by Terri Reid
He breathed in again and sighed with pleasure. Shining his phone down, the light verified his sense of smell. He was standing in a field filled with lavender plants. Reaching down, he broke off one velvety stem and breathed in the scent again. A sense of peace and calm filled his senses. Straightening, he stuck the lavender into his pocket.
Chapter Nine
Rowan entered her bedroom and walked into her bathroom. She slipped off her thick glasses and stared at herself in the mirror. Then she loosened her hair and let it tumble down over her shoulders. Was this what Patience meant as her disguise, she wondered.
“I’m not hiding,” she said to herself. “This is practical. I’m just being practical.”
She washed her face, slathered on a moisturizer she’d created in her lab, and then finished washing up for bed. Opening her drawer, she pulled out a thin, long nightgown with smocking across the top. She loved the thin, delicate feel of the fabric against her skin, especially on warm nights. She undressed and pulled the nightgown over her head and glanced in the full-length mirror.
“I look like a witch now,” she whispered, the ankle-length nightgown skimming her tall, slim body and her long hair flowing down her back. “Definitely a good witch, though.”
She walked over to her bed and then sighed. Water. She forgot to bring water upstairs with her. With a shake of her head, she walked out of her bedroom and padded downstairs using the light from the moon to guide her steps because she didn’t want to wake anyone. She slipped into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, pulled out a pitcher of lavender and mint infused water and placed it on the counter.
As she was reaching up to take a glass out of the cabinet, Fuzzy came into the room, his toenails clicking against the tile floor. He walked over to her and leaned against her, nearly knocking her over.
She rubbed behind his ears and then went back to reaching for a glass. He pushed against her again, once again nearly knocking her over. Turning, she squatted down in front of him. “What in the world do you want, Fuzzy?” she asked. “Do you need to go out?”
She wasn’t connected to Fuzzy telepathically as her mother was, but she had a fairly good understanding of the mind of this canine. His ears perked up, and his tail wagged. Rowan sighed. “You know I’m not supposed to go out, right?” she asked.
Fuzzy whined softly.
“Okay, I guess no one is going to bother me with you by my side,” she agreed. “But just in the backyard, agreed? I don’t want you running into the fields.”
Fuzzy sent her a wide-eyed, offended look, as if he were astounded that she would even think that he would run off without permission.
“Yeah, right,” she said. “Don’t play all innocent with me.”
He whined again.
“Fine,” she huffed. She picked up a large, metal flashlight that was the size of a billy club. It was advertised to be both a light and a form of protection. She hoped she never had to use it but felt a little safer with several pounds of steel in her hand.
She unlocked the back door, and she and Fuzzy walked silently across the deck and over to the steps. After slipping on the pair of flip-flops they all used for quick trips to the backyard or barnyard, she followed Fuzzy into their backyard.
Fuzzy, true to his word, found one of his favorite spots and watered it generously.
“Wow, you really did have to go,” Rowan said. “Sorry I doubted you.”
Fuzzy sent her a look of censure as she continued to watch him relieve himself. “Oh, sorry. I know, privacy,” Rowan turned away from Fuzzy and gazed into the field behind her house. She noticed a dim light moving along one of the rows of lavender. She stared at it, trying to figure out what it could be.
“Doesn’t look like a will-o’-the-wisp,” she muttered, stepping closer to the back fence of the yard. “It’s too defined.”
She opened the gate and stepped into the barnyard. “Patience,” she called out. “Is that you?”
Fuzzy sidled up beside her and followed her gaze. A low growl came from the wolf, and a moment later, Fuzzy charged forward and was bounding toward the light.
Rowan lifted the hem of her nightgown in her hand and ran after him. “Dammit, Fuzzy,” she muttered, not wanting to call out in case the intruder was armed. “Dammit, you promised.”
Henry paused for a moment, certain that he’d heard a voice.
“Hello?” he called out, holding his phone up and searching around.
