by Alisha Basso
The Night
When the sun settles over the horizon and the moon lures us with her beauty, we enter the night. The sun is there for wakefulness, to feed the body and help it to grow. The night exists to feed our minds. Our thinking shifts from the world surrounding us to the world within us. The night is a time to explore, to look inside where the sun’s rays block these thoughts from emerging. Who we are, how we exist emerges from the night. There is no sun to light a path, so we enter the path of our minds, seeking out the wisdom we desire to be there. Can we look without the strength of the sun and still emerge? What lurks within the dark corners, what stays hidden from the light? Can beauty emerge from darkness? Yes, because our person emerges from these corners. When we cannot decipher the reaches of our minds, the moon will reflect its gentle light and show us not what we fear, but the beauty that lies within. Delve into the corners of your mind as we delve into the far reaches of the night.
1/21/2004
Kathryn Curtis (used with permission and copyrighted by the author)
Chapter One
Was I a good witch or a bad witch? A really good question. And because there was a black hole where my memory used to be, I didn’t really know the answer.
Not everyone would believe the issue of payment for my top-secret cream puff recipe could be a defining moment, but right here, right now, for me? It was.
“I’m not in the business of giving out dozens of Kitchen Witches’ cream puffs, much less slaving over a party for twenty-four hours, for free,” I snapped, not really giving a damn that I was acting like a wicked witch right now.
Because he was our most important supplier, as well as a good customer, I’d given my all, and so had my employees, to guarantee werewolf Chris Bailey’s full moon party would be a success. And it had been.
“I can’t believe you’re trying to stiff me.” My accusation hung between us like a portent of danger.
When I’d presented the bill, Chris had been sprawled in a deck chair. He had just reverted to his human form, and looked spent and effectively partied out. Sweat dripped from his shaggy black hair onto his bare shoulders and slid down his well-muscled chest. The chill breeze hadn’t seemed to affect him at all. But as soon as I’d blurted out my accusation, his muscles tightened, and I could actually smell his wolf form go on predatory alert.
Time for Earth magic reinforcements, I decided. The gorgeous wood of my client’s patio deck was vibrant beneath my feet, sending power up through bone and tissue with perceptible warmth. The full moon had just disappeared behind the tall buildings of St. Paul, and the soft glow of dawn played peek-a-boo with the horizon.
For a moment, I felt caught in a bubble of time and the beauty of the early morning, vividly aware of a wisp of blonde hair that escaped my after-a-long-hard-working-day-and-night haphazard bun and now drifted on the gentle, chilly early morning breeze, a breeze playing hopscotch with the fallen leaves. With a fitful gust, the wind lifted the leaves off the deck and skimmed them out over the back yard, like feathers from an angel’s wing.
I stared at Chris, and he focused on me with deep, piercing blue eyes transitioning from contented to puzzled. He didn’t answer, looking to the rising sun as though he was considering his next words carefully.
I followed his gaze and gasped. The sky had turned a bloody red. The ominous sign made the back of my neck prickle and my heart pound.
When our eyes finally met again, Chris’s blue ones were guarded.
I sighed, dropping my shoulders and flexing my hands. Was I a good witch or was I a bad witch?
Glinda had it right, but when she asked Dorothy that question, there wasn’t any turmoil for Miz Goody Two-shoes from Kansas to work through. Me, on the other hand...I’m the witch in this story. At the moment I felt fully justified in playing the witch card, but I’d lost my memory, and still had no idea what my original position had been on the whole good/bad question.
I could blast Chris, or I could reason with him. And if my inclination was to blast him, was it anger over not getting paid, or some kind of bad witch character flaw coming through?
Maybe if I clicked my ruby slippers a couple of times, the answer would just come to me? Unlikely. Although technically, after the Break, and the sundering of reality, everything was possible.
Then again, I figured it was more prudent to ask questions first, blast second. Otherworlder Security, otherwise known as the OS, usually frowned on blasting as a way to settle disputes.
Not many creatures, supernatural or human, wanted to be on the wrong side of the OS. But I had a few tricks up my witch’s sleeve.
“Kitchen Witches is a business, Chris, not a charity,” I said pointedly, ignoring his expression.
He gazed at me, and his eyes narrowed at my tone.
My partner, Olivia Vesta, had been generous enough three years ago to hire me and then make me a partner…me, an unknown with no memory. She had mentored and nurtured me into the kitchen witch I was today—a darn good one, in terms of both food preparation and the Craft. Together we had built a very successful business from the ground up. She had taken me in and helped me build something new…a meaningful, profitable and interesting existence.
She had given me my afterlife.
Olivia had signed up to do this job for our main supplier, and this full moon party had been a howling success, thanks to the food and drink we crafted for it.
Now I was bone tired, which didn’t enhance my disposition or my patience. It was almost morning and I needed some sleep. My anger was taking on a life of its own. Growing. Imposing itself. His silence pissed me off.
Thanks to my elfin features, most people mistook me for fae, but I wasn’t one of the fairy folk. I was one hundred percent witch, and getting ready to go all witch-bitch on his furry ass. As to who I was and where I came from? It was a mystery I hoped to solve but not today.
