“Someone in that butterfly form killed her aunt!” Oasth blurted through smoke puffing from his nostrils.
“Additionally, while I was away, someone broke into and pillaged the storage area of my bookstore.”
The fire drake leaned closer, claws clenched “Was anything taken?”
“No. I’m certain the intruder sought Lyra’s copy of the previous Book of Dragonspeir, expecting me to have secured it there. Fortunately, she took it with her. My leader, do these acts fit together? Do you believe someone harmed her aunt?”
The Imperial Dragon cleared his throat and lifted his long, thick neck, his eyes now gleaming yellow with worry and alarm. “Sadly, I do think it was foul play. We may learn more after Adalyra meets with the healer. I’m not surprised, considering the scope of the evil forces we face. One fact I do know is that possession of all five versions of the Book is said to grant the owner enormous power.”
“Isn’t the first book unavailable, the last copies burned in a fire? And the second and third versions are rare, secreted away?” asked Cullen.
“That is true, and the Alliance library only includes the fourth and fifth volumes. But, the Black Dragon is hungry for power to takeover this world. Perhaps he has knowledge those early volumes still exist. Those heinous acts bring me no surprise, only sorrow.”
“Joke’s on them about that book you had!” proclaimed Oasth. “But, who killed her aunt? We have a score to settle.” His pounding tail shook the floor. “No one will harm our Scribe.”
“Allow me some time to consult my instruments and references,” the leader said as he paced along the glass storage cases lining his quarters, lit by flames of oil sconces. Raised edges of his golden scales caught the light. “I will determine a path. Meanwhile, guard your thoughts…I assume yours already are, Sire Drake?”
Cullen nodded.
“I’ll do the same. Please now safeguard Oasth’s. Do not speak of this outside us three… and of course, Adalyra.”
“You have my word.” Pointing the sapphire tip of his staff at the warlord, the wizard repeated the spell, “Celo sentential!”
“And mine, too,” Oasth added, choking on his words as Cullen’s magic shook his body.
The golden Dragon paced nearer to them. “Doubtful I need to remind you to observe everyone for suspicious acts. I will be glad to teach our Scribe upon her early return.”
Cullen’s eyes met the leader’s gaze and better understood the depth of his concern. “I’ll now leave for the other world. I must be available for contact from our Scribe.” His bow was returned by the two dragons.
“Watch yourself, and summon me any hour if needed,” Oasth called after him.
Cullen strode back into the great room. He hoped Lyra would call tonight. With suspicions now raised, he needed to hear her voice, one person he trusted completely. Like the Sage of the Isle of Lumen said, the one who holds my heart.
He met briefly with Kenzo, detailing some assignments for their contribution to the Solstice Festival. “I’ll return tomorrow. Meet me midday at my cabin.” He saw the concern in the owl’s face, but dared not reveal what bothered him.
***
From the plateau, Cullen vanished in a cloud of blue vapor and materialized directly outside the portal. Stepping across into the storeroom, he picked his way to the staircase, even less interested in cleaning the mess than before. He unlocked the apartment door, pushed it open, and turned on a light. Everything in order, in every room.
While in the kitchen, he realized his last meal had been a very early breakfast. He opened the refrigerator and found nothing appetizing other than a couple cans of ale. He opened one and sat at his kitchen table. Tipping back in his chair, he pondered the day’s revelations. His mind felt numb. He thought he knew who to trust. Now he was uncertain.
After he drained the brew, the alcohol warmed his spirits. He needed to escape the isolation of the apartment. At least he could mingle among this community without suspicion. The freedom tempted him, and he set a destination to the local grocery store. His last visit there, he went on behalf of Lyra in the summer. Such ventures helped him maintain a normal, non-magical appearance to the villagers, so he located his car keys and headed off.
At the market, he enjoyed the simple novelty of selecting foods. His mind drifted from one colorful package to the next, dropping all worries. He continued this way, from aisle to aisle, until his eyes registered a familiar face—Revelin. The man who he once escorted out of his storeroom. Later, Revelin appeared in Jean’s house as a medical worker, snooping at Lyra’s computer.
