Wings of Rapture: Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Taryn grimaced as her feet finally touched solid ground. Energy crackled. Tiny whimpered behind her ear hidden in the small compartment she’d built into her mini hat. She really should have left her home. The sky lit up with blue light. The hair on her neck rose with the static. They’d had to land early because of the storm. It seemed fitting with the whole trip. 

From the moment her publisher had handed her the packet with tickets and information about her destination she’d had a bad feeling. She’d had nightmares and disturbing dreams so bad she’d barely slept for more than two hours at a time. She was sure she looked horrible under all the makeup she’d slathered across her face to hide the exhaustion.

“As soon as the storm passes we can be on our way.”

Taryn glanced to the pilot as he picked up her carry-on. He had been polite enough though he clearly didn't want to be going where she was headed. Quiet a few times he’d muttered something about a curse on the town that he wanted nothing to do with. It had intrigued her.

“How far away are we?”

“Bout three hours.”

“Oh.” To long to call for a ride. She bit her lip uncertain what she should do.

“I’ll get ye set up at the B&B for the night. Storm should pass by morning.”

Tiny chittered softly against her ear. Taryn nodded. She’d at least have to call and let them know she’d been delayed. She nodded and followed him off the small runway just before the rain came. Luckily the B&B wasn't far from the little airport. She was also grateful that she packed extra clothes in her carry-on and she’d been sure to carry cash with her this trip. Hopefully this B&B had decent food.

The building would have been quaint if she hadn't felt the energy spiking into her from the moment she went near it. It was all she could do to stand next to the pilot at the welcoming front desk while he got them rooms for the night. Her fingers twitched as if she had a live current flowing through her. Even Tiny was nervously bouncing around in her little jar.

“I don’t have much room. This storm seems to have stranded many tonight.”

“Please don’t worry about me. I don’t sleep much anyways.” Taryn shifted her bag glancing around the front hall. There was no way she’d be able to sleep anyways. “I’m just going to call and let them know we've been delayed.”

The pilot nodded signing for a room. She pulled her cell phone out as she found a quiet isolated spot in a front parlor. Despite the unnerving energy she had to appreciate the Victorian decor mixed just right with the modern convinces.

“Hello?”

The deep voice startled her so that she pulled the phone away to double check the number. It was the correct number.

“Hello?”

“Oh, uh, yes. I was looking for Paul Vorrick.”

“He’s busy. Want me to give him a message?”

“Yes, please. Could you let him know that I was delayed. There’s this nasty storm and the pilot said we can’t fly through it.”

“And who are you?”

“Taryn Bowyd.” There was a pause as if her name had surprised him.

“Where are you?”

“According to the pilot about three hours away, but the storm’s supposed to be pretty bad.”

“I haven’t heard anything.”

“It’s been all over the news. They were even telling people to leave work as soon as possible. Their expecting power lines to go down and possibly flash floods.”

“Hold on.” Taryn pulled the phone away again looking at the phone as if it had grown a head.

“Everything alright?”

“Yes. I think so. I’m just letting Mr. Vorrick know we’re delayed. I’m on hold actually.”

“You there?”

“Yes. Yes, I’m still here.”

“Look, Paul really needs you here by the morning so I’m going to drive out to get you.”

“Do you think that’s safe?”

“Safe or not it’s the only way. Where are you at?”

“The Rose and Tea Bed and Breakfast Inn.”

“Perfect. I know it well. Have your things ready to go.”

“And who exactly are you?”

“Al. Paul’s twin. See you in a couple hours.”

The phone disconnected before she could ask for a description. Tiny chittered next to her and she groaned.

“I know. He does sound sexy, but that’s not why we’re here. No relationships. Besides, can you imagine his reaction to you?” She paused and glanced around the room. “To any of the others? He’d think I was insane, try to lock me up and throw away the key. No thank you. Look at Sarah. Nope. Not for me.”

The hair raised on the back of her arms as the air boomed with thunder. Out of the corner of her eyes she caught movement. She turned but nothing was there. Tiny squawked loudly in her ear making her jump.

“Enough of that.” She whispered to Tiny. Tiny shrank down pulling her energy close enough to be hidden. Chills chased over Taryn’s body. Tiny didn't usually act so frightened.

“Did you get through?”

“Yes. Do you think we could run over to your plane and get my baggage out? Mr. Vorrick is sending someone to pick me up tonight.”

The pilot frowned looking out the window at the rain pouring down. He grimaced but sighed. “I suppose we could.”

“I’d be happy to help.” A young man, a teenager really, spoke from the door to the front hall.

Taryn looked up surprised at the intrusion. The boy blushed and stuffed his large hands into his dark jean pockets. His crisp black shirt contrasted with the lime green vest. Taryn smiled. A fellow Steampunk. The energy in the room lightened just a little, enough that Tiny pressed up against the glass jar.

