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

by Nick Pollotta

  “Hold it! No solicitors allowed!” he growled, displaying a palm. “Move along, please.”

  “Sleep,” Rissa said, touching his cheek.

  Giving a bone-cracking yawn, the man eagerly nodded as if that were the greatest idea since democracy and turned to shuffle away into the back room.

  “You are a very dangerous woman,” Colt whispered, strolling across the lobby.

  “Only getting warmed up, lover,” Rissa muttered, cracking her knuckles.

  The more magic she did, the easier it was becoming. After a couple of years, she’d be making the breakfast toast with lightning bolts and changing diapers with a hurricane!

  Caught by surprise, Rissa almost stumbled at that thought. Children? Glancing sideways at Colt, she experienced a visceral rush of maternal feelings, and just for a split second felt the bloodline of her family stretching all the way back to the Beginning.

  “Something wrong?” Colt asked, slowing down to touch her arm.

  “Not a thing in the world,” Rissa said, bumping him with a hip.

  She kept trying to concentrate on the job before them, but her mind kept slipping back to the earlier chain of thought. Children and motherhood. My God, our kids will be smart! Then Rissa abruptly realized that she hadn’t texted her parents yet about Colt! They were certainly going to be surprised by the speed of the engagement, but Rissa already knew down deep in her very bones that they would also be delighted and love the man just as much as she did. Two kids will do fine, a boy and a girl. Rissa had never even entertained such thoughts before! She started to ask Colt about the public schools in Savannah, then bit her tongue. Step One: save the world. After that, everything else will simply fall into place.

  “Dale and Lucinda,” Colt muttered softly.

  Rissa almost tripped. “What was that?”

  “Nothing important.”

  Discreetly located in a small alcove was a bank of five elevators. As Colt went to press a call button, Rissa impatiently snapped her fingers and all five of the doors cycled opened in unison.

  “Showoff,” Colt said, trying not to smile.

  Still riding an endorphin high at the prospect of children, Rissa merely winked in reply.

  Choosing the middle elevator, Colt tapped the button for the penthouse while Rissa banished their disguises. For this next part, their real faces were absolutely vital.

  Reaching the penthouse floor, Colt stood guard while Rissa tickled the doorknob until it gently clicked and swung open. Stepping inside, they paused in confusion. The entranceway and living room appeared to have been decorated by either a psychopath or a ten-year-old girl. Quite possibly both.

  “Are you sure this is the right place?” Rissa muttered, looking around in puzzled amazement.

  “I’ve never been here before, but it looks right,” Colt said, easing the door shut and throwing the deadbolt.

  Almost everything in sight seemed to have silk tassels, and was a different shade of pink: chairs, sofas, end tables, carpeting, lamps, curtains ... even the logs in the alabaster fireplace were muted tones of blush.

  The only notable exceptions were a pile of fashion magazines, a huge crystal chandelier hanging from the upholstered ceiling, and the pictures on the walls. Those appeared to be original oil paintings of kittens, or naked men, or naked men cuddling kittens while riding unicorns—many of whom were pink and had tassels.

  “Is this a womb or a Turkish whorehouse?” Rissa asked in a hushed whisper normally reserved for visiting church or a funeral home.

  “Something in between,” Colt muttered, easing down the heavy duffel bag. “This is also the absolutely last place on earth that Laura would ever look for me.”

  “Hell?”

  “Close, but no cigar, Groucho.”

  Just then a door in the hallway swung open wide, admitting a swirling cloud of rose-scented steam. Padding out of the bathroom came a short voluptuous woman wearing nothing but a pink bath towel, her platinum-blonde hair piled high in curlers.

  “Hello!” Colt called out with a friendly wave. “Sorry to intrude like this but—”

  “Colty!” Colette squealed in delight, dropping the towel to bounce forward and throw both arms around the man. “Everybody is looking for you, and we’re all so worried! Are you hurt? Wherever have you been?”

  “Getting engaged,” Colt mumbled, gently prying off the naked limpet to quickly turn around. “Now please get dressed!”

  “Whatever for?” Colette giggled, resting a hand on a bellied hip. “I don’t care if you see me au naturel!”