With his powers heightened from the visit to the magnetic center in the lair, in a flash Cullen detected the presence of Dragonspeir magic in the man. All of Cullen’s built up tension from the day spilled out.
Revelin shot him a fearful look and moved to exit.
Cullen, always an expert at fast firing, required only a fraction of a second to hurl a blue powerball. His delivery, fueled with stress, traveled at a speed faster than mortal sight could register. Good thing, because when Revelin let out a scream and dropped to the floor in a mass of long black hair and leather while clutching his charred hand, no one noticed Cullen. Customers flocked around the wounded man while the wizard casually wheeled his cart to the checkout. It didn’t matter what Revelin might be guilty of. Knowing he acted suspiciously was enough to gain Cullen’s vengeance that night.
Chapter Three: Fire and Ice
A brisk wind lifted whitecaps across Lake Huron to meet the setting sun as Lyra pulled into the tiny village of Washaw on the shore of Michigan’s upper peninsula. Most houses sat dark, left vacant for winter.
She’d visited there a couple times during this season. Since her immediate family had lived in Florida, her parents wanted to treat her to a few white Christmases when she still believed, or pretended to believe, in Santa. She smiled thinking of the snow angels she and Aunt Jean had made. One time they built a snowman from a fresh fall of heavy, wet snow. Such good memories. There should have been more. A tear slid down Lyra’s cheek, and she wiped it away.
Now, the deserted streets seemed lonely. No fluffy white snow brightened the yards. Instead, brown grass matted together in frozen clumps.
She approached Walnut Street and slowed almost to a stop before she turned. It cheered her to see a lamp glowing in the dining room of Mrs. Kendall’s house. A tiny Christmas tree twinkled in the front picture window. She’d be sure to pay the elderly woman a visit. Why did she remain through the winter? Her sons lived in warmer places. Perhaps she felt closer to her deceased husband staying here, where they lived for years.
Love connected people in unusual ways. It was a hardship being apart from Cullen. He couldn’t stay long in her world since he needed to return to Dragonspeir and recharge the magic that kept him alive. Until she gained more magical ability, her time in his world remained limited since she entered only as a short-term, invited guest of the Imperial Dragon. She and Cullen were determined to find a way to bring their lives together, by advancing her magic craft. In addition to learning the truth about Jean’s death, Lyra also intended to work toward their goal as a couple during this visit. After she completed the new Book of Dragonspeir, the Imperial Dragon rewarded her with a golden bookmark. She had memorized the etched inscription:
Adalyra, this is my gift to you for completing the Scribe’s quest more successfully than any before. It is an invitation to train as a sorceress in my alliance. Three such bookmarks exist and together they can open doors to the future you and Sire Drake both envision.
Three bookmarks to open doors to our future together. What about one? Obviously, it allowed her to train as a sorceress. What else? How did she earn the second and third? Gazing at the widow’s tidy home, shining with decorations used for decades of happy family celebrations, she wanted to make new memories of loving Cullen—no task would be too great. She would earn those other bookmarks and their life together.
Steering around the corner, she ex
pected Jean’s cottage to be a dark, dreary reminder of her grief. Lyra held her breath, afraid of what emotions would wash over her during this first time back since the funeral.
Her mouth dropped open. White lights draped the bushes and wrapped the trees under blankets of sparkling ice crystals. Downstairs windows glowed with soft, yellow light. The place looked warm and inviting. Cullen had a key she gave him, so he could keep watch on the place. Apparently, he’d used it recently.
She parked in the drive and cautiously stepped out to stretch her legs. Ice covered only the lights and not the pavement or the neighbors’ houses. Lovely magical crystals. The cottage appeared ready for winter with the front porch swing raised up to the ceiling and screens taken down. She grinned. He had worked hard to welcome her. She hoped he also used a spell to keep the neighbors from noticing his handiwork. Goosebumps rose along her skin from the cold breeze. She grabbed her overnight duffel, locked the car, and stiffly walked to the door. After a quick knock, she stepped inside. The hooked wool rug rested on polished hardwood, the lamp glowed on the oak side table, the hall tree stood ready to accept her winter coat—cozy warmth of home.