“Your her aren't you?”

“Who?” The pilot twisted his head between Taryn and the boy his face scrunched in confusion.

Taryn laughed standing up. “How do you do?” She held out her hand with her fingers facing the floor. His chest puffed up and he stepped into the room as if he’d just been made man of the house. She was very glad she’d kept her persona in place while traveling. Even if traveling in a corset wasn't the most comfortable.

“You are her.”

“Who?”

“Miss Bowyd. Uhm…” He blushed bright red dropping her hand as if it had burned. Taryn laughed at the pilot’s face.

“I gather you've read one of my books.”

“All of them. You’re my favorite.”

This was one of the things she loved the most about writing. Getting to meet the people who make writing a full time job gave her pleasure that would last for weeks.

“What’s your name?”

“Oh. Uh. James. James Willingham.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Mr. Willingham. I’m sure my pilot would appreciate your help.”

“Are you staying here?”

Taryn hated to disappoint the boy. “I’m on my way to Graves Hall. The storm stranded us for the night, but I have someone coming to pick me up in a couple hours.”

“Oh.” His shoulders slumped a little.

“But I wouldn't mind some company while I wait. If you’re staying here.”

“My parents own it.”

“How wonderful.”

Electrical energy zapped through the air. Taryn felt her shoulder blades twitch with unease. The house shook with the next boom of thunder. Tiny fluttered so fast the jar trembled against her hat. Taryn reached up with shaking fingers and removed the hat. Tiny would do better freed and she would feel more stable with her companion able to communicate freely.

“I think we’ll have to wait.” The pilot nodded to the window.

The rain was hitting the glass with such force Taryn thought for sure it would chip the thin covering. She swallowed.

“I think the storm hit in full force.” James spoke stepping up to the window. He looked more fascinated than scared. Although Taryn had to admit she didn't care for storms. Storms brought up a lot of energy. She glanced around the room. That excess energy was definitely stirring up stuff.

“In that case, I’m going to bed. I’ll drop your baggage off first thing in the morning.”

Taryn nodded her gaze locking onto a shadowy form in the right corner of the room. She gulped. Tiny moved behind her. That wasn't a good sign.

“So what are you doing at Graves Hall?” James spoke moving around her.

“I’m speaking at a charity event.” Taryn turned trying to put the shadow person from her mind. She wasn't sure it had sensed that she could see it, but she really didn't want to deal with it at the moment. She sat back down rearranging her skirts and bustle so that she could lean back somewhat. James frowned.

“At Graves Hall?” She nodded. “I haven’t been there since last summer, but it didn't look very nice.”

“What do you mean?”

The shadow pulled away from the corner as if it had just realized she could sense things. James turned his head toward the motion, scowled then turned back to her. He either had sensed movement or he’d seen it.

“There’s this rumor about the town.”

“Do tell. I love stories.” She smiled trying to break the tension starting to suck the air from the room. 

She wasn't sure how she’d be able to sit in the building for next couple of hours. James laughed but his gaze kept drifting to the shadow circling them as if getting a lay of the land. Tiny slipped into her hat hiding her presence.

“Well, I don’t know the exacts. It had something to do with that guy and his son who made the wings-”

“Icarus?” Taryn swung her full attention to James. He smiled nodded. 

“Icarus and his father were stuck in the Labyrinth in Crete. In order to escape his father constructed wings for them out of wax and feathers. He warned his son not to fly too close to the sun for the sun would melt the wax. Icarus didn't listen enjoying his flight too much. The sun melted the wax and he fell.”

“Yeah. That’s the story.”

Taryn frowned. Icarus had been to start of the idea from her publisher. Supposedly Greek mythology was going to be the next big thing and the house wanted her to try it. She’d figured it might have merit, but almost three months in she was starting to lose hope. But perhaps not now.

Glass shattered to the left. Taryn jumped off the couch twirling to the sound. James gasped jumping up as well. The shadow form came forward and stared at Taryn. Someone ran into the room.

“What happened Jammie?”

“I don’t know, ma. Something broke.”

Taryn couldn't pull her gaze from the figure. She swallowed. Thunder boomed again shaking the house. A child cried out in fear. She wanted to leave. Desperately. She even took a step back.

“Did one of you knock something over?”

“No, ma. Honest.”

The room lit up with blue light. Someone else screamed.

“Oh lord!”

“Do you think we should move everyone to the tv room ma?”

Another bout of thunder and this time the couch slid across the wooden floor boards knocking into Taryn’s legs. Her knees buckled and she plopped down onto the cushions. The energy changed turning darker.

