by Unknown
“Delusional?”
“She thinks she’s a witch.”
“Thinks?” He arched both brows as he turned to face her, giving her a glimpse of that cute dimple. A look of incredulity spread across his face. “Thinks? Huh. Imagine that.”
Saylym shrugged and hurried on with her speech. “Tomorrow’s her birthday, and there’s a new pastry shop next door, Sugar-N-Spice. I thought I’d stop there and buy Miss Eldora a cake. Maybe help her celebrate her birthday tonight because I have to work on my accounts tomorrow night.” She hesitated, starting again after clearing her throat. “I thought since you’re new in town and…forget it…it’s a silly idea.”
Talon nodded his head. “You’re inviting me to a party? I’d love to come with you. I love delusional, senile, old witches, especially ones who prefer bright colors to drab black.”
“I’m not asking you for a date or…or anything like that,” Saylym explained.
Bloody hell! She should have just kept her mouth shut. She didn’t want him getting any wrong ideas or thinking she was hot for him or something.
“Perish the thought,” he replied, his lips twitching.
She blinked. If she didn’t know better, and from the roguish twinkle in his eyes, she’d think he just read her mind. “I don’t know if you’d call it a party, exactly. Eldora doesn’t even know I planned this for her at the last minute, but yes, I’m inviting you.”
“Give me a minute to change clothes.” He whirled, raced up the stairs, yelling over his shoulder, “Don’t leave without me.” The apartment door slammed.
He returned almost instantly.
“You take your clothes off quick.” Saylym gasped, aghast at what she’d blurted. “I-I mean…fast shower…er fast hands…quick change artist.” Shut-up, Saylym!
But the silent order didn’t stop the word ‘magic’ from whispering through her head.
“Er…waken.” A curious expression flitted across his face as he eyed at her. “Remember?”
“Of course,” she replied sweetly. “How remiss of me to forget.” There’s no such thing as magic. She rolled her eyes and hummed softly beneath her breath. Talon stepped in front of her, leading the way. Not only did her next door neighbor have delusions of being a witch, but her tenant believed he was a male witch, a waken, as he preferred to call himself.
Were they both psychotic? Yep. But who was she to judge when she heard a book talk and saw a brush climb out of her toilet? What did that make her? Ah, well. With her inherited streak of insanity, she fit right in with him.
Saylym linked her arm through Talon’s. “So, how many delusional, senile, old witches have you known?”
“None.” He grinned. “But I know I’ll love her anyway.”
“You’re so easy,” she snickered.
He gave her a slow, sideways smile melting her with the promise of things to come. “Anytime you want to find out just how easy, let me know,” he said huskily.
Saylym swallowed. The sudden awareness of his body close to hers left her breathless. She cleared her throat. “Let’s go,” she said feeling the flush of heat staining her cheeks.
He pushed open the door to the pastry shop. Saylym thought she heard him say, “All I have to do now is get my Futhar’s approval.”
She shook her head. Now she knew she was losing it. Futhar? Why would he need an owl’s approval to like her? She’d probably misunderstood. He must have said father. Yes, that was probably it. The son of a king would need his father’s approval, but to do what?
Saylym stifled a moan. Bloody hell! She didn’t have a clue as to what conclusions her mind was leaping to. Her thoughts jumped to and fro like a crippled spider racing to its web.
Yup. She’d inherited a wide streak of insanity but for now, it was going to remain her little secret.
The pungent aroma of assorted spices filled the Sugar-N-Spice pastry shop. It was enough to make one weep. Saylym strolled up and down the aisles savoring the rich scent of vanilla and chocolate permeating the air. The heady fragrances mingled with the aromatic smell of cinnamon. Yummy. Her mouth watered.
She held the special candle for the cake in her hand, searching for just the right treat for Eldora. Finally, Saylym stopped in front of a shelf burdened with a range of different sized and individually wrapped cakes.
“Here it is. Perfect.”
She snatched a vanilla frosted cake with black cats and bats edging the border of the frosting. “This is perfect since she believes she’s a witch.”
