“That’s wonderful, Greta,” Magnus exclaimed with a grin.
“Y-You don’t understand.” She took a step back from the canvas, dropping the paintbrush on the table as if she’d been burned. “I thought my magic was gone forever.” Seeing Magnus’ worried expression, she elaborated. “Normally, I have the ability to heal wounds, but I couldn’t.” As she uttered the words, her hand—which still had a long, thin scar from her injury—began to glow. “Look!” As the scar vanished from her skin, she giggled. “Why is it coming back in such force?” Her green eyes shone with confusion as she looked at Magnus. “Just this morning, I felt so weak…”
“Perhaps you’ve been feeling torn between mortals and goblins for so long that your guilt started suppressing your magic,” Magnus suggested. “And doing something that you enjoy stirs the magic within.”
His words stirred something else in Greta, and she found herself drawing into him. Their faces mere inches apart, Greta’s heart thrummed with adrenaline as her eyes slipped closed.
“Greta!”
Magnus and Greta jumped apart at Rosa’s shout up the staircase. Shaking her head, Greta quickly stepped away from Magnus. “I… I should go,” she said in a dazed voice.
Magnus smiled softly, bidding her good night as she slipped through the door and away from him.
♛
Greta was surprised when she came down the next morning to find Magnus in the kitchen surrounded by baking supplies. Taking in the flour that dusted his shirt and even some of his dark hair, it appeared that he’d been there for some time.
He looked up just then, catching Greta’s eye and smiling. Cheeks flushing, she smiled back, about to say something when Rosa came bustling in. “Good morning, Greta. Could you be a dear and get the porridge on? Magnus and I almost have this batch of bread finished.”
The morning passed quickly as Magnus helped his uncle move heavy crates in the storeroom while Greta assisted the customers. He eventually came into the store and announced that he would be leaving for his lessons shortly. “But before I go, Aunt Rosa, I wanted to give you this.” He reached into the broom cupboard and pulled out a flat parcel wrapped in brown paper.
Greta watched with interest as Rosa carefully tore open the paper to reveal the painting of the forest clearing. It was much more detailed than when Greta had last seen it, the fawn’s white spots glistening as Rosa held the canvas up to the light.
“Oh, Magnus,” Rosa exclaimed, growing misty-eyed, “it’s beautiful!” She held it up proudly for Ernst and Greta to see.
Ernst chuckled, coming to stand beside his nephew. “Now I know I haven’t an eye for art, but that is a fine painting.” He clapped Magnus’ shoulder. “Your father would be proud.”
Magnus grinned, catching Greta’s eye. Cheeks flushing, she smiled in return.
“I’ll hang it over the mantle,” Rosa declared, laying the painting on the table.
“I’d better hurry and clean up for my lessons,” Magnus told them, heading for the staircase. Greta found herself staring after him.
“Would you take care of some errands for me, Greta?” Rosa asked, pressing a list into Greta’s palm.
Greta nodded, pulling her cloak from the hook by the door and kissing Calla on the head as she left.
Stepping out onto the street, Greta had to shield her face as a strong wind picked up, blowing the leaves many of the shopkeepers had so carefully swept into piles every which way. Greta tucked the list into the inner pocket of her cloak to keep it from blowing away.
“Greta!” She turned at his voice, smiling to herself as Magnus hurried toward her.
Greta paused, waiting until he’d reached her to resume walking side by side. “That was a very sweet thing you did,” Greta said. “Frau Rosa loved the painting.”
“I’d meant to give it to her when I first arrived, but I was stuck,” Magnus told her. “I’m pleased I was able to finish it at last.” He slowed his steps, turning to face her. “I finally found the inspiration I needed.”
Greta felt her cheeks grow warm at his meaning. Her long black and green hair blew about in the wind, and Magnus smiled, lifting his hand to push a lock of hair away from her face. “Perhaps I’ll see you this evening?”
Gazing into his eyes, Greta nodded, her heart hammering. Magnus smiled and pulled away, walking down the lane. As Greta lifted her hand, she could see her fingers tingling, bits of light coming off them. She glanced around to ensure no one was watching. Thankfully, there was only one shopkeeper about, and he was busily pulling down the dried herbs that were being beaten by the gale. Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm her racing heart and focus on her errands.
