Beyond Magic (Magical Love Book 1)

by Lizzie T. Leaf

  “I don’t inquire on matters of lust in your life and would appreciate it if you returned the favor.” The two old goats had hit him on a bad day, and he wasn’t in the mood to play their games. He’d just lay it on the table, let them know to mind their own business.

  “He is a bit touchy today, do you not agree?” Odin turned to Oberon. “We came to offer our help, and if not ours, he only has to ask and I am sure his grandmother would be more than happy to lend her assistance. After all, love is her specialty.

  The remark made Ian wish he’d suffered their prodding in silence. Odin had reverted to the formal tone he always used when he struggled to control his temper.

  “Agreed on all counts.” Oberon nodded. “What bothers you today, grandson…besides us?”

  Calm down. After all, they are your grandfathers. Be respectful and try to answer their question. With any luck, they’ll leave soon.

  “I’m not sure. I just feel something is about to happen and I should know what it is. I hate it when I get a feeling of this sort. It usually bodes trouble.”

  “Trouble?” Oberon hit a palm against his forehead. “That reminds me. I have to get back and figure out what spell DooNell has cast to meddle in others’ lives.” He set his empty glass on the table.

  “Best be careful of The Cailleach, Grandfather. Folklore has it the divine hag is a deity and powerful enough to cause anyone grief if crossed, even you.” Ian laughed at the annoyance that flickered across the faerie king’s face.

  He hugged each of his grandfathers, draped an arm over both men’s shoulders, and walked them to the door. “Try leaving the conventional way, and make sure you let me know what poor sod DooNell fingered with her magic this time.”

  Chapter Four

  “What are you reading, dearie?”

  Emma stifled a groan as Mary made herself comfortable in the seat next to her. Gentle soul that she was, Mary had a will of iron and seemed determined to hook Emma up with a man. Even if she wanted one, their different tastes in the male species made Mary’s help a real problem. From various conversations she’d overheard among the group, Mary’s idea of a relationship—or in the little old lady’s world, marriage—was to let a man think he ruled the castle but for the woman to manipulate things behind the scenes. Well, screw that philosophy. If a man couldn’t handle a relationship where both parties expressed their thoughts and needs, Emma didn’t want him in her life.

  She closed her book and chose to ignore the “dearie” tag. Reading would be out of the question if the chatty little woman wanted to talk. Or worse yet, give another lecture on how to find the right man to complete her life. Emma repressed a sigh and focused on answering Mary’s question. “It’s a book on Celtic folklore by Ian Nordic. Have you heard of him?”

  “Can’t say that I have. Is his work any good?”

  “I think so.”

  “Why don’t you read it to the group?” Mary twisted in her seat to check behind her. “It looks like some are tired of staring out the windows at moors and sheep.”

  Emma glanced back. Some of the women looked bored. A couple had nodded off, their heads flopping around like rubber-necked chickens when the bus hit rough spots on the road. This was the longest drive of the trip, and Emma had really tried hard to understand Angus when he told her what time they’d arrive at their scheduled destination. But his brogue or dialect, whatever the hell one called it, still baffled her. There were times when understanding his mumbled “yes” or “no” presented a challenge.

  “Well, if you think the others would like me to read aloud, I’ll be happy to.”

  Mary stood and clapped her hands. “Emma has a book on Celtic folklore up here that looks pretty good. I suggested she read it to us to help pass the time. We may learn something new or at least enjoy the tale. Anyone object?”

  Heads shook in the negative.

  Emma opened the book to the first chapter. Thankfully, she’d only read the first couple of pages before Mary showed up. “Okay. If anyone can’t hear me or wants me to stop, just say so. I’ve read other books by this author and enjoyed them. His name is Ian Nordic, and the way he spins a yarn makes you almost believe it’s possible.”