Talon blinked at her as if she’d lost her mind.
She ignored him and lifted one edge of the covering to push the single candle through the sticky frosting.
“How old is your old lady?” he asked.
“She tells me twenty thousand,” she deadpanned. “I say she’s not a day over fifteen, give or take a few thousand years.”
“Ah, one candle makes perfect sense.”
“Yeah.” Saylym snickered. “I wouldn’t want her exhausting herself trying to blow out all those flames.” She handed her selection to the young woman patiently waiting behind the register. “Hi. I’m Saylym Winslow from the shop next door.”
The young clerk smiled and pushed back a heavy mass of thick, dark hair. “Hannah Miller. I’m filling in for my partner today. Kirrah’s my best friend.” Her smile wavered. “You sort of resemble her. There’s something about your bone structure and lips, only Kirrah has red hair and green eyes.”
“Oh? Maybe I’ll stop by sometime when she’s here and say hello.”
“She’d like that. She and I moved here about three months ago. She’ll be sorry she missed you. She hasn’t had time to make new friends.” Hannah rang up the sell. “Six dollars, please.”
Saylym handed the clerk the money. She bit her tongue to keep from asking if a little old man in a taxi provided them with rings to Sanctuary. Nope, she wasn’t going there. She wasn’t about to spread the news she was crazy. She’d ask something that made more sense. “Did you and your friend drive here?”
“Yes, we did,” Hannah replied. “A lovely drive.”
Saylym shivered. Well, that proved it! She was nuts. She must have imagined the old cab driver, the ring, the whole bit. She’d chosen Sanctuary and here she was. No matter how she got here, it was home.
For a long moment, she chewed on her bottom lip. “And where did you say your friend is now?”
“Kirrah? Oh, she’s having trouble with her take-offs and landings.”
Saylym felt her smile fade. “Oh?”
“I think she’s somewhere teaching her besom the proper technique of flying.”
“Besom?”
“Witch’s broom,” Talon supplied, giving her one of those strange looks he had the habit of flashing her at times.
Saylym nodded her head at Talon. “Uh…right.” Her breath caught in her lungs. “Proper technique for a…er…besom?” She could have bitten off her tongue. Curiosity killed the cat! Why couldn’t she just leave it alone and ignore the things said to her?
Hannah lowered her voice, nodding. “Too many loop-de-loops. Makes her sick to her stomach.”
“Ah.” Saylym gave a nervous laugh. It must be a conspiracy. Everyone was into the witch thing these days. “I’m sorry I missed her. Tell her to come over to my shop and get acquainted sometime.” Or not. Please, not.
The last thing she needed in her life was another ditzy person believing in witches. Besoms, for pity’s sake. Flying brooms. Yes, sir, they perched right up there with a hairbrush crawling out of the commode.
Hannah’s deep blue eyes lit up. “I will. And tell your friend, happy birthday.” She slid the cake into a pink box, then turned her gaze on Talon.
“This is Prince Talon, my tenant,” Saylym said by way of introduction.
A faint blush stained Hannah’s cheeks. “Prince? A real prince?”
Saylym grinned, knowing exactly how she felt. A woman was simply no match for a man claiming to be a prince, especially one who oozed raw
sex appeal from every pore in his muscular body and had killer dimples too. “So he says. But just between you and me, he also claims he’s a witch.” Saylym tapped her forehead with a finger, lowering her voice in much the same way Hannah had. “I think it’s in the water.”
“Lord, let’s hope so,” Hannah replied, snickering.
“Nice to meet you,” Talon said, raising Hannah’s hand to his mouth and pressing a light kiss to the top of it. His smile vanished and in its place, a dark scowl lined his face. His lips curled with revulsion and his eyes narrowed to dangerous slits.
Saylym felt blindsided. The man who claimed to be a male witch suddenly looked as if he’d tasted a slug. Now what?
* * * *
Illumrof!
Talon recoiled, his insides curdling with distaste. The female was one hundred percent illumrof. He dropped Hannah’s hand and instinctively backed away a step.
