The Sorcerer King and the Fire Queen

by Ana Lee Kennedy

  He blinked rapidly and shot me a bewildered look. “That weapon is amazing.”

  “An authentic antique for sure,” I replied. “Are you okay? It seemed like you were in another world.”

  “Does that weapon seem familiar to you?” he asked. “It’s like I’ve seen it somewhere before.”

  Studying it, I shook my head. “No, not to me. Maybe you saw it in a magazine or on the Internet?”

  “Maybe.” But he didn’t sound convinced.

  Anthony had awakened and vacated the couch, so I assumed he was in the dining room, where I heard the voices of both men and women. I motioned for Solomon to follow. Turning the corner, I stopped short, and Solomon sucked in a sharp breath.

  Seated at the table, Maureen and Anthony joked with Wayne Blacktree.

  The dog barked abruptly, scaring the hell out of me, and leaped by us like a gazelle. Solomon grabbed at him but missed.

  “Shunka! No!” he shouted.

  Everyone in the room whirled, startled.

  The Malamute launched himself into the air and hit Wayne, knocking him and the chair backward onto the hardwood floor. His body and the chair hit with a hollow thud. The dog growled as if he were about to rip the guy’s throat out. Wayne lay flat on his back, feet in the air with the chair under him, and Shunka’s jaws grasping him by the throat.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Except for Shunka’s growls, quiet settled over the apartment.

  Finally, a woman moved across the dining area. “Your familiar doesn’t trust Wayne.” Her laughter wrapped around me. “You might know Wayne’s former soul, Shunka Wakan, but it is no longer black.”

  This gal is off her rocker. She’s talking to the dog like he’s a person.

  I shot her a perplexed look but dismissed her as I slowly approached Wayne. The Malamute continued to grasp him by the throat, uttering low warning sounds. Wayne stared up at me, his eyes nearly all white with fear, chest heaving. I could only imagine the amount of adrenaline surging through him.

  “What’s he doing here?” Solomon asked and moved to my side. “That jerk has been hounding Ruby since she ran into him in West Virginia.”

  “Get Ruby’s familiar to let him loose,” said the woman, “then all will be explained.”

  “Shunka? My familiar?” I glanced first at her, wondering if the woman had lost her mind, then looked over at Solomon.

  He knelt and peered into Wayne’s stricken face. The dining room chandelier created an ethereal gleam upon Solomon’s hair, his arms and neck stark against his shirt. He reminded me of an apparition about to administer judgment upon a victim.

  “Shunka,” he said. “Let him go.”

  The dog growled louder. I interpreted that to mean “Like hell I will!”

  “Come on, boy,” I coaxed. “He’s not worth it. Let him go, okay?”

  Reluctantly, the dog released Wayne’s throat and moved back, pressing against my leg. Shunka snorted with what sounded like pure disgust.

  Solomon shot me an odd look and hefted the big man and the chair into an upright position. Wayne gasped and wiped the dog drool from his throat with a nice linen napkin. He sat stone still, wheezing for air, hands shaking as he reached for a water glass.

  “Well, Ruby,” said the strange woman, “you certainly know how to make an entrance.”

  Anger rose in me. “And you certainly know how to manipulate people,” I retorted. If I lose my temper, she’d end up with sunburn worse than Maureen’s. Gulping, I tamped the emotion down. “I had a feeling I should’ve walked away from Loretta’s offer.”

  She smiled, but her dark eyes held an odd brand of smugness. “You had no choice, dear.”

  “What the hell do you—?”

  “Ruby,” the woman said with force. “Sit, have a glass of wine, and relax.” When I didn’t move, she added, “Please. I’ll tell you everything if you just sit down and compose yourself. You’re amongst friends.”

  “Friends?” I queried with sarcasm, glaring at Wayne as I sat.

  A chuckle escaped her. “Yes, even Wayne is a friend. It took him hundreds of years to realize it, though.”

  “Who the hell are you?” A tremor had begun deep in my gut.

  “Ruby, calm down,” Maureen whispered across the table.

  “I didn’t come all this way just to get more cloak-and-dagger bullshit,” I snapped at her.

