Romancing the Paranormal

by Stephanie Rowe

  Counting to ten, she redirected her focus to her feet, happy to find they were tied together and not to the legs of the chair. She rotated her feet in opposite directions, letting the rope slide over her skin and was happy to find it was good old fashioned jute. Mr. Addison, her high school Chemistry teacher who doubled as the P.E. teacher, would be proud she recognized its texture and even happier that she remembered with enough friction and moisture it would stretch. Ignoring the burning sensation working its way up her legs, she rubbed her ankles against one another as she continued to rotate her feet.

  This is like the whole ‘rub your tummy and pat your head’ game only with my legs and feet. Damn, I’m talented. Now to put everything I’ve learned from Bruce Willis to work and get the hell outta dodge.

  Her muscles ached and threatened to cramp, which only made Melanie work harder. Sweat ran down her legs, soaking the ropes as she listened for the sounds of her captors. It wouldn’t do any good to work this hard only to have the rat bastards show up and redo her bindings.

  Distracting herself, she thought back to the men that abducted her. It was obvious they’d used black magic. They were from the very Guard she’d taunted her grandfather about. Of course, she full well planned on smacking herself in the back of the head for letting them get the jump on her and for giving the old wizard the idea. She’d like to blame her inattention on the conversation with the Grand Draoi and in all truth, it had thrown her for a loop, but it was the mind-blowing kiss from a certain tall, blue-eyed hunk that had scrambled her neurons and left her wishing for so much more. She’d been lost to her daydreaming, allowing the assholes to get the jump on her. Years and years of honing her skills of observation, always knowing everything that was going on around her, and hiding her magic from even the best mystical practitioners were skills that kept her safe for almost twenty years. Melanie had known it was the only shot she would have to live a normal life, far away from her jacked up family that put the fun in dysfunction.

  Best laid plans…

  The sound of boots striking concrete echoed through her prison. Stopping cold, Melanie hurried to hide her escape plans. Doing her best impression of a ragdoll, she let her body go completely limp and played opossum. The footsteps grew closer, louder, more pronounced until she realized that what she’d thought to be one person was actually two and that the second man had a slight hesitation every second step. She hoped it meant he had a limp, not because she wished ill on anyone but because maybe she could use it to her advantage.

  Doing her best to control her breathing and praying the approaching goons wouldn’t be able to hear the pounding of her heart, Melanie took one last deep breath, exhaled…and prayed. Metal scratched against concrete, followed by a slam, and then the rattle of a heavy chain. Tumblers of a lock opening completed the scary sonata. Six footsteps later, rough hands grabbed her upper arms, jerking her into a semi-standing position. It took all her concentration and control not to flinch or cry out as pain radiated throughout her arms and shoulders.

  Her efforts were rewarded when a low gravelly voice said, “I think you put too much power in your Stunning Spell. It’s been almost two days. She should be awake by now. The Draoi is gonna be pissed. His orders were explicit, she was not to be harmed in any way,” chastised Putz number one.

  “Not my fault she’s weak. I didn’t even go full strength. I can’t believe he has us dragging this useless null around the countryside. There’s no way she can be the one of legend.” Putz number two grumped.

  “Shut the hell up!” Putz one growled. “Do you want the Draoi to hear you? The last guy that questioned him ended up as a pile of goo.”

  Melanie pushed back the bile that had risen at the memory her captor’s words revived. She remembered looking on as one of her grandfather’s most trusted advisors spoke out against the old wizard’s plan du jour. The Draoi had simply raised an eyebrow and the once vital man she’d affectionately called Uncle Jacob for all of her life became a bubbling pea-green puddle of goop. The throne room was completely silent, not one sound from the Dorcha in attendance. She wondered for a moment if anyone was breathing.

  Never one to let a chance for drama be wasted, the man that had once upon a time set her upon his shoulders and pretended to be a great stallion began to clap. A slow, staccato slapping of hands that echoed through the round stone room, continually growing in intensity until Melanie, no more than eleven years old at the time, wanted to cower in the corner, covering her ears.

