The Sorcerer King and the Fire Queen

by Ana Lee Kennedy

  It was my turn to gape at him. It amazed me how much my son’s personality mimicked mine.

  He briefed me on the histories of Key Largo and Islamorada as well. He possessed an extensive knowledge of local history, and what made it even cooler was that he didn’t sound like he was reciting facts and dates. I truly enjoyed listening to him and learned a lot that I hadn’t bothered to learn during my other trips to Florida and its keys.

  He told me about his childhood and that his adoptive father had passed away a couple of years ago. A college education loomed ahead of him, but although he had a high I.Q., he really didn’t know what he was going to focus on since so many things interested him.

  I found it incredible that a child born out of Cole Vandercourt’s deceit had become such an amazing person.

  “Have you ever thought of looking up your father?” I asked.

  He threw me a sidelong glance. “By the tone of your voice, I’m guessing you hate the guy.”

  Startled, I looked out over The Gulf of Mexico. “You could say that.”

  “Was he someone you were in love with?”

  “Once upon a time.”

  “What happened?”

  Boy was that ever a loaded question. How did I explain to him that his father had used me, tricked me, and then when I thought we were about to make love because we really liked one another, he’d arranged for everyone at the party to barge in and watch him fuck the high school witch all to prove he’d mastered her?

  “It just didn’t end well, that’s all.” The distaste for Cole turned into sour bile. “We were just kids.”

  “Did my father know about me?”

  “Yes.”

  “And he didn’t care, did he?”

  “No.”

  He fell silent at that. I realized he wanted answers, but I wondered if he’d hoped for a happier version than I’d given him.

  “I did what I felt was best for you, Anthony,” I said, fighting the wad of emotion climbing up into my throat. “I was only fifteen.”

  “I know,” he said. “And my adoptive parents have been wonderful, warm and loving. I still miss Dad and think about him every day.”

  “I can’t believe your mother didn’t try to stop you from finding me.”

  “All she would say was that I had a destiny to fulfill.”

  A cold sensation bled through my heart. “A destiny?”

  He nodded and braked for a car pulling onto the road from one of the tiny islands.

  “Anthony, I realize you’re twenty years old now, a grown man, but why would Kath...why would your mom just let you go on what any other parent would consider a wild goose chase?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. I thought it was odd too, but I was so desperate to reach you and get rid of that damn voice in my head, I didn’t ask her about it.”

  “Has the voice gone quiet?

  “Yeah, for now.”

  Over the next hour, we sat lost in our own thoughts as we passed Marathon Island and Big Pine Key, not to mention all the tiny isles boasting nice homes. I had to wonder about those who weathered one hurricane after another only to return and rebuild. Their insurance premiums must have been up there with the moon.

  It took Anthony a little over three hours to drive to Key West. Gawking tourists motoring below the fifty-five speed limit had been bad enough, but I’d forgotten about the slow speed limit through Pine Key due to the endangered key deer. It’s not that I was in a hurry, but I wanted all the craziness resolved.

  “What’s the address where you need to pick up that document?” Anthony asked.

  “It’s just off Duval Street.”

  I had no idea how long it would take us to find the address or how long we might have to wait on someone to meet us once we did find the place.

  Finding a parking space proved nearly impossible, but I finally paid an exorbitant fee so Anthony could park his Mustang in a city lot where we locked it up. Solomon pulled in the empty spot alongside us. With the way the sun beat down on the asphalt, the vehicles would turn into mobile ovens.

  “Wow, this place is wild.” Maureen walked around the SUV in short-shorts, a tank top and her new foam sandals. The Malamute’s leash dangled from her hand. “Are we taking Shunka with us?”

  “Well,” Solomon said, kissing me quickly, “we can’t leave him in the Excursion. It’s too hot.” He took the leash and clipped it on the dog’s collar. “Which way, Ruby?”

  I pointed, and we strode across the parking lot to wander two streets down until we found our way to Duval. From the address, we were on the wrong end of the street. Frowning, I noted the nearest building number, confirming my suspicion.

