Magic & Mayhem

by Susan Conley

  “Ignorance is no defense. Tell me, how is life without the warrior?”

  Empty, lonely, meaningless. “Fine, I’m just fine without him.”

  Finn swept backwards to perch on the toilet tank. It unnerved her to no end. “The warrior’s not fine without you. I bring news from the Upper World, dear Bethia. The Old Ones have decided to make an example of your warrior and reward his undying, unswerving faith to his true love — you. But if you’re doing just fine without him … .”

  Beth’s cool heart got a jolt of fire. Reward Calum? How? “Don’t mess with me, Finn. Are you telling me Calum can come back?”

  “It all depends on you, Bethia. Wish him back in your life, and I’ll tell you where to find him.”

  “Oh,” she said weakly, feeling like a tree about to go over. Then she remembered who she was talking to. “What do I have to do this time, Finn?”

  The creature had the thinnest, most mischievous smile she’d ever seen. It wasn’t wicked or haunting, but was child–like, although she didn’t think for a minute the elf held the innocence of a babe.

  “I’m finished with you and your warrior,” he said. “I’m about to start another game — my work is endless. Yours played out rather well, don’t you think?”

  “No, Finn, I don’t think so. You know why? Because losing Calum was agony. Perhaps you don’t know what it’s like to have a wasteland for a heart. There’s no end to my wanting him. I can’t imagine anything worse.”

  “Ah, but you know now, don’t you?”

  It was true. “That I want Calum? Yes. Loud and clear.” And how many times had Calum suffered this agony over losing her? She suspected more than a few. “If he can’t return here, to Earth, I’m willing to go back to that world of yours if I can be with him.”

  “To monotony, Bethia? That’s the true wasteland. Just the two of you, cut off from family, friends, day after day, with no satisfying work to do.”

  Possibly, but she was beginning to feel desperate, and it was easier to make sacrifices in that state. Easier wasn’t smart. She envisioned a more desirable scenario. “You have a point, Finn. So how powerful are the Old Ones anyway? Can they wipe out the memories of those policemen, clear the record of Calum’s confession? Can you? Because he can’t be free with that hanging over his head.”

  “No. They can’t do that. The news of your warrior’s confession was printed and read in the newspaper by all sorts of humans. It’s much too complicated now.”

  “But that’s not fair. He only confessed to spare me, and — ”

  “I know,” Finn interrupted. “You need not explain it to me. Don’t forget, it was my game.”

  “Okay. So, Mister-Playing-With-Real-People-Is-Just-A-Game-To-Me, how can Calum and I be together then?”

  “I told you I’m not pleased with the state of you mortals. The Old Ones have left you too much on your own, and frankly, Earth is a mess. There were never enough of you to affect us, but that’s changed now that you humans have become overpopulated and all–consuming. Human passion is misdirected. While passion for art or music is good energy for our worlds, most of you have forgotten the most important quest — true love — the universe requires it.”

  “If things don’t change here on Earth, then my people will be forced to find a new home — and it’s no fun being displaced. I abhor moving. That brings me back to you. Good work, Bethia. You’ve always loved Calum well.”

  Had she? Except for the times she was telling him never to speak to her again. Why did that have to be the last thing she said to him?

  Finn still hadn’t explained how Calum could return. “You humans, restricted by your brains and your scientific methods, are still arrogant enough to believe you have a great understanding of the workings of the worlds. But, Bethia, you understand little more than fish in a pond. So I’ll explain it to you simply. Calum has been living a life on Earth for twenty–eight years now. He works with his hands as a designer and builder.”

  “What? Calum who? I don’t get it.”

  “Don’t try to understand it, Bethia. Acceptance is all you need do. Calum lives in Scotland — no surprise to you, I’d assume. When he began his term as your spirit guide, his recollection of the life he was simultaneously living on Earth was veiled, so he could focus on you without distraction. Upon his return to Seraphina, The Old Ones showed him how the energy of the soul may split to manage more than one task.”