Then he heard movement in the rows ahead of him, movement that sounded more like an animal running—running towards him. He frantically looked around for a place to hide or a tree to climb.
“I’m in a damn lavender field,” he reminded himself. “There are no trees in a lavender field.”
He turned to run, then froze when he heard the low, menacing growl.
Slowly angling his phone so as not to startle anything, he scanned his surroundings, and his heart dropped when he saw the giant wolf standing only a few feet in front of him.
Chapter Ten
“Well, shit,” he breathed, his voice shaking.
“Not in my lavender in field!”
He shined his phone in the direction of the voice, and it lit upon a beautiful woman standing in a long, white, cotton nightgown. For a moment he forgot the danger. For a moment he forgot everything. His eyes widened in wonder and his heart leapt. She had to be a fantasy created from his own hidden desires and longings. She was too perfect. She was…
She was two rows away from where the wolf was standing. His mind immediately snapped back to reality, and he realized she couldn’t possibly know the danger she was in.
“Listen to me,” he whispered urgently. “Quietly step back the way you came.”
“What?” she asked.
He shook his head urgently. “Don’t make any noise or sudden moves,” he continued. “Just go back the way you came, and you’ll be safe.”
“Safe?” she asked.
Henry rolled his eyes. Was she totally daft?
“Don’t be alarmed,” he said in a slow and soothing voice. “But there is a giant wolf only a few yards away from you. He’s got his sights trained on me, so if you slowly back away, you should be safe.”
“I know there’s a wolf,” Rowan said, using the same slow and soothing tone he had used on her. “I brought him with me to discover who was filching my lavender.”
“You? What?” Henry asked.
“Fuzzy, come here,” Rowan ordered, and the giant canine obediently hurried to her side.
Henry shook his head. “Damn!” he exclaimed, as pain exploded inside his skull.
“Excuse me?” Rowan responded.
Henry put his hand to his forehead. “Sorry, not you,” he said. “I had a bit of a run-in with a motorcycle, gravel road, giant pine tree and, oh yes, a giant black stag.”
“You saw a black stag?” she asked. She lifted her own flashlight and shined it on him, slowly examining him.
“You’re hurt,” she accused.
He shrugged. “Well, yes, that was part of the whole motorcycle gravel road thing.”
She stepped closer and shone her light into his eyes.
“Hey,” he complained, nearly falling backwards. “I’m already bruised, bleeding and broken. I don’t need to be blinded too.”
“Nice alliteration,” she replied.
He stared at her in complete astonishment. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Bruised, bleeding, broken and blinded,” she repeated. “Nice alliteration.”
“Are you an English teacher?” he asked.
“No, actually, I’m much more frightening,” she said. “I’m a…”
He swayed on his feet in front of her and smiled wanly. “I do apologize,” he slurred. “I think I’m going to…”
Rowan rushed forward and caught him before he fell forward into the lavender plants. But he was too heavy for her to support for very long, so she slowly eased him down onto the ground. With a soft sigh, she shook her head and looke
d at Fuzzy. “I think this was all just too much for him,” she said. “I’ll stay with him. You go get Cat and have her bring the Gator with the long bed.”
Fuzzy looked down at the inert Henry and then at Rowan and whined softly.
“Really, he’s going to ravish me in his condition?” Rowan replied sarcastically. “Besides, he saw a black stag. He’s somehow connected. So, go!”
The wolf turned and sprinted away. Rowan placed her flashlight on the ground next to Henry’s face, so she could see what kind of damage the accident had caused. The gash on his forehead had stopped bleeding, but it was mottled with a purple haze where bruising had occurred. He also had a number of additional scratches and bruising on other parts of his face.
“Okay, let’s see what’s really wrong with you,” she whispered.
She placed her hands on either side of his face and closed her eyes as she allowed her energy to seep into his body, examining his bone structure, muscular structure, circulatory system and skin. He had some contusions on his legs and back, a slightly pulled hamstring, more bruising on his left arm and the cut on his forehead. And he had a nasty headache, she thought as she pulled herself away.
