Lore vs. The Summoning

by Anya Breton

"Hilton," I lied. "Until I can find another apartment. Know of anything good?"

  "I might have a few suggestions," his eyes got a far off look that eventually flared bright. "One of my exes is a real estate agent. We're still friends. I'll give him a call." From the severe twinkle in his eye I was suddenly worried for his ex. "Are you still at that same cell number?"

  "Yes," I answered warily. If it would get me a new apartment fast, I could be grateful. "Thanks."

  The others musicians formed a line near the side entrance to the small room. Andy moved to join our colleagues with a smile aimed back at me. I set my water down on the table beside my flute case, dried my hands off on my velvet skirt and then picked up my instrument. This was going to put me to the test.

  It was mid-afternoon and I was exhausted. I hadn't gotten much sleep in the strange bed. It had smelled old, unused and like someone I didn't recognize -- all true scents. My plan was to actually rent a room at the Hilton tonight but first I had to get through the Chamber Tea without dozing off.

  I took my place up front because today, unlike performances with the whole symphony, I would be sitting on the edge. Chamber performances were my least favorite kind. There was no place to hide in a quintet. When the flute sounded flat, everyone knew it was you. Not that I ever sounded flat.

  I shouldn't still be getting stage fright. I'd been playing professionally for three years and in school bands for over a decade. But it was there, the fluttering in my stomach and taut nerves before walking out onto the stage, especially in intimate performances like this one.

  "Go ahead," Harry, the bassoonist, called from behind me.

  That was my cue. I pushed my shoulders back, turned the doorknob and then walked out into the bright white room. The place was filled with chattering people arranged around circular tables beneath the glow of chandeliers. Their speech softened when they realized the performers were arriving.

  I nearly tripped over my own feet when I saw who was seated at the table nearest my music stand. Grayson Dennison's mouth curved up into his warmest of smiles now that I'd focused on his table. He was dressed in business casual, a nice brown suede jacket that softened his timber brown eyes, a cream shirt beneath it and tan slacks. His dirty blonde hair was still as long as it had been. He'd tamed it a little with some styling gel. But it wasn't him who worried me. It was the stunning creature seated beside him.

  It shouldn't come as a surprise that the high priestess was in attendance. She'd mentioned the tea just the other day. And Morrígan had been to every event I'd performed in since she'd met me. She'd even attended the same event on different days with the excuse that it had been "so spectacular that she'd had to see it twice".

  I managed to drop down into my chair without falling. But the few minutes we had to get our music straight and our instruments tuned were nearly all filled by my trying not to notice Morrígan out of the corner of my eye.

  Good gods, she looked absolutely amazing. Her shining dark hair was divided into two asymmetrical halves that were pulled into a messy bun at the base of her neck. She'd worn a loose white cotton jacket that was unbelted and unbuttoned, a pair of crisp white cotton capri pants and white open-toe wedged shoes. Unfortunately that was all she was wearing. The jacket wasn't hiding a lovely blouse or even a tank top. Beneath it was only her creamy soft skin.

  As if knowing I was paying attention, Morrígan leaned toward Gray to speak quietly. The move slid the jacket to one side far enough that the curve of her right breast was clearly visible. My temperature rose a few degrees. Already my fingers were sweaty against the cool metal of my flute and I hadn't even begun playing. I forced myself to focus, to forget she was here, and more importantly forget that I wanted to walk over there and slide my hands beneath that jacket to see if it really was all she was wearing.

  What had she done to me?

  The first piece we were playing this afternoon was the early Romantic composition I'd had to fix because of tempo problems. There was a brief shot of concern that I'd failed to copy it properly. It was enough of a worry that I was able to concentrate on the performance at hand.

  I quickly played a scale up and down to check the tune of my flute then skimmed my hand-written sheet music for obvious errors against the original while waiting for the bassoonist to begin the opening solo. Once the mouthpiece pressed against my lips everything in the room faded except for my four associates and the sounds we made together. It was peaceful to have no concerns for the moment except the notes sprawled across the pages.

