She stopped to smell the roses and nodded her approval to Todd.
Cullen poked his head into the gathering hall. He counted thirty people already waiting, ten minutes early. When the doors opened, he positioned himself beside Lyra, planning to hasten any long-winded guests.
After an hour, she grew weary and shifted from one foot to the other. She struggled to keep faces and conversations straight. Many expected her to recall them from her childhood. Finally, after another half an hour, the last visitors passed through the line, and she slumped into a chair.
He rubbed her shoulders. “Time to go home, get some dinner, and a good night’s sleep for tomorrow.”
She nodded, and without a word, pulled herself to her feet, and accepted his hand.
***
Their morning at the funeral home for the service proceeded much like the previous evening. Several community members spoke on Jean’s behalf and expressed warm sentiments. She’d touched many lives, a special lady, just like her niece.
Lyra held up well, bravely restraining her tears. Only Cullen knew what she thought, and how much those tears wanted to fall.
A local community service group of which Jean had been a member provided a reception lunch. Finally, after what seemed like every resident of the entire island paid respects, they arrived back at the cottage in late afternoon.
Collapsed onto the couch in the family room, Cullen took hold of Lyra’s hand. “Glad the service is over?”
“Oh, yes. It went on forever. I had no idea Aunt Jean knew all those people.”
“I’m sure you don’t want any more to eat after all that food at the reception. What would you like to do?”
“I’d really like some fresh air, a walk to the pier. Then, I’ll probably crash.”
They changed to suitable clothing, shorts and sandals, then headed out along bumpy neighborhood sidewalks. Freezing and thawing during harsh winters raised the slabs.
She wove her fingers through his, and they strolled in silence for over a quarter mile. Finally, she said, “I’ve been thinking that I should sell Jean’s cottage. Everything there reminds me of her, makes me angry she’s gone or wish I could’ve done something to prevent her death.”
Tired, he hadn’t been monitoring her thoughts, and this took him by surprise. “Well, of course, do what you think is best, but it’s a very nice place, and maybe you’d like to keep a residence here.” Was she leaving now that her aunt had passed away?
“I do want to come back to see you, but that place has too many memories. It haunts me.” She sighed. “Jean was my rock. I don’t know what direction I’m headed now or where I belong.”
“You can stay here with me.”
“I want to, but I’m under contract with the university.” Lyra lifted her head and her blue eyes shined with a gleam he hadn’t seen in days. “If I could break that contract and stay, you could teach me more magic in Dragonspeir.”
“I’d like that, but the Imperial Dragon would have to give permission each time you enter the land. At your level as a mage, a lower magical, you can’t enter freely. You will remain his guest until you gain enough magic to become immortal, a high order sorcerer.”
“What will that require?”
He hesitated, not wanting to answer. “Formal sorcery training and years of practical application.”
“I didn’t know. That’s a lot.” Lyra bit her lip and looked down at the pavement.
He remained quiet, unsure what to say. Blending their lives together posed many difficulties, beyond the scope of magic to solve. After too much stress from the past few days, he couldn’t find a logical solution. He mindlessly rubbed his thumb along her soft skin. The sensation excited him. He craved to relax into her body and let go of the tension. Would she even want to be close? Reaching the end of the pier, he pulled her up and moved his hands to her waist.
She looked up to him, and he responded, passing his lips over hers. Slipping his tongue gently into her mouth, she softened into his arms. When they paused, she whispered, “I need to feel you and let go of all my problems.”
The sultry look in her eyes drove him wild with desire. Heat flooded his face. “Let’s go back to the house.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and began their walk back.
At home, once she closed the door behind them, his stress dissolved away as she put her hands on his chest.
He pulled her to him and let his hands slide down her back, over her bottom, and moved her pelvis into his, already hard with anticipation.
She broke away and led him up the stairs. Stopping next to the bed, she pressed her mouth onto his for an urgent, probing kiss.