Because right now I was getting stiffed.
When he didn’t reply, my fuming escalated to a whole new level. “Look, I’ve been up since five o’clock yesterday morning working my ass off to make your party the hit of the season. Judging by the abundant good cheer and positive comments from your pack members as they left, I’d say the mission was accomplished. Now it’s time to pay the piper.”
“Lily, I think there’s been a miscommunication.”
“Oh? How so? Because usually when someone provides you with a service, you pay them for it.”
Easy does it. There’s a reason witch rhymes with bitch. I didn’t want to make him feel cornered, because then I would have an angry werewolf on my hands.
His expression didn’t change, but he conceded with a nod, “Yes, that is true...….”
“Wasn’t everything to your satisfaction? From the appetizers to the dessert?”
“Well, yes, exquisite. The meat had a perfect, just-killed flavor and was perfectly raw. The cream puffs were...words escape me.” He waved a hand. “The food is not the issue.”
“Well, then it seems we’re at an impasse.” I spread my feet and balanced my weight. “I’ll take the remainder of the payment now.” I said quietly, implied threats, should he refuse, in my tone.
I could have used my womanly wiles on him. Being five-foot-ten gave me the advantage of a tall and willowy frame, and my figure was full in the right places. But my hair was up in a messy topknot, my Kitchen Witches apron splotched in dozens of places with hot buttered this and creamy that. Those stains, coupled with nondescript baggy jeans and sneakers, didn’t exactly scream sexy.
But I didn’t get the expected reaction from him. He stood, but I held my ground. Attitude was everything.
My show of strength would either be something he took offense to or admired. I wasn’t about to back down from a welsher of a client, though, no matter who or what they were. Just this morning the landlord called my cell phone about our commercial property, and said he hadn’t received the rent this month. So now my stomach was starting to clench.
The transformation fr
om virile male to snarling beast happened in a blink. Before I could say anything or backpedal away from him, he sprang.
I braced for the impact. The strength of him was evident when he hit and knocked me flat, pinning me with his paws heavy on my shoulders. His breath was hot on my face; the smell of feral had quite a distinct, lethal odor.
My heart pounded.
I grinned and spoke one word. “Permoveo,” and invoked the translocation spell I had learned a while ago.
Chris found himself kissing air on the deck as I viewed him from a safe perch on his balcony. He looked up at me and I grinned, waggling my fingers at him, taking the opportunity to practice the fine art of smirking.
I might not have known if I was a good witch or a bad witch, but I could definitely be a smug witch.
“There aren’t many people who can surprise me.”
I shrugged, casually crossing my legs like I was at a garden party. “I’m not much of a roll-over-and-show-you-my-tummy-kind-of-gal.” I gave him another one of my perfected smirks.
His eyes darted behind me and, too late, I felt two strong hands shove me off the balcony. I only had a moment to invoke my levitation spell and avoid hitting his hardwood deck and breaking my stupid neck. Just before I hit, the spell took effect, and my nose halted only inches from a painful fall. I flipped myself over and looked up to see a beautiful female I had noticed hanging on Chris at the party. She narrowed her golden eyes at me, morphed into a werewolf and leapt from the balcony to the deck with the ease of a cat.
“Serena, my mate.” It was Chris’s turn to look quite smug.
I knew it was selfish but I wanted all the smirks to myself.
With a quick thought I righted myself and released the spell, settling gently on the deck. I liked a good challenge, but two werewolves against one witch was pretty much suicidal. I wasn’t ready to give up the ghost.
Serena stalked towards me, her lips pulled away from very sharp teeth. She growled low and leapt at me. This time I was positive it wasn’t to simply teach me a lesson.
Chris was fast, almost too fast to see. He leapt into the air and deflected the huge, snarling beast. Wow, I wouldn’t want to be between these two when there was a bonded alpha pair fight. She landed on the deck with a thud, shuddering the foundation.
“Serena, hold,” he growled roughly, both affection and dominance in his voice evident. The true authority of an alpha male.
“I will not have my pack leader and life-mate insulted by this cur, my beloved,” she said in her gravelly wolf voice.
He melted out of his beast form, looking even more tired than he had when I walked out to the deck.
“It’s not her fault, Serena. She doesn’t know.”
Serena looked back at me, giving me a pitying look. “But surely her pack leader told her.”
“No, my love. She did not.”
“Disgraceful,” Serena said and changed back into her human form, with not a dark hair out of place.
“Lily.” His voice softer. “I will ignore your subtle threat and direct you to speak with your partner. Olivia owes me money for the extensive supplies I’ve provided on credit. She agreed to do this party for free.”
“Free?” I said dumbfounded, looking back and forth between the two of them. Break take it! What was going on? Olivia had always kept the books, paid the suppliers, the workers, and…well, to my chagrin, she’d done everything administrative.
I did the cooking because, quite frankly, it’s where my talents lay. The only cuisine Olivia provided was the filling for our Crystal Dream cream puffs, our signature treat responsible for rocketing our catering business into the stratosphere. After tasting my cooking, word of mouth had done the rest.