  “Hello,” said Rissa in a monotone.

  With a high-pitched squeal, Colette dove for the towel on the carpeting and fumbled to get it back around herself.

  Still facing the wall, Colt cleared his throat. “Miss Colette Tiffany Sanders, please allow me to introduce my fiancée ... my actual, real-life, honest-to-God fiancée ... Clarissa Harmond.”

  “Really?” Colette asked in a very small voice, tucking a fold of the towel between her breasts to hold it in place. “Your fiancée?”

  “Difficult to believe, isn’t it?” Rissa muttered, glaring at the plump blonde. Oddly, she saw no malice or subterfuge in the face of the woman, only a sort of sweet innocence, and her surge of annoyance dissipated faster than the steam.

  “It was love at first sight,” Rissa added gently, trying to soften the blow.

  “I see,” Colette whispered, her exuberance vanishing. Just for a moment, it looked as if she were going to burst into tears; then Colette walked over to kiss Rissa on the lips.

  “Congratulations,” she said in a surprisingly mature voice. “You must be very special to steal Emile away from me.”

  Unable to think of any reply, Rissa merely gave an awkward smile, then hugged her in return. Off to the side, Colt rolled his eyes toward heaven in a wordless plea for assistance.

  “Now that we’ve met, I can see that Colt was right about you all along,” Rissa finally managed to get out. “You’re just too much woman for any one man.” Unbidden, she recalled a line of poetry from an old Akira Kurosawa movie. “Can a teacup hold the ocean?”

  “What a lovely thing to say!” Colette giggled, then suddenly seemed embarrassed. “But where are my manners? This is a celebration! Let me call the maid. Can I offer you something to eat, or drink? Perhaps a kitten, would you like a kitten?”

  “To eat, or drink?” asked Rissa in horror.

  “Of course not, to play with!” Colette laughed, every trace of her former distress gone. “You’re silly. I like her, Colty! We’re going to be best friends.”

  Maintaining a polite smile, Rissa wondered if it would be possible to sell tickets for the first time Colette met Melissa. Behold, the irresistible force encounters the immovable object! Whatever the outcome, there were sure to be lots of interesting byproducts.

  “Some food would be great, thanks. But first we need a favor, old friend,” Colt said, advancing closer. “A really big favor. Possibly the biggest one ever.”

  “I’ve never done anything like that before,” Colette whispered, blushing all over as the towel started to slip again. “But I can’t see any reason why a three-way between consenting adults couldn’t be a magical thing ...”

  “Oh—no—no—no!” Rissa interrupted, gesturing frantically with both hands. Instantly the towel returned to its proper position and a row of buttons formed along the side; then a belt cinched it around the waist and suspenders appeared over both shoulders.

  “What she meant to say is, perhaps some other time,” Colt diplomatically lied, glancing sideways to nod in approval. “All we need at the moment is for you to call Laura and tell her that we’ve just left.”

  “Come again?” Colette asked, confused, reaching up to fluff her hair. As her fingers touched the curlers, she put her hand back down again. “Why don’t you just call her yourself?”

  “It’s ... complicated,” Colt muttered uneasily.

  “It’s a trap,” Rissa said, feeling an unexp
ected need for honesty. “We’re using you to trick her here.”

  Pursing her lips, Colette slowly smiled. “Fair enough,” she said, walking over to a ruffle-edged desk and lifting a blush-colored cell phone from its alabaster dock. “Are you planning on kidnapping the bitch, or murdering her? I’m fine with either one of those plans.”

  “A little of each,” Colt said, leaning against the desk. “Funny, I didn’t know you disliked her so much.”

  “Emile, you would be hard pressed to find anybody in greater Savannah who likes Laura Stone,” Colette said in a tight voice, the pure venom in her tone chilling the air. “People only tolerate her for your sake ... or to try and get your money.”

  That startled the man. “You’ve never talked to me this way before.”

  “You’ve never been off the market before, not really,” Colette laughed, sitting down on a pink settee and primly crossing her bare legs. “So, is there a script, or do I ad lib?”