  Anthony studied me from his seat next to Maureen, an expression of wonder and something else I couldn’t identify on his face. Inwardly, I cringed. He probably thought I was horrible.

  I sat between Wayne and Solomon, uncertain whether to sit quietly and see how things unfolded or to blow up in a fit of rage. As I was about to choose the latter, the woman walked into the adjoining kitchen only to return with a chilled bottle of wine. She moved around the table filling our glasses.

  “My name is Alice,” she said, holding out her hand once she reached me and set the wine bottle down. “Alice Nutter.” Her smile broadened. “And he,” she pointed at Solomon with her free hand, “is the White King. Your son is the new blood.”

  Another Nutter? And had she just call Solomon the White King? I glanced at my son. New blood? Great, this was just getting crazier and crazier.

  Taking her hand in mine, I stared at the woman dressed in a dark green, gothic-style dress with flowing sleeves. Long mahogany hair cascaded over one shoulder, and her hazel eyes, ones similar to mine, looked through me.

  As our hands touched, a jolt of sensation assailed me nearly knocking me out of my seat. Alice’s gaze frightened me to the very depths of my soul.

  “You two look a lot alike,” Maureen said with awe.

  “In this life I’m a cousin,” Alice squeezed my hand, “but when we first met one another, I was your aunt.”

  What the hell was she talking about? I had no family save for my father, and even if there were a few Nutters left, it was no wonder he didn’t want anything to do with his family. They were obviously insane!

  “We’ve always known one another,” she began. “History repeats itself and it’s doing so again. Across the centuries, everyone here has been reincarnated over and over.” She glanced at Anthony. “But now you’ve finally had a son, Ruby. That’s a new development, and we shall see where it leads.”

  “You’re not making any sense,” I whispered.

  Alice gripped my hand, and something flowed from her body to mine—something powerful. The room spun. The air seemed to have left the apartment, and sounds became distorted.

  “Once again,” Alice stated as if she were a million miles away, “we face the Sons of God to prevent them from taking over our world. Wayne was used over and over by them to do their dirty work, and now he’s finally realized this and has turned against them.”

  The dining room vanished. Dimly, Maureen’s cries and Solomon’s shouts reached me, and then disappeared altogether.

  A black expanse of tumultuous water stretched out before me, the waves’ caps frothy white. A stone monolith rose into the air to my right. Once again, a cloaked woman stood nearby, head down, her hands hidden beneath her brown garment. Thunder crashed over the water.

  The creatures I’d faced at Solomon’s cabin raced toward us, their bodies composed of indigo and gray smoke. The semblance of demonic animals appeared here and there in the twirling masses. Huge riders sat astride their backs. As always, I couldn’t see their faces, but somehow I sensed their identities. I raised my hands to the sky...

  The scene switched again. I stood in the village I’d dreamed of a few days ago. Riders upon massive warhorses galloped into the community along a narrow dirt road. The same inky smoke monsters fled, their forms bleeding into the ether. There, crouched against the well, cowered the prostitute whom I’d been sneaking food to. As she turned her head toward me, I saw her face clearly for the first time.

  Maureen!

  Next, I stood in a great room. I saw the White King and he kissed me tenderly. He held me close, his embroidered robes sof
t against my body. I looked up at him and took in the fresh scars across his face, scars I somehow knew had come from battle, and I admired the ethereal luster of his flaxen locks, the way the jewel-encrusted crown caught the firelight. Maureen sat across the room in a red embroidered gown, her soft weeping permeating the chamber as Solomon comforted me...

  “Ruby?”

  Blinking, I looked around the dining room. Several pairs of concerned eyes stared back at me.

  “Ruby?” Alice said again. “Are you all right?”

  “I need to be alone,” I replied.

  “I’ll walk her back to her room,” Anthony offered and rose to hurry around the table. “Let me help you. You don’t look too steady.”

  With Shunka close on our heels, my son ushered me through the apartment and into the study that also served as a bedroom. I strode to the window and looked out at the ocean where the sun had begun to bleed onto the water’s surface. Gold, red, and swirls of deep pink floated in all directions, also staining the sky.

