MAKING MAGICKAL ALLIANCES: A Paranormal Women’s Fiction Novel

by Leigh Raventhorne

  Sebastian trotted past us to sit in front of Danai. She knelt and picked him up as several more splashes sounded. Was that a tail slapping the water? It disappeared before I got a good look, the surface smooth again except for a few soft ripples as evidence anything had been there. Sam caught my eye and smiled, excitement making her eyes appear an even brighter blue.

  They come. Sebastian’s voice in our minds had us straightening our backs as we watched expectantly.

  Oh, for the love of . . . It was all I could do not to look away as three naked figures strode from the water, making their way up the small bank of the river. My cheeks warmed, and I concentrated on keeping my eyes on the face of the tall man that walked slightly ahead of the other two flanking him, ignoring Tess’s appreciative hum. His gaze roamed over our small group, pausing for a moment to take in the queen’s small figure on Clyde’s shoulder before settling on me. A soft light washed over the three of them and suddenly they were not only fully clothed, but dry. He stopped a few feet away and waited, his hands clasped in front of his body. In my periphery, I saw both of his companions turn their heads toward the trees within which the queen’s flight perched. They nodded respectfully and then stood with their eyes staring straight ahead, not focusing on any one of us, their stances loosely mimicking the man whom I assumed was the leader of their colony. All three were dressed similarly in loose-fitting pants and casual button down shirts sporting long cuffs that draped over the top of their hands and high collars that turned up to cover their necks. The coloring of their skin was dark with a faint, almost green cast and light patterning that I couldn’t make out without appearing rude. Each man had long hair in differing shades of dark green that hung down past their shoulders in loose waves. I noted the thin webbing between the long fingers that showed from beneath the shirt cuffs. Trying not to be obvious about it, I glanced down at their bare feet, which were far more heavily webbed.

  Zara? I reached for my familiar, feeling our connection open up. I gave her time to ‘see’ what was happening.

  Step forward and greet him. Clasp your hands in front of you as he has done. It is a show of trust. Do not reach out to touch him unless he invites it.

  Doing as she instructed, I stepped forward, my eyes not leaving his deep, turquoise ones. I wondered about the worried creases at their corners, but he was a king and, if he was a good one, probably felt the weight of that responsibility. “Welcome, Your Highness.” Saying those words felt odd, since he’d been here long before I’d arrived. “I’m Roxanne Devraux, Stella’s niece. I’m pleased to meet you.”

  He gave a nod of acknowledgement. “The pleasure is mine, Madame Devraux. I am Olen.” He paused. “Estella never mentioned she had such a beautiful niece. She was a very dear . . . friend. My condolences for your loss.” His words were smooth, with the faintest trace of an accent I couldn’t place. From the way he said ‘friend,’ I almost might have thought he was intimating something.

  Beside me, Rand made a discontented sound, so maybe it wasn’t just me. I kept my facial expression neutral as I considered what he’d said. Had Olen and my aunt been more than friends?

  On occasion, yes.

  And you didn’t think to mention that before?

  There was a small silence, then, Why would that matter now? I could feel her confusion as well as a tinge of amusement.

  Flustered, I had no answer for her, so I turned my attention back to the man in front of me. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

  The corner of his mouth lifted, but the effect was more wry than amused. “Please, call me Olen. I am not royalty, by any means. My title is just that—a title.”

  “Only if you call me Roxanne. Madame makes me sound old.” I heard either Sam or Tess clear their throat. “Let me introduce everyone.” I ran through the introductions, pausing when I got to Astra and the Draftmans. “I believe you already know each other.”

  “We do, yes.” He inclined his head respectfully to the little queen, though he didn’t bow. “Queen Astra.”

  “Olen.” She didn’t bow to him, either, but she did return his nod.

  “Clydus, Dutch. It pleases me to see you both staying on to help Roxanne while she gets her sea legs.”

  “Oh, we’ll be sticking around for a while, Olen. Life hasn’t been this interesting in a long time.”

