Oberon Boxed Set (Books 1-3) Welcome to Oberon

by P. G. Forte

  “And this bear? What’s that mean?”

  “A bear?” She really didn’t like the fluttering sensation she was getting in the pit of her stomach now. She leaned forward to peer into his cup herself. “Where do you see a bear?”

  “Right here.” He pointed, and sure enough; it was unmistakably a bear, positioned just between the horseshoe and the angel, near the top of the cup, right next to the handle. Shit. “So?” he prompted. “I gather this is also not a good thing?”

  “No, actually, it’s fine,” she told him as she leaned back in her seat. “Bears means either a long journey or some type of healing. I just – that’s a very interesting cup, is all. You did good. If you ever need a job, I would definitely hire you to give readings at my shop.”

  “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind,” he said. And he seemed content to leave it at that, although she suspected he wasn’t completely satisfied with her explanation. It was true enough, though. The bear had a far more personal meaning for her, but that could have nothing to do with him. And she saw no reason to bring up the hourglass she had also noticed; a sign of imminent peril.

  Like she’d told him, it was a very interesting reading, and she seriously doubted she’d get a whole lot of sleep tonight because of it. And that, she thought, was exactly what she deserved for trying to match wits with a wizard.

  * * *

  The western sky was a vision out of some kind of fantasy, Sam thought, as they walked through the parking lot a little while later. Alternating bands of pink and blue stretched across the horizon, and the light that fell around them was a pale, pearly pink – completely unlike any natural light he’d ever seen before.

  “My God. Are the sunsets always like this around here?” he asked.

  Marsha stopped walking and looked around, considering the sky with eyes that seemed not to focus at all. She’d been especially quiet ever since that business with the tea leaves, and he was sure she’d seen something she hadn’t told him about. Just like right now, he’d bet that whatever she was seeing in the sky had nothing whatever to do with clouds, or color, or the fall of light.

  “No,” she said at last. “Not always. It’s kind of pretty, though. Isn’t it?”

  He shook his head. “Kind of pretty? Doll, it’s a whole lot more than that.” He had taken hold of her hand as they’d walked along, almost without realizing he’d done it. And now, as she turned to look at him, he was suddenly aware that the same tiny tremors he’d noticed earlier were still running through her. He wondered about that. It didn’t feel like nerves, but rather as if she really did have some kind of additional form of energy flowing through her. He thought of asking her what was causing it, but all at once, there was so much to focus on. Her eyes were wide and brightly green, and the breeze was lush with that same intoxicating fragrance he’d noticed the night before, something spicy and sweet, mingled with the sharp, almost smoky scent of seaweed and driftwood washed up on the shore.

  He stared back at her in silence, and forgot what he wanted to say. The world seemed to spin around them, or maybe it was just they who were spinning, because the next thing he knew, he’d somehow backed her against the side of her van, and was once again laying claim to her mouth. His body was pressed against hers, his forearms braced on the cool metal at either side of her head, while her hands, so incredibly warm, were gently cupping his face, sending thrills of heat and pleasure coursing all through him.

  He closed his eyes to better savor the sensations, and let his lips drift down to her neck. If he were a cat, he thought suddenly – and nearly laughed aloud at the image – he’d be purring right now. He wished they could stay like this forever.

  “What are you doing to me?” he heard her gasp. Her hands had slid off his face now, and were clenched in his shirt again.

  “Kissing you,” he murmured against her throat, feeling the fevered rush of her pulse beneath his lips, the thick slippery strands of her hair, which his hands had somehow found their way into, and which were now knotted tightly around them.

  “No. This isn’t just a kiss. This is... something more.”

  More? He lifted his head to look at her. “What is it, then?”

  “I don’t know,” Marsha admitted, frowning a little, as she thought about it. There was something going on between them that she didn’t understand. Something that kept leading her to do things she never intended to do, things she usually knew better than to even think about.

