Storm Clouds: Dragon's Fate, Book 3

by Lacy Danes

  “Do.”

  She stepped down to the dirt and turned to face him. “When will you be back at the house?”

  “I will return after dinner. You will answer then?”

  She nodded.

  She would consider and let him know when he returned. A smile turned his lips. This one distraction would make the endless woman chatter in the house tolerable. Or the chatter would kill him.

  Grandmum walked into view. “This way, Astrid. The day will be grand.”

  “Indeed, today will. You will be splendid when this is all done.” Celeste grasped Astrid’s hand, then giggled. “It has been forever since we have been to town for shopping.”

  The carriage door closed, dampening the annoyance.

  Hopefully after this visit, forever and a hundred days would pass before they returned. He tapped the top of the cab, and the carriage lurched forward.

  Astrid’s stomach fluttered, and her heart beat in her throat. She swallowed hard. How could such a small touch make such sensations? He had touched her hand. Nothing else. Her body reacted as if he had caressed her most intimate parts. She crossed her arms about her stomach. “A new act,” she mumbled.

  First last night and now today, she’d exchanged words with him. She wished to bring Ilmir back to the family and for all of them to be free of the vapors he created for everyone. Maybe this was part of that. But his offer was not about being good. His offer was for her. To show her what she wish to know about being sinful.

  Astrid followed Grandmum into the shop that was called Branigan’s.

  “You will need gloves and slippers, a new corset and stockings. Oh, this is grand.” Celeste beamed. Celeste shopped for her dresses in Paris, as had Fina. Astrid’s tastes were not so fanciful. She liked to run to the shore and breathe in fresh air.

  “Good morning, ladies.” A woman shopkeeper stepped from behind the counter. Her pale hair hung in loose ringlets around her face, farming crystal-green eyes.

  “Good morning.” Grandmum walked up to the woman. “We are here to see Cherish.”

  “This way.” The woman turned and headed toward the back of the store. She slid back a curtain and stepped past. The air around the curtain rippled with iridescence, and she disappeared. Grandmum followed, as did Celeste and Fina. Astrid stepped up to the threshold. She placed her hand through the opening, and her hand rippled and then disappeared. She pulled her hand back. There was no sensation to the disappearance. How odd.

  She strode into the opening and out into a large room. Wingback chairs and chaises scattered about, creating a comfortable atmosphere. There was a large crescent-moon crystal chandelier that hung above a circular table in the middle of the room. Several smaller tables lined the walls, and above each stood a candelabrum, where different colored flames flickered.

  Astrid followed Fina toward one of the smaller tables. A slender woman with pale curly hair and dark olive skin sat talking to a plump woman next to her. The woman turned toward them. Her deeply wrinkled face made her appear the same age as Grandmum.

  “Good morning.” Grandmum wrapped both her hands about the older woman’s outstretched hand and gently shook it. “I am delighted you were able to stay in town a bit longer to meet my special friend.”

  Grandmum turned. “This is Astrid. The one I told you had quite the show saying her name-day wish.”

  “Well, from what you said, I agree she could be helpful to all of us. Please sit.”

  Each of them pulled out a plush, upholstered high-back chair and sat. Astrid was closest to the younger woman. In the middle of the table sat a copper bowl similar to the one Ferrous had on his casting table in the library

  The older woman stared at Astrid. Her gaze darted from Astrid’s face to her hands and back again. No matter how hard she scrubbed her hands, blood, ash and dirt stained the nails brown. Astrid slid her hands under the table.

  The older woman smiled. “There is no need to be afraid. Show us your hands, dear.”

  “I am not afraid. I am simply curious what this is about. I had the impression I was to purchase a dress for the theater tomorrow night. So you can see I am a bit confused as to why I am now sitting in a secret room behind a dress shop.”

  Grandmum glanced at the others. “That is my fault. I should have told you more, but I wanted you to be surprised.”

  “I am certainly that, but may I please have more information?” Astrid’s palms grew clammy.