  While Rissa laid out the assorted details, Colt got the shotgun and stashed it in the hall, then went into the bathroom to brush his teeth. Breakfast had been a liverwurst and onion sandwich from Edgar, and he needed his breath minty fresh for the next part.

  When he returned a few minutes later, Rissa was hiding in the hallway and Colette was at the desk in a white summer dress, dripping with diamond jewelry—and barefoot, of course. Surrounded by so much pink, the sparkling dress stood out like a stereopticon image.

  “Anytime you’re ready,” Colette said, hefting the phone in her hand.

  “Go,” Colt said, stepping into the hallway and picking up the shotgun.

  Tapping in the number, Colette spoke the instant it stopped ringing. “Colt was just here at my apartment!” she exclaimed. “No, he left a few minutes ago ... why yes, a book, of all things ... no, nothing else ... actually, just a page from the book ... an atlas ... no, I don’t know which page ...”

  There was a rainbow flash, and Laura appeared next to the telephone, her ring blazing with power. “Where’s the book?” she demanded, glancing about.

  “Thank God you’re here!” Colette squealed, throwing both arms around the other woman.

  In the hallway, Colt laid aside the shotgun and Rissa sighed in relief. They had gambled everything on Dominic not coming along with Laura. Thankfully, they had been right. Otherwise, this would have turned into a real bloodbath. Now they had a slim chance of success.

  “Get off me, you fat pig!” Laura snarled in disgust, pushing Colette away. “Where is Colt? Where’s that book?”

  Moving fast, Colt stepped out of the hallway, and grabbed Laura by the shoulder to roughly turn her around. She gasped at the sight of the man, and Colt pulled her in close for a passionate kiss, his hands freely roaming everywhere. She briefly resisted at first, then eagerly responded with her entire body.

  As the intimate embrace finally ended, a panting Laura smiled knowingly and brushed back her long hair. “I’m glad to see that you’ve finally come to your senses,” she chuckled.

  “Bzzt! Wrong answer, but thanks for playing our game!” Rissa announced as Colt tossed her Laura’s golden ring.

  Startled, Laura recoiled at the sight, then looked down at her bare hand and shrieked in a wild mixture of raging emotions.

  “You bitch!” she screamed, clawing for the gun hidden under her blouse.

  “Got that, too,” said a sweaty Colt, twirling the automatic around by the trigger guard.

  “And she calls me stupid,” Colette snorted triumphantly, marching out of the living room with a pronounced sway in her hips.

  “Dominic, help!” Laura bellowed, scrambling over the settee to dive for the phone on the desk. A bright flash of light filled the room, and she landed sprawling on the cold rocky ground.

  Jerking up her head, Laura discovered that she was now laying on top of a rocky mountain surrounded by a thick forest of evergreen trees that stretched to the distant horizon. A cool breeze was ruffling her hair, and in the far distance were huge mountains that disappeared into the clouds above.

  “I know this place,” Laura whispered in growing horror.

  “As does every fan of Steven Spielberg,” Rissa chuckled, tucking away the stolen ring.

  “Dominic is never going to find you here, sunshine,” Colt declared, leveling the shotgun. “Nobody is, so let’s have a nice little chat, shall we?”

  “I’ll never betray my lover!” Laura snarled, hunching her back like a cougar about to pounce. The defensive rune on the side of her neck began to glow like molten steel.

  They were sex partners? Rissa shrugged in dismissal and Colt fired.

  The thundering discharge of rock salt violently slammed Laura backward and she hit the ground screaming obscenities.

  Empathetically Rissa flinched at the sight, while Colt merely grunted in approval. Laura was howling like a banshee on fire, but there was no blood showing anywhere on her tattered clothing.

  “Colt?” Rissa asked uneasily.

  “She’s fine,” he replied confidently, but a strained smile revealed some small degree of concern.

  Slapping at the hundreds of tiny stinging wounds, Laura was rolling about madly in the dirt, careening off rocks and bushes, then inadvertently tumbling off the edge of the cliff.

  As she dropped from sight with a piercing scream, Colt made a desperate grab for the woman and missed. Instantly, Rissa reached out with both hands to finger the empty air, her eight rings blazing with power.