  “Uh-huh.” Sam smiled as if he found her puzzlement amusing. “It’s just a kiss,” he insisted as he brushed his lips against hers again. “See? Nothing to be afraid of.”

  “Mmm,” she murmured doubtfully.

  “Just a kiss,” he repeated, as his lips slid down her neck again, and this time he sounded as if he was reassuring himself, as much as her. “Just like the sunset is just a sunset, and tea leaves are only meaningless bits of tea, and that patio where we had dinner is nothing more than a bunch of picnic tables set up in a parking lot.”

  “Huh?” That caught her attention. “What are you talking about?”

  He lifted his head again. “You read way too much into some things, and other things I don’t think you see at all. I just can’t figure you out.”

  “What’d you just say about picnic tables?”

  “Quit trying to change the subject.” He smiled, and kissed her again.

  “I’m not,” she protested, a moment later. “You said picnic tables and I—”

  “It’s just as ridiculous as calling the sunset kind of pretty, isn’t it?”

  “—was just going to say those aren’t picnic tables.”

  “Which was exactly my point,” he muttered as his mouth grazed her ear. “At least... I think it was.”

  “The picnic tables are over on the other side of the parking lot,” she persisted, determined, despite the delicious tug of his teeth on her earlobe, to track down some connection she felt sure was there. Some detail she was missing, but which might be important. “Those tables on the patio are not—”

  “What did you say?” He straightened suddenly and stared at her, and she felt an uncomfortable chill sensation suddenly twisting her stomach into knots. “The picnic tables are where?”

  She turned her head and gestured at the thick hedge that walled the lot. “In there.”

  He turned his own head and followed her gaze, frowning as he said, “What are you talking about? That’s a bush.”

  She giggled at that. But the torquing sensation increased, almost as if some of his tension was communicating itself to her. What was he so tense about, all of a sudden? “It’s not as solid as it looks. There’s actually a path through it, leading to a little clearing. Which is where the picnic tables are.”

  “Is it— I mean... that isn’t the kind of thing everyone around here would know about, is it?”

  “Well yeah, sure.” She looked at him curiously. “It’s been there longer than the restaurant has. It’s real popular with high school kids. You know, they go in there to drink or make out. Or…well, you can imagine.”

  “Show me,” he said pushing away from the van and grabbing her hand. “I want to see this for myself. Now.”

  “No.” She pulled her hand away. She didn’t know why, but there was no way she was going into that place. Not now. And definitely not with him. Not while he was acting so strangely. “No, I – I don’t want to.”

  He looked at her coldly. “What’s the matter?”

  She shrugged. “Nothing. I just—”

  “What are you so afraid of? Surely you don’t think I’m so desperate I have to lure you into some bushes so I can have my way with you?”

  “What? No!” What was she afraid of? She didn’t know where any of this was coming from, but she was frightened, and angry, as well. “Well, I don’t know, Sam... are you desperate?”

  “Hell no!” he growled, gazing at her as if having his way with her was the last thing he’d ever think of doing.

  “Well, good then!�
� She could feel anger sparking in the air between them as they glared at each other.

  He threw up his hands suddenly, turned and stalked away without another word. She watched him go, her fury receding right along with him, until nothing was left but a terrible sense of loss.

  I don’t believe this! Sam thought to himself as he stormed across the parking lot. The woman was out of her mind. There couldn’t be any damn picnic area hidden in that tangled growth. There was just no way there could be! Because if there were, he didn’t even want to think about what that might mean.

  I’ll meet you by the picnic tables. In the parking lot behind Beach Hoppers, the voice on the phone had said the other night. Do you know the place I mean, she’d asked. And he thought he had. But if he hadn’t gone to the right place—?

  He stepped over the creosote-treated log at the edge of the lot. There had been cars parked all along here yesterday morning and he hadn’t examined the bushes all that closely. Why the hell would he have? But now that he knew what he was looking for, the beginnings of the path were easy enough to find. He followed along it, stepping gingerly on moss covered stepping stones for several yards, until the path turned once more and opened suddenly on a roughly circular clearing, furnished with what, by anybody’s definition, were undeniably picnic tables.