  “Come now, Annarr, surely you jest.” Oberon, King of the branch of Daonine Sidhe faeries that settled in the land of Scotland paced with hands behind his back and shook his head. “She is my only child. I will not allow you to take my daughter away from her home. We Fae folk were driven underground by mortals many eons ago, yet you choose to expose her and yourself to living among these humans.” By the Goddess Dana, how did he end up stuck with this idiot for a son-in-law?

  “Sire, Shaylee and I have made the choice to seek our existence outside immortal realms. We want to experience life without the use of magic and what little we do utilize will benefit the peoples under our care.” Annarr held his head high and met the glare of his father-in-law.

  Oberon willed himself not to use his power to apply a blow to this stubborn half Greek-Nordic god’s stomach and bring him to his knees. “First, you argue with your mother and leave the home in which you were raised. Then, you refuse your father’s offer to live with him in Asgard. No wonder Odin threw up his hands in frustration given the foolish ideas you come up with. After all, he is only the God of Wisdom. Mortals have survived without our interference for many millennia.” Oberon shook his head in disgust and took a deep breath to calm his temper. “In fact, if anyone needed help, our people did when man hunted us like the animals of the woodlands.”

  Annarr stiffened his back. “I have told you why I chose to leave Mt. Olympus and refused to live in Asgard. My desire to help others was not the only reason. Being the cross-blood son of gods from two different realms with limited powers in either, what choice did I have?” Sadness replaced his defensive tone. “My mother is into peace and love for all, especially men if they’re in her bed. I chose not to become a male slut, slipping between the sheets with every woman I met as some of her offspring chose to.”

  A flush spread over Annarr’s face when he mentioned his mother’s love of males, be they immortal or mortal. From some of the stories that had come to Oberon’s ears through the centuries, the Goddess of Love also wasn’t averse to certain women in her bed either.

  “And I detest war, unlike Father, the war god. Nor do I have his wisdom, though all the wisdom of the universe did not help him to understand his youngest son’s need to accomplish something other than existence in the citadel of gods...”

  “Now, doesn’t that sound like a statement most young people would make about one or both of their parents? Makes Annarr seem human.”

  Emma paused at Rita’s interruption and nodded. How many times had she thought the same thing about her mother’s lack of understanding when she was younger? Even with her mother now deceased, Emma still harbored resentment. Another good reason to stay out of Charleston and let her sister carry forth the Belle-of-the-ball lifestyle, the way their mother had right up to the day she died.

  “You have a point, Rita. Shall I continue with the story?”

  Bobble-headed nods from all the passengers sent Emma in search of the place she left off.

  The younger immortal sighed and stared into space for a moment. “My mother has children with strong powers, but none of us can compete for her affections in the manner of that little winged God of Love she’s so crazy about. Cupid doesn’t have to shoot an arrow into my backside to give me a pain.” Anger and hurt played across the large immortal’s face.

  Yes, of all her children, Cupid probably did hold a special place in Aphrodite’s heart since they both specialized in love. Oberon could understand Annarr’s resentment of his older brother.

  “As for my father, he has Thor who controls the weather. Then there’s his son, the forest god who controls anything that grows on his lands. When it comes to me, the son from such a strong union…well, I can control pretty much nothing with my limited powers, as you well know. What few abilities I have will allow
me to make things better for the humans in the area we settle.”

  Annarr turned toward the sound of an opening door and smiled when his wife floated through. Shaylee closed the distance between them in the blink of an eye.

  He took her small hand in his massive one, kissing each of her fingers. “My dear, your father objects to our decision.”

  “Father?” Shaylee raised a perfect eyebrow in Oberon’s direction.

  Try though he might, Oberon could deny her no request and resented her arrival. Her dunce of a husband he could browbeat some into seeing things his way, but his Shaylee was a different story. The girl had the beauty of her mother, Tanna, in addition to the stubbornness of Tanna and he combined. King was only a title when it came to a battle of wills with his daughter.

  Granted, she would bow her head and show respect to her king and father and then do exactly as she pleased. Had not that been the case when she found this worthless immortal washed up on the shore while she gathered her endless collection of seashells almost a hundred years ago?