“First things first,” she muttered, raising her arms up towards the sky, closing her eyes and clearing her thoughts.
To bind the wound and heal the tear,
To erase the pain and calm the fear,
I gladly take the pain from thee.
As I ask, so mote it be.
Rowan placed her hands on Henry’s shoulders and gasped softly as the pain in his body was transferred to hers as she worked her way from the gash in his forehead slowly down, repairing each injury, internalizing it and then pushing it out into the universe. The process was slow and deliberate, ensuring that each portion of his body was gone over, and every malady vanquished. She sat back on her heels, wiped the sweat from her forehead, and breathed deeply. What they both needed now was a good night’s sleep.
Chapter Eleven
She pushed herself to her feet, placed her hands on her knees and steadied herself for a few moments before she stood up. The power it took to heal took a toll on her body. She was nearly as weak as a baby and knew that she didn’t have the energy to walk back to the house, much less help this stranger back there.
She glanced over her shoulder to see if the lights turned on in the house. Nothing yet. But, Cat was a heavy sleeper. It might take Fuzzy a few minutes to wake her up.
Her senses suddenly went on high alert when she heard a noise coming from the other direction. Bending, she picked up her flashlight, slowly scanned the area and gasped when two yellow, feral eyes reflected back at her. She took a moment to make out the shape in the dark, and when she realized it was a wolf, her heart pounded in her chest. It was gray and nearly as big as Fuzzy.
“Go away!” she commanded, trying to keep her voice steady and strong. “Go away!”
She tried to summon a protection spell, to place a barrier between them and the wolf, but her power was tapped. She closed her eyes for a moment to put a distress call out through the ether. That would bring her family running faster than Fuzzy’s attempts, but she wondered when she opened her eyes and saw the beast advancing, if it would be quick enough.
She clutched the large, steel flashlight in her hand. “Go away,” she said again.
The wolf crouched low, it’s eyes trained on the unconscious man.
“No, you will not hurt him,” Rowan yelled. “He’s under my protection.”
The wolf sent a quick sideways glance in her direction, almost as if it were mocking her, then leapt. Rowan swung with all of her might, and the flashlight came crashing down on the skull of the canine.
The beast yelped and withdrew a few feet, it’s yellow eyes now filled with anger. She heard the loud growl and could see it’s white fangs clearly against its dark muzzle.
“I told you to go away,” she said. “I don’t want to hurt you. But I will.”
The wolf crouched low once again, but this time his gaze was focused on Rowan. She took a deep breath, knowing that the flashlight would not be as useful when over 100 pounds of angry wolf jumped directly at her. She planted her feet solidly in the soft soil, gripped the flashlight even tighter and prayed her sisters would answer her call.
The wolf leapt.
“Bacainn!”
Rowan heard Hazel cry out the Celtic word for barrier and watched as the wolf smashed into an invisible wall only inches from her face. A streak of smeared blood followed the wolf’s progress to the ground, and the beast turned and limped away.
Rowan exhaled slowly, her knees shaking, still staring at the visible stripe of red.
Her sister moved to her side and looped her arm around Rowan’s waist. Rowan felt not only comfort but also strength from its presence.
“So, does Fuzzy have an admirer?” Hazel asked casually. “Because, I have to say, that was an incredibly rude way to treat the family of your sweetheart.”
“Fuzzy had already run to the house to get help,” Rowan said, her voice shaking.
“He seemed pretty pissed off at you,” Hazel continued, purposely keeping her voice light so her sister wouldn’t realize the abject terror she’d felt watching the wolf attack, worrying that she would be too late. “And a little more determined than the average wolf.”
“Well, the first time he leapt, I hit him with the flashlight,” Rowan replied, her voice a little steadier.
“You mean ‘The Weapon?” Hazel asked, impressed.
