Magic & Mayhem

by Susan Conley

  Mona would work her way up along side Cart before clambering up him. Tigers weren’t designed to be ladders and she had no idea how she’d scale him. Placing one hand on him to brace herself, she started climbing the pile.

  The rubble shifted at her first step; a pebble skittered down, loosening several others in its path. The second step was worse. Mona found herself sliding back to the floor. Cart’s massive head was turned and his black eyes watched her every move.

  Predator. Ignoring the thought, she examined his sleek back.

  “I can’t climb onto you when you’re like that, Cart.”

  “Maybe climb on before, yes?” Rushka said.

  If Mona didn’t know better, she’d say amusement laced her voice.

  Cart lifted his paws, turned, and with an audible oomph of fur, landed next to her. His head butted her hand and she caressed his ears, so soft, they reminded her of silk. With a rumble he lay down on the floor, his massive shoulders by her feet.

  Mona look a deep breath, quelled her trembling limbs, and climbed on. His scent enveloped her, making her both relax and tense. She wrapped her hands around his neck, leaned forward, and whispered in his ear. “I will not forgive myself if I hurt you.”

  He shook his head, somehow making her think he was laughing at the thought that she could hurt him. He did have a point.

  He reared up slowly, allowing her to adjust her weight and balance. Three carefully placed steps up the pile with his front paws and the rune was within reach. Mona grabbed it and he hopped down.

  Sliding off Cart’s back, she put the rune on the Wyrm’s companion. Somehow she knew Rushka wanted him safe first. The Wyrm nodded in approval.

  Mona glanced over at the beacon spell—still in stasis, good.

  The other corner was past the pit and the ledge on either side was narrow. The good news was that the rough wall had plenty of handholds. Mona flattened herself against the wall and started to cautiously slide one foot out, figuring Cart would make it on his own the other side.

  Her free wrist was gently engulfed in the tiger’s mouth. Warm, not wet, with a faint rasp to his tongue, he gently pulled her away from the edge. Mona let him lead her away from the edge.

  “I have to get to the other side, you know that.”

  He lay down, wrapping himself around her and again putting his shoulder by her knees.

  “You’re joking, right?”

  His response was to curl himself more tightly, making it impossible for her to move.

  “I am not going to sit on you while you jump over.”

  “Why not? You trust him.” This from the Wyrm.

  “Yes, but—”

  “His way is safe, possibly safer than trying to cross yourself.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “He is offering, you are not demanding. You are not demeaning him.”

  His head bumped against her hip, a bit hard, as if he was trying to knock some sense into her.

  “Fine.” Mona clearly was not going to win this argument. This time she settled herself just below his shoulder blades; she didn’t want to impede his movement. Not worried about hurting him, she grabbed fistfuls of fur and leaned forward.

  “Ready.”

  Under her legs she felt his muscles tense. A slight jerk and he launched himself at the other side.

  Oh so briefly, Mona felt weightless.

  With a thud they landed. She pitched forward, rattling her teeth as her chest hit his back.

  “Ouch.”

  Before she recovered, he started to scale the pile on this side. Without thinking she grabbed the rune. He jumped down and was about to spring back across when she noticed something on the floor. The old book she’d noticed earlier next to one of the shrouds.

  And set under it was what she knew to be Smythe’s last log.

  “Wait a sec. I need to get something else.”

  Mona slid off his back and reached down for the packet. The fizzle of magic worked close by hit her like a static shock. Quickly she tucked the two in the front of her jacket and then stood with her hand gripping Cart’s ruff.

  Across the pit, a woman appeared.

  Mona blinked a couple of times to make sure she was seeing what she was seeing. The image didn’t change.

  The woman was older but still stunning, tight pants and cinched jacket with bosom spilling out aside. Something about her reminded Mona of an older starlet clinging desperately to the vestiges of her youth. The ski bunny attire only added to the impression.

  This had to be Cart’s mother.

  Mona did her best to keep her face blank while the woman glared at her.