  “Oh, fuck,” Sam whispered, suddenly breathless. A small voice set up a steady chant inside his head, he did his best not to listen.

  If this was the picnic area she had referred to, then he was the one who never made it to the meeting yesterday morning. Which meant that... maybe she had been here to meet him after all?

  Well, of course she was. That’s how she ended up dead, isn’t it?

  She’d come here to meet with him, and instead she met up with someone who had killed her.

  And if he hadn’t misunderstood? If he’d come here, too?

  Shit. He had to get out of this place. Now. Right now.

  The little voice in his head was chanting louder, the words were clearer, but he still refused to hear them. He turned, blindly, pushing his way quickly back up the path until he’d reached the parking lot. Picking up speed as he crossed the open lot, heading straight for his bike. Within minutes he was racing back toward the safety of the canyons. Going to ground, just like a hunted animal.

  “Just like Lou. Just like Lou. Just like Lou.” The chanting had grown too loud to ignore now, and no matter how badly he wanted to argue that it was all just a gigantic coincidence, he couldn’t.

  He didn’t believe coincidences occurred on that large a scale. Not even in a place like this.

  Back to Top

  * * * *

  Chapter Sixteen

  * * * *

  Marsha could hear it through her bedroom wall. Scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch. Pause. Then, scratch, scratch, scratch. Longer pause. And then, scritch-scritch-scrtch-scritch-scritch. The sound of teeth against a nutshell, or a kernel of dried corn, or a stale crust of bread. Rodent teeth. Turning over in bed, she buried her head under the pillows, but it didn’t help.

  Scritch, scritch, scritch, scritch, scritch.

  She had tried humane traps, and had safely caught a mouse and released it outside. Several times now, over the last few months. But either the same mouse kept getting back in, as she’d heard they sometimes did if you didn’t release them far enough away, or else she was dealing with more than one mouse. Maybe a lot more.

  Best not to think too much about that.

  She knew she should just give in to the inevitable and buy conventional traps, or perhaps poison, but she couldn’t do it. Not yet. What was the point of calling yourself a vegetarian and a pacifist if you were going to kill off any creature who annoyed you? If that were the criteria she was going to live by, she could think of plenty of people she’d be happy to send to the afterlife.

  Alex, for example.

  She had returned home from Beach Hoppers tonight to find her ex-husband waiting for her. Inside her house. Sitting in her favorite antique California Mission oak armchair – and imbuing it with his energy, damn him.

  That was what the little voice in her head had been trying to tell her when Sam asked her to have dinner with him, that Alex would be bringing the boys back tonight, instead of tomorrow, as planned.

  “Well, it’s about time you got home,” he’d had the nerve to rebuke her. “Where have you been? The boys were trying all day to reach you.”

  Marsha bit back the sharp retort that sprang to her lips. She’d learned over the years that responding to Alex’s taunts and jabs would only prolong their encounters. “Sorry about that guys. I guess I forgot to turn my cell phone back on after church this morning.” She directed her answer not to Alex, to whom she didn’t owe any kind of explanation, but to her sons, who were lounging on the couch in attitudes indicative of extreme boredom.

  They knew how she felt about their father being there, and they’d probably stayed here in the living room – or however long they’d been forced to wait – as a means of trying to prevent him from snooping around the house. It infuriated her that he would put their children in such an untenable position, over and over again. It wasn’t as if they could actually do anything to stop him. And, despite their attempts, she couldn’t help but notice how her bills had been fanned out on the desk in the corner of the room.

  “What were you calling me about?” she asked the boys.

  “Well, obviously, they were trying to find out where their mother had gone.” Alex responded grumpily. “I suppose they also thought you might want to have dinner ready for them.”