  The catharsis playing my instrument had brought was short lived. Too soon I found myself standing beside my chair bowing before the gathering of a hundred people. My associates began walking for the door and I with them. We knew if we didn't leave as a group the audience would assume we were staying for meet and greet. Those sessions were terribly difficult to break out of even with a small group of attendees like this.

  But Gray and Morrígan stopped me before I'd gone five steps. My teeth set though I smiled on the outside. For once it wasn't the Prime of Massachusetts that I was worried about.

  The high priestess stepped forward until she was within mere inches of me. That heather scent filled my nose as she slid her fingers over my shoulders. They quickly curled behind me. Before I could protest she pulled me against her half bared chest. Her silky lips found mine and she coaxed my mouth open with a sensual slide of her tongue against my bottom lip. I was vaguely aware of the hundred people watching and Gray a foot away. It made for a stiff reception to her open-mouthed kiss. Morrígan made a sound of disappointment as she pulled aside. Her lips were next to my left ear a moment later.

  "Your playing arouses...much in me," she said in a sultry whisper.

  A shiver ran down my spine. I attempted to tactfully extract myself from her. She let me go with a small pout that would have looked childish on anyone else. On her it was delectable. My cheeks seared with embarrassment and my temperature matched. It didn't help that Andy, the gossipy clarinetist, had lagged behind to witness the whole scene.

  I managed to form a wan smile despite my very deep state of mortification. "Thank you for coming." I looked to Gray. "I know how much you despise Classical music."

  His timber brown eyes were darker than usual. The hard-edged gaze he'd pinned me with wasn't pleasant. Ordinarily Gray would tell me that he enjoyed any music I played even if it lacked any sort of danceable beat. Then we'd get into how this was some of the earliest recorded dance music. But today Gray wasn't so much as opening his mouth.

  "Beautiful playing," someone to my left said.

  I nodded and murmured thanks.

  "How long have you been playing?"

  I knew if I answered this without moving that I'd be stuck here answering all manner of tedious questions over and over until I could make an excuse to leave. I needed to make that excuse now.

  "I have to go," I told the pair in front of me with a meaningful glance to the man waiting on my left. "I've been playing for fourteen years," I answered politely on my way toward the exit. "Thanks for coming."

  Over the red carpet I hurried to the room that held my purse and case. The others had nearly finished breaking their instruments down and cleaning them. Andy had been chatting with the oboe player until he saw me enter. I was tempted to turn around and run for the door when he hopped up and rushed me as fast as the chicken legs the suit was hiding could move him.

  "You have been holding out on me, Laura Denham," Andy made several tsking sounds. "When did you switch sides?"

  "Sides?" Playing stupid was something I considered myself a pro at.

  His volume lowered. "How long have you been a lesbian?"

  I supposed I couldn't call him rude. He was openly gay. Perhaps this was appropriate behavior in their circles.

  "I'm not a lesbian," I said as quietly as I could manage.

  Andy shook his head with a frustrated sigh. "Fine, then how long have you been bi..."

  I made a cutting gesture to shut him up.
"I don't know that I'm that either."

  He laughed a little too raucously. "Then how do you explain a lip lock with that exotic bombshell?"

  Cheeks searing I replied, "I can't explain it. She's a friend."

  His chin lowered nearly to his chest. He looked up at me from beneath half-hooded eyes. There was a twist to the lips that spoke a second later. "Honey, that didn't look like you're just friends. You two clearly have something."

  I concentrated on my flute to avoid seeing him. "Well, when I figure out what's going on, you'll be the first to know."

  "Budding illicit romance!" He effused with a hand over his heart that saw in my peripheral vision. "How captivating. We've gotta have coffee together."

  Maybe I could turn this to my advantage. "You call your real estate friend and I'll meet you for coffee after I sign on a new apartment."

  "You sly one," Andy teased with a tweak of my nose. "It's a deal."

  Thankfully he left me to chat with the bassoonist.