The rich smell of beef and vegetables roasting in thyme greeted her. “Hello!” she called out with a smile in her voice.
“You’re here!” Cullen responded from the kitchen. He raced out to meet her and swept her up into a hug. “At last. You feel cold. Come in.” He led her into the family room, where flames crackled in the fireplace.
Lyra wrapped her arms around his neck. He’d let his hair grow past his shoulders. Her fingers played in the light brown waves. “What a wonderful welcome.”
“Welcome home.” He pressed his lips to hers.
“This is home, with you and memories of my family.” She buried her head against his shoulder, sinking into the warmth of his wool sweater and strong arms. “I thought I’d come back to a gloomy, cold house. Thank you.”
“I wanted to see you smile.” He lifted her chin. “There it is! And in those pretty blue eyes.”
She rubbed her hands along his sweater. “I only had a few warm clothes to bring and no time to shop.”
“I can take care of that.” He stroked her hair.
“I hoped you could. Something smells delicious.” She followed the aroma into the kitchen. “You always conjure good food. What is it? I’m starved after that long drive...and sore.” She arched her back.
“Dinner’s ready. It’s stew and biscuits. I’m doing my best to warm up my frozen Florida girl.”
“I can think of another way to make some heat.”
“That’s dessert,” he added with a sly grin. With a wave of his hand, the dishes filled and moved to the antique drop-leaf table set with placemats and candles. He poured wine into goblets.
“Is that the wine your sprites make? Whoa. No more. That stuff is powerful and I’m tired. I don’t want to crash right after the meal.” She laughed and added, “I need to save some energy for your dessert.”
Dinner passed with little spoken conversation. Too tired from the drive to talk much, Lyra amused herself watching the expressions change in his gray-blue eyes. “I can almost figure out your responses to what you read in my thoughts.”
“Really?” He tilted his head. “That’s odd. I cast a mind guard to protect me from readers. I need to do that for you before we visit Dragonspeir.”
After licking the tasty gravy off her spoon, she explained, “I understand what your eyes say, little bits of meaning. Like now, about my hair shining gold like my aura. Is there more stew?”
“Yes, on the stove. That’s remarkable, almost impossible. I wonder how…with that spell in place. We must have a natural connection, stronger than the guarding spell.”
She ladled another bowlful and grabbed a biscuit. “I haven’t had a good meal in weeks since I’ve been so busy getting set to be here.”
“The past three weeks were long. I wonder if, with some training, you’ll be able to know my mind as I do yours.”
“Well, the Sage said we hold each other’s souls. The Imperial Dragon said our hearts are bonded since our paired jadestones call to each other. Seems like our minds would be joined too.” Thirsty, she drank the wine a bit too fast and hiccupped. “You could read my thoughts charged with emotions from the first moment you saw me in the bookstore.”
“Come to think of it, I could even follow your mind when you were a child.”
Lyra laid down her biscuit and gave him a quizzical look.
He grinned ear-to-ear. “You had such a crush on me then.”
“Did not!”
“There’s no point in lying to a wizard.”
“Probably not, especially one connected to my soul. So, what am I thinking now?” She popped a bite of biscuit, and the corners of her mouth turned up.
“Dessert.” He chuckled and waved his fingers at the dishes, transferring them to the sink where cleaning commenced.
“Funny, I saw the same thing in your eyes,” Lyra teased and moved to the couch in the other room. She settled into its plush micro suede and gazed at the fire.
Cullen followed and snaked an arm behind her shoulders.
“Mmm. That feels so good. I’m stiff from driving over twenty-four hours since Friday evening. Too bad I needed to bring so much. Flying would have been easier.”
“Let me help.” He kneeled on the floor beside the couch and guided her to lie on her stomach.
She turned her head toward him.
He pressed his palms together and slowly opened them to reveal a tiny blue orb. “Caleo,” he whispered to the sphere.