All of the built up anxiety and worry made him too tired for foreplay, but desperate for release.
She quickly peeled off her shorts, blouse, and underwear. Clearly, seduction was unnecessary. In no time, she lay naked on the bed.
His shorts dropped to the floor with a thud, pockets still laden with his wallet, change, and keys. He whipped his t-shirt off and crawled beside her. In an instant, his tongue thrust deep inside her mouth, his free hand grabbed her breast.
She wrapped a leg around his thigh, pushing her groin into his.
His pushed hard into her.
She gasped and moaned. Her ragged breath in his ear told him she was ready, desperate for release.
Waves of electricity reverberated through them and washed away some of their emotional torment.
With a groan, he rolled off her and took her hand.
She squeezed his hand. “Feels good to relax, even just a little. I love you, how you’re here for me.”
“I love you, Lyra. I hope we find a way to put our lives together.”
“It’ll be hard. Everything’s hard, but I have faith.”
They nestled together as twilight descended.
***
The next day Cullen’s regular work at the bookstore proved welcome and relieved more of his stress. Back at Jean’s cottage in the evening, he approached Lyra sitting with her computer at the kitchen table. “It was good to get back to a normal routine. Don’t you think?”
She glared at him. “Not even close to normal. I’ve rewritten the same page ten times today. Then I edited a beginning chapter and think I’ve ruined it. The Guardians expect something better than this, don’t they?”
He pulled a chair up next to her and looked at the screen. The page she’d attempted really didn’t flow correctly. “Quality does matter a lot. The Guardians will reject an account that lacks adequate magic to block the Black Dragon.” He rubbed her shoulder. “Is there anything I can do?”
“No, you’re doing plenty already. I’m too upset. My thoughts won’t gel.” She stood and paced across the kitchen floor, running her hands through her hair. “Tomorrow’s the July full moon. I’ve got one month to write this and get someone to read it in order to block the Black Dragon’s power from spreading through the reflection of the red moon. And, I have to go back to Florida soon.”
“When do you have to return?”
“On the seventh. Faculty meetings begin on August ninth.”
“Almost two weeks.” He wasn’t ready for her to leave.
She nodded. “And I’ve got to clean out Jean’s things from here. I need to be able to concentrate and get something done.” Her voice rose to a high, agitated pitch. “I’ve decided to sell his place. The memories are eating away at my mind. I can’t take it. I miss her too much. I’m meeting with a realtor tomorrow after my appointment with her attorney.”
He stared at her in disbelief. Changes were happening too fast for him. He’d just found her, the woman he’d waited decades to be with. Once she sold this house, would she visit him? Or eventually drift away? Far worse, had grief overcome her motivation to finish writing the next Book of Dragonspeir? He shuddered. They’d accomplished the difficult part, risking their lives. If she failed now…he looked down at the floor…if she failed, the Black Dragon would vanquish the Imperial regime…without his pow
er, he’d return to being mortal and die…without her.
He couldn’t find words. Instead, he pulled her to him, never wanting to let go.
Chapter Thirty-Three: The Buck Moon
Nightmares of not finishing the book she had to write tormented Lyra’s sleep. Lyra woke still clutched to Cullen. She wouldn’t let him die during the destruction of Dragonspeir. She snuggled closer to him.
As he awakened, he pulled her tight to him. “Must we get up?”
“’Fraid so. I’ve got to get up. Meeting the attorney at ten. Will you bring me my copy of Brigid’s Book of Dragonspeir? I want to take it with me back to Florida.” She stretched and moved her feet to the floor. Once in the bathroom, she turned the shower on to run hot.
He followed her. “I’ll collect it on my way home. I’m going into Dragonspeir today since the bookstore’s closed on Mondays.”
Steam rose from the top of the shower door. She opened it, took hold of Cullen’s hand, and pulled him in with her. “I want to be sure and enjoy every moment.” She ran the bar of soap over him. Her other hand glided along the edges of his firm chest muscles.