  “If you show us your hands”—the younger woman sitting next to Astrid turned her palms up—“I will give you all the information about what we are, and your future.”

  Astrid turned in her seat toward the woman. “What is your name?”

  “I am Regina, and this is Cherish.” She gestured toward the older woman. “Every woman in this room is otherworldly. Most of us for the use of magic, but others like these three…” She pointed to Grandmum, Celeste and Fina. “They are different creatures altogether. We come here as often as we like to talk about craft, struggles and triumphs. But we too have seen a darkness in our own that scares us. Your grandmum witnessed your name-day wish and the light and power that you threw into the room. We wish to see what that is about. Oh, and don’t fret, you will have the finest dress for the theater that you desire. Branigan’s truly is a dress shop. May I?” She pointed to Astrid’s hands.

  “I suppose so. I don’t see any harm.” She placed her hands on the table in front of Regina.

  Regina picked up her left hand and flipped it over. She brushed the creases in Astrid’s palm, then did the same to the other hand. She turned to a small table that sat between her and the older woman and dipped her finger into a clear shimmering liquid. Holding her finger above the back of Astrid’s hand, she flicked three drops. The cool oil-like substance stayed in perfect droplets on her skin.

  “What is that?” Astrid stared at Regina.

  “It is a mixture of oils, silver dust and dirt.” Regina then smeared the liquid into the back of Astrid’s hands. “Vis os.”

  An energizing tingle swept from the damp spot on the back of her hands straight up her arms. Her teeth chattered, and she moaned deep in her gut. Show them what happened on my name day. The light. The sounds. The magic.

  “Vis dem hvad der skete på min navnedag. Lyset, lyden, magien,” burst from her mouth. She didn’t understand a word of what she’d just said aloud.

  A bright light came from the ceiling, and a loud boom echoed in the room. A strong breeze blew the candlelight above their table out and then lightning burst down from the ceiling.

  Astrid shrieked. Everyone else pushed back from the table.

  Yellow lines circled the wood’s edge, then leapt into her hands. Light danced along her skin. Astrid grinned. Lightning did not hurt. The sensation traveled down her legs and went straight out through the floor.

  She pushed back her chair and stood in one quick motion. “What was that?”

  “The weather, I believe.” The left corner of Regina’s mouth turned down.

  Cherish inclined her head. “Indeed. A storm. Quite impressive, but not what we hoped for.”

  “What does that mean?” Astrid brushed her hands down her dress and spun, searching the floor. Where had the lightning gone?

  “What you just showed us was that you have an affinity with the weather. If you practice, you could be a wonderful weather witch.”

  “I did not know there was such a thing.” Fina leaned in from the other side of Astrid.

  “Quite so. Weather witches come in several forms. Your calling appears to be with lightning, or possibly storms. When you get several different of your kind together in one place, you can have sunshine, rain, snow, ice, all in the span of a minute.” Cherish waved her hands in the air to mimic the sun, rain and snow.

  “I do enjoy storms as they roll in. I simply thought that was about where we live, not that I was
…well, a witch.” She slowly sank into the plush pink chair.

  “You are not yet, but you could be.” Regina smiled and leaned forward. “If you are interested, we can give you the names of others like you.”

  Astrid glanced around the table. They all watched her carefully. She did want to know more. She had always enjoyed the feeling a storm created. “Certainly.” She could practice magic like Ferrous did. She would help the family by using her skill and not simply killing the pigs and bringing in the dinner. Indeed, she wanted to know more.

  “My sister is like you.” Regina grasped a quill, ink and paper. She scribbled across a piece of parchment. “I would give you her name, but she is up at our ancestral home on the Is-Midtergang. Our family has had otherworldly creatures as part of our heritage since before humans lived in houses.” She slid the parchment across the table to Astrid.

  Astrid lifted the paper. Scrawled on the paper were three names.