  Between Clyde and Sam, I was reminded almost daily about just how interesting my life was. I’d finally started responding by reminding them in turn how grateful they should be that I was only too happy to share everything they considered ‘interesting’—the battles with Turned witches, attacks on my firm, traps laid for us on the sides of highways . . . the fun just never ended.

  But, deep down, I knew they were here for my sake. Or perhaps Gloria’s, in Dutch’s case. And there were several good things to consider, too. The pixies and their new fairy mound, the birth of the kits—the first new familiars to be born since witches and Zara’s people had first been paired by the mysterious light beings called the Powers That Be, and the firm’s coven that was paving the way for the rest of the witches in the territory and those beyond, to name a few.

  The king took in Danai and Sebastian, nodded to them respectfully, then surveyed the area around me. “Roxanne, your familiar is not here?”

  “Zara is indisposed at the moment. She sends her regrets for not being here to greet you.”

  Nicely done, Zara said with a sneeze that tickled my brain.

  Beside me, Rand cleared his throat and stepped forward, drawing everyone’s attention. “Sorry to interrupt. I’m Randall James. Everyone just calls me Rand, though.” He held out a hand to the king of the water fae. I swallowed hard, feeling guilty as I realized I hadn’t introduced him with the rest, having completely forgotten, since I was so used to being the only one who could see him besides the familiars. Astra had even commented on him just moments ago. It was all I could do not to cover my face with my hands. Maybe I could blame nerves, but I was still mortified.

  Olen looked from Rand to me, ignoring Rand’s outstretched hand, his face unreadable. I gave Rand a weak smile. “I’m so sorry,” I mouthed. Addressing Olen, I explained, “Rand’s situation is . . . unusual.”

  Olen sized Rand up, his head tilted curiously. Rand dropped his hand, moving to stand at parade rest. “How so, if I may ask? I have not seen one of his kind in at least a century.”

  Hope flared in my chest, pushing the embarrassment of my faux pas away. “One of his kind? You’ve seen this happen before?” Did the king of the water fae know something about ghosts and what had happened to Rand?

  The king’s eyes left Rand and returned to me, his brow lowering in confusion. “I’m not sure what you refer to. He is one of the light folk, is he not? It is weak within him, but it is there. An ancestor, not too distant, I would think.”

  Light folk? Was he referring to the fae? Before I could ask more, Astra breathed, “Of course. The stone must have recognized him. That would explain much.” I think she was speaking more to herself then to any of us.

  “Will that help us find any answers about his condition?” I asked.

  “Rox, you do realize I’m standing right here? I don’t know if being alive can be considered a condition. If it is, I’m good with it.” He gave me a slow half smile and winked at me. Heat bloomed in my center and I pushed it down. Way, way down.

  Sam, Tess, and Danai, silent up until now, moved closer, Dutch trailing a few steps behind them. I noticed he was watching Olen’s two companions closely, as was Clyde. Was there something wrong? Sam touched my arm lightly, pulling my attention away. “Would you like us to set up the table and chairs? This sounds like it might end up being more than the meet-and-greet originally planned.”

  Olen’s eyes flicked to my friends, resting a second too long on Sam, as if sizing her up, before returning to me. “I cannot stay long, I am afraid.” His expression turned troubled. The two fae flanking him shifted restlessly. They looked back at the river, their faces every bit as troub
led as his, before coming back to attention. “I have urgent matters to attend to with my people.”

  Wondering if I should ask if there was anything I could do to help, I reached my hand up and covered Sam’s, patting it gratefully. “Thanks.”

  Olen’s eyes widened and I heard his sharp intake of breath. He stared at my hand. Perplexed, wondering if I had offended him in some way, I looked down. My sleeve had ridden up, exposing the sapphire bracelet. Was I showing too much skin or was it the bracelet he reacted to? I pulled my sleeve down to cover the bracelet that felt more like a manacle—mentally, if not physically—trying to make the action appear casual.

  “That is a fae Object, is it not?” he breathed softly. “Is that what was responsible for the power we felt from your . . . altercation?”

