemed so familiar, and why I was certain he was the king in my visions. Besides, even if we both wanted more, there was no hope for us, no future. I would go back to Ohio, and Solomon would return to his cabin in Virginia.

  The scrape of a foot across asphalt jarred me out of my musings. Gooseflesh rippled up and down my arms. All along my body the hair stood at attention. Again, the crunch of pebbles between sole and pavement sliced through the mist. Expecting to find Solomon dogging my heels, I spun around with a scathing retort on the tip of my tongue, but swallowed my words as Wayne Blacktree stepped through a wall of fog.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  It had been stupid to walk back alone.

  I turned to run, but one of my sandals slipped off, and with the strap still hooked around my ankle, I staggered against an old Pontiac parked at the curb. Hands grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me like a bed sheet.

  “Don’t make a sound!” Wayne growled.

  “Let go of me!” I snarled back at him

  “Don’t cause any trouble!” he said forcefully.

  I shoved him back, taking him by surprise. “Don’t touch me!”

  “I don’t know why he’d want someone like you.” He grabbed my arm again. “You’re a mouthy bitch.”

  Several things about the situation just didn’t make any sense, but the fact that he’d called me a bitch hit my hot button. Anger boiled up out of my gut.

  “Why don’t you go to the beach and start walking toward Cuba!” I pushed him off me again. If the jackass touched me one more time, he was going to tangle with a right hook full of fire—that was if someone didn’t hear us and call the cops first.

  “Come on, dude.” Wayne caught me again as he scanned the street. “What’s taking so long?” he shouted. “I’ve got her!”

  You asked for it, buddy.

  The stinging sensation I was so well acquainted with burbled up from the center of my body and out along my limbs. My skin brightened and light radiated off of me, illuminating the sidewalk. It reflected off the car and the raindrops coating the palms and flowers. The hair around my face transformed from deep brown to molten orange and tendrils escaping my braid twirled around my head like miniature serpents.

  With my fingernails glowing neon yellow, I made a fist and swung, allowing the power building within me to exit. The knuckles of my right hand protested as they connected with his face. Upon contact, light exploded between us. The gasp of pain that tore free of me echoed oddly in the swirling mist.

  Wayne staggered back and fell ass first into a low-lying hedge. He scrambled to his feet, eyes wide with shock, one hand covering his cheekbone. A furious expression crossed his face, and he lunged for me.

  I threw my hand up to knock him back, but electricity whizzed down my arm, building to an almost painful pressure in my glowing fingertips. I tried to yank my hand back or point it to the sidewalk, but wasn’t fast enough. White fire erupted from my fingers, each one feeling as though the nails would explode. The halogen-bright flames blasted Wayne in the center of his chest. He let out a howl of pain, flew backward into the air, and landed upside down in a cluster of saw grass and elephant palms.

  The tabby cat hissed from the porch. Like a fireworks display, the bright pinpoints of light danced in the wet sheens of the parked cars, and the surrounding rain puddles reflected the brilliance.

  I started to turn, but lust roared through my body with such intensity I cried out and staggered against the Pontiac again.

  No! Not him, not now!

  “Yes, Ruby. It is me. I’ve come for you, and now you’ll be mine.”

  A tingling sensation burned my breasts, their nipples taut against my bra. Heat assaulted my crotch, and a thrumming began deep within my core, pulsing into my inner thighs. Whimpering, I pushed away from the car. If I didn’t get escape or figure out a way to defeat him, I sensed I’d be lost forever.

  “Come to me, Ruby. Give yourself to me.”

  A moan burst from me, and I managed to take one step backward.

  “Don’t fight it. We will become a force to be reckoned with. No one will thwart us, and we’ll rule side by side forever.”

  He stepped out of the shadows. Fear slapped the hell out of me. Riveted where I stood, I could only stare at him as he approached. Dressed in motorcycle leather, he approached me in a leisurely manner, his golden hair almost luminescent beneath the streetlamps. He wore a smug expression, positive he finally had me in his grasp.

  “You are mine. I will not allow the White King to interfere again.”

  He continued toward me. The cat hissed, spat, and then scrambled under the hedges lining the sidewalk.

  Groaning, Wayne struggled to his feet and shook his head. “I caught her as promised, Azazel,” he said.

  “Idiot,” the huge man said. “You detained her and nothing more.”