The sun was slipping beneath the trees when Greta finally made her way back to the grocer’s shop. Though her arms were laden with packages, she found herself hurrying down the cobbled street, a sense of excitement she hadn’t felt in ages fluttering within her.
When she drew closer, she knew something was wrong. A small crowd was gathered in front of the grocer’s home. Her heart raced when she caught a strong scent. Smoke.
Looking up, she saw black clouds billowing out of one of the windows of the second story. Ernst and Rosa’s home—her home—was on fire!
“Greta, thank goodness.” Rosa hurried from the crowd toward her. Greta’s nerves relaxed a bit when she saw Calla was snug in Rosa’s arms, eyes as big as saucers, but no worse for the wear. Ernst was in the small crowd talking to Frau Minna and some of the other shopkeepers.
But Magnus…
Rosa could sense Greta’s unspoken fear. “The boy’s not back from his class yet,” she said, patting her arm.
After her initial relief, Greta’s heart sank as she saw flames whip out from the upstairs window. The fire was in Magnus’ bedchamber.
His paintings.
Amidst shouts and protests, Greta rushed to the burning building and burst through the front door. Looking around wildly, she saw that the fire seemed to be contained to the third floor, at least so far. She pulled her handkerchief from her skirt, covering her nose and mouth as she hurried up the staircase. Ignoring her racing thoughts—which told her that this was stupid, senseless, irrational—she ran to the end of the hall and tried for the knob. Cursing when the handle scorched her hand, she closed her eyes and said a spell under her breath. Her hand went numb, and she was able to pass through the threshold with no feeling.
The flames leapt all around the small room, but Greta rushed to the easels, pulling his paintings free and tucking them under her arms. A line of fire was trickling ever closer, and Greta narrowed her eyes, extinguishing it. Feeling a rush of power, she held her hands aloft. I wish the fire was out. Disappear, wicked flames! A few of the smaller flames whimpered and hissed as they vanished, but to Greta’s horror, one of the beams gave way and fell to the floor, blocking her path to freedom. The fire whipped up, ensnaring Greta in a circle of flame.
“Greta!”
Greta looked to one of the small windows that hung high up the wall and saw her kitten had somehow managed to climb the side of the building. Calla crouched, as if she were about to leap to her mistress’ side.
“Calla, get outside!” Greta screamed. She fell to her knees, coughing as the heat and smoke overtook her. “It’s not safe—go!”
To Greta’s relief, Calla turned and fled through the window. Greta shrieked as chunks of burning wood fell from the ceiling. She wrapped her arms tightly around the stack of paintings and sketches, trying with all of her might to summon her powers, feeling dizzier by the moment. If I can’t save the whole building, if I can’t save myself, please may I be able to save his beautiful works. While she could feel her powers, the smoke made her too weak, and she could muster no more spells. She thought of Magnus’ handsome, smiling face as the world burned around her.
“Greta, are you in here?”
Greta looked in disbelief to the blocked door when she heard Magnus’ voice.
Coughing, she cried, “No, Magnus! The fire is
on the other side—you’ll be trapped, too!”
“I don’t care!” A loud crash hit Greta’s ears. The door had somehow been hurled off its hinges to the floor, and Greta watched with awe as Magnus burst into the room, honey eyes glowing with cat-like slits for pupils, just like her own eyes. Did Magnus just…?
Magnus saw her trapped in the circle and hurried toward her, reaching over the beam as the flames seemed to shrink around him. “I’ve got you.”
Greta relinquished one hand from its protective grasp around the paintings, extending it toward him. As their hands clasped, a bright spark swept throughout the room, blinding both of them.
When the light finally faded, Greta looked about in wonder. “Magnus…” she breathed. “The fire is out. And you—you just used magic!” It all made sense now as the pieces of the puzzle came together in her mind—the surge of power she felt from his paintings, her conversation with Ernst, Ludwig’s cryptic message… Magnus’ father had been a goblin.