  Alice’s pet tiptoed into the room and leapt up on the windowsill. The feline glanced with disinterest at the dog lying at my feet. The cat perched there as if pretending to be a figurine. It began purring and shut its eyes.

  “Our lives are about to change forever, aren’t they?” said Anthony. His hand fell on my shoulder and remained there.

  “Yes.”

  Except for the cat’s soft purring, quiet settled over us.

  Eventually, Anthony murmured, “And if we don’t stop what’s coming, the entire world will suffer, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “How do we know this?”

  Shaking my head, I shrugged. “I guess because Alice is right. Myself and the others have lived many times before. My work isn’t done yet and it may never be complete. I think we’re here to stop whatever it is that keeps coming back.”

  “The Sons of God.”

  I nodded. “Whatever the Sons of God are, I sense they’re not good.”

  “But...doesn’t that mean they’re of God or from Him?”

  “No. It means...” I shrugged. “I don’t know what it means. At least not yet.”

  “Do you want me to stay with you?” Anthony asked.

  Turning, I looked up at him. Eyes mirroring mine stared back at me. And, for the very first time, I was glad I had Anthony as my son, that I’d finally taken the plunge to go see him. What Cole had done to me was wrong, and the means by which Anthony was conceived were sad and devastating, but it all had worked out in the wash. Anthony was “my” son and I loved him, therefore something good had arisen from something bad.

  “I’m fine, really. I just need some quiet to think and process everything.”

  He smiled sadly. “You’re a good person, Ruby. It’s a shame the weight of the world and all these last few centuries are on your shoulders.”

  Surprise skewered my insides. “How do you know that?”

  “I’m your son and I have visions too.”

  I returned his smile, but pride resided in mine.

  ****

  Slowly I awoke. Snoring came from the bed, and as I turned and stretched, I found Solomon flopped facedown across the mattress in only his shorts. I remembered sitting in the wingback chair and watching the sun disappear on the horizon, but after that only slumber filled my memory. I rose and crossed the room, pulling the sheet up over my lover’s white, muscled body. For a moment, I stood gazing upon Solomon as bits and pieces of long-forgotten memories flittered through my brain.

  I love you.

  I may not be able to tell him due to fear, but I could certainly think it.

  Wide-awake and energized, I moved from the bed and looked around. A small clock on the desk showed it was nearly midnight. Quiet seemed to weigh on the apartment. Where was everyone?

  As I padded out into the hall, Shunka close on my heels, I straightened my wrinkled t-shirt and enjoyed the sensation of the cool hardwood floors against the soles of my feet. Anthony slept on the couch, and Wayne snored on an air mattresses. How could Alice believe Wayne was now on the up and up? A leopard never changed its spots, so how was Wayne any different? I didn’t believe it. Not without proof.

  In the kitchen, I got a glass and filled it from a water dispenser standing against a wall. I gulped down the water and set the glass in the sink. A stain on the front of my shirt caught my attention. The thought of a shower and a change of clothes sounded wonderful, but I figured it was best to just put on my jammies and go to bed.

  Shit. The Excursion and Mustang are still in that parking lot.

  We needed our suitcases and gear. All our things were in them.

  However, waking someone at that time of night to help me fetch everything didn’t seem fair, especially since they were so exhausted. I debated on what to do.

  Shunka danced around my feet, his hind quarters shimmying to the beat of “I have to pee ASAP.”

  “Do you need to go out, boy?”

  He answered with a soft woof.

  “Okay.” I patted him on the head. “I have an idea that will help both of us.”

  Next to Anthony on an end table lay the keys to his Mustang. I picked them up as I passed and headed into the study-bedroom where I pulled the Excursion’s keys from Solomon’s shorts. Shunka waited in the doorway, his turquoise eyes luminous in the dim lighting.

  Pocketing the two sets of keys, I picked up the dog’s leash and whispered, “Let’s go, mutt.”