  She barely suppressed an angry sigh. She was not in the mood to deal with any more irrational males this evening. “Well, you usually give the boys dinner on Sunday, Alex, don’t you?” she reminded him. Although why she would have to remind him of something like that, she didn’t know. And also on Fridays, when you feel like actually showing up, she just managed not to add. “Does this mean you guys haven’t eaten?”

  Once again, Alex answered for the boys, both of whom were being uncharacteristically quiet. “Marsha, if they had already eaten, why would they want you to cook dinner for them?”

  She’d gazed at him tiredly. Really, there was a lot to be said for a woman-oriented lifestyle. Not that women were necessarily less temperamental to deal with, but at least they occasionally said something that made sense!

  “Well, whatever. I suppose that means no. Anyway, I’m home now Alex, so I guess you can leave, can’t you?”

  Right. Like he’d have waited for her if he hadn’t wanted to. Like he hadn’t left the boys alone often enough before, when it suited him.

  “Not so fast.” His gaze took in her appearance, eye narrowing as he studied her face. “What have you been doing all day?”

  It wasn’t any of his business. But refusing to answer would cause him to speculate a number of rude and insulting possibilities. And that could only end up hurting the boys. She gritted her teeth. “I was out at Celeste’s cabin, if you must know. It’s been rented, and I had to pack up some of her things.”

  A shadow seemed to pass through the room at the mention of her friend’s name. Alex’s mouth tightened. “I don’t understand why you insist on making such a chore of that You should have tossed the whole lot out months ago,” he grumbled, and then added quietly, “But I guess you always did have a problem letting go, didn’t you?”

  Her gaze faltered and she had to look away. She’d had a problem letting him go – that’s what he was implying. And he was right. She had tried way too hard to hold him. Never again.

  “I understand the boys already told you about the baby?” he asked, sounding smug again.

  She felt the knots already twisting in her stomach pull tighter. “Yes, they did. Congratulations, Alex. I’m sure you’ll all be very happy.”

  Alex nodded complacently. “Yes, I’m sure we will be. But the point I was making is that since I am obviously going to have more obligations at home soon, you are really
going to have to start pulling a little more of the, uh... weight, shall we say... around here?” He looked at her so pointedly it took every ounce of self-control she had to keep from exploding – or doing something else she’d regret even more.

  Just give him one zap to his solar plexus. It would feel so good right now, a part of her was whining. And, for a moment, she really had to struggle for self-control. Then a memory surfaced – the look in Sam’s eyes this evening, candlelight sparkling within them as he said, You certainly do not look like any kind of freak. And then earlier, at the cabin – lovely, he’d called her. He hadn’t seemed to have an issue with her weight.

  She smiled as she felt Alex’s barb fade harmlessly away. “Well, Alex, I’m sure we can work something out. Now, if you don’t mind?”

  The complacency left his face, and he gave her one more searching stare, but she’d had enough. She shook her head. “Good-bye, Alex. We’ll see you on Friday.”

  “So, guys,” she managed to say, brightly enough she thought, after Alex had finally departed. “How was your weekend?”

  “What do you think?” Frank’s tone implied that only an idiot would even ask such a question.

  Jesse, as usual, was more direct. “It sucked, Mom.” Both boys spared her all of one disgusted look, before they retreated to their room.

  And that, she thought sadly, pretty much summed things up.

  Scritch, scritch, scritch.

  Finally giving up on the idea of trying to sleep, Marsha padded into the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea. The kitchen, normally warm and cozy, held little comfort tonight. The underlying smell of mouse made everything seem greasily unclean. Even the tiles beneath her bare feet seemed grimier than they should have been. She wrinkled her nose in disgust and let her eyes wander over the open shelves that lined one wall. Everything was safe. The shelves held glass jars filled with tea and spices, herbs and grains, flour, sugar, honey, cereal, rice, crackers and other staples. Sealed glass jars. Mouse-proof glass jars. But all the same—