Belle, Book and Candle: A Fantasy Novel by Nick Pollotta

by Nick Pollotta

After tenderly kissing Rissa goodbye in the morning, Colt was feeling full of energy and decided to walk to work. By the time he reached downtown, he was whistling old Johnny Mercer tunes and “That Old Black Magic” kept coming to mind for some strange reason.

  Normally, Colt drove into town along the river, but from this vantage point his heart swelled with pride at the sight of the Coltier Tower. The tan stone building was only fifteen stories tall, but it still tastefully dominated the city skyline. For the past hundred years, the Savannah City Council really only had one unbreakable regulation for new construction—dignified. End of discussion. The Coltier Tower was the very epitome of that law: stately old-world elegance, forged out of state-of-the-art titanium from South Africa, and gracefully adorned with solid Georgia redstone. It was the best of both worlds, strong and beautiful. Rather like Rissa.

  Briefly inspecting his own reflection in the tinted windows, Colt found that the three-piece business suit borrowed from her grandfather’s closet fit extraordinarily well, almost as if it had been tailor-made just for him. Amazing! But then, everything about Rissa was magical.

  Pushing through the revolving doors, Colt found the lobby empty, which seemed to indicate that everybody was already at work and he was late. Then again, if it hadn’t been for this early morning teleconference he had scheduled with some rather important business associates in Japan, Colt wouldn’t have come in today at all. He would have much rather stayed at home, in bed, with Rissa. Damnation, even her name was musical: Clarissa Harmond ... Although Clarissa Coltier definitely had a much more sophisticated feel.

  Staying on the strips of plush red carpeting that crisscrossed the dark marble floor, Colt gave a cheery wave to the young woman sitting behind the reception desk. “Good morning, Delores!”

  “Morning, sir! Did your car break down?” she asked, reaching for the telephone.

  “No, just felt like walking today,” Colt replied, artfully changing strips to head for the elevator bank.

  “Of course,” Delores said, trying to hide a knowing smile. Then her features sagged. “Will ... Ms. Stone be along soon?” she hesitantly asked in the manner of a cancer patient inquiring about the current status of a malignant tumor.

  “Laura? Sorry, no idea!” Colt sang out, tapping the call button.

  Exhaling in relief, Delores went back to work, her bowed shoulders returning to their normal position.

  Unable to stop smiling, Colt was whistling again when the elevator doors opened with a soft chime. “Fifteen, please,” he said, stepping inside. Just for a moment, there was a faint smell of exhaust fumes from the basement garage, then it was gone.

  “How do you do, sir,” said a man pressing the button for the top floor. “You’re in a mighty good mood.”

  “Never better!” Colt replied with a grin. “McGinty, right? In accounting?”

  Tactfully, the man cleared his throat. “Actually, it’s Fitzgerald. Mergers and acquisitions.”

  “I am terribly sorry, Mr. Fitzgerald, that was incredibly rude of me.”

  “Not at all, sir. It’s a big company.”

  “That it is, Fitz, old man!” Colt boasted, glancing into the security mirror to adjust his tie. His hands paused inches away from the empty collar. Rissa had been unable to locate a necktie, only an ascot, which he had tactfully declined. For some reason, the memory of that made Colt grin widely.

  “Mr. Coltier ... sir, are you drunk?” Fitzgerald whispered, reaching into a pocket to pull out a packet of chewing gum.

  “Just in love,” Colt sighed. Then he balked, horribly embarrassed at the slip.

  Almost dropping the gum, Fitzgerald glanced sideways at the man. Colt grinned sheepishly. Fitzgerald cleared his throat. Colt shuffled his shoes. Then both men broke into nervous laughter.

  “This never happened?” asked Colt hopefully.

  “Sorry, no idea what you’re talking about ... Mr. Smith,” said Fitzgerald, tucking away the packet.

  Nodding his thanks, Colt gently punched the man on the arm as a show of camaraderie, and the rest of the vertical journey was spent in polite conversation about the upcoming football game between the Atlanta Falcons and their hated arch-enemies, the dreaded Philadelphia Eagles.

  Arriving at fifteen, Fitzgerald headed for the bullpen, while Colt went directly toward his private office in the corner suite.