How the hell did a human cross into his world?
He studied both women with a mixture of disbelief and equal curiosity. It had been difficult to detect the illumrof stench with the strong aromas of the bakery stifling his sense of smell and Saylym’s Impure scent combined.
An illumrof? Here? In Ru-Noc? Unbelievable!
Why wasn’t he doing the smart thing and putting distance between himself and the human and even Saylym, for that matter? He was allowing himself to be drawn deeper into the mystery of the half witch. Stupid. He shouldn’t be doing that. And now here was this human complicating everything even more. He swore beneath his breath.
Impures were sometimes suffered in Ru-Noc, but rarely were they ever fully accepted by his race. Hannah Miller, on the other hand, was illumrof. Humans were never allowed on Ru-Noc. Oh, yeah, he was up to his neck in sheeahta and sinking fast. How the hell did a human get past the border guards of the Ru-Noc realm and into Sanctuary?
Worse, she planned to stay. She was half owner of this shop. She’d made herself at home in a realm that, for her, should not exist. It was all he could to keep from walking over to the only bare section of wall in the bakery and banging his head against it.
Why him?
There was no choice but to report this infestation to the Waken Guild.
Talon smothered a groan. He’d rather eat spiders than face the elders. He took another step away from the illumrof and inhaled deeply, fresh air not tainted with the putrefying stench of mortal blood.
The human female was in danger simply for having crossed into his world. She knew witches and wakens existed, that there were besoms and magic and things that went bump in the night.
And she’d die for the knowing.
There wasn’t a single thing he could do to protect her. If he didn’t report this, the consequences to him, and to his world, were too severe to consider. He didn’t have the power or the right to decide what to do about her on his own. He answered to the guild, as well as the king, just like every waken in the kingdom. He didn’t owe this human a thing. She was here where she didn’t belong, and she’d pay the ultimate price with her life.
* * * *
Saylym ignored the look on Talon’s face and smothered a sigh. Talk about Old World chivalry. There was just something about a man kissing a woman’s hand that was pure gallantry, even when said man looked as if he’d bitten into something that tasted like dog poop. Her smile slowly faded as she noticed the way Talon dropped Hannah’s hand. He stared at the woman, unblinking.
There had been a significant difference in the way he kissed the top of Hannah’s hand compared to the way he’d kissed her hands. At least he hadn’t looked at her as if she’d just crawled out from underneath a rock. What on earth was wrong with the man? “I guess we’re finished here,” she said sharply, scowling as Talon continued to eye Hannah with utter distaste. The other girl squirmed uncomfortably under his intense stare.
“Is it something I said?” Hannah asked nervously.
Saylym wished he’d quit staring at the woman. Heck, it made her uneasy, as if icy, skeletal fingers crawled up and down her spine. “We have to go,” she blurted. “It was nice meeting you.” She grabbed Talon’s arm and steered him out of the shop. The chill in her blood didn’t go away when they left the bakery.
“What is wrong with you? You frightened her half to death!”
“Good,” he said, balancing the cake box in his left hand. “She should be scared. She should be very scared.”
“That’s not funny,” she said. Worrying her bottom lip between occasional forays into polite conversation, Saylym slanted her gaze toward Talon’s brooding face. He seemed as preoccupied with his own thoughts as she was with hers.
What was it about Hannah that disturbed him?
She didn’t feel she had the right to pry into his business, but bloody hell! He scared the crap outta her going silent like this. “What’s wrong?” she blurted, unable to stand the suspense any longer. “Why didn’t you like Hanna? She seemed like a nice person.”
“She’s human,” he replied absently.
Saylym blinked. “Oh, well, that explains everything.” Peachy. Just peachy. “What does that make me?”
“A wit—”
“Don’t say it,” she cut him off. “I am not a dad-gummed witch!”
He lifted a brow and grinned. “Okay, you’re not a witch…if it makes you happy to think so.”
“It does. It makes me very happy.” She smarted under his silent laughter.
