by Phil Stern
Many witches privately admitted feeling nervous in the shadowy portal between worlds, sometimes becoming disoriented and confused. Yet Tiffany always felt sharp and invigorated when here, reveling in the endless expression of creative, vibrant energy.
Soon the glowing hummingbirds flew down, circling and chirping anxiously. No doubt they wondered if she wished to follow Keri and the rest, who had so recently emerged from the same dimension.
“No, my loves,” Tiffany soothed, stroking a winged companion lightly on the head. “I’m not going to Haven. Take me to Earth.”
Chirping in assent, the Boundary guides circled briefly, then struck off in a deliberate direction. Tiffany followed, one of the winged guides always circling back to make sure the sorceress was still there. After several steps a rough pathway formed before her, helping convey Tiffany through the turbulent landscape.
Soon a tall, strong unicorn matched her pace off to one side, it’s very young colt wandering towards Tiffany in amazed wonder. For centuries their inter-dimensional companions and protectors, the unicorns would sometimes accompany a sorceress into an outer world. Of course, that had to be an openly magical place, or the unicorn risked creating quite a stir.
Apparently meeting a human for the first time, the baby unicorn trotted right up to her. Fortunately, Tiffany had plenty of experience with inexperienced colts. Nimbly stepping from its path, she gently guided the dangerous horn safely to one side. Petting him on the neck and head, Tiffany then carefully touched the tip of his horn, giving the youngster a sense of how far his natural weapon reached.
Stepping back, the young equine first looked confused, then almost embarrassed. Laughing, Tiffany gave the precocious colt a hug and kiss, urging him back to his mother. With an irritated snort, he galloped off through the hazy twilight.
An indeterminate time later (for there was no way to measure such things in the Boundary), the hummingbirds led her to a particularly thick patch of mist, alive with streaks of light and energy. The unicorn and its colt now disappeared entirely. A single hummingbird carefully guided Tiffany as close as she dared to the Boundary portal, rubbed against her cheek, and then flew off. Walking straight forward, the foggy mist slowly dissipated, replaced by a light, northern wood on Earth’s North American continent.
Two years ago, before defeating Lord Gensrow, Tiffany would simply stand in place as the Boundary haze blew away entirely, letting her senses gradually acclimate to a new world. Now, she immediately sought cover next to a large tree, listening and scanning for enemies. By the time all evidence of the portal had disappeared, the sorceress was satisfied she was alone.
Actually, she should have taken such precautions even before the mad wizard appeared. There were plenty of beings with “local” magic in the dimensions they visited, some of them quite powerful. The Coven was lucky someone hadn’t staked out a Boundary portal before, laying in ambush for them.
Or maybe some unfortunate girl had already been waylaid in just such a fashion? Clearly, the Coven Council didn’t always share everything they knew of the universe and it’s dangers.
In any event, Earth was about as safe a dimension as they visited, at least when it came to magic. Smiling, Tiffany struck off for a trail about half-a-mile distant, which a mile later emptied into the parking lot of a town park. Two minutes later she was across the main road at a strip mall, where her car was parked.
Ducking into a chain store pharmacy to pick up a few things, Tiffany couldn’t help noticing that everyone was staring at her. One older woman even pointedly muttered, “Well, I never!” and stalked off.
Aghast, the sorceress suddenly realized she’d never changed out of the jet-black action suit, with the long, sleek black boots and gloves. Nervously going through the checkout line, Tiffany nearly ran out to her older model car. Pulling keys from a small, magical “overnight” bag, which always stayed with her through any clothing changes, she yanked open the door and gratefully sank down into the driver’s seat. Five minutes later, alone on the open highway, she magically changed to sedate slacks and a light blue blouse, earth stone once more hanging from a necklace.
The early afternoon traffic was fairly light. Twenty minutes later she was pulling into the parking lot underneath a Philadelphia apartment building, taking the elevator up to her shared home.
She and Blake had been dating for some time, moving in together only the month before. A member of the Philadelphia Police Department, he’d just been appointed to the detectives’ bureau. They were attending a ceremony and dinner that night in honor of the promotion.
Though Tiffany’s relationship was none of Keri’s business, her irritating Coven-mate was entirely correct about one thing. Young witches in their prime were supposed to “spread the magic” when operating in other dimensions. It was through these types of promiscuous encounters, deliberately sought with older, abusive men, that a Coven sorceress passed innate magical ability to the next generation. Once unknowingly imbued with the witch’s magical essence, these men would then impregnate their long-suffering wives, who in turn would give birth to a magical child. Generally, though not always, the men were thereafter unable to produce any more children.
Of course, the presumption was that these hardened, sour cheaters would sire many children anyway, whether the Coven intervened or not. So why not give their final progeny the means to eventually save both themselves and their mothers from his power?
But like everything else with the Coven, Tiffany had come to realize such moral equations weren’t quite so simple.
For one thing, there was very little chance that a Coven sorceress, even if she were so inclined, could ever reconcile with her own highly-flawed sire. Tiffany’s father, in fact, had fallen from a cliff, in a drunken stupor, after his family had been taken from him. Now Tiffany was also estranged from her mother, who blamed her for his death.