  Cart shook her hand off and in an instant changed himself back, magic again swirling around both their bodies intimately. He stepped behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders. Whether it was out of modesty or not, she appreciated the gesture.

  “Titania Margaret,” Mona said as Cart drew his breath in to speak. “So pleased to meet you. Cart said to expect you.”

  Mona could see she debated whether to even answer. When she did she addressed her reply to Cart.

  “Here I am.” Her voice was rich with the resonance of southern gentility laced through it.

  Cart took Mona’s arm and they stepped across the hole to his mother, colors and stone blurring only slightly at the small jump.

  “Mother, glad you could make it,” he said as he slipped his pants on.

  Mona wasn’t sure how he maintained his dignity, but he managed to sound sincere and in charge. And not at all embarrassed by his nudity.

  Leaving him to deal with the woman, she placed the rune on Rushka. The Wyrm was staring, eyes slit, at the Titania.

  “Rushka, Titania Margaret is going to help you and your companion to get back home,” Mona said as she stood and moved to Cart’s side. “What information do you need from her, Titania?”

  “She knows where it is,” said Rushka.

  “I know where it is,” said Titania Margaret at the same time.

  Cart paused for only a heartbeat. “Then this should be quick. Should we wait here for you, Mother, or have you set up residence yet?”

  “With you owing me something, you can wait right here for me.”

  Somehow Mona got the impression she was using the singular you, and not “you both.” Mona ignored her. They couldn’t stay here, but now wasn’t the time to push.

  “Is there anything you need before you go?” Mona asked Rushka.

  “No, thank you. May you and yours find comfort in safety.”

  Mona smiled at the colloquial Folk saying.

  “And may you and yours prosper in peace,” she replied.

  As soon as she moved out of the way, Cart’s mother stepped in and put her hand on Rushka’s shoulder.

  “Which will it be, the plateau or the cavern?” she asked.

  “The cavern. I can ensure your safety.”

  “I was expecting you would.”

  They all disappeared in a shimmer of magic.

  “I’d be interested to hear that story some day,” Mona said.

  Cart harrumphed.

  “So, how long is she going to hold the ‘you owe me’ over your head?” Mona asked.

  He threw his head back and laughed. “No beating around the bush with you, is there? I’d say she’ll hold it over my head for less than a minute. This’ll be fun. Watch.”

  I’m not sure how he knew his mother was on her way back, but as soon as he was done she felt the static charge of her magic again.

  “There you are, dear, all done and settled. Now,” she said, completely ignoring Mona’s presence, “about that debt.”

  A feline smile stretched her mouth and she looked nothing so much like a cat about to get cream.

  Mona saw the shudder Cart suppressed even if she didn’t.

  Shit, the spell. Mona looked over at the tracking spell. The runes were now solid enough that she could manipulate them. Given her previous history with these spells, she didn’t want to do much.
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  “I assume you want to know if there is a male elf or elfling of sufficient blood to have rank that I could introduce you to?” Cart asked his mother.

  Mona reached out and tweaked the location setting, just a touch. If she’d done it right, whatever was sent would now land in the middle of the ruined Warder’s complex and not where they were.

  Or, oh shit, they might go to Rushka. No, the spell was here, and hadn’t disappeared when they had.

  “As always, shugah.”

  Wait, Cart’s mom wanted to meet an elfling—a not-as-yet-fully-come-into-his-powers male elf? Mona began to see where Cart was going to take this. She couldn’t wait to see the fun.

  “Before we take your mother to meet him, don’t you think we ought to give her a chance to freshen up?” Mona smiled at her. “I’m sure you’re going to want to put on an outfit more fitting for your introduction.”

  Titania Margaret’s smile turned almost feral. “So right you are. I’ll just pop over to the cozy shack Randall set up for me, and meet Cart, in say half an hour darling?”

  Cart’s mother narrowed her eyes and darted her gaze back and forth between the two of them. “And no contacting him before then, you hear?”