It was nearly dark when they finally reached Eldora’s cottage. The old lady waited on her tiny front porch wringing her hands. “I was watching for you, child,” she called, flapping her arms. “You shouldn’t be out on the streets alone after dark. It isn’t safe.”
“I’m not alone. This is my friend, Prince Talon. Talon, my neighbor, Eldora Waters.”
Talon took her hand and pressed a kiss to the top of it. “Charmed, Miss Eldora.”
Eldora jerked her hand free. “Your smooth talking charm won’t work with me, Prince. I’ve been around for centuries. I know what you want to do,” she snapped.
“You do?” Talon grinned.
She nodded, the grape-colored pointy hat bobbing up and down on her white head. “It’s Beltane, isn’t it?” she returned suspiciously. “I know what a virile waken is after. I’m not a loose woman, young man. So don’t be practicing your seduction skills on me.” She sniffed, twitching her nose. “I smell cake.”
Saylym handed her the box. “Happy birthday.”
Eldora peeked inside. Her jaw dropped and she swallowed hard. “Well. Come in. Come in. We’ll each have a slice. Oh, my. A handsome waken to share the sweet with.”
Saylym rolled her eyes. Yeppers. Everyone was into the witch and waken conspiracy. She stepped around Talon as he held the door open for both her and Eldora. They followed the old lady through the postage stamp-size living room into an even smaller kitchen.
An old-fashioned, drop-leaf table hugged the far left-hand corner, a silver candelabra stood in the center of it. Saylym shook her head, grinning. Black candles, of course.
Single white painted cabinets, trimmed in glossy black, stood like sentinels on either side of the kitchen sink. An ancient refrigerator rumbled steadily in the right corner and a two burner stove stood across the room at the opposite wall.
Talon lit the candle on Eldora’s cake with a taper from the candelabra. Grinning, he bowed as the old lady blew out the birthday candle. “Happy birthday, Miss Eldora.”
Saylym smiled watching Eldora’s mystified expression as the flame on the trick candle returned. Eldora grunted and blew it out a second time. She jumped back when the flame leaped to life a third time.
She slanted a wary gaze toward Saylym. “All right, young lady, how many times am I going to have to blow out that candle?”
“Twenty thousand?” Saylym replied innocently, tongue in cheek.
“Pissel! Not in this lifetime.” She yanked the candle from the cake and tossed it into the kitchen sink.
Saylym giggled.
&nb
sp; Talon’s deep laughter rumbled around them.
Saylym fished napkins from the drawer Eldora indicated with a nod and listened to the old lady’s amused snickers as she rummaged for a knife in the cabinet drawer.
“Ah-ha!” Eldora exclaimed, holding up a wicked looking knife. “Love the bats on the icing dear,” she said and sliced the cake into generous portions. “Happy birthday to me. Happy birthday to me,” Eldora sang at the top of her lungs, clapping her hands while screeching out the words, “happy birthday, you beautiful, old witch. Happy birthday to me.”
Laughter floated about the room. Eldora giggled like a teenager as she watched Talon lick frosting off his fingers and go back for seconds. Then the elderly witch brought out an old phonograph from the hall closet, along with a stack of long-playing records left behind by some previous tenant in another time.
“The Beatles.” Eldora read the label on the album. “What in the world are the Beatles?”
Talon frowned. “Never heard of them.”
Both Talon and Eldora flinched when the music and the words to John Lennon and Paul McCartney’s, I Saw Her Standing There, filled the room to the loud accompaniment of guitars and drums. Saylym sighed. “Where have you two been living? In another world?”
Identical expressions of shock flashed her way just as the next tune started and the word, ‘Help!’ exploded into the tiny room. Talon and Eldora both jumped back from the explosive music.
“Good grief,” Eldora grunted. “They sound rather constipated.”
Talon threw back his head and laughed. Saylym joined in his laughter, enjoying the old woman’s comical expression. But when Paul McCartney’s melancholy words to the acoustic ballad of Yesterday began, Saylym saw an odd look flit across Talon’s face.
He shrugged and took her hands in his. “Love isn’t an easy game to play, is it?”