  “Damn,” I grumbled. “We need to be on the south end.”

  “That’s okay,” said Anthony. “It’s been a while since Mom and I,” his face flamed a deep red, “have visited here. I’m enjoying the sights.”

  “Anthony, you don’t need to be embarrassed when you call Katherine your mother.” I rested my hand on his shoulder. “She is your mother. She raised you.”

  He nodded and glanced away, his cheeks turning an even deeper crimson.

  Maureen acted like a little girl who had been placed in a doll shop. She gawked at everything, exclaimed over the silliest stuff, and seemed oblivious to the lusty gazes tossed her way by men and women alike.

  Solomon threaded his fingers with mine. Secretly pleased, I squeezed his hand. He squeezed back, but I didn’t look at him. If I did, the emotion choking me would erupt and I’d start blubbering.

  It felt good to be loved.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  We passed a pink clapboard home with a monstrous cactus growing in a tiny garden. It stood in the corner where the sidewalk met the dirt, looking like something straight out of a Western movie. People milled about in the streets, up and down the sidewalks, in and out of the numerous pubs and bars, and rode by on the trolleys that clamored past us every few minutes. Couples strolled along with their fingers interlocked or their thumbs hooked in the belt loops of one another’s jeans. Married people pushed strollers and tried to manage unruly children while simultaneously reading street maps. Decks leaned out above the street from second and third floors. Parties beneath the colorful patio umbrellas on various verandas bled boisterous noise into the street. On other terraces, women sunbathed in Band-Aid-size bikinis.

  I had to admit Key West fascinated me. There was so much activity, so many colors, oddities, shops, racks of merchandise littering the sidewalks, and an abundance of food and drink that I experienced sensory overload. The aroma of fresh pineapple prompted my mouth to water one second, followed by the odor of coconut suntan lotion, and then I’d catch a whiff of sea brine and some sort of tropical blossom mixed with the stout scent of beer from a pub as we walked by.

  Solomon and I crossed Caroline Street, Eaton Street, Fleming, and Southard Street with Anthony and Maureen following in our footsteps. The amount of restaurants amazed me. The aromas of fried food, booze, and fruit oozed out of open doors and windows. Many provided al fresco dining, and the customers sat beneath enormous umbrellas drinking from coconuts sporting tiny, colored umbrellas that mimicked their shady ones. One pub catered to a group of college-age guys who guzzled dark beer from huge steins.

  We eventually turned right onto Catherine Street, where we had to look for a two-story, lemon-yellow stucco building. A psychic shop took up the ground floor, and the second floor served as the proprietor’s home.

  A cyclist rode past us with a sleeping toddler strapped in a kiddie seat behind him. I studied the palm trees, enjoying a cool breeze wafting up an alley from the ocean. An old woman crouched on her knees, a rubber mat beneath them, and pulled straggling weeds from a garden brimming with blooms. Her large straw hat shielded her from the sun, and as we passed, I spotted a big Siamese cat sprawled across the hood of a newly waxed Kia Soul.

  “Is that the place?” Anthony asked.

  I nodded.

  We crossed the road an
d found the shop closed.

  “Great,” I muttered.

  “The sign says the owner is at the court outside the Gay and Lesbian Center for a community sidewalk sale,” Anthony read from the paper posted on the door. “I suppose we could either come back later or walk to the center and look for the,” he glanced up at the shingle above the awning, “Mystical Winds Psychic Shoppe.”

  “We’re picking up the document from a psychic?” Defeated and fearing the trip was a farce, I shrugged. “Let’s go to the center and see if we can find our contact.”

  By the time we reached the place, sweat coated my body and my mouth was so dry I couldn’t have spat if my life had depended on it.

  Shunka panted. Obviously miserable, he whined loudly.

  “How about I buy us something to drink while you look for the psychic’s booth?” Anthony suggested. “The dog needs something to drink too.”

  “Sounds good,” said Solomon. “I’ll go with you, and the girls can hunt for their contact.”