  Beth’s mind felt like a pretzel. “So you’re telling me that some guy in Scotland is the same Calum I met here. How could he have any memory of me?”

  “He doesn’t. He is a mere human in every sense.”

  “No way. I don’t believe it.”

  “That’s too bad. Because the only way for you and Calum to be together in this life, is if you accept what I’ve told you.”

  Beth let out a deep breath. Could her life get more bizarre? She hated to broach the thought. “Does he look the same?”

  “For the most part. His present day form descends from the ancient warrior you knew and is strikingly similar. I don’t lack foresight, Bethia. The Calum of today is not made of as much muscle as the Calum you knew, but he carries the same look. He was given the name Colin, but he’d answer to his soul name Calum and not even know why.”

  “This is so odd, Finn.”

  “Will you go to him, Bethia?”

  “He won’t recognise me?”

  “He’ll be struck by you. Recognition will come later.”

  Beth didn’t have to think hard. Calum’s feet were on Earth, not a wee bit off, not in a world between. He was here and he would soon be back in her life. One tear escaped before she sniffed and straightened up. “Yes, I’ll go to him — in a heartbeat. Where do I find him?”

  Chapter 31

  Has Anyone Seen the Flute Player?

  Beth hugged her dad goodbye, checked her bag through airport security, and walked to the gate.

  It had been a month since Finn had popped in. At first she wanted to get to Calum immediately, but then when reality sank in, if she could call it that, she got cold feet.

  He would be a stranger to her, and she’d be in the exact position he had when he’d first come to Ashbury. She had a new respect for him. It had taken guts to come to her, although he’d had an advantage. She couldn’t throw him over her shoulder and steal him away until he fell in love with her again.

  The plane landed in Edinburgh at one in the afternoon Scottish time. Beth caught a cab from the airport to the hotel. She fell in love with the old town at first sight. The majestic clock tower and spires of St. Mary’s Cathedral rose above the chimney pots of old houses. She’d not realized that Edinburgh Castle was in the middle of the city, but there it was, strikingly perched on the crags of an ancient volcano, so said the cab driver who explained that men had inhabited Castle Rock from as far back as the Bronze Age.

  Imaginings ran through her like a conductor for ancient currents. Considering Calum’s love of Scotland how could she not have been there at some point in history? Beth pictured herself safe in the fortress long ago.

  Tension ran under her skin and increased to a fine drone. He was here.

  Finn had told her the name of Calum’s store and its location, but she’d not been able to find it on the Internet. She pictured a little shop smelling of wood chips, a mist of fine sawdust floating in a beam of sunlight over finely crafted tables and chairs. She’d chosen a hotel on Grassmarket because it was close to Crafted by Cunninghams, Calum’s business.

  After checking in, Beth showered, carefully applied her makeup and dressed. For the pièce de résistance, she slipped into the black–and–white tartan dress Calum had bought her in Quebec City. A bit dressy for daytime, but hopefully it would ignite a memory, and she had to go now if she expected to find him at work. Standing in front of the mirror, she smooth
ed her dress and blotted a smudge of mascara off her eyelid. Okay. No more stalling.

  The day was flooded in sunlight — no small blessing. She had put Scotland and rain together and had been worried about showing up with no dazzle and too much drizzle. With her Versace sunglasses perched on her nose, she clacked down the walk in her high heels. The lady at the hotel desk had verified she could follow Victoria Street to the Grassmarket.

  Normally, Beth would need blinders to walk past those shop windows and keep on course, but she hardly noticed the shoes that would match her new chartreuse dress. Since she’d pictured a little wood shop, she nearly walked right by Crafted by Cunninghams. The store stretched the length of three shop fronts and had a row of kitchen cabinets on display in the windows.

  A bell tinkled as she pulled open the antique oak door and stepped inside. Rich, dark paneling gleamed from the back wall. Along the side wall hung various door styles, ranging in trim and colours. The show room was short with a faint smell of varnish. A saw’s buzz sounded from what must have been a workroom in the back. She headed for a trestle table where a man leaned over a sheaf of drawings. Darn. Not Calum.