“We just used magic,” Magnus corrected, shoulders rising and falling heavily with adrenaline. He cupped her cheeks in his hands. “Are you all right? Calla raced out and told me that you had run inside and were trapped. What were you doing in here?”
“I…” Gently, Greta released her hold on his paintings and sketches.
Magnus chuckled incredulously, unable to hide the smile that was spreading on his face. “You came for these?”
Greta bit her lip. “I couldn’t let them burn.”
Chuckling, Magnus asked in a teasing voice, “So these paintings aren’t a waste of time?”
When she shook her head, Magnus grinned and touched his forehead to hers.
Pulling back, Greta sighed and looked at the wreckage around them. “I’ll never forgive them,” she cursed.
Magnus rested his hands on her elbows, looking at Greta with a frown. “Who?”
“Ludwig,” she hissed. “Or Ursula—whoever it was that started this fire and almost destroyed your beautiful paintings.”
“Greta, it wasn’t a goblin,” Magnus broke in, casting his eyes to the floor. “The fire was my fault. I realized it when I came in—I left the candle by my painting supplies.”
Eyes widening, Greta looked to his tabouret, seeing that the candle was tipped over, the end scorched. She realized that the window had been open—the gust of wind must have knocked the candle over.
“I shouldn’t have left it lit, or so close to my materials,” he admitted. “I was careless. You’ve been right about me all along.”
Greta shook her head, squeezing his hand. “I was wrong about a lot of things.” Looking into his eyes, she confessed, “What you said is true—I can believe in a hard day’s work without losing who I am.”
Magnus smiled. “Then are you going to let the magic live on inside of you?” He lifted her hand in his, and she felt the sparks of magic fly off of his fingertips and surge into her veins.
“I will as long as you do,” Greta teased.
“You’ll have to teach me.” Magnus tucked a strand of hair behind her pointed ear as he spoke. “After all, I am still a novice.” He looked around at the charred beams in the bedchamber. “I doubt I could manage fixing this all by myself.”
Her cat-like eyes danced as she reached out to touch his cheek. “I suppose we’ll just have to add this to your daily lessons.”
Magnus grinned, weaving his fingers in her dark hair as he pulled her in for a lingering kiss.
About the Author
A voracious reader, Jane Watson has always been a fan of romance, fantasy, adventure and especially happy endings. She received her degree in Art History from the University of Puget Sound. When she is not writing, Jane works as a wedding coordinator, helping people reach their happily ever afters. She likes to spend her free time doting on her menagerie of pets, riding her bike, crafting, and obsessively shopping for purses.
Visit Jane online at janewatsonauthor.com.
Books by Jane Watson:
The Taming of the Dudebro & A Midsummer Night’s Dudebro
Little Rue
a retelling of Little Red Riding Hood
♛
T. DAMON
Eliza Wildwood let out a hearty laugh as she watched her best friend and roommate, Rue Chambers, attempt to scale the counter in their small dorm kitchenette.
“Why can’t you just help me?” the smaller girl practically begged. “You’re nearly six feet tall!”
“I like to watch you do things on your own,” Eliza said with a chuckle. “You’re just so darn little.”
Rue snorted and said sarcastically, “I thought models were supposed to be nice.” She knelt on the granite countertop and curled her petite frame around the cabinet door. “Ahh! Got it!” She hopped off the counter and met her friend’s collarbone with a grin.
“How much paprika do we add?” Eliza asked.
“It says just a tablespoon.”
“And the ribs will cook for how long?”
“Four hours, Eliza. Sheesh!”
“Sorry, brainiac. My short-term memory isn’t as good as yours. We’re not all pre-nursing students, you know.”
“We’re not all former models, either.”
“That’s for sure.”
Rue sprinkled the spice into her measuring spoon and poured it into the Crock-Pot. The powder darkened and sizzled upon touching the browned meat, absorbing silently into the tender flesh. “It smells great,” she whispered and looked up to see Eliza smiling down at her.