  Determined to marry him, she had sulked in her room for five years before Oberon surrendered to her wishes. It had been a long five years in which she chose to ignore her own father’s existence when he tried to speak with her. Then, to make matters worse, he’d faced Tanna’s tear-filled eyes and silent rebuke when they were together. Ah, well, even a king was ruled by his women.

  “Pet, I only explained to your husband how dangerous it is for you to live among the mortals. Look what they did to our kind before. That is why we live underground as we do.”

  Taking her father’s hand in hers, Shaylee placed his palm against her cheek and smiled up at him. “I know, Father. You are only concerned for our welfare, but Annarr has need to use his gift of compassion, and the best place to achieve that is with the humans. We will be careful. I promise.” She flashed a dimpled smile.

  His heart melted. Oberon sighed in defeat. “Very well. I do not like the idea at all but will agree with conditions.”

  “I knew he’d give in.” Mary announced to the ladies in the seat across from her, loud enough for Emma to hear. “My daughter always managed to get her father to come around to her way of thinking, too.”

  “Yeah, but if I recall correctly, you didn’t.” The smile Barb gave her friend was almost as snarky as the tone. “Never understood why you stayed married to that hateful man.”

  Mary’s mouth tightened. The question in Emma’s mind was how the plump little widow had stayed friends with the barbed-tongued woman.

  As if reading her mind, Mary encouraged her, “Go on Emma dear. I’ve known her far too long to let what she says bother me. She is named appropriately, don’t you think?”

  Hot dang, score one for Mary.

  Emma bit back the grin that threatened to spread across her face. Wait a minute, why did she want to side with the woman who seemed determined to find her a man she didn’t want? At least not right now.

  From the sounds of it, the woman’s marriage hadn’t been utopia. Wait. That was no more her business than Mary’s attempt to meddle in her life. Emma pushed the subject from her mind and once again started to read.

  “And what might those conditions be?” Annarr now stood with his arm circling his wife’s waist.

  Oberon shrugged. “Only a few. First you must settle in a location difficult, if not impossible, for mortals to access.”

  “Father. No.” Shaylee stamped her foot and shook her head. “That defeats the purpose of our goal. We want to help people. The best way to accomplish this is to live among them.”

  Her husband pulled her closer. “Let him continue, love. We shall see what the other terms are. None of them may be acceptable.”

  Not pleased with the reaction of Shaylee or the cross-blood, Oberon paused. This would require more in the way of concessions than he’d originally thought. Why did this girl have to be so stubborn?

  “Second, we shall create a castle.”

  “Forgive me, Sire, but don’t you think a castle appearing by magic will cause talk?”

  Sometimes Oberon’s son-in-law did use his head. Why did this have to be one of those times? All this thinking to figure out how to protect them from this latest insanity gave Oberon a headache. “We can solve the problem with glamour. We’ll use a spell that will convince all the habitants in the area that the castle has been there for centuries, as does the family who lives in it.”

  Oberon enjoyed the looks of doubt on both faces in front of him. They weren’t aware how well magic spells worked in the human world. The silly mortals still thought Henry VIII only had six wives. If only they knew how history had been altered with glamour to cover up the fate of the other four. “Lastly, the castle will be staffed by faeries.”

  Annarr stroked his chin for a moment and smiled. “You have a point.”

  Oberon nodded. “There will be no need for you to be on constant guard in order not to slipup in front of the staff over what is said or any magic you might use.

  “Is that all?” Shaylee’s chin jutted out, an indication she was ready to go to battle.

  “Those are my conditions to agree to this plan. I am still not pleased, but if you concede to these three terms, I will give you my blessing.”

  Oberon groaned inwardly when his daughter took a deep breath and found himself very grateful when her husband intervened.

  “Shaylee, love. Your father has some excellent ideas. If the castle staff came from among your people, it would make our lives easier to not have the need to be so careful.” Annarr smiled at his wife.