  Everybody was at their desks, typing away on keyboards, the soft patter almost sounding like distant rain. That made his mind wander back to the night before. Colt wondered who had paid for the taxi ride from the beach. Feeling incredibly guilty, Colt yanked out a cell phone to hit speed dial.

  “Dalton Flowers!” a familiar voice answered flamboyantly.

  “Good morning, Ted, this is Mr. Coltier.”

  “Darling! How nice to hear from you so soon! Did the lady like the corsage? Or do you now need something sent over as an apology?”

  “No, she loved the flowers,” Colt said with a chuckle. “But I want to send her more. Something extra nice.”

  “Orchids?”

  “Gardenias.”

  “My favorites! A dozen?”

  “Every one you have.”

  “Of course ... wait, what was that?”

  “All of them,” Colt said, pausing alongside the water cooler. “Every damn gardenia in the city, in the whole state! Send her a field of gardenias!”

  There was a brief pause. “Finally found the one, eh?”

  “Who said anything like that?”

  “You just did,” he chuckled. “A field of gardenias? Where would she put them all? Let’s try ten dozen, and see how it goes, okay?”

  “Fine, you’re the acknowledged expert in matters of the heart.”

  “A trained professional, anyway. Or at least that’s what my new boyfriend says!”

  “The policeman?”

  “Defensive linebacker for the Falcons.”

  “No ... really? Tell me, how’s the quarterback’s sprained ankle?”

  “All healed.”

  “Excellent! Then we’ll murder those Eagles at the Dome this weekend!”

  “That is the plan, so I hear.”

  “Death to the Eagles!”

  “Yes—yes, death to those Eagles,” Ted repeated absentmindedly. “Okay, Miss Harmond will have the gardenias in an hour. Good luck!”

  “Thanks, but I really don’t need luck anymore,” Colt stated, closing the phone with a snap of his wrist.

  Just then the door to the break room swung aside, and out walked Laura, munching on a muffin. “Morning, chief! Why so happy? Buy another car, or did the Japanese agree to your proposal?”

  Tucking away the phone, Colt felt confused. Aside from the fact that Laura was in a light summer dress totally inappropriate for the office, more important, she looked ... well, different. She appeared younger, noticeably slimmer, even taller somehow, and was now supporting a more buxom figure than she ever had before, the strapless dress straining to contain her more-than-ample breasts. Colt knew that kind of plastic surgery could be done overnight, but he had always heard the bruising took weeks to go away. Some new kind of post-op treatment, perhaps?

  Even stranger, Laura had a pair of golden rings very similar to Rissa’s amber rings, only with less detail. One had a whitish tinge, as if it were made of old bones or scrimshaw, while the other was shiny gold, almost gleaming. Both of the tiny dragons possessed eyes of glittering green jewels that Colt could not readily identify, and they seemed to be following his every movement. Which was rather creepy. Wonder how the manufacturer achieved that effect?

  “Chief, what happened with the Japanese?” Laura asked, innocently fingering her muffin.

  “I missed the call,” Colt said awkwardly. “They ... that is, I ...”

  “Something wrong?” Laura asked, taking a bite out of the muffin as if it were an apple.

  “Ah ... new hairdo?” Colt asked hesitantly.

  “Do you like it?” she asked, twirling around. That made her skirt flare out and
reveal that she was sans panties. Briefly the background sound of the keyboards paused as everybody in the office temporarily became her gynecologist.

  “Perhaps this is not the place,” Colt said, taking hold of her arm.

  “Anywhere, any time,” Laura said suggestively, tossing aside the rest of the muffin to lean in close.

  Her breath smelled of blueberries, and Colt smiled tolerantly. “Sounds like you had a good night, Laura.”

  “Oh, I did,” she purred. “What about you?”

  “Actually, it was the best night of my life,” Colt admitted, delighted to finally have somebody he could tell. Gale was the ultimate cynic, and did not believe that true love existed. John was a player, and his friends would only bust his ass for talking about such things without getting drunk first. Mental note to self: find better friends!

  “Best night ... what exactly do you mean by that?” Laura demanded, her smile vanishing.

  “I’ll tell you. Remember my Rolodex?” Colt asked, pausing significantly.