  The Key West Information Center stood on one side, and a First National Bank with a line of people at the ATM resided on the other. Farther down, a sign for the Gay and Lesbian Center hung outside the entrance. Despite the crowd populating the court, I tried to see the names on the venders’ booths and tables, but there were just too many people. A fountain in the middle of the court burbled, and several toddlers swished their hands and feet in it as their parents looked on. Many of the parents were same-sex partnerships. That’s when I noticed the sign over the court: Gay Capital of the World.

  “I never could get into the girl-girl thing,” Maureen said.

  Stunned, I looked at her sharply. “What?”

  “I tried it with a girl once, but it’s just not for me.”

  “Why would you do such a thing?”

  “Curiosity, I guess.”

  “Maureen, you never cease to freak me out.”

  She frowned. “You talk like being gay is a bad thing.”

  “I never said that,” I replied, shouldering through the crowd. “I just don’t see how a person could be interested in the same sex.”

  Maureen moved aside for a paraplegic man pushed in a wheelchair by a young woman. “Many lesbians probably wonder why a woman would stay with a man who beats the shit out of her every night when she could be with another woman who knows how she feels and what she really desires in a relationship.”

  Pausing, I looked at her, marveling at the wisdom masquerading as a dead ringer for Marilyn Monroe. “True, but there’s probably just as many abusive same-sex relationships as there are heterosexual ones.” I gauged her expression as she considered that tidbit then added, “I thought you said you tried being with another woman only once?”

  “I tried it for a week,” she said, gazing through the crowd as if she couldn’t bear to look me in the eyes. “Amy was a lovely person, but I couldn’t live that way.”

  “What made you change your mind?”

  “I like men much, much better.”

  I laughed.

  “The world is full of all kinds of people, Ruby.”

  “Yeah.” I smiled at her. “I seem to be learning that of late.”

  She grinned back.

  Anthony nudged my arm, drawing my attention. He handed me and Maureen our drinks.

  Solomon pulled a Styrofoam bowl from a trashcan, knelt, and then poured water from a bottle into the bowl for Shunka. He nodded at something across the way. “Isn’t that the place we’re looking for?”

  A large tent sprawled in a shaded corner of the court.

  “Yeah,” I said. “That looks like the place.”

  Once the dog had his fill, we pushed through the throng, but it was so crowded around the tent, we couldn’t get very close.

  An odd sensation washed over me, as if I were about to leap off a precipice into a deep, dark chasm. Despite the day’s intense heat, a chill spread gooseflesh along my arms. The feeling of a pending revelation assailed me as I stared at the shadow-shrouded tent.

  The same voice that had urged me south filled my mind. “WELL, RUBY NUTTER, AFTER CENTURIES YOU’RE FINALLY HERE AGAIN.”

  A verbal reply traveled to the tip of my tongue, but fell off, landing somewhere amongst my teeth.

  In my mind’s eye, I saw the woman sitting at a loom, but she could’ve been in a queen’s court if not the queen herself. Clothed in a Lady Guinevere dress of the darkest green, complete with bell sleeves, gold embroidery, and seed pearls she looked as if she’d stepped from the past into the present.

  Maureen and Solomon stared at me oddly.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked me.

  “I hear her too,” Anthony stated, tapping his temple with one finger, his expression incredulous.

  “I’VE BEEN WAITING A LONG TIME FOR YOU TO GET ENOUGH NERVE TO TRAVEL TO KEY WEST, BUT NOW WE’RE DOWN TO THE FINAL DAYS. YOU HAD NO CHOICE BUT TO COME.” Comfort washed over me as the voice continued. “RETURN TO MY SHOP, RUBY. YOU’LL FIND A KEY UNDER THE THIRD BRICK TO THE RIGHT OF THE DOOR. LET YOURSELF IN AND MAKE YOURSELVES AT HOME IN THE UPSTAIRS APARTMENT. I’LL BE THERE AS SOON AS I CAN.”

  That was it? I’d traveled through seven states just to be told to wait in this woman’s apartment? With a sigh, I turned and struggled through the crowd.

  “Ruby?” Solomon said. “Where are you going?”

  “Back to the psychic’s store.”