  Worse than the applause was the malevolent smile that darkened his face and the gleam of pure evil within his onyx eyes. He stood with all the pomp and circumstance of a true king and strode as if leading a parade to the wet patch that had once been a man. Reaching the edge, he stopped and stared. The bubbling of the goo continued as if chastising the wizard for its existence.

  The Grand Draoi turned to the crowd, raised his arms over his head, and proclaimed, “Let those that agree with our fallen comrade speak now without fear of recrimination. I am, after all, a benevolent ruler.”

  Seconds ticked by, it felt as if all the air had been sucked from the room. Melanie squeezed her mother’s hand and prayed to be anywhere but there. It seemed like hours had passed when her grandfather finally spoke. His words were something the little girl didn’t understood until many years later.

  “We each have a role to play. The Dorcha has not survived for millennia upon millennia without true commitment from each member to follow the path they have been given. Together, we will rule the Earth. Let us all spend the evening in quiet reflection, rededicating ourselves to our one true mission.”

  Then the lunatic walked through the puddle of Jacob, humming a show tune as he made his way out of the room, acting like it was all in a day’s work. That was the night Melanie’s mother had planned their escape.

  For weeks after, Joanie Whelan hid money, clothes, and supplies in a hidey hole under the floorboard in their closet. She had a contact outside the coven, who Melanie only knew as Smith. When they escaped, he would be waiting on the other side of the woods to transport them as far away from the Dorcha as possible.

  The night came when they were to run. Joanie told Melanie to go to After-Dinner Meditation just as always, but instead of returning to their room at its conclusion, she was to meet her mother in the basement and together they would slip away using the underground tunnels.

  Everything went as planned for a while. They were running hand-in-hand, following the dim light of the flashlight Joanie had appropriated from the guard’s shack when the sound of chanting came from the shadows ahead of them. Within seconds, the low drone of many voices filled the chamber.

  “Run, Meli Rose, run,” her mother shouted.

  She tried, but the dirt beneath her feet had become like quicksand. The harder she pushed, the slower she ran until she fell to her knees sobbing. Somewhere amid all the chanting, running, and fear, Melanie lost contact with Joanie. Trying to stand but only getting as far as her knees, the child swiped at the tears that continued to flow while frantically searching the dark for her mother.

  Firm but gentle hands lifted her in the air. Melanie threw back her head and was rewarded with a loud crunch and low moan that could only mean she’d made contact with her jailer’s nose. Unfortunately, his grip tightened instead of loosened. It was then she began to kick and flail about. Her efforts were rewarded when the heel of the climbing boots her mother had demanded she wear made contact with his crotch.

  Her captor howled like a wounded dog and dropped her on the ground. Melanie sprinted into the darkness, praying to whoever was listening that she be reunited with her mom. Instead, she was scooped up and immediately bound and gagged before being carried right back to the man she never wanted to see again.

  “Tsk, tsk, tsk, Meli Rose. Where exactly did you think you could go that I can’t find you?”

  She opened her mouth to tell him to go to hell, even though she was sure her mom would wash her mouth out with soap, when the sc
rape of the large door at the rear of the room drew her attention. In walked six of her grandfather’s guard carrying Joanie atop their shoulders. She was trussed up like a calf at a rodeo and seemed to be under the influence of a Paralyzing Spell. Her eyes were wide but unseeing, her mouth open in a silent scream, and her body stiff as a board.

  “Mom!” Melanie called over and over until her screams were little more than a whisper, but Joanie never so much as moved. Dried tears stained her cheeks, though she hadn’t realized she was crying.

  Sarah Beth, one of her mother’s best friends, knelt before her and pulled Melanie into her embrace, rocking and assuring her everything would be okay. The older woman whispered for only her to hear. “Please calm yourself, child. Don’t make matters worse for you or your mother. Do your best to be strong and pray Joanie can get herself out of this mess.”