And maybe, just maybe, these men weren’t all bad? Obviously, the Prefect had been a lost cause. But just because a man seemed a bit callous, cheating on his wife with an attractive young sorceress, did that give them the right to one day permanently separate his family?
A Coven witch, of course, wasn’t supposed to worry about such things. Yet Tiffany, perhaps alone among her sisters, often did.
Lost in her ruminations, Tiffany absentmindedly entered their apartment, firmly closing the door behind her. Throwing herself down on the couch, she let out a satisfied sigh. Merlin, their cuddly tabby cat, immediately jumped up beside Tiffany, purring loudly.
“Hey, babe. I’m glad your home.”
Surprised, Tiffany quickly sat up, a hand automatically coming up to her earth stone. Nearly knocked from the couch, Merlin gave her a sharp look.
Laughing, Blake walked into the living room. Leaning down, he kissed Tiffany’s neck, his hand running through her long, dark hair.
“My goodness.” Still ramped up from Tethra, Tiffany sat back, staring into her lover’s strong, sensitive eyes. “I didn’t expect you to be home yet.”
“Well, the city’s criminal element seems to be taking the day off.” Smiling, he now fully dislodged Merlin from the small sofa, sitting down beside her. “And I thought you might enjoy some private time before tonight’s festivities.”
“Private time? With Philadelphia’s newest detective?” Blushing, she pushed up against him. “Is there anything you need to investigate?”
“Always,” Blake breathed, his lips now fully pressing up against hers. In a moment he’d lifted off Tiffany’s shirt, his hands reaching around to gently unclasp her bra. Hypersensitized to Blake’s touch, Tiffany felt surges of energy throughout her entire body, her thoughts soon losing all rational coherence.
They’d first met a year ago, after she’d come across a story about a girl who’d suffered a “breakdown” at a Philadelphia group home. Apparently, the young teenager had been complaining of dreams involving green fire and other worlds. Soon, the visions had invaded her waking hours, the episodes becoming more and more
vivid.
This, of course, was symptomatic not of mental illness, but of a rogue sorceress having somehow escaped the Coven’s attention. Orphaned at age seven, after her mother had killed her father, she’d never been rescued and taken off to Haven. Now thirteen years old, and with no other family to take her in, this wayward witch had been in the foster care system for six years.
Blake and his uniformed partner had first answered the call at the facility. In her guise as a magazine reporter, Tiffany had traveled down from her home in suburban New York to interview Officer Stanton about the incident. The handsome policeman had politely confirmed every detail of his official report, then had asked Tiffany for her phone number.
Two days later the girl was safely whisked off to the Coven’s home dimension, where despite her very late start in life as a sorceress, she was now doing quite well.
As were Blake and Tiffany. An hour after entering her apartment, Tiffany found herself draped over the front of the couch, looking at her own underclothes strewn across the floor. As usual, her body was nearly out of control, still quivering from the intensity of the shared experience.
Blake was laying on his side, back against the cushions, facing outward. Slowly she slid a hand over to his naked chest, reassuring herself that he was still breathing.
“That was incredible,” he finally managed to gasp, arm splayed over his face.
“It was,” she sighed. Trying to appear at least somewhat ladylike, Tiffany sat up and leaned back against his legs.
“I love you so much.” Pulling Tiffany down to him, Blake kissed her fully on the lips. “You mean the world to me.”
“Relax, my love.” Smiling, she gently closed his eyes. “Sleep for an hour, then we have to go.”
“Sure,” he mumbled, already drifting off.
Without question, a steady, committed relationship was directly in conflict with her life and responsibilities to the Coven. Yet the only magic she was interested in spreading now was here with Blake. He touched something deep inside of her, fully integrating her sexual and emotional lives. In her early days, blazing a magical trail across the universe, she’d dreamed of a relationship like this. And now that she’d somehow found it, Tiffany had no intention of letting him go.
But how long could the current situation last? Another year? Maybe two? Eventually, Blake would want to get married, maybe even have children. What on earth, or anywhere else, for that matter, would the Coven Council have to say about that? Even to suggest such a thing would be absolutely scandalous.
Oh, and there was one other small problem. Blake knew nothing of her real life as a sorceress. As far as he was aware, Tiffany was just a normal young woman, born and raised in his home dimension, working as a reporter. That could be an issue someday.
Yet somehow, when they were together, none of that seemed to matter. For Tiffany, accustomed to rationally evaluating every factor in her life, that was a very odd sensation indeed.
CHAPTER TWO
TIFFANY LIKED WATCHING the various storefronts and intersecting blocks slide by as they drove downtown. From the passenger seat, she was free to just sit back and relax, observing her now-resident world from a whole different perspective.
Growing up on the Dythian system, she was used to riding in all kinds of amazing vehicles. There were gravity-defying aircars for hops around the continent, and then larger craft for traveling among the Three Planets. Her family even had a convertible Water Demon, which cruised over the surface like a speed boat, but could also encase itself in a strong shield and slip beneath the waves as a submarine. One of her happiest childhood memories was watching a pod of astounding glowfish surround their submerged craft, pulsing bright hues of green, blue, and yellow.