  Come on, where are you? Rissa mentally snarled, magically probing for the falling woman. This isn’t a freaking Disney movie where you drop into a misty chasm only to return in the last reel. Devil’s Tower is over twelve hundred feet high! That’s enough to turn Godzilla into pâtè. Now where are you ... no ... no ... yes? ... no ... gotcha!

  Sweaty, panting, bruised, and half-naked, a terrified Laura rose back into view— only to stop a yard away from the edge of the cliff. Hovering in midair, she frantically tried swimming motions to get closer to the mountain, but stayed exactly in the same location as if nailed in place.

  “Wa—what’s h—h—happening to me?” Laura stammered, flailing about madly.

  “Happened, past tense,” Rissa stated calmly, maintaining a firm grasp on the traitorous bitch. “Vampires have wooden stakes, werewolves have silver bullets, and rock salt neutralizes magic. Isn’t that interesting?”

  Touching the side of her neck, Laura felt the stinging particles of salt embedded into the cold rune, and cut loose with the most imaginative stream of assorted vulgarities either Colt or Rissa had ever heard in their entire lives. Seemingly in response, a wolf howled in the distance, and a colony of bats erupted from a dark cave in an effort to escape from the vitriolic outpouring.

  “Wow, impressive,” Rissa chuckled, maintaining her ethereal grip on the struggling woman. “Never heard that last one before. Colt, are you sure she’s not from Chicago?”

  “Born and raised in Texas,” Colt stated, as if that explained everything.

  Unexpectedly Laura burst into sobbing tears. “Please let me go!” she begged. “I’m t—te —terrified of heights!”

  “So not buying it,” Colt drawled, removing the spent cartridge to reload the shotgun.

  The cascade of tears stopped instantly, and Laura glared at the two people, her expression darkening into a seething caldron of hatred, fury, and frustration.

  Long minutes passed, and nobody spoke. There was only the low howl of the wind.

  “All right, what do you want?” Laura growled hesitantly, as if each word were being torn out of her with pliers.

  “Information,” Rissa said, both of her hands knuckle-white from the strain of keeping the fidgety woman from falling. “We’re going after Dominic, and without a ring or rune, you’re a liability to him, not an asset.” She paused. “He disposes of liabilities.”

  Twitching and dripping sweat, Laura said nothing, unable to tear her eyes away from the shirt pocket of the other woman. She could see the outline of
her ring through the material.

  “On top of that, you’re also a greedy fool with all the innate loyalty of an Alabama doxy,” Colt added, resting the shotgun on a shoulder. “So we want to buy your cooperation.”

  “I’m not a whore,” Laura muttered, every muscle in her body straining in an effort to get free.

  Colt laughed. “Really? Try looking up the word sometime.”

  “Aside from not letting you fall to what could only be a, shall we say, rather explosive demise,” Rissa said, displaying an open palm, “it is obvious that you’ve had quite a lot of plastic surgery over the years.” She smiled without any trace of humor. “I can reverse that, all of it.” Slowly, the palm of her hand changed into a mirror.

  Horrified, Laura stared at her reflection as it changed into a view of what she had once been before—a perfectly ordinary woman. Plain and extremely unremarkable. “Oh, God, please t—take it away,” she whispered, fighting a shudder.

  Rissa nodded and the mirror vanished.

  “In addition to that, you’ll also be broke, dirt poor,” Colt said, taking over, “and have me as an enemy to block any possible employment.”

  “Or ... we could let you escape,” Rissa said gently. “You move to someplace nice, like Tasmania, and Colt will deposit a substantial amount into a numbered Swiss bank account.”

  A long moment passed, then another.

  “Liars,” Laura said, but there wasn’t a lot of conviction in the word.

  “Damn, you were right, it wouldn’t work,” Colt sighed, pulling a twenty-dollar bill out of a pocket and offering it to Rissa. “Okay, let her drop and we’ll go with your plan.”

  As Rissa reached for the money, Laura began to float away from the truncated mountain.

  “No wait ... wait!” Laura shouted. “All right, I ... I accept your terms. I’ll tell you where he’s hiding!”

  “Don’t care about that,” Colt said, putting down the shotgun to pull out a map of Savannah.