  “But you promised to reward me! I want my dog
brought back!” Wayne took two steps toward the man, but halted as Azazel whirled on him, his face a maniacal mask of fury.

  “I don’t have her yet! Only when I possess her will you get your reward.” He returned his attention to me and entered my mind again. “Come to me, Ruby. Show me that you want me, and then we’ll be together for eternity.”

  “No!” I ground out.

  “You can’t deny me much longer. You know I will have you.”

  The need for sex overpowered me. It was nothing like I felt when I was with Solomon. With Solomon the emotion and physical attraction ruled me, but this man made me feel primeval, animalistic—demonic and twisted. What was worse was that I wanted it.

  “Yes...yes, you do, don’t you, Ruby?” Azazel moved closer until only three or four yards separated us. “Concentrate on that. Let it flow over and through you. I will make love to you in such a manner you will beg me for more, beg me to never stop fucking you.”

  The word “fucking” hit me with the force of a lead pipe. It wasn’t making love to him, it was fucking. It was a method of control, a tool.

  Just another Cole Vandercourt.

  That knowledge offered me a thin slice of resolve. However, as I tried to call upon my power, I realized being in Azazel’s presence prevented me from accessing it. Somehow he was blocking it.

  And that meant I was royally screwed.

  Someone touched me, and I drew back instinctively, an odd feeling skittering down through my muscles and bones. I looked behind me to find one of the witches from the B and B. She nodded, her expression placid, eyes stern as she shifted her attention to Azazel.

  Two other forms stepped through the swirling fog.

  Azazel closed the distance between us. With only three feet separating us, the pheromones and power radiating from him finished me. An orgasm rolled through me. The strength fled my body, the orgasm intensified, and I cried in delight as I collapsed on the sidewalk. Wave after wave of pleasure pierced my loins, moistening my panties.

  The beautiful man reached for me at the same instant the woman behind me spoke.

  “Be gone, Azazel.”

  A bone-chilling growl rumbled out of him.

  The gothic women from the inn surrounded me, their dark velvet cloaks swishing around their feet.

  “Leave her!” one cried.

  “Do not return,” said the second.

  The third, who appeared to be older than the other two, glanced down at me. Worry lurked in her gaze. As she focused on the beautiful blond man again, her expression changed to loathing. “You know there are rules you must follow, Azazel. It is up to Ruby if she chooses you, but she never has before, and I don’t believe she ever will. You must wait for The Banishment.”

  “Be gone wielder of trickery,” Azazel snarled. “I will possess her.”

  “Only if she chooses it to be so,” the first witch retorted.

  He glanced at me, and another orgasm roared through my body. I gasped, fighting it, but it was pointless. I lay panting on the walk and stared up through the twirling mist.

  Someone slipped their hands under my shoulders and hefted me into a sitting position. Surprised, I screamed. Fear stabbed me again, and as I began to glow, white sparks shot from my hands.

  “Whoa! Wait, Ruby! It’s me!” Solomon said. He protected his face with upraised hands.

  I scrambled over to the Pontiac and leaned against it. “Couldn’t you have said something to let me know you were there?”

  “I did, but you didn’t seem to hear me.”

  He held out one hand, and I put mine into it.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  “Where’s Wayne?”

  I glanced over at the jumble of tropical plants where he’d landed. He was gone.

  Shaking my head, I answered, “He must’ve run away. I blasted him, then the leader of those bikers showed up, followed by—”

  “Yeah, Maureen and I saw what happened, but a fog bank passed between us and everyone was gone. We couldn’t see or hear anything for several minutes. It was really weird.”

  “It was him again—Azazel.” Shamed by what had happened to me, I dropped my gaze to the sidewalk. “He wants me,” I whispered. “They took Gabriella from you, but now the leader of these bikers wants me for some reason.”

  With two fingers under my chin, Solomon tipped my head up. Fury raged in his eyes, but so did sincerity. “We’ll figure something out. I meant what I said earlier in your room. We have something special, and I’m not going to let some overgrown jackass separate us.”

  As I stared up at him, I couldn’t help but wonder how we could fight Azazel when he was already so powerful.

  “Did you see the witches? The ones who have been staying at the inn?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Where did they go? What happened to Azazel and Wayne?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know, Ruby. That’s what I meant when I mentioned the fog bank. They were all there, and then when the fog cleared, they were gone and you were lying on the sidewalk.”

  The click-click-click of high heels drew my attention. Maureen paused by the car’s bumper, her mouth a big O, eyes wide with awe.