He grabbed for her and she slid from his grip. “Too darned slippery!” He found her mouth and kissed her long and hard under the warm spray.
After she managed to clean most parts of both of them, she jumped out and located her towel.
“That’s it?” he asked, his eyebrows rose, obviously confused.
“Just a tease. I don’t have time now.”
He stepped out and playfully smacked her butt. “I’ll catch up to you later then.”
***
After a successful meeting with Jean’s attorney, Lyra met the realtor back at the cottage. The agent thought the house would sell better furnished, as a vacation home. That was welcome news as it would simplify Lyra’s packing and cleaning process.
During the afternoon, Lyra bought a stack of broken-down boxes and set to work. What room to do first? She selected the second guest room, an easy start with little to sort and pack. Or it appeared easy since Jean didn’t store much there. However, she found stacks of family photo albums and memorabilia of Jean and Sam’s wedding. It shook her to look into the smiling faces of people she loved, all now dead. She saved out a small handful, including one of Jean throwing her bridal bouquet. With sheer willpower, she packed everything into boxes for storage.
During a break, she attempted writing. She made a pass over the one awkward page from yesterday and managed to improve it slightly, but its flow remained far from readable. She still couldn’t focus.
Dinner hour came and went without Cullen arriving at Jean’s cottage. Lyra knew he couldn’t call from Dragonspeir, and she worried a little about him. Just as she sat down to some dinner alone, he walked in.
“Sorry I’m late.” He sank down on a chair at the table. “I’m exhausted. The Imperial Dragon questioned me about your welfare since Jean’s death. He’s aware and concerned. Then, he presented me with a training agenda, expecting me to begin today. After that, I still had to perform the usual realignment of my aura in order to survive outside of Dragonspeir.”
She served him a plate of food, a medley of various dishes from the bulging refrigerator. “That all sounds interesting. What kind of training? Realignment?”
“Transformation into my animal shape. He requires we regularly work on our weaknesses.”
“The panther?”
“Yes. I’m not a natural, and the change demands too much energy until I learn to properly channel my power. And I must periodically realign the power of my aura according to the magnetic forces in the Alliance. The process would happen naturally if I stayed in Dragonspeir all the time. Since I’m here often, if I don’t realign, I could lose my immortality.”
“I had no idea what you had to go through in order to be away from that land.”
“Well, my reason to be here is worth the effort.” He rubbed her hand. “Tell me about your day. How’d the appointments with the attorney and realtor result?” He dove into the meal with large forkfuls.
She told him the highlights while she cleaned up the kitchen.
“A reasonably good day, considering.” He leaned back in his chair. “Why don’t we go outside on the patio and enjoy the full moon?”
“Sounds relaxing. Could you conjure us a couple glasses of that wine your sprites made? I could use some.”
“I can arrange that.” He smiled and twisted his dragon ring. They stepped onto the patio, and on the side table stood two large glass goblets filled with spirits. He handed her one and raised his to make a toast. “To our love and finding a life together.”
She clinked the top of her glass to his and smiled. “Yes. To our love and being together.” The delicious sweet grape taste swirled around her tongue. With just one swallow she felt its alcohol. “Mmm. Good.” She sat next to him on the couch. The spirits flowed through her body and blurred worries about her tight schedule.
It appeared as though the moon rose out of the lake. When the silvery orb sat on the horizon, the waters reflected its light. “The Buck Moon. Beautiful, isn’t it?” Cullen draped his arm around her shoulder.
“Yes. The Buck Moon is about deer rubbing velvet from their antlers. I wonder if Bero is doing that now? I miss him and the others. Does the full moon look the same in Dragonspeir?”
“Similar, although much larger and always reason for celebration in the Meadow.” He chuckled.“And I’m certain he is.”
“When we came back from our wonderful date, I looked, but a cloud was covering it.”