  He looked up, a pencil stuck in his teeth.

  “Hi there,” she said. “I’m looking for Calum Cunningham. I heard he works here.”

  “Do you mean Colin?” The brawny man tucked the pencil in over his ear. Geez, another one built like a brick house. Though he was older than Calum, he had to be related. It wasn’t just the same square chin — it was the smile. Not smoldering but definitely warm.

  “Oh right. Yes, Colin. Is he here?”

  The guy shook his head. “No. He’s gone for a pint. May I be of service?”

  Beth hid her disappointment in a pretend smile. “No, thank you. I wouldn’t mind a pint though. Do you know where he went?”

  His eyes flicked over Beth’s hot pink jacket and designer dress to her strappy black pumps. “You’ll find him at Auld Reekie’s.”

  “Auld Reekie’s?” She stifled a chuckle instantly picturing a rank tavern thick with smoke. “And where would that be?”

  “Out the door to the left, then carry on. It’s not far. You can’t miss it.”

  Ten steps into that pub had Beth yearning for the smoke–free establishments back home. “Ugh.” Just like London. Her plan felt weak. She would tell Calum she needed a cabinet built and he’d been recommended for the job. It was her hope that he would be drawn magically to her, and the rest, history, again.

  She stood in the doorway scanning the place — no Calum in the immediacy. Best fortify her nerve at the bar. The bar chairs were half filled. She slipped the jacket off her shoulders, hung it over the back of the chair and ordered what else? A whiskey. Just one to clear her head, well, it worked for Calum.

  As she waited for her drink, she wondered how to awaken the spirit’s memory. And where exactly did that lie? Memories start with a sensory experience then are magically transferred to brain matter. That’s it. Better to define it all as magic. She should have majored in magic.

  The bartender slipped a coaster across the bar and placed her glass in front of her.

  She wrapped her hand around the glass. “Thanks. Do you know Colin Cunningham?”

  He wiped his beefy hands on his apron, gave her a quick look–over, and smiled. “I do. He’s with the lads in the back. They’re wanting him to play a set tonight.”

  Play a set? That was interesting — go figure the man had hidden talents. “What does Colin play?”

  “Most times, it’s the flute, but he’s not half bad on the fiddle.”

  She loved the flute. Her knees twitched. Don’t buckle on me now. He hadn’t played one heavenly note yet.

  “Pardon me,” he said, catching the eye of a woman motioning him over.

  Calum was somewhere in the back! She had to see him now. Leaving money on the bar, she scooped her coat over her arm, picked up her drink, and headed to the back.

  The pub was divided into rooms, the rearmost larger than the front, with a different feeling, a nighttime ambiance, no windows. Beth counted six occupied tables as she stood in the doorway and checked the features of each occupant, quickly ruling out four tables of women and men too old to be Calum.

  Would she recognize him? Yes, Finn said he looked much the same. Knowing he was close by sent her heart all a–pitter–patter. She headed to a table closer to the back. A raised platform was situated in the corner where instruments were being set up. She noticed the harp right away, make that harps, there were two. And more strings — a guitar and fiddle. Where was the flute player?

  Tossing her coat onto a chair, she sat down just off the side of the platform. Not one man in the place radiated sensual heat. No crème–caramel hair, no sexy five–o’clock–shadowed jaw, no heavenly fanfare. Where was he?

  She angled her chair toward the stage, leaned back and crossed her legs. An ice cube clunked against her top lip as she tilted the glass. Whiskey dripping from her chin — that’d make a fine, second first impression. She returned the glass firmly to the table and spent a few minutes wringing her hands. Calum lived there as a guy named Colin and had no memory of her. How bizarre was that?