  One look at her grandfather told her the kind witch was right. Summoning a strength much older than her years, Melanie stopped crying, stood, and waited like the good little Dorcha she was supposed to be while everything in her was shouting that she unleash her power on everyone in sight. Her magic was all she had left. It was the one secret she’d been able to keep, even from her mom.

  Melanie Rose Whelan was more naturally magical than anyone in their coven had been for over a thousand years. It wasn’t something she’d wished for or even knew she possessed until the eve of her tenth birthday. On that night she was visited by the Goddess Anu, the keeper of magic. The goddess explained that Melanie’s father, who died when she was a baby, had given his life in an attempt to bring light to the Dorcha. It was now her job to continue his quest. Anu went on to explain that Cleland, Melanie’s grandfather and the Draoi, was quickly perfecting his ability to call and control demons. She warned that if he were allowed to continue, no one would be safe. The world as they knew it would cease to exist. Her parting words were something Melanie had worked hard for years to forget.

  “You possess the power, Melanie Rose Whelan. You and you alone can stop him. One day you will be called upon. Do not let us down.”

  Movement brought Melanie back to the present, just in time to hear the captor she referred to as Putz Two say, “Why can’t we just leave her here? Send the others after her? The Grand Draoi will never know, and if anything happens to her, it’ll be on them.”

  Well, this one’s not the brains of the operation.

  “Because, dumbass, the Draoi asked us personally to bring his granddaughter back into the fold. Remember? This is our mission and one we cannot fuck up.” It was obvious Putz One was at the end of his rope with his cohort but stuck with him nonetheless.

  “Oh, yeah. Well, dammit. Then we better get the bitch awake.”

  Melanie thought about pulling out her magic and dusting it off when he called her a bitch. Then changed her mind. It would be more beneficial for her to remain quiet and listen. She only needed to wait for the right time and then she could make the asshole’s balls fall off.

  It wasn’t long before the idiots gave up and left the room. She heard them discussing different ways they could get her awake without harm and even what to do with her body if she never woke. A cellphone rang during their conversation. Putz One answered and began stammering, quickly explaining their plight. Apparently, whoever was on the other end of the phone had more common sense than her two captors combined, because when they returned, the idiots made short work of her bindings, removed the hood from her head, and carried her into what she could smell from the disinfectant was the bathroom.

  Melanie was unceremoniously dumped on a cold tile floor and barely avoided banging her head against the wall while maintaining her ruse. However, she wasn’t as lucky when the icy spray of a shower hit her square in the face. Unable to feign unconsciousness while drowning in ice cubes, she gasped and tried to catch her breath. Scrambling backward in a crab walk, she tried to climb out of the tub to avoid what felt like hail against her skin.

  Son of a bitches had to grab me when I was in a tank top and boxers. Couldn’t have gotten me a sweatshirt and jeans?

  “Lookie there, the princess is awake.”

  Throwing her best ‘die bastard’ look at her kidnappers, Melanie spat, “I’m awake, assholes. Turn the damn water off.”

  Pushing her soggy bangs from her eyes, she focused on the Putz Twins, not surprised that they looked like all the other men her seanathair had appointed to his guard, big and dumb. The good news was that it seemed the leader of the Dorcha hadn’t changed much. He still did things the same way and that was something she could use to her advantage. The bad news was he picked huge, muscle bound wizards who used their fists to make up for what they lacked in magical ability. From the look of the two that stood staring at her like she was an exhibit at the county fair, they were no exception. She knew Putz Two had stunned her but figured that was the height of his talent…or at least she hoped it was.

  After a few tense moments, the bald one threw a towel at her and commanded, “Dry off, cover up, and stand up.”

  She recognized his voice as belonging to Putz One, the more intelligent of the two, not that either one was up for admission into Mensa, but it helped her to know who was who. Melanie did as she was told and was soon being dragged back to her chair. Putz Two knelt before her and made quick work of tying her ankles to the legs of the chair this time with leather straps. Putz One wrapped the same straps, only wider, around her midsection, securing her left arm to her side as he went. She wanted to chuckle. Apparently Cleland remembered she was left-handed and thought that securing her dominant hand would keep her from using magic. Little did he know that had nothing to do with her refusal to call upon her gifts.