Rue and Eliza had just started their freshman year at Hermann Lons College in rural Montana. They hadn’t met each other before they’d been assigned roommates, but they’d become fast friends not long after moving in. Rue had lived in Montana as a kid before her family had moved to California, but she’d longed to come back to the place she considered home. Eliza, meanwhile, had been a child model who, upon graduating high school, had been told she was now “too old” to continue modeling for the agency she’d given all her loyalty to for the past eight years. It had made her disenchanted with the modeling world, so she’d decided to start over in a small school at a small town where nobody would recognize her face.
That plan hadn’t really worked, however. She’d already been noticed six times in the month since they’d started school. Eliza was painfully thin with wavy, blonde hair and striking blue eyes that continually elicited compliments from men and women alike. She was fairly outspoken and never missed a chance to stand up for her meeker, shorter counterpart. Despite her best intentions, Eliza never failed to attract attention wherever she went.
Rue, on the other hand, tended to blend into the background, something she was not inclined to complain about. She was quite small, with auburn-colored, curly hair and deep, chocolate-brown eyes. She had a penchant for wearing all shades of red, as she had many memories of her mother telling her it was definitely “her color” before she’d died. For some reason, that had always stuck with Rue.
“So what do we do for the next four hours while that cooks, then?” Eliza asked.
“I’d better get back to the job hunt,” Rue said.
“You’re really worried about that résumé of yours, aren’t you?”
“I have to be,” Rue said, flopping down on the couch in the small common area she and Eliza shared with six other freshmen. “You know Hermann Lons’ nursing program is super competitive. Just getting into the college doesn’t guarantee you a spot. Grades alone aren’t good enough. If I can’t find a job or internship in the medical field, I’ll never get in. I’d have to transfer to another school.” She looked up at Eliza and winked. “And you’d lose your roommate!”
Eliza laughed. “You’d better get hunting, then.”
Rue silently pulled up the school’s career services website as Eliza rummaged through the refrigerator and emerged with a can of cola. She flopped on the beanbag chair across from Rue and started to watch a video on her phone. The sound was tinny; Eliza laughed a couple times, but Rue couldn’t h
ear what she was watching. She tried to not let it distract her as she scrolled down the web page.
She was just about to give up and close the page when her eyes fell on the words: Medical assistant and caregiver needed. College student preferred.
“Hey, I think I found something,” Rue called out. Eliza jumped up from the beanbag and sat on the couch beside Rue, leaning over to read the screen.
“That looks almost too good to be true,” she commented as she read. “Oh, wait, it is. Look at this.” She pointed to a small sentence at the bottom that Rue hadn’t yet seen.
In addition to assisting as a lab technician, applicant must be willing to provide live-in services for the job, including light housework and aid to a man with early stages of dementia.
“You can’t live there,” Eliza said. “Freshmen have to live on campus.”
“Maybe I could negotiate to only be there part-time,” Rue said. “If I’m paying for the dorm, do you think the college really cares if I’m actually sleeping here?”
“But look at where it is,” Eliza replied.
“It’s in Middletown. That’s not too far from here.”
“Hang on a second,” Eliza said, furiously typing on her phone to confirm with her map app. “Rue, Middletown is an hour away. And it’s in the middle of the woods!”
“Maybe that’s why they call it ‘Middletown,’” Rue joked. “Come on, Eliza. I don’t have many other options. I might not even get hired. It can’t hurt to check it out.”
“That is true.”
“Maybe you can even come live with me. You’d have to help with the old man stuff, though.”
Eliza grimaced. “Eh, we’ll see about that.” Rue laughed.
Rue pulled up her email and attached her résumé. She wrote a brief, polite message in the text box and sent it. “There! Now we wait.”
♛
Three days later, Rue had just about given up hope. She had no new prospects in her job search and still had yet to hear back from the man in Middletown. Eliza would be at her part-time job for another two hours, and Rue was done with her classes for the day, so she decided to go on a bike ride. The day was beginning to fade into dusk, and the crimson reflection of the setting sun began to radiate over the surrounding canopies of trees and peek its way through the gaps in the distant mountains. Rue rode on, heading toward her favorite biking trail just a mile or two from campus.
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