  Marcus Cobblerton—He is a storm-and-lightning master

  Lady Jennifer Hovington—She has affinity with ice and snow

  Lilly Uvercanots—She can control the wind

  “I gave you Marcus’s name as he is the only one who has storm-and-lightning affinity in this land. There are others, but they seem to like to reside on the Continent. All of those named enjoy apprenticing, or sætte i lære, so they will not be surprised by you reaching out to them if you so choose to apprentice.”

  “Thank you.” Astrid worried the inside of her cheek. She could learn how to be a true member of the family. That would be grand, but this was an enormous undertaking. What if she failed?

  Celeste beamed at Astrid. “Are we now ready to find you that perfect dress for your night at the theater?”

  “It is just a shame you don’t have a gentleman to take you.” Grandmum winked. “The theater is always entertaining. Powdered breasts, and men dressed to their finest. Indeed, I have a fine memory of a dalliance behind the curtains.”

  “Grandmum.” Celeste glared at her.

  “I think you should send a note to Marcus and see if he will escort you tomorrow.” Fina gave a full-toothed grin. “You have an affinity for the weather, and none of us had any idea. How wonderful would it be for you to find a match with a warlock who could teach you?”

  “Sending a note to ask a gentleman to the theater is not something I would do.” She had always wanted to be asked to an event, and today she had been. But to a show of a different sort. Heat rose to her cheeks.

  “Not to be rude, but you are not a lady and he is not a lord, so I see no harm in sending a simple note stating you wish to speak to him at the theater. If he attends, the evening will be capital.” Fina beamed. “Indeed. We shall send him a note.”

  “And if the evening goes well, he can take you to the next performance in two days’ time.” Celeste grasped her forearm. “I think we shall need two dresses.”

  “Let us commence.” Regina pushed back from the table. “What is your color preference?”

  This was all too silly. Astrid sighed. “Yellow.” Like the sun that warmed her on a chilly day while she walked the beach in her plain brown skirt and cream shirt. She wished she walked the beach now. The wind in her face, smelling of salt and earth. The gulls crying overhead and the rocks crunching beneath her boots. One day away, and she already missed the Isle.

  “Your dark hair and brown eyes will be a lovely contrast. Stunning,” Regina stated. “For the second, may I suggest a new-leaf green?”

  The sun and spring. A new beginning. “Quite so. Thank you.”

  Ilmir grumbled as he stepped up the walk to the house. Samgor’s Den bored him today. Not one of the otherworldly gentlemen wished to play games. A glide through the air reenergized him, but in the end, he needed blood. Lady Elizabeth was unavailable but said she would be able to call in two days’ time. So he indulged as other blood drinkers would—he attended Miss Olga’s.

  Olga was a high-priced pleasure peddler. Her normal clientele came, drank and left, returning to drink again from the same or different warm vein. For the right price, she also would indulge the odder side of the otherworldly. He chuckled. Odd and otherworldly went hand in hand, and the Zir fell into that category. He bit, he killed. So he paid a high price for that, but his glow, his wit and his power were now returned. But there was a grime that clung to him whenever he attended there.

  He would bathe and redress, then go down for drinks in the library. Hopefully someone would want to play cards or dice or pool.

  Ilmir arrived in the library as the clock chimed nine, and went to the sideboard to pour a glass of brandy. Then he moved to his favorite green velvet upholstered chair. He sat his glass on the round inlaid table and opened the small drawer that was to his right, pulling out a deck of cards. Arching the cards between his hands, he shuffled. The whir of the cards as they intertwined relaxed him. He settled back into the deep chair and dealt himself out a hand of Patience. One card up, five cards down. Two cards up, four cards down, and so on.

  Laughter echoed down the hall, and the chatter of women vibrated the walls. Madoc emerged in the doorway, followed by Jordon and then Ferrous. Ilmir stared back down at his game. Better to play with others than alone.

  “Marcus, this is our brother Ilmir.” Ferrous’s voice came from beside Ilmir.

  Ilmir tilted his head up at the strange red-haired man who stood in their library. He slowly stood.

  The man was dressed in a long, easy-flowing deep blue silk shirt. Marcus walked forward, and in the candle glow, silver embroidery shimmered along his lapels. He wore black pantaloons and tall black riding boots that were polished to a slick sheen. About his waist was a black leather belt that held a small pouch and stick.