  After incapacitating her right hand the same way he had her left, Putz One spoke. “Let’s go. We need to report in.”

  An acknowledging grunt from Putz Two and they walked out the door without another word. The sound of the chain and lock being secured on the other side of the door followed by their retreating footsteps was the last thing Melanie heard for almost two hours. She laughed to herself at how good she was at telling time without a watch. It was a skill she had mastered during her nurse’s training. Because of the magic that ran through her veins, even though suppressed by the charm of Cerridwen, she couldn’t wear a watch. Well, she could wear one but after a few hours of contact with her skin, the timepiece would simply cease to function, never to keep time again. It happened with every type of timepiece she tried, even a pocket watch that had been her father’s. In order to not spend her life late for everything, she’d been forced to learn to keep time in her head.

  Thinking about all the crazy things that had happened in her almost twenty-nine years was a mixed bag of emotions, but she had to admit there was more good than bad, especially lately. She smiled to herself when the image of spiky blond hair and mischievous blue eyes popped into her head. Other parts of her tingled when she thought of the amazing kiss they’d shared right before her abduction. Jace MacQuaid definitely topped the list of positive things in her life.

  When he’d first popped into her life, she’d been suspicious. It had been years since anyone had come looking for her, but she still had to be cautious. The thought of using her hidden magic had crossed her mind several times but just the thought of being forced to live among the Drocha again stilled her actions. Instead, she had waited and watched, all the while trying to come up with a plausible answer for the immediate attraction she felt for him.

  About a week into what she laughingly called her ‘surveillance’, Melanie noticed Jace watching her. It hadn’t taken long until their occasional smiles turned to ‘hellos’, which turned to a quick ‘how’s your day’ now and then, to cups of coffee on her breaks, lunches together, and then long talks in the parking lot after work. She realized early on what a truly nice guy he was, and now she had the memory of their first real kiss to keep her from losing her mind while in captivity.

  The longer she thought of Jace, the stronger the feeling that he was
thinking about her became. It was as if she could actually feel his thoughts and emotions. She knew they were supposed to talk the day after their kiss and figured he thought she’d blown him off, but for some reason, that didn’t fit what she knew of the man. Closing her eyes, Melanie focused on the warmth she felt around her heart at just the thought of his name. She pictured the six-foot-three-inch man that scrambled her brains with his cocky grin and genuine heart and felt an immediate sense of relief. No matter how impossible it sounded, even in her own head, she knew he was looking for her.

  Her heart beat faster as she tried to think of a way to contact him. It had been almost seventeen years since she’d used her magic. The day she ran away from the coven, she’d locked all her abilities away with an ancient spell Sarah Beth had given her. From that moment forward, she’d lived her life as a null and believed she was better for it. There was a trap door woven into the spell that would allow her to unlock her powers by uttering a simple phrase and removing the charm, but of course that would also allow any magical being she came in contact with to identify her as a witch. It would also signal the Draoi of her true power, something she knew he would kill everyone in his path to possess.

  Debating whether to reveal herself or trust in the man that was quickly becoming an integral part of her life to find her, Melanie almost jumped out of her skin when she heard the sound of the chains outside her cell rattling. Preparing for what she was sure to be a whopping good time with the Putz Brothers, she was shocked to see a young woman, with long strawberry blonde curls, wearing a light blue T-shirt and jeans enter the room.

  The newcomer was carrying a tray of food and an overnight bag. With her head bowed, her beautiful locks covered her face, but that didn’t hide the familiarity Melanie felt from the stranger. Stepping just inside the door, she turned just as Putz One snarled, “The Draoi said you have one hour. I’ll be back to get you. Be waiting at this door. No exceptions.”