Lyra watched intently. So much to learn. But, she would and do whatever it took to earn those other two golden bookmarks.
He reclosed his hands, and they began to glow. Opening them once more, the sphere disappeared and his palms blazed blue-white. “Give me your hand. Let’s test to be certain this isn’t too hot.”
She extended her hand. “Oh, icy warm and tingling. Feels great.”
He loosened her top from her jeans and pushed strands of long hair from her neck. Under the thin cotton blouse, he moved along the skin of her back, massaging the tight muscles.
“Ahh. That feels so good.”
He kneaded her shoulders and caressed the sides of her neck.
“Mmm,” she purred. “You could put massage therapists out of business.” She followed the dancing flames in the fireplace. The soft crackles eased her tired mind, and the warm pressure of his hands penetrated deep, soothing her clenched muscles. Slowly, her eyelids drooped. She focused on the sensation of his magical and loving touch. The winter wind whipped outside, like problems and danger surrounding them. But with him she was safe, secure, and loved...experiences new to her.
***
Cullen flattened his palms over the expanse of her back and traced the delicate lines of her shoulder blades. She eased lower into the cushions. Her hair caught the firelight like spun gold. He couldn’t resist wrapping his fingers around her sides, grazing the soft, rounded edges of her sweet breasts covered only by the thin material of her bra. His groin pulsed with blood flow.
A strand of hair fell across a rosy cheek, directing his attention to her face. Her eyes were closed; she slept. With a smile, he slowly moved his hands onto her back, not wanting arousal to awaken her. She’d journeyed far and needed rest. Relaxing under his touch, Lyra repaid all of his effort preparing for her welcome. Moving carefully, he turned her into his arms.
Her eyes flitted open briefly. “Tired. Too much wine.”
“Shh. Sleep.” With a nod of his head, he doused the fire and locked the door, before carrying Lyra up the stairs. He laid her onto the wide bed and eased off her jeans. He pulled the down comforter to her shoulders, and she turned onto one side in a snug fetal position. He quickly undressed and curled up next to her. For a while he lay awake, monitoring her thoughts like he did last summer when Jean’s death haunted her. Thankfully, she slept peacefully without dreams. After the past three week
s worrying about how to protect her, he was relieved to have her in his arms. He welcomed a good night’s rest.
***
In the morning when Cullen woke, he reached for Lyra, but she wasn’t there. His eyes flew open, and his feet hit the floor.
“I’m just over here,” she called from the bay window, leaning against the back of the tweed armchair. Blinded by sunlight streaming in, he saw her silhouette, outlining slim bare legs.
He dropped back onto the pillows. “It’s hard to know where danger lies now.”
“Yes, but we’re safe together.” She turned her gaze outside, looking over the backyard and Lake Huron behind. “There’s a skim of new snow this morning. I woke up early, nervous about the appointment today. I was just remembering the Christmases here when I was a child. Right there next to the flower bed, Jean and I used to make snow angels.” She moved back to the bed, nestling under the covers. “I miss her.”
“I know.” He held her close, hoping to comfort her.
“We didn’t get dessert last night.” She gave a little laugh.
He ran his hand over the swell of her breast. “Tonight, after the celebration. We’ll stay at my cabin on the lake.”
She lifted on an elbow. “With the flickering lights like before?”
“With whatever lights you’d like.” He nibbled her lips and ran his hand along the curve of her hip.
She pushed the comforter off. “I need to get cleaned up for my appointment with the doctor.”
“I’m joining you. You shower while I unload your car.”
“Thanks. The only good thing about that long drive was I slept like a log. Otherwise, thinking about this meeting would have kept me awake.” She leaned in to give him a kiss and then slid off the bed and headed to the bathroom.
On his way out the door, he stopped, intending to remind her to take their paired jadestones. Slim chance, but they might help. Better judgment stopped him, fearing his caution would only serve to upset her. She routinely wore it. He picked up her blouse from the floor, unpinned the brooch, and laid it on the desk in front of the bay window.
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