  “What?”

  “She was told to return to the store and wait,” Anthony said, tapping his temple again.

  “That’s fine,” Maureen stated. “I’m tired and need a nap anyway.”

  Shunka remained at my side, pulling Solomon along by the leash behind him. I walked silently, my mind a whir of whys and what ifs.

  I couldn’t explain it, but I knew I had to listen to the woman. After all, she’d guided me this far.

  We meandered through the people milling about making purchases or standing around chatting with friends and venders. Even over the shoppers’ chatter, I heard Shunka’s weary panting and knew we needed to get him out of the hot Florida sun and find him more cool water.

  The only time one of us spoke was when Maureen paused to exclaim over something.

  Back at the shoppe, I found the key under the third brick to the right, unlocked the door, and then once everyone had filed inside, I returned the key and relocked the door. A staircase in the back led to the woman’s apartment. With everyone following me, I climbed the stairs, pushed open a heavy door and stepped into a richly decorated abode.

  Now that I’d finally reached my destination, I had to agree with Maureen about needing a nap. Exhaustion and sleepiness descended on me with vengeance.

  Solomon gave the Malamute a bowl of water in the beautiful restaurant-style kitchen. A common, tawny-colored tabby cat perched in the window over the sink. It meowed and blinked large amber eyes at me.

  “Hello, fuzzball.” I scratched it behind the ears.

  The cat rubbed its head against my hand and purred loudly. Shunka looked up at the animal, his blue eyes assessing. Although I prepared myself for him to growl and lunge for the feline, he merely snorted as if to say, “Great, just what we need: a stupid cat.” and then returned to lapping up water.

  We filtered into the depths of the apartment. Maureen pointed at a bedroom that also served as a study. As I headed toward it, Anthony flopped down on an overstuffed sofa. Maureen motioned she was taking a small bedroom to the right of the one I entered. The sound of bed springs squeaking reached me and so did Maureen’s contented sigh and a yawn.

  I kicked off my sneakers and crawled across a black, silver, and lavender comforter toward a stack of fluffy pillows. Barely aware of the half-feminine, half-library-like décor, I flopped on my side and heaved a big sigh.

  Minutes later, as I faded off into slumber, Solomon climbed onto the bed and spooned me.

  ****

  Soft evening sunshine filtered through the window. Shunka snored on the floor at my side of the bed. I
rolled onto my back to find Solomon’s arm thrown over me. The stress of the trip, the fact that none of us had gotten any sleep last night, and the idea we’d finally reached our destination had all taken its toll. For once, I felt refreshed and I yawned behind my hand.

  A gentle tap at the door forced me to sit up.

  “Ruby?” Maureen’s whispered loudly.

  “Yeah, come in.”

  Solomon stirred and opened his eyes. “Mmph. I slept like a rock.”

  “I hear voices in the kitchen,” she said. “I’ll wake Anthony.”

  Solomon stepped into his Nikes and finger-combed his hair.

  We left the room, and Shunka padded out behind us. The second-floor apartment looked like something out of “Home and Gardens.” Everything had its place, and every item complemented every other item around it. Hardwood floors covered the entire apartment, polished to a high sheen and great for sock ice-skating.

  The living room and kitchen took up the entire front half of the upstairs. Overstuffed furniture in black and silver sprawled across the living area upon black and white alpaca rugs. A large rectangular coffee table squatted in the center of the main seating area. Its glass top housed a collage of letters, photos, dried flowers, seashells, and various paraphernalia, which I thought was a unique idea, not to mention a great conversation piece. The cat from the kitchen window now lounged across the tabletop. It blinked sleepily, its amber eyes narrow slits.

  On the wall above the stone fireplace hung an intricately carved broadsword, its handle wrapped in black leather studded with turquoise. Solomon stopped and eyed it with wonder. I watched him for a several minutes. He continued to stare at it as if in a trance.

  Finally, unease poked me in the back. “Solomon?”

  He continued to stare at the sword.

  “Solomon.”

  When he didn’t respond, I approached him and nudged his shoulder.