But while Earth was less technologically advanced than Dytha (which, in turn, was less accomplished than other places she’d visited), automobiles were very cool. It was a wonderfully personal way to travel, allowing for speed, versatility, and optimal control. You could take a long trip on a whim, stopping off in any small town that caught your fancy along the way. Or, as they were doing tonight, enjoy some time alone before arriving at a social function.
“Thanks, babe. I know you had to rearrange your schedule for this.” Smiling, Blake looked over at her. “And you look stunning tonight.”
“So do you, Detective.” Indeed, Blake was positively dashing in his new suit and sharp tie. “All the women will be paying close attention, I’m sure.”
“Tiff, no one pays any attention to anyone else when you’re around, and you know it.”
“Well, whose fault is that?” Actually, she’d wanted to wear a demure business suit for the occasion, but Blake had insisted she put on a tight, light-blue evening dress. “I wanted this night to be all about you.”
“It’s about both of us.” He idly laid a hand on her leg. “Or have you forgotten already?”
“Oh, no.” Tiffany blushed, her skin tingling beneath the light fabric. “Not at all.”
They soon pulled up before a large banquet hall, a valet gallantly pulling open her door. Blake then led them both inside, the couple finding their seats at a round table near the front before heading off to the bar.
For a half-hour Tiffany circulated around the hall, her hand lightly on Blake’s arm. Every senior officer in the department was there, as well as the Deputy Mayor and several City Councilmen. All the men made a point of complimenting Blake on his date, the women either warmly smiling or coolly standing back. A few roguish detectives even teased Blake that Tiffany was a bit above his “pay grade.” Laughing, she would pull him even closer, saying that Blake was in fact above hers.
Being a reporter was perfect cover for her travels around Earth, as well as helping explain her frequent absences in other dimensions. But it often made for awkward moments during social occasions, especially when dealing with the police. So, when everyone inevitably asked about her profession, she would try to look slightly frustrated and vaguely claim she was a “writer.” Though that was also a bit alarming to some, it at least spared her the full, disconcerting glare.
Then again, Tiffany thought while taking a small sip of wine, it raised fewer questions than saying she was a witch. Now that would cause a stir.
However, downplaying her career also had its drawbacks. “Well,” one older woman awkwardly observed, giving her hand a consoling squeeze. “I’m sure you and Blake will be marrying and having children soon! Then you won’t have to worry about a job and all that.”
“I know!” Tiffany did her best to appear appropriately wistful. “I can’t wait!”
“Were you ever a model?” The woman’s husband, a senior detective, openly stared at her. “You certainly have the look.”
“Well, you know.” Brushing long, dark hair back from her face, Tiffany once more wished she’d worn something a bit higher cut. “Blake brings out the best in me.”
“He sure does,” the man grunted, his wife now pointedly looking in another direction.
By this point Blake had drifted several feet off, drawn into a conversation with two other officers. As the detective’s wife firmly led her husband away, Tiffany was momentarily alone.
“It gets old, doesn’t it?” Seemingly appearing out of thin air at her elbow, the red-haired woman nodded at the retreating couple. In her mid-30's, the stranger was pretty, yet very intense. Almost like an athlete, or someone not quite sure of her surroundings, she seemed to hold herself in a state of light readiness. Wearing a conventional business suit, it was hard to tell if she was a member of the police department or someone’s date. “Everybody being so curious about you, saying all kinds of odd things?”
“It certainly does.” Laughing, she extended her hand. “I’m Tiffany Smith.”
“I know. You’re with one of the guests of honor.” Shaking her hand, the woman nodded at Tiffany’s necklace. “I love that piece. Where did you get it?”
“Oh, it’s been in the family for a while.” Though it often attracted attention,
Tiffany didn’t like talking about her earth stone. Smiling, she indicated the woman’s own necklace. “I love your ruby, too. Very pretty.”
“Yes, it is.” The woman demurely brought a hand up to the stone. “It’s also quite old. And even more powerful than yours, I might add.”
A warning tingle shot through Tiffany. Powerful? That was a very odd thing for a Terran to say about a piece of jewelry. Taking another sip of wine, Tiffany studied the newcomer carefully. “I don’t believe I caught your name.”
“No, you didn’t.” Sighing, she downed the rest of her drink. “But then again, I have many names, depending on what dimension I’m visiting. But you may call me Sharra.”
The disquieting tingle now became a full internal roar. “Dimensions?” Tiffany repeated, trying to keep her voice light. “I’m not sure I understand what you’re talking about.”
“Come on, Tiffany, it’s just us girls here.” Rolling her eyes, the woman nodded generally at the people around them. “These Terrans are an ignorant lot, wouldn’t you agree? Not a drop of magic on the whole planet. Quite boring, really.”
Tiffany quickly glanced about, suddenly worried who else might be privy to the conversation. But they remained effectively isolated, Blake and his companions still several feet away. With over a hundred people milling about, the soft murmur of conversation provided an effective sound buffer.
Only now did Tiffany sense Sharra’s magic, strong and sure. But though similar, the other witch’s power clearly operated on a slightly divergent wave length from her own earth stone. Without question, she wasn’t of the Coven.