Now Chris dropped the bomb that he hadn’t been paid and, from the sound of it, hadn’t been for quite some time. He’d allowed us to work off our debt, and here I was offending him with accusations. Chris relaxed his shoulders. I got a whiff of wet dog and took a step back, both to give Chris some space and to avoid the odor.
My anger shouldn’t be directed at him, but at Olivia. How could she have kept this from me? I decided it would be in my best interest to take a quick trip to the bank before I went home and confronted Olivia, my best friend, who had gifted me with purpose in life.
I cleared my throat. “I’m very sorry for accusing you and for my…uh...behavior. Thank you for being so considerate.”
I wouldn’t mention the spell I had almost used to make him lose all his fur.
He shrugged sympathetically. “No, no.” He replied pleasantly, diplomatically, a gentle smile on his rugged features. “It’s apparent Olivia has kept this from you. Unacceptable behavior from a pack leader, in my opinion. I’m sorry you had to learn it from me.”
I nodded. Fatigue dragged on me as I turned away and headed for my car. Most of my staff had already taken care of their assigned cleanup chores and gone home. A testament to the wonderful workers they were. I took off my apron and stuffed it into my catering bag, an old beat-up canvas tote with our logo on the front. I used to laugh every time I saw the two old crones printed on it, standing over a cauldron and squabbling over a wand, but now I just felt depressed.
Was I so unimportant to Olivia that she hadn’t bothered to tell me that our business was failing? We’d had so many jobs in the three years that we’d worked together. It was hard for me to believe that we could be in financial trouble. It must be an oversight. It must be. Olivia wouldn’t have kept something like this from me.
I would have my answer once I went to the bank. Slipping into my racy new T-Bird, I started the engine.
“It’s about damn time, Lily. As usual, I ended up doing most of the cleanup.”
The voice, sardonic, crisp, startled me and I jumped.
Taking a steadying and somewhat irritated breath, I said, “Nock, I told you not to go invisible and sneak up on me like that.”
My friend and helper, Nock Whisk, an adorable little gnome, materialized, already buckled in. His head barely reached the side window. He was dressed in jeans and a blue T-shirt and looked like a three-foot-tall kid, but he was already sixty-six years old, and neither his appearance nor his height would change over time. He had a shock of jet black hair, spiked across his forehead in bangs and tapered near his pointed ears, lying wispy against the nape of his neck. Those big, mischievous eyes were the color of a fresh green meadow.
He waved his small hand in the air in a way that promised he was going to keep going invisible every chance he got. “Serves you right for leaving me with the grunt work.”
“I’m the genius behind the cauldron and cooking geniuses don’t do cleanup. Besides, it only takes you minutes to do the job. A gnome’s special magic.”
He snorted. “House fairies, maybe, but I’m not a house gnome. They’re dumb as sticks. Balls to housework. I’m certainly not going to do it.”
“Okay, if you say so.”
“I’m not,” he said emphatically, which meant he was lying. The more he protested, the more he enjoyed whatever it was he was protesting about. He gave me a sly, sidelong glance and a smirk. “House fairies don’t exist, even since the Break. I suppose you believe in Santa Claus, too.”
I laughed in spite of the worry. “Where did all those Winter Solstice pressies come from then?” I asked. “You know anything is possible after the Break.”
The Break we were referring to had occurred thirty years ago, when a mage used runic magic and sundered reality.
The details of the story were fuzzy because it had been such a horribly chaotic and unstable time. The gist of it was the mage opened some kind of portal using runic magic and somehow broke reality. When it broke, everything went crazy. Characters started walking out of books, hood ornaments and building gargoyles came to life and the fae showed up. Elves in the here and now. Their appearance had freaked everyone out, because they could no longer ignore the reality of the Break. These mythical beings existed.
The mage was never caught, si
nce no one knew who he was, but it was rumored he was from a different reality and he had been desperate and running from a terrible evil, fleeing for his life. Needless to say, he was still a fugitive. I pitied him if he was ever identified and caught.
After the Break, supernatural beings poured into this plane, and nothing could be done to stem the flow. Magic in many forms was now possible, and had to be approached very carefully. Even simple items like video games and drawings needed to be warded, since the rules governing a set and ordered world had been eliminated.
Soon fae, werewolves, and vampires were common. Humans learned to adapt and accept. Not really much choice. Occasionally, there would be a demon, or a monster or two, but once the mages learned how to ward against them, they were pretty much confined to their own realities unless someone was foolish enough to summon one.
I didn’t remember the sundering, of course, because it happened before I was born. But that was nothing new, since I didn’t remember my name or, actually, anything at all before three years ago, when Nock had found me in a field of lilies, and he’d been with me ever since. Starbuck was some name I picked out of the phone book randomly. By the time I came on the scene, or at least became aware again, the sundering was thirty years old, and many, many things had already changed.
“Did you actually think taunting a werewolf was a good idea? I believe it classifies you as a bit too stupid to live in my book.”
“I was prepared with spells,” I said defensively, and, actually, I had thought myself too clever by far, since I had a plan in place to deal with Chris if the need arose. Of course, I hadn’t banked on his life-mate, but luckily no harm was done. “Olivia said Chris gets cranky after a full moon, so I didn’t take any chances.”