  “A pleasure.” Marcus walked toward him and outstretched his hand.

  “Do not be so certain.” Ilmir stared at him and did not offer his hand. “Who are you? And why are you in my house?”

  “Ilmir.” Madoc’s tone rose. “Pardon our brother, he is not social.”

  “Or polite,” Ferrous scolded.

  “Do not fret. I will not pass in a fit of vapors. I know who Ilmir is. And I agree with his assessment that I should tread cautiously.” He placed his hand on Ilmir’s shoulder.

  And that is treading lightly? Ilmir knocked Marcus’s hand from his shoulder. A cool darkness crept from that spot up Ilmir’s scalp.

  “I am Marcus Cobblerton. I am a weather warlock. I am here to consider Miss Astrid for sætte i lære, or apprenticeship.”

  “I know what sætte i lære means. Please do not patronize me. I am in no mood this evening.”

  “Or any day.” Jordan poured four glasses of brandy from the sideboard and handed them out.

  Astrid and Celeste walked into the library. “Grandmum and Fina send their excuses as they are tired from the day.”

  “Anyone for cards?” Ilmir asked, staring directly at Astrid. She wore a crisply pressed white shirt tucked into a long gray wool skirt. Simple but neat. She did not need anything more. Her gaze met his, and warm satisfaction relaxed his shoulders and settled into his gut. She was here. They would talk, and cards could lead to other things.

  Madoc walked to the sideboard and set his glass down. “I may not return. I want to check on Fina.” He walked out of the room.

  Marcus pulled out the chair opposite Ilmir and sat. “I like cards, but can I pick the game?”

  “Certainly.” Celeste pulled out a chair next to Ilmir, and Jordan sat between her and Marcus.

  Why should she get to say indeed when he was the one asking others to play? Turning away from the table, Ilmir smashed his teeth down hard on the words that wanted to burst forth.

  Ferrous continued to stand by the fire. “I will play, but I would like a glass of…” Astrid walked to the sideboard and stared at the bottles. “What is in each bottle?”

  Ilmir pushed t
o his feet and headed to the sideboard. His heartbeat increased as he neared her. “Sweet? Or strong?”

  She tipped her head up, and her huge brown eyes blinked. “Mmm… A bit of both.” Her teeth snagged her full lower lip.

  Those chocolate-colored eyes liked to watch. He would show her that participating could also be fun. “Sin mixes both,” he whispered. “Have you thought about my proposal?”

  She inclined her head, and a warm glow grazed her cheeks.

  “Your decision?”

  As she looked at the bottles on the sideboard, a lock of brown hair slithered over her ear. She would not give an answer here. He could wait.

  “Have you had brandy?”

  “No, but I have smelled it.” She scrunched up her face and shook her head. Her slim finger fiddled with the edge of the silk runner that covered part of the sideboard top.

  He inhaled deeply, hoping to catch the sweet scent of strong arousal that had filled his nostrils last night. “You smell like vanilla.” He smelled nothing.

  She rolled her eyes. “Does this type of conversation entice the ladies you pursue?”

  “You certainly are feisty tonight.” He grasped the cognac, a glass, and poured two fingers full. “My style of intercourse is quite effective.” He set the glass down in front of her. “It affects you…too.” He turned and walked back to the table.

  Astrid sat between Ilmir and Marcus.

  Five piles of cards lay in the center of the table. “What are we playing?” Ilmir grasped the pile closest to him, and the others did the same.

  “Turra.” Marcus picked up his cards and fanned them out. “I thought of Euchre, but we have an uneven number of players. Celeste, you are first.”

  The game went on. Card after card hit the table, and Ilmir clenched his teeth. His tension rose and his temples ached. He tried not to watch Astrid, but each move she made, fiddling with the cards in her hand, taking a sip of cognac, revealing a swallow that went down her creamy neck, drew his eye to the flutter of her heartbeat.