  I sat running the cloth over my flute until everyone had left. And then I sat for longer. I was a coward. I knew that outside that door one of them, probably both of them, would be waiting. Gray would want to know what the hell was going on. Morrígan would try to persuade me to go home with her. I didn't know if I was strong enough to resist her.

  I stared at the nondescript white wall in front of me through sightless eyes. My thoughts were on why it was that I wanted to resist Morrígan. I considered myself an open-minded person. I didn't think people loving a member of the same sex were ethically or morally wrong. But I'd never particularly had an interest in being one of them. And yes, I couldn't lie to myself, I was embarrassed by the thought of people thinking I was a lesbian. But that wasn't the bigger issue.

  The bigger issue was that Morrígan had some sort of hold on me. She held power over me through lust. She could make my brain turn to jelly. She could make me do things that weren't in my nature and that scared the living crap out of me.

  Perhaps if I'd felt something for her other than lust I might not fear her as I did. There was nothing else. I didn't love her. I didn't think I'd risk my life for her any more than I'd risk it for a stranger, perhaps less because I knew she was capable of taking care of herself. That meant I didn't even count her as a friend as I'd told Andy. What did I count her as?

  There was a knock at the door. My head whipped toward it. Fear rushed into my gut with a sudden slam of nausea. I hated that I could face down Rhinos and murderous shapeshifters but I was afraid of a confronting the woman I'd slept with a few days ago.

  Gray's voice called out a second later. "Lore? Are you okay?"

  "I don't know," I admitted softly. I knew he'd hear it.

  "Can we come in?"

  I supposed speaking to them in private was better than out there in the corridor where lingering audience could overhear. There were bigger secrets to keep than my confused sexuality. "Okay," I said to the flute in my hand.

  The door opened and of course Gray was in the lead. His eyes were crinkled in concern but his mouth was drawn thin in irritation. Morrígan trailed him with a serene expression. I focused on Gray. He was the one I owed most. He, like Aiden, had saved my ass a time or two.

  Gray made a beeline for me and surprised me by taking the flute out of my hands, setting it aside and drawing me into the warmth of his arms. When his fingers moved up to my chin I realized what was happening. He was trying to lay a claim to me as Morrígan had.

  "Gray," I said in a softly chiding tone while pushing at his chest with the palm of my hand. I didn't need this. He knew where he stood with me. He wasn't supposed to try to change that, not seriously.

  The hurt that filled his eyes when he pulled back pained me. I opened my mouth to say something, to take it back, but he'd already turned away with a jerky movement. Morrígan attempted to glide forward to inhabit the space he'd been in.

  I held up a single finger at her and wagged it back and forth. "No. Not you either."

  My response stilled Gray's retreat but he didn't turn back around. Morrígan's gorgeous frame stiffened.

  I knew she deserved some sort of reason so I explained, "Someone is trying to do something that will endanger us all. Until I stop them I can't be distracted by anyone or anything."

  "I am a distraction?" She asked with rounded eyes that were equal parts doe-like innocence and barely checked anger. It was a strange mix that had me in thrall until my brain processed what she'd asked.

  I couldn't help but laugh, an almost desperate sound. "You are way more than a distraction."

  Morrígan shifted her weight onto one hip and moved her right arm just so. The combined effort slid the jacket open. My breath caught in my throat at the sight of her bared breast. I stood transfixed, riding the heat that was beginning to coil within me.

  "What have you done to me?" I whispered a now familiar question.

  Her eyelids hooded her brilliant blue irises. "Nothing you didn't want, dearest," she responded in her huskiest of voices.

  Gray's body whipped around. I knew he was watching us but I couldn't tear my eyes away from her to see more than that.

  "You will come home with me, Lore," she said in the imperious way that was hers alone.

  "Lore? She's calling you Lore now?"

  My cheeks flushed at Gray's angry question. He had every right to be upset. Only my oldest friends got to call me Lore. What had I been thinking when I'd given the nickname to her? Oh, right. I hadn't been thinking at all.