  “No problem, see you then,” Cart said.

  She blinked out of existence.

  “Well, I see where you get your firecracker determination from,” Mona said. “Now let’s get the fuck out of here. There’s a spell about to go off and I want to change too.”

  “I’m going to focus on that last part.” Cart cupped his hands around her face. “You don’t take any shit from my mom, you hear? I love you and nothing will change that.”

  An uncomfortably hot sear of magic as the tracking working kicked in raced across her flesh and she gasped. He didn’t give her a chance to respond, his lips devouring hers as the world slid by.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Thirty-five minutes later, after an all too brief stopover at her apartment, they were waiting by Cart’s mother’s front door. Cart had been initially disappointed that she’d nixed his plans, but understood why she wanted to light the funeral incense right away. He’d even added some of his own commendations of Smythe’s character.

  Mona looked around. Dried vines on wire trellises glowed blue from the setting winter sun. She knew this place—it was the abandoned stone house in the vineyard Nic’s house backed onto. She’d spent many hours of her youth wondering who might have lived here and why.

  A brownie peeked out from under the snow-laden bushes before popping back in. Vineyards were home to many non-human Folk creatures, grapes and wine being close to the goddess’s heart.

  Titania Margaret opened the door, the house lights spilling over and silhouetting her for a moment before she stepped out and glared at the pair. The look on her face could have peeled paint. Oh, this was going to be fun. Although Tania might not think it as fun as she and Cart did.

  Mona tucked her hand into the crook of Cart’s arm, watching the woman studiously ignore the action.

  “I see you brought a sidekick. Trying to educate her on Folk customs and ranking?”

  Titania Margaret wouldn’t see any magic on Mona. Although why she thought Cart would be dragging a mortal around with him was beyond her.

  “She has a right to be here,” Cart said as he took hold of his mother’s elbow. He looked at Mona.

  She pictured the front steps of Nic’s house. A brief sense of displacement and they were there.

  Cart’s mother stepped in front of them, placing herself squarely to be first through the door.

  “Really, this is a private matter. We’ll talk about it later.” She pressed the doorbell.

  “We’ll talk about it now, Ms. Dupree,” Mona said as she slipped in front of the woman and opened the door, intentionally not using the title Titania.

  “She’s part of his family, Mother.”

  “Yeppers, I am at that.” Mona stepped in and shrugged out of her coat. “Hello!”

  “In the sunroom,” Nic responded.

  “Sunroom? Why would you call it a sunroom?” Cart’s mother’s voice had lost a bit of its sultry edge. Hmm, perhaps she was annoyed. Well, so was Mona.

  Ever polite, Mona took the coats and hung them up in the vestibule while Cart’s mother’s rant about sunrooms and solariums continued. Titania Margaret now wore black leggings, high heels, and a belted black tunic with a low keyhole neckline. With her styled blond hair, she looked like Ava Gabor getting ready for a pinup shot. Except she was older by a good century if Mona was any judge.

  “What a useless phrase, since one clearly uses it when the sun is not around. Solarium means the same thing, doesn’t it. Really, the proper name is a conservatory. Although, of course, they’re not used as such anymore, are they? No need to be growing plants in the house for fresh fruit these days.”

  Mona was the only one who noticed Cart stumbled a bit on the step. Shit, with all the jumping and shifting he must have used a tremendous amount of energy. Food. She smelled something cooking. Good. They both needed it.

  “Mother,” Cart interrupted as she paused to take a breath, “Mona is staying. Not only is she with me, but this is her family’s house. You are correct, she doesn’t need to be here, but I want her here.”

  “I’m with Cart, so you might as well get used to it.” At least for now, until they could talk over how Mona being a Warder affected their relationship and that “I love you” she’d still not responded to. Mona shut the closet and headed to the kitchen. “Hey, Nic, is there enough grub here for us to grab a bite? We haven’t eaten yet.”

  Behind her, Cart stayed by the door, held fast by his mother. That conversation she ignored.