Rowan nodded slowly, and a smile crept on her face. “Yeah, I put one over the bleachers wall,” she said. “My little league coach would have been proud.”
“No wonder it was pissed,” Hazel remarked, shaking her head. “That’s going to leave a mark.”
Rowan snorted and then allowed herself to laugh. She leaned against her sister. “Thanks for coming to the rescue,” she said.
“No problem,” Hazel replied. “That’s what sisters are for. Well, that and stealing your clothes.” Then Hazel slipped her arm off Rowan’s shoulders and turned around. “So, when did you start planting tall, blonde guys in your garden?”
She moved closer and cast a quick spell to shine a light in the area. “Wow! Really good job,” she continued. “Was he a seed or a bulb? And, most importantly, is he ready to be picked?”
“He was actually upright and talking when I first saw him,” Rowan said. “And then he kind of crumbled before my eyes. But before he went out like a light, he said he’d been in an accident. And the injuries he sustained were pretty severe. I’m surprised he could walk.”
Hazel looked over at her sister. “And so you, being the ever-so-wise older sister, decided that it was a good idea to heal him in the middle of a field in the middle of the night with absolutely no protection,” she said softly.
“Seemed like a good idea at the time,” Rowan replied with a shrug.
They could see the headlights of the Gator coming from the house, and Rowan breathed a sigh of relief. Lifting the flashlight and waving it over her head, she signaled to Cat.
“She saw it,” Hazel said when she saw the Gator turn in their direction. Then she looked back down at the unconscious man. “Are you going to keep him?”
Rowan shook her head. “Definitely not,” she said. “Men are way too much work.”
Chapter Twelve
“He actually told you that he saw a black stag?” Agnes asked as the group of four women gathered around the man still asleep in their guest room.
Rowan nodded. “Yes, just after he tried to save my life from Fuzzy,” she replied.
Agnes smiled. “Well, that was sweet,” she said. “So, we know he’s a gentleman.”
“We don’t know anything of the sort,” Cat inserted. “We know that he looks like he was in an accident. He says he saw a black stag. And, coincidentally, he wandered onto our property just hours after you received a warning.”
Rowan bit back a smile. “So, you think he’s a spy, an
d he rammed himself against a tree to make it look good?” she asked.
Cat shrugged, looking a little uncomfortable. “It could happen.”
“I think he’s hot,” Hazel said. “All tall, blonde and did you say he had an English accent?”
“Yes, it was quite proper,” she replied in her own version of his accent. “And, quite, quite sexy.”
“I should look,” Cat stated.
“No,” Agnes replied. “It’s not needed.”
“It is needed,” Cat argued. “We don’t know who he is and what his intentions are.”
“We can wait until he’s awake and we can ask him,” Agnes said.
“But he might lie to us,” Cat argued. “And we might all be in danger.”
“He looks fairly harmless right now,” Rowan said, gently pushing his hair off his forehead, pleased with how clear and unblemished his forehead looked. “And he really needs to rest.”
“Looking into his thoughts will not tire him out,” Cat said. “And, while he’s relaxed is the best time to see.”
“It’s rude,” Agnes said. “Looking without asking.”
Cat rolled her eyes. “You just received a warning. This person…”
“Henry,” Rowan said.
Three pairs of eyes turned to her, and she shrugged. “His wallet slipped out of his jacket, and I looked at his identification,” she said. “His name is Henry McDermott.”
Cat sighed. “Okay, Henry McDermott shows up hours later. He says he was driven off the road by a black stag. Then a large gray wolf tries to attack him, with Rowan standing right next to him. That in itself should be enough evidence to allow me to look,” she argued. “And if I don’t find anything, we can all sleep easier tonight.”
Hazel shrugged. “Okay, she’s right,” she admitted. “I would sleep better knowing that we weren’t harboring a master of the black arts.”
“Oh, for goodness sakes,” Rowan said. “Henry wouldn’t hurt a fly.”