  I blinked at him, not sure how—or if—I should answer that question. Luckily, Astra saved me from making the decision.

  “It . . . might be,” she said slowly, as if considering her words carefully. “Though that was not the intent when she was gifted the stone.” She gave him an extremely abbreviated version of the gift, not mentioning what Finn and I had done while Making the setting for it. She didn’t say anything about what had happened to Rand, either, and I wasn’t sure if that omission was on purpose or not. Although I desperately wanted to know, I decided to follow her example and wait it out to see what else he could tell us first.

  He nodded knowingly. “Yes, these things do tend to take on a life of their own. We do not have any fae Objects of any significant power or import in our possession these days, but we do have many stories about them that have been handed down through the generations of our people.”

  He eyed my wrist again, though my sleeve covered the stone and the bracelet now. “Have you named it?”

  I looked at Astra for direction. She shrugged in a very unqueenlike fashion. “No. I was told that naming it would give it more power.” At his gesture of inquiry, I slid my sleeve up, displaying the bracelet for him. He stepped closer to inspect it. “It won’t come off now. The clasp is welded or locked or something.”

  He motioned to one of his companions without looking back at the man. “This is Dorn, my second. He knows more of such things than most. May he approach?”

  Again, I looked to Astra for a clue as to how I should respond. She nodded. “Please do. Anything you can tell me would be helpful.”

  Dorn stepped forward, passing by Olen. He held out his hand without saying anything or even meeting my eyes. I raised my arm so he could look the bracelet over, trying not to fidget or shift my weight nervously. His hands hovered a few inches over the bracelet, not touching it directly. I turned my wrist slowly to display the clasp. His cuffs slipped as his hands moved around mine and I could see the ridges of bone or cartilage that started above his knuckles and made their way up his arm. Or I assumed they did, anyway. I paid more attention to the loose sleeves on the shirts they all wore, which would serve to hide the ridges well enough, and tried to see if the light patterning on his skin was some sort of tattoo or actual scales. With his hands moving, I couldn’t tell.

  Rand moved closer when Dorn did, not quite touching me, but still closer than I’d allowed him since he’d . . . changed. Dorn didn’t acknowledge him as he continued his inspection. Absently, I realized Rand must have given Toby a ‘stay’ command, because the German Shepherd didn’t move with him.

  When Dorn finished, he retreated a step and glanced back at Olen, who nodded. His words were heavily accented as he spoke. “This bracelet is very powerful.” His ‘i’s’ were pronounced as a somewhat guttural ‘e’s.’ He sounded almost—but not quite—mediterranean. Despite the accent, he was easy enough to understand. “It feels much like an Object, but it is not. Not yet, anyway.” His dark eyes met mine briefly, before he ducked his head respectfully. “It wants to be, I think. If you ask it to open or release, it may listen, if it believes that is what you truly want.”

  I chewed my lip, thinking about his words. I also remembered some of what I’d read online when I was researching. I couldn’t remember what site I’d seen this on—probably some fantasy, D&D type of page, which were at the top of every search I’d tried. “If I ask it, wouldn’t that be the same as acknowledging it? And isn’t acknowledging almost as,” stopping short of saying bad, I finished lamely, “well, kind of like naming it?” Hadn’t Astra told me not to name it?

  Olen moved closer and I realized both he and Dorn had a very distinct, almost fishy scent, which only made sense. Inhaling deeply, I decided it wasn’t unpleasant. It reminded me of the times I’d spent sitting on the beach, of salty, clean ocean air, with just the faintest hint of fishiness underneath. Olen quirked an eyebrow at me. Now I wished I had worn the glamour cream after all. Maybe it would have helped to hide the blush I felt creeping over my cheeks, since I was pretty sure most people would consider being sniffed rather rude.