He massaged her shoulder. “Well then, we’ll have to be sure and see a full moon together there. You’ll want to see the December moon—this year at the time of the solstice, an important festival in Dragonspeir.”
“We have so many things to enjoy together. I hope…” She looked at him, her eyes filled with tears.
“Trust. There will be a way for us to bridge our two worlds.” He leaned his face to hers and tasted the wine on her lips. “Delicious way to sample spirits.”
She took a deep breath and braced herself to say what she knew he didn’t want to hear. “I was a basket case after losing my parents in a tragic accident, but this should be easier. Jean suffered from cancer. I think this grief blocking my writing is from some evil working against me.” She twisted a strand of her hair into a knot. “I need to fight back and get away from things that tip off my grief, so I can write that book. I’ve decided to leave for Florida next Sunday.” She almost choked on the words, they stung so much.
Cullen pulled away and stared silently into the distance.
Seeing his reaction, her stomach knotted. “I’ll take a few days to pack up some personal things in the house and clean out the garage. Once I’m in Florida, I’ll have three weeks to write before the red moon.” Her throat tightened, making her cough. “I must get this book done. I can’t lose you.”
He turned to face her. “Elisabeth’s necklace protects you from the Black Dragon. But as we’ve seen with the black butterfly, there are other forces here that concern me. I question how Eburscon and Tarom align in the fight between good and evil. I agree. I think your grief is being manipulated to block your ability to write. It’s been worrying me, and I’ve considered your idea. The past days, I’ve been working to determine what hostile forces are affecting you, so I can block them.”
A deep crease formed along the middle of his brow, and he clenched a fist. “Damn! Over and over I’ve sensed a lead of a magical thread and then lost it. Time is running out.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “I’ll help you pack. I don’t want you tired before you begin that long two-day drive.”
He’d tried to be strong, but she noticed a tiny tear slip from the corner of his eye before he quickly wiped it away.
She slid her arm around his chest and tucked her head under his chin. They held each other and watched the full moon climb the sky, a growing reminder only one month remained.
Chapter Thirty-Fo
ur: The Stream of Omens
Over the next four days, between frustrating, unsuccessful attempts to write, Lyra worked at sorting and packing. Physical labor rested her mind, a welcome break. She began with the dirtiest job, cleaning out the garage. But, she needed to use the garage space later to stack boxes of personal items, for pick up by the donation van on Saturday. At least she didn’t cry over hammers and rakes. The realtor asked she leave a lot, including basic tools for home maintenance in the garage. Made sense if a buyer looked at the place as a second home. Lyra threw out unknown or unwanted items and organized the rest.
Cullen spent an afternoon with her, helping in the attic. Lyra found lots of things she wanted to give to charity up there, and he hauled boxes down, using magic to maneuver the trickier ones. He groaned as he carried trash out by hand. She didn’t think the neighbors would be pleased to see it sailing to the street.
By midweek, she began inside on personal items in the family room and her room. Not much there she wanted to let go of, but boxed it up instead. The kitchen she left as it was.
She saved Jean’s room for last, knowing how painful it would be.
Cullen stayed beside her.
She opened the closet door. “Well, this won’t be too hard—just clothes.” She worked quickly through most, and placed the items in garbage bags for donation. Until she reached the back of the closet. She unzipped a garment bag. “Look—her wedding gown. I saved a picture of her wearing this when I cleaned out the guest room.”
Cullen stepped up. “When did she and Sam marry? In the sixties?” He moved the bag back away from a shoulder of the gown and examined it carefully. “My older sister wore a similar dress when she married. All ladies’ gowns then had puffed sleeves and high waists.”
“When was that?”
“Around 1800.”
Lyra put a hand to her forehead. “Do you think this gown is over two hundred years old?”
Cullen searched for clues. “There’s a pocket inside the bag with a paper.” He pulled it out and stepped beside Lyra, holding in front of them.
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