  “Sure, there’s enough for anyone who would like some.” Nic rounded the corner from the sunroom and gave her a quick hug. He smelled like Tania and soap. You’d never guess from looking at him that less than two hours ago, he’d been completely paralyzed by poison.

  “All right?” he whispered.

  “I’m fine. You okay?” she whispered back.

  He nodded.

  “Get ready for fireworks,” Mona replied, winking at him.

  He stepped back and kept his face blank.

  “Thanks,” she said, louder. “You defrost some of my Salmon en Croute? Smells great!”

  Taking two plates, she served generous helpings of the holiday sized puff pastry dish. Early in the fall, when she’d been worried about a test Smythe was getting her ready for, she’d come over and cooked up a storm. Nic had been left with a freezer full of food and no answers for why she was so anxious. Though that hadn’t stopped him from complaining they’d never have enough people over to eat all of it—particularly this one, which normally might have fed ten people. Given how hungry she was, and she suspected Cart was as well, she’d bet between the five of them, they’d made a good showing. He’d also heated up the side she’d made, so she added equal sized portions of the root vegetables from the pan next to it.

  She looked over the food. The meal needed something cool and crisp with it. She set them down on the counter and pulled out a cutting board from one of the lower cabinets as well as a metal bowl.

  A quick fennel slaw with oranges did the trick. Making it relaxed her, even with the hissing argument ensuing in the hall. Mona stacked some on their plates, then gestured Tania, who’d come in from the sunroom, and put some on her plate well. Nic already had his out and hovering.

  The whispered comments in the hall had gotten louder and harder to ignore.

  “Really, Cart, I cannot see why she needs to be here. You know how . . . interested I am in meeting the male elf of rank in this backwater and her—”

  Enough already.

  “Yo, Cart, grub’s ready,” Mona called out, using her shout-over-the-crowd bartender’s voice. She washed her hands and headed to the dining room. Out of the way, but with a decent view of the kitchen.

  “Gotcha.” Cart came through from the living room, walked over to where
she stood by the sideboard getting out napkins, and kissed her.

  Short, powerful, hard. He was clearly staking claim. She wished she could say she minded, but that was hard to do when her toes were curling.

  “Now comes the fun,” he said for her ears alone.

  They grinned and sat down at the table. Tania stood in the doorway, blocking their view, but also out of sight from the front hall.

  Titania Margaret’s voice floated out from the kitchen.

  “Well, hello.” Honey had nothing on the sweetness embedded in that accent. “Aren’t you the tall, dark, and handsome one? I’m Titania Margaret Dupree.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Titania Dupree.” Nic’s voice was entirely businesslike.

  “Margaret, you may call me Titania Margaret. And you are?”

  “Titania Margaret then. My friends, and I hope we will be friends, call me Nic.” He’d picked up on the situation, all right. Nic wasn’t slow. The way he said “friends” made it clear he was thinking platonic only. “Most Folk know me as Protector Niccolo Machiavelli Lombard.”

  There was a slight pause. He continued. “I would add at your service, however, I’m sure the elf I’m currently . . . attached to . . . might quibble with that.”

  “Oh, I doubt she’d give us much trouble, I’m after all a Titania.”

  And that, Mona realized, was Margaret in a nutshell. Beautiful, powerful, privileged, and not afraid to use any of it to get what she wanted. And right now she wanted Nic.

  Nic chuckled. “Indeed you are, however she is all that and more. Besides, family squabbles can get very messy. Better to just let things stay the way they are, don’t you think?”

  “Tania!” Margaret’s shriek of delight couldn’t be faked.

  He must have turned her to see Tania. Margaret came and embraced Tania, shooting the pair at the table a quick glare before stepping back.

  “You wicked girl, you, taking this handsome gentleman before I got here.” She put her arm though Tania’s and turned back to the kitchen. “I don’t suppose you’d be interested in sharing?”

  Mona couldn’t suppress her snort as she imagined the look on her straight-laced brother’s face.