  Sitting on the edge of an empty desk, Laura let a shapely leg dangle over the side. “Are we finally going digital?” she asked hopefully, glancing at the huge old-fashioned rotating file on her desk across the office.

  “Not a chance,” Colt snorted. “Security is paramount, and there’s no way to hack a card file, except break in and photocopy each card individually.”

  “True. Paranoid, but true.”

  “Actually, I meant the other Rolodex.”

  “The one filled with the names of every single debutante, socialite, and heiress below the Mason-Dixon line?”

  “Bingo. Burn it.”

  “Come again?”

  “You heard me.”

  “Are ... sir, are you sure about that?”

  “Never more so in my whole life,” Colt sighed. “Then destroy your private copy that I’m not supposed to know exists.”

  “Colt, I use those cards every week to find you dates for important social occasions,” Laura started.

  Colt? Since when has she started calling me that? “Burn them, Ms. Stone. I’m off the market.”

  “Of course, right after lunch,” Laura said smoothly.

  “No, I’m serious,” Colt continued. “I’m off the market. Last night ... I ... I fell in love.”

  With those words, Laura gasped and seemed to have trouble breathing.

  As Colt sauntered down the hallway, Laura glanced about to make sure nobody was looking in her direction, checked to make sure that both of her rings were secure, then wildly gestured at the man. “Begone all bonds,” she whispered, “loosen all ties, banish all claims, and break all chains!”

  There was a burst of sparkling lights around his neck, and with a startled cry, Colt went crashing into a copy machine as his pants dropped to the floor.

  “Colt!” Laura cried, rushing over.

  “I’m fine! No damage,” Colt snarled, rolling about on the floor to untangle his flopping pant legs.

  As they came free, he stood, but a cuff caught on a heel and ripped off. Growling in annoyance, Colt stepped on the tattered strip to yank it off and the inside seam split all the way to his crotch.

  “You have a spare suit in the office,” Laura said, taking his arm to lead the way.

  Muttering agreement, Colt came along, holding tight onto fistfuls of flapping cloth in a game effort to preserve his rapidly departing dignity.

  “Why is your underwear on backwards?” Laura demanded suspiciously.

  “I ... got dressed in the dark?”

  “Did you now,” Laura said in a monotone, then added, “Of course, that doesn’t explain the lipstick stains ...”

  As he glanced down, her eyes narrowed in savage comprehension, and everybody in the office recoiled slightly as an expression of raw hatred momentarily distorted her features into something truly monstrous.

  Shambling into the corner suite, Colt moved to the side while Laura locked the door, then flipped on the Do Not Disturb, Meeting In Progress sign.

  “Why did you do that?” he asked.

  “To buy us a few minutes of privacy.”

  “Okay ... oh, Christ, they’re ruined!” Colt muttered, fiddling hopelessly with the dangling strips of tattered cloth.

  “Okay, get’em off!” she commanded, pulling open the closet and hauling out a dry cleaner’s bag containing a charcoal gray three-piece suit.

  “Honestly, I don’t need any help with this,” Colt mumbled in a rush, his face turning bright red.

  Draping the bag over a chair, Laura grabbed his belt and jerked it free, the buckle still closed. “Oh, don’t be silly, I’ve seen you naked before,” Laura lied, the gold ring pulsating with lights on her finger.

  “When was that?” Colt demanded incredulously. He tried to turn away, but his feet felt as if they were welded to the carpeting.

  “When you were drunk,” she elaborated, kneeling down to pull off the remains of his bedraggled pants. “After a date with Colette.”

  “That ... never ... happened ...” Colt growled, still struggling to get away.

  “Oh, yes, it did,” whispered Laura, looking up, her face only inches away from his bare thighs.

  Feeling the warmth of her breath on his skin, Colt was confused, ashamed, and oddly aroused. From this angle he had a perfect view down her dress, and could see almost all of her breasts. He tried to speak, but nothing came out as his traitorous shorts became dramatically tighter and more expansive.

  “Is this for me?” Laura smiled, her finger cupping the tented cloth.

  At the contact, something snapped inside of Colt and he jerked backwards ... leaving his underwear in her clawed hand. “Shitfire, I’m buck naked!”

  “Yes, you are!” Laura laughed, the rest of her clothing, jewelry, and shoes melting away completely, leaving only the glowing rings.