  “Ah, lass, you’re a bit early for the entertainment, but perhaps you’d be an approving audience for a wee practice.” The voice, smooth as cognac, had come from behind her then swirled round and floated down in a softer brogue than she’d expected, but with no less effect on her heart that promptly stopped.

  “I’m not so adept, but they’re making me play.” His smile rose to his eyes and was ancient in its familiarity. He held her eyes as if he might have more to say; yet he winked and left her sitting there open–mouthed. Calum joined the men on the platform, a wooden flute clasped in one hand by his thigh.

  Chapter 32

  To Sleuth in Pink

  The love of her lives was 10 feet away. How could she have doubted recognizing him? Every nerve in Beth’s body woke, purring like a million kittens arching their backs, rubbing against a leg, rolling over — scratch my tummy. It was a battle of will to stay put in the chair and not slip her hands under his shirt.

  Oh, he looked good. From where she sat, she’d be hard–pressed to find differences, though she fully intended to examine him closer, starting immediately. His hair was the same crème–caramel colour but cut more stylishly, not as long. Eyes still sky blue, but younger somehow. Same feline shape to his face, square jaw, shadows under his cheekbones — clean–shaven though. The breadth of shoulders was not as wide, and he still had a perfect butt. Warrior didn’t come to mind, but there was nothing slick or urban about him either, rather he looked like a man of the woods, possibly due to the fine sawdust that clung to the hem of his pants.

  Calum said something to a man with a guitar; the man looked over at Beth and nodded. She was the official audience now. The guitar was laid aside for a fiddle.

  The fiddle player tested his strings with a few short notes. He started then stopped, and then started again grinning at Calum.

  “All right then, here we go.” He launched into a quick and light tune Beth didn’t recognize. Then Calum joined him. The nimble notes snapped off the flute. He’s modest, she thought, sitting up straighter in her chair.

  The two instruments complemented each other. Calum’s body moved gracefully with his music. His fingers flew over the holes and the look on his face was alive as the flute conversed with the fiddle. All conversation died behind her. She felt the vigour of the music down to her toes as her eyes trained on the flute player.

  The last note sounded and Calum held it, his lips poised over the instrument until the song faded.

  Beth whistled and clapped with the sparse audience. Calum nodded his head and looked over at her, his gaze warm, smiling and holding hers, holding …

  “Never mind the flute, Colin love, come and play me
, won’t you?” called a tarty voice from behind Beth.

  Calum’s attention was diverted. Darn! Just when they were making eye contact. What kind of wanton women were they letting into this place?

  Beth turned to see who had spoken. Yeck. A woman leaned against the back of a chair, a top–heavy, skinny thing with long bare legs because her skirt barely covered her butt, and short, black lacquer-like hair. The kind of bawdy look men noticed.

  The sound of Calum’s voice drew her attention. “You flatter me, Lizzie, but I’m not nearly practiced enough for such an instrument as yourself.”

  Good one, Calum, Beth thought.

  “You leave your wooden flute over there, and I’ll teach you what to do with that mouth,” said the floosie.

  “Now there’s proof that music charms the savage beast,” Beth said under her breath, but not so quiet to escape Calum’s ears.

  He snorted a laugh and looked over to her.

  “Ah, a newcomer. We should play for you, lass.” His eyes flicked so quickly up and down her body that the look–over was almost imperceptible. “You’ve surely come far to visit our fair land of brown heath and shaggy wood, no?”

  She didn’t hear what he said to the fiddle player before he raised his flute. This time he played a satiny soft serenade, his eyes on hers, telling a stirring story. It was a good thing she was sitting. The long, lush lilt was a string of notes he played truly to unravel her. Minstrel vibrations sang deeply, intimately, not from the flute but from his eyes, from the melodious wave that ebbed and flowed between them. Did he feel it as well?

  When his lips rose off the flute and the song ended there was no clapping, no noise at all, dead silence. The world shut down with only space left between Beth and Calum. It was humanly impossible for her to tear her eyes from his. Then he smiled and when the world came back she realised it had been there all along.

  Now that was a connection.