  “We decided to follow you back to the bed-and-breakfast,” said Solomon. “You seemed so upset.”

  “Don’t worry about me.” I smiled, but the remnants of the orgasms and the freakiness of the situation wouldn’t leave me.

  He squeezed my hand, leaned close, and brushed his lips across mine. Something in me shifted, and although it was after midnight, in my mind the sun suddenly shone upon me. If Solomon was with me, then everything would be fine.

  “Are you okay?” asked Maureen. “What did Wayne Blacktree want?”

  “He’s the biker’s servant.” I wiggled my toes into the front of my loose shoe.

  “What?” she asked.

  “He was supposed to capture me for Azazel, the big, blond biker who wants me for some reason.” Sighing, I closed my eyes, trying to steady my nerves. Finally, I opened them again to find Solomon and Maureen waiting patiently for me to finish. “Wayne said something about wanting his dog back as his reward for finding me. I know it sounds stupid, but he seems desperate for it.”

  “Where did Wayne go earlier today when you saw him get out of his truck?” Solomon asked.

  “I’m not sure now.” I looked up and down the street. “I don’t see his truck parked anywhere.”

  “Let’s go back to our rooms.” Maureen cast uneasy glances at the fog-cloaked gardens and manors. “Those two might come back.”

  Solomon slipped his arm around my waist. I enjoyed the contact and his protection, but could he really defend me?

  On his opposite side, Maureen linked arms with him and hummed softly to herself as she walked. I had a spirit guide, a white king, and an empath traveling with me to Key West. I knew it wouldn’t last forever, but for now, I relished their companionship as we strolled down the street.

  Reaching the B and B, we caught the proprietor just as she was about to lock the doors for the night. As we quietly climbed the stairs, the witches were nowhere to be seen. Once in our room, Solomon sat down in a wing-backed chair close to the balcony. Maureen kicked off her heels and flopped across her bed.

  “So, tell us about this uncanny ability you have,” Solomon said. “Do you think it’s why this biker wants you?” He stretched out his long legs, crossing his ankles and linking his fingers over his stomach.

  I looked over at Maureen, who lay on her side, her arm propped against the mattress. She stared back at me, resting her chin in one hand.

  “Judas Priest and cherry Popsicles! Do we have to get into this now?” I tossed my purse onto the dresser then thought better of it and stashed it under a pillow. Turning, I looked at Solomon. His gaze brimmed with interest.

  “He wants you for some reason,” Solomon stated. “He has powers too. I saw what he did to the door at the Brunswick motel.” He studied
me for a moment. “What or who is he?”

  “I don’t know. Whenever he comes to me in my dreams or comes close to me, I...well, I...”

  “What?” asked Maureen.

  With my face flaming with heat, I whispered, “I have an orgasm.”

  Solomon muttered a really foul string of profanities under his breath. He met my gaze, and the jealousy and protectiveness in his eyes stunned me.

  “We’re all tied together somehow,” said Maureen. “You, me, Solomon, the bikers, and even those witches who have been watching out for you.”

  “You seem to have an ability all your own too,” I pointed out. Unfastening my sandals, I straightened and kicked them off. “You sense things about me and talk about things that haven’t happened yet.”

  She shrugged. “There’s nothing to tell, really. I just pick up on thoughts and I get flashes of things that are about to happen and stuff that has already happened but has occurred somewhere else.”

  “Are you psychic?” Solomon questioned. “Can you look at someone and read their thoughts or know their futures?”

  Maureen shook her head. “No, it’s not like that.” She rolled over onto her belly, her feet in the air. “I hear thoughts at odd moments. It’s like listening to a radio station and another station filters in overriding it. And the pictures of things I see just come to me whenever and wherever. It’s a handy ability since I travel alone most of the time. It’s kept me out of several sticky situations.”

  Skeptical, I stared at Maureen. It sounded too simplistic for my taste, especially since she’d mentioned Anthony’s name. My son was known by no one except for my parents and his adoptive parents.

  “What’s really weird,” Maureen continued, “is that I feel like I know you both, but I’ve never met either of you before. That’s why I approached you on the Interstate, Ruby. The pull was so strong, and when I saw you, I knew you.” She shrugged. “I just didn’t know “how” I knew you.”

  “Same here,” said Solomon.

  Quiet fell over the room. We all stared at one another. The weirdness of the situation was too much for me to bear.