  “W—wa—whoa! S—stop right t—there!” Colt stammered, sweat trickling down his face and chest. The office was unbelievably hot, the overhead fluorescent lights now oddly blazing more brightly than a tropical sun.

  Slowly Laura stood with catlike grace. “Make me stop,” she purred, starting

  toward the transfixed man, her full breasts swaying to the lolling motion of her slim hips.

  “No ... really ... I’m in love with Rissa,” Colt managed to get out, both hands raised to try and hold off the unwanted advance.

  “Nonsense, with a Yankee?” Laura laughed, diving forward to press herself fully against his warm naked body.

  “N—n—n—now, Ms. Stone, I fully understand your reticence, but please allow to me assure you ... Laurastopthat!” Colt bellowed, yanking her hands away again.

  Ignoring the protests, she ran her hands across his muscular chest—then paused and jerked back.

  “What is that thing on your neck?” she demanded, as the office returned to a normal temperature.

  “Rissa asked me that only yesterday,” Colt muttered in confusion, touching his throat.

  “Answer the damn question!” Laura snarled, grabbing his shoulders, her nails digging deeply into his skin until blood appeared.

  “Get away from me!” Colt thundered, shoving her back.

  Landing sprawled on the carpet, Laura wantonly spread her legs. “You hurt me!” she sobbed, rubbing a hand between her thighs.

  Inhaling sharply at the pearlescent sight, Colt spun around and bolted like a madman for the bathroom. Slamming the door shut, he threw the bolt a split second before something slammed into the other side. Merciful Heaven, the woman is insane, completely out of control!

  “Open the door, Colt,” she whispered seductively, her nails loudly scratching along the exterior wood.

  Bizarrely, he felt something rake down his chest, leaving bloody furrows. Colt backed away until he hit the sink. “Ms. Stone, you may take the rest of the day off!” he yelled, not sure of what else to do.

  “B—b—ut I love y—you,” Laura whimpered, the scratching replaced with a rubbing noise.

  Invisible ha
nds began caressing him, and Colt tried to swat them away to no effect.

  “Come on, Emile, we’re perfect together,” Laura continued sweetly from outside. “I know every detail of your life and business. I’m beautiful ... more so than even Colette ... isn’t that true?”

  “Well, yes ... but no! I mean ... that has nothing to do with anything!” Colt bellowed, hopping onto the sink, then rolling off to grab the shower curtain. Yanking it off the chrome bar, he wrapped the plastic sheet around himself, then strode to the door and yanked it open, ripping the lock from the wood.

  “Get the fuck out of my office!” Colt ordered, his face an iron mask of barely suppressed fury.

  Smiling as if she knew he was only teasing, Laura reached out to fondle the shower curtain and he slapped her hand away.

  “How could you betray me like this after so many years?” Colt asked, his voice heavy with regret. “By God, woman, I thought we were friends!”

  “Friends?” she sobbed. “I’ve wanted you ever since we first met, and you’ve never even noticed me!”

  “Be that as it may—”

  “Please make love to me just once,” Laura pleaded, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Nobody will ever know. It’ll be out little secret ...” But the instant the words came out, Laura realized she had gone too far.

  His eyes now flashing with hatred, Colt raised an open hand as if about to strike her across the face. Then he forced down the arm, his muscles shaking from the colossal effort.

  “Ms. Stone, you have ten seconds to leave or you’re fired,” he snarled through clenched teeth. “I don’t know what drugs you released into the air to make any of this ... ” he gestured vaguely—“...appear to actually happen. But it’s not going to work!” “But, Emile, this is true love!” Laura said in a rush, the words colliding with each other, they came out so fast. Both of her rings were now pulsating, amber and white, flashing alternatively in a hypnotic pattern. As if in reply, the emblem on the side of his neck was blazing with a clear blue light.

  “Love?” Colt bellowed in disbelief. “That’s it! Get out; you’re fired.”

  “Fire me?” Laura repeated, somehow managing to hiss the words. “No, I don’t think so!”

  Gesturing with both hands, her rings began to fiercely glow. “Bind this man to me,” she loudly commanded. “Make him mine, body and soul! A slave to do my bidding, forever unto eternity!”