  Outside, I locked up the apartment and returned the key behind the brick. The aroma of brine and coconut oil invaded my nostrils, and every now and then I’d also catch the pungent odor of beer from the neighboring pubs. Laughter from a party somewhere down the street rode the stiff breeze, and sometimes the distinct sound of lapping waves sliced through the din.

  The atmosphere of Key West, the palm trees, the ocean breeze, and all the aromas and sounds raised my spirits and heightened my refreshed state of mind. Somewhere along the rocky shoreline a seagull cried. The Malamute trotted at my side, ears perked, nose twitching with all the fragrances assaulting it. At least the dog would deter anyone from stopping or bothering me.

  We made our way past all the pubs and tourist shops. Parties spilled out onto the streets, drunks hollered and dribbled booze on themselves, and young college-age women strutted around with their tits straining the fabric of their bikini tops and low-cut shirts. Gay couples drifted from party to party, their arms around one another’s waists. Music pounded from within a nearby pub. As I drew closer, I identified the song as “Sexy Bitch” by David Guetta and Akon, the bass of it throbbing through the bodies dancing on the patio and of those wandering nearby.

  A group of young kids burst through the pub’s doors as I approached with Shunka. Caught amongst them, I paused, holding my ground as the crowd encompassed me. The dog pressed his body against the front of my legs almost like he thought he could prevent them from touching or jostling me. I couldn’t hear him growling, but the sound of it vibrated through his ribs.

  The high-pitched giggles of one blonde girl filled my ears. Her laughter reminded me of a shrieking bird caught in a cat’s claws. The crowd pushed me back. The human mass undulated to and fro like a fleshy tide. Something hit the backs of my knees, I collapsed, and the seat of a chair met with my rear. With relief, I grasped the edge of the table next to me and kept a firm grip on Shunka’s tether.

  The dog’s growls finally rose over the din of voices. At the same moment, the crowd began to disperse. Tourists, locals, and college kids filed back into the pub. Others walked in groups of two, three or four to the next bar, while more headed down one end or the other of the street.

  “Finally,” someone said, “I have you all to myself.”

  Cold settled between my shoulder blades and oozed upward into my neck. Every hair on my body stood at attention. Desire flared hot in my loins and seeped into my abdomen.

  No! Not him! Not now!

  “Come now, Ruby. Why are you so upset? We’re meant
to be together,” the voice rumbled from across the table.

  The realization of what Azazel had done descended on me with such force that my equilibrium seesawed. The entire ordeal with the crowd had been set up by him. He’d imposed his will upon them, made them think they were goofing around and having fun, and then used them to move me into position. I couldn’t run, couldn’t hide.

  Shunka sat next to me and bared his teeth. Menacing growls reverberated through his body.

  “I just want to talk,” the bikers’ leader said. He barely glanced at the Malamute.

  Slowly, I turned my head. Blond, blue-eyed, rugged and yet beautiful, Azazel stared back at me with a sexy smile that almost made me come in my seat. He’d swapped his motorcycle attire for a tight black muscle shirt and relaxed-fit jeans. Wide, powerful shoulders begged me to run my hands across them. His deep tan gave him the appearance of a buff beach god, and coupled with his vibrant blue eyes and strong features, he was the epitome of a Hollywood hunk. Dark brown five o’clock shadow graced his firm jaw line, and Heaven help me, intensified his sex appeal all the more. A black-and-gray tattoo of a raging beast composed of many different animals covered his upper arms and shoulders to disappear behind his nape. Golden hair curled around his neck as if caressing it.

  I gulped. Azazel was the pure essence of sex. It screamed from his every pore, wafted around the table in a cloud of pheromones, and flowed into me on an invisible current of arousal.

  And oh how I wanted him! Lust raged through me and heated my panties.

  Shunka whined and laid his head on my knees. I looked down at him. The dog rolled his eyes as if to say I wasn’t fighting hard enough. Hell, what did he know? He was a dog and probably found every tree and fencepost in Florida sexy.

  “Wh-what do you want?” I managed to say and scratched Shunka’s ears in an effort to not only calm him but me too.

  “You.”

  “No, I mean—”

  “I know what you mean,” he stated, his lips turning up in a lazy smile. “And again, the answer is you.”