  I forced my eyes shut and shook myself physically. When they opened again I focused on her face. "No distractions, Morrígan." And that was all that I said before taking my case, the flute and my purse to walk out on them both.

  I'd walked three steps from Symphony Hall when a blast of frigid water hit me in the shins. It was powerful enough to knock me over. Unfortunately where I'd landed was still within its path. I rolled over onto my belly then crawled out of the pounding spray.

  The first thing I'd thought was, ouch that hurt like a bitch. Then I'd lamented yet another outfit being destroyed by water. And finally I'd come up with the thought that this wasn't normal. That was when a second spray hit me in the back.

  It slammed me onto my stomach. My face dropped into a puddle of dirty sidewalk water. I was slack-jawed when it had happened. A mouthful of disgusting water had me gagging until I could break free of the spray and spit it all up.

  With athleticism that had to be divine considering I never really worked out, I hopped to my feet out of the powerful jet and whirled around. It was just in time to observe the spray slithering snake-like toward me. That wasn't normal for an uncapped fire hydrant, was it?

  Someone had to be manipulating the water. I glanced around for the culprit and saw both Morrígan and Gray standing near the building watching in mute surprise. Neither had made a move to help me until they realized I was looking at them.

  I understood Morrígan's reluctance to tangle with water or a Water witch. It was her natural enemy. Gray on the other hand had no excuse. However he was the first to reach me thanks to his enhanced speed. He asked me something that I ignored. I was more interested in finding the witch that was responsible.

  Contrary to what popular culture would have us believe, it isn't easy to spot a witch. Magic users generally didn't shout latin to get their power to work. And they didn't have to point a magic wand. Nor did they dress a certain way. I had no helpful figure on the sidewalk wearing a pointy hat or a menacing cloak, shaking a staff at me like a fantasy wizard. No, everyone nearby looked entirely normal.

  More than a few of those normal people were paying attention to me. That was to be expected considering a fire hydrant with a mind of its own was attacking a woman. Anyone who didn't look would be suspect.

  I spotted a car parked in the fire lane across the street. There was a blonde-haired man inside staring very intently at me with a finger in front of his face. He looked away when he saw me glance in his direction. That glance away loo
ked guilty and perhaps worried. Instinct had me darting out toward him, vaulting over the gushing water to get there. He peeled into the street where I narrowly missed getting creamed by his beat-up blue Ford Escort.

  When I turned to trudge back to the other side of the street in sopping wet clothes Gray stood waiting with my flute in his hand. He seemed to attempt to dry the silver metal with the corner of his suede jacket. He looked up awkwardly as I stepped onto the sidewalk.

  "I'm sorry. I just froze...I..." He glanced over at where I knew Morrígan still stood.

  I made a dismissive gesture and hoped he'd shut up.

  He spoke in a softer voice, "I shouldn't let my anger..."

  I interrupted him impatiently. "I can take care of myself."

  Apparently he was still angry because his eyes flared at me and his voice grew sharp. "Why you always gotta do that?"

  This was another argument we'd had in the past. "This isn't your problem, Gray."

  "What if I want to make it my problem, Laura?" Uh oh. He was using my actual name in that impatient, angry voice of his. "You going to get physical with me to stop me?"

  "I don't want to fight with you," I said rather than give a straight answer.

  It could be taken several ways. Just then I wasn't sure which way I meant it. I'd wanted something I could say that would allow me to leave.

  He didn't move when I walked forward to get the flute from him. And he didn't give my instrument up either. Gray leaned forward so that he could lower his voice. But I still heard the anguish in it. "Why her?"

  I didn't have an answer for him because I didn't have one for myself. So I yanked on the bottom of the flute until it came apart. Without the full length of it to give him leverage I was able to tug the other pieces out of his grip.

  In the distance we heard what could only be described as an explosion. People gasped and screamed around us as the ground shook. Quicker than I could follow, Gray pounced forward to wrap his arms around me. I hoped it was to shield me from whatever attack he thought we were experiencing. Over his arm I saw a flaming ball of twisted steel crash to the ground five blocks down the busy street.