  Dorn slid away smoothly, allowing his king to answer me. “It is true that acknowledging it will likely give it more of a foothold, if not more power. But it will gain that over time just by its proximity to you, I believe. It is better that it does so knowing it has your . . . approval . . . and that it is both wanted and useful. Fae Objects like having purpose. To that end, you may want to consider naming it in the near future. That will bond it to you more tightly, though as Dorn has said, most of that bond is probably already there.” He glanced at Astra. “I can feel that it is still lightly tied to you and your colony. This is a good thing. Was its original purpose something to do with this tie?”

  Astra inclined her head. “Yes. With it, she can call on us for help if ever she is in need.” She stretched out her own arm, displaying a smaller version of my bracelet with the piece originally cut from my sapphire on her wrist.

  Olen turned back to Dorn, who said, “This is a very good thing. It will hold its tie to you and your colony, since you retain a small piece of it. That it was freely given, with such a purpose, means it is less likely to turn on you at some point.”

  Collectively, my friends startled. I could hear Sam, Tess, and Danai murmuring worriedly. Neither Clyde nor Dutch said anything, but I could see their brows furrowing. Gloria’s hand clutched Dutch’s arm so tight, I could see her knuckles whiten. Rand? He’d gone completely still next to me, which was probably more dangerous a sign than anything he might have said or done.

  Clearing my throat, I asked, “I’m sorry. Turn on me?” I angled my wrist and frowned at the sapphire winking back at me. Was it just my imagination or did I sense a distinct feeling of amusement emanating from it? “How . . . or what . . . would it do?”

  Dorn tilted his head to the side, considering. “As my king already stated, Fae Objects tend to get bored without a well-defined purpose. A job, if you would. They can be . . . I believe mischievous would be the word best used. I can feel more than just fae magick in it; there is also much of your own, is there not?”

  Nodding, I answered, “Yes. The setting was done with my own magick, a little fae magick, and—” I stopped abruptly, not wanting to admit in front of everyone that I’d been using blood magick, as well, though Tess and Sam already knew that. Heck, Rand knew it, too. Sighing, I realized everyone present except for the water fae and possibly a few of the pixies knew it.

  Dorn peered up at me from beneath surprising long lashes, as if he’d heard my thoughts. Briefly, I wondered if he was telepathic. Zara had mentioned there were other telepathic beings in our world.

  It’s possible, but I cannot tell through his shields. Some of the water fae do have mild telepathic abilities—it helps them to communicate underwater. They use a complex sign language, as well. If you had been watching their hands and bodies, you would have seen that the king has been carrying on a full conversation with his companions right in front of you. Anything he has said out loud has been out of courtesy.

  I threw on my poker face, hoping my surprise over what she’d said didn’t show. I thought perhaps you’d fallen asleep or were busy with t
he kits, you’ve been so quiet.

  I can multitask, Roxanne, she said dryly. There is often much to be learned from simply watching and listening. Tighten your shields if there is anything you would like to keep private. I can still monitor everything through Sebastian and the others. If it is any consolation, this conversation is private. I’m shielding for both of us.

  Zipping my shields up, I continued, “Sorry, I was just processing what you said. So, how would the different types of magick affect my bracelet?”

  Olen and Dorn both shrugged, the casual movement at odds with their overall demeanor. Olen was the one to answer this time. “There are many ways to create powerful Objects of any kind, though much of the knowledge of how to do so has been lost or buried over time. This stone was already very powerful before it was gifted to you. That it was a gift is significant for both you and the stone—and what it is to become. True fae objects must either be gifted or found to be of any use, and even then the bond is not always a sure thing. Those that are forcibly taken tend toward resentment or even open hostility against its new master. Anything you did magickly would have only strengthened its own magick. It will be interesting to see how it develops.”

  There was a splash from near the far bank of the river. This time, I did catch sight of a tail as it slid back into the water. Olen sighed heavily. “I’m afraid that is my cue that my time here is at an end.” He made a small hand signal that I would have missed if it weren’t for Zara’s heads up, and Dorn, along with the other man who hadn’t been introduced, turned and made their way back to the water. His manner became more brisk and his face was pinched with—worry? “I trust that our tithe was satisfactory?”