  “Castle? We have not agreed to a castle. I want to live in one of those charming little cottages and for that, a staff is not needed.” She faced her father.

  Oberon readied himself for more resistance.

  “Also, there is no way we will agree to live in an area inaccessible to the people around us.” She turned to her husband. “Annarr, tell him. We look to help the residents, not isolate ourselves from them. For that, we may as well stay here.”

  By the Goddess Dana, this girl tried his patience to the point of major frustration. Oberon fought to control his anger. Why couldn’t he rule in a traditional Irish mound, where he only had to contend with the fiery tempers of the inhabitants instead of this hill in Scotland where he battled a stubborn female Scot with a temper to boot? Why had his family chosen to move to Scotland to establish their kingdom? In desperation, he looked to his wife who stood quietly observing.

  “You know, my dear”—Tanna smiled at her daughter—“the idea of life in a small cottage where only you care for your husband sounds romantic.” She smiled and brushed a curl from her daughter’s cheek. “The reality is a different story. You will not have much time to help your husband with all these wonderful deeds he intends to perform. Instead, you will be slaving over a hot fire to cook his meals and boil his clothes for which you will have to gather the wood to make the fire, as magic in such an open place will be ill advisable.” She paused and smiled again, “Shall I go on?”

  “Mothers know best.” Tillie patted her blue-tinted curls and nodded.

  Emma resisted the urge, with yet another interruption, to tell the whole group to keep quiet. At this rate, she’d never get through the first chapter.

  “No.” Shaylee did not attempt to hide the sullen look directed at her mother. “I see your point, but I still contend isolation will not allow us to accomplish the work we seek to do.”

  “What if”—Tanna turned to her husband—“the castle is less isolated than your original plans? Not accessible enough for the humans to drop in easily, yet not so isolated it is difficult for Annarr and Shaylee to travel unless by magic?” She stroked her husband’s arm. “They can be a distance from the village but have a narrow road go to the castle, so the people can get to them if there is a need to seek their help.”

  To hide his sigh of relief, Oberon kissed his wife’s forehead. He knew he could depend on Tanna’s common sense to come up with a solution that allowe
d him to save face. Too bad their daughter did not inherit more of her mother’s gift for diplomacy. “Your suggestion is acceptable to me.” He looked at Shaylee. “Is this an arrangement you can live with?”

  Shaylee turned and faced Annarr. “Husband, I leave the decision to you.”

  Annarr bowed his head to Oberon. “It is fair and acceptable to me, Sire.”

  “Very well. Then you have my blessing to move forward with this idea. By this time tomorrow, you will live in the hills above a village called Lochmach, and those in the area will think your family has lived there for generations. The mortal’s history books will reflect that fact also.” Oberon offered his arm to his wife. “Allow me to escort you to dinner, my dear. I am starved.”

  His daughter coughed. “Please, pray do not tell me there is more you wish, girl.”

  Such a glow lit Shaylee’s face; it almost took Oberon’s breath away.

  She exchanged a look with her husband who gave a slight bob of his head. “No, Father. I do not wish anything else. I have all I have ever wanted or will soon.”

  “Out with it then, girl. Do you not hear my belly demanding dinner?”

  She placed her hands over her stomach and giggled. “Mother, Father, we are happy to tell you all of our wishes have come true. At last, Annarr and I are going to have a child.”

  Emma closed the book and turned to her audience. “There you have it, the end of the first chapter, and I think I’ll stop there. My voice is getting a little tired.”

  “Lovely dear. Just lovely.” Mary sighed.

  Several others added their echoing sighs of appreciation.

  “Is this his only book?” Coming from Barb, the question sounded more like a demand.

  “No. He has several other books, but I didn’t have time to read this one before I left.”

  “He does spin a pretty yarn.” Mildred ran her fingers through her orange frizzed hair. “I wonder if he wears a kilt. Is there a picture of him on the back cover?”