“That would be a good idea.” Taryn spoke turning her back onto the shadow trying to portray that she wasn't afraid when in fact she was terrified. She hadn't had dealings with something like what was clearly trying to scare everyone in the house. The need to leave was even stronger. She glanced over her shoulder. Something white flickered behind the shadow. Taryn bit her lip. Damn!

Then all hell broke loose. Thunder slammed through the air. Lightening pulsed through the tree right outside the window. With a groan and what sounded like a scream the old oak split crashing right into the room. Something, Taryn assumed a branch, smacked her in the temple throwing her to the floor. For a brief second she thought she heard laughter.

Alarik grimaced at the thunder shouting warnings as he drew closer to the bed and breakfast. The author had been correct. Even now the radio was broadcasting reports of power outages and flash floods. It had taken him half the time to get to the town, but there had been some close calls as the rain had made the country roads slick. Sirens wailed in the distance and occasionally he caught glimpses of lights flashing but as he pulled into the city he was amazed at the amount of neighborhoods with no power.

He slowed before turning and grimaced as his shoulders began to itch again. He rubbed against the leather seat but it only seemed to make it worse.

Alarik glanced around the neighborhood as he pulled in. The once bustling area looked deserted until he rounded the last corner. Fire, ambulance and police hustled and bustled around the B&B. His stomach dropped. His mouth went dry. His shoulder blades burned.

He parked the old American Mustang behind the emergency vehicles. As he emerged from the car a young teenage boy stumbled from the old Victorian front porch looking dazed. Alarik pushed his way past onlookers as the sky opened up again. The temperature dropped while his othersenses opened. He paused for just a second. He shouldn't be able to sense anything more than the usual ghosts, which was common for an area so old.

“I’m fine. Really.”

Alarik spun towards the female voice. The woman glowed like a beacon in the dark hectic night. His othersense screamed at him to move towards her and protect her back. His gaze lifted to the windows of the second floor. Half of an old oak had crashed into the building on one side.

“Miss Bowyd-”

“Honestly. Please spend your energies on the pilot. No one seems to have seen him in a while. He mentioned going to bed.” She moved away from the ambulance worker and staggered. Alarik found himself instantly by her side steadying her before the other man could touch her. He frowned. He hadn't thought to teleport and the show of power unnerved him. So did the spike of jealousy that pulsed through him at the thought of her touching another man.

“I’m fine.” She insisted pushing away from him.

Blue light blinked from under her tangled hair. Alarik blinked thinking his eyes played a trick on him.

“You look a little unsteady.”

She spun, her blue eyes wide in surprise. He wrapped an arm around her to steady her. Light from a torch flashed over her face and he caught his breath. He understood why the paramedic had been concerned with her. Blood trailed down her face from a large gash along her right temple. Her eye was already starting to swell.

“Miss Bowyd, you look like hell.” He spoke trying to relax her. She blinked up at him.

“I feel like it. You must be Al?”

“At your service.”

“That was fast. Or did I loose more time than I thought?” She frowned then winced when the motion pulled on the wound. Fresh blood began to roll down making a new trail.

“I was fast.”

“Oh. Good.” Her knees buckled as her eyes rolled back. He gulped down the instinct to using healing energy on her. That would be dangerous not only for her but for his people.

“She should be looked at.”

“I completely agree. I’ll take her over. What happened?”

“Lightening strike hit the old oak. Split it straight into the old inn. Seems the lady here was in the front room. Took a branch to the face. It could have been worse. The lady who owns the building was hit in the chest. Broke several ribs and punctured a lung.”

Alarik whistled scooping her up into his arms. He carried her over to the ambulance.

“I can clean her up and stitch her, but she really needs to be at the hospital for observation. She very likely has a concussion. She was lucky. Another few centimeters would have killed her.” The paramedic nodded to the gurney while pulling out supplies.

“I’ll take care of her once your done.”

He shrugged but cleaned the wound. The teenager stumbled to the open doors looking less confused.

“Is she?”

“She’ll be alright. You know her?”

“She’s Miss Bowyd. American Steampunk writer. She’s the best.”

“You sound like you read her stuff.” Alarik glanced at the boy. His face flushed red in embarrassment but he pulled his lime green vest over his stomach and puffed up his chest.

“Every book.”

“Do you drive?”

“Yes sir.”

Alarik pulled out a business card. “My brother and I are hosting an event next week. If your mother can spare you for a few days you should come. I’m sure Miss Bowyd would enjoy your company.”

“Uhm, thanks.” He took the card as if it was an invitation to a royal event.

Miss Bowyd cried out returning to awareness as the paramedic stitched the wound close. Alarik turned back to her wanting to slug the guy for hurting her. A completely irrational emotion. She tried to move away from the needle still in her skin. Without thinking he set a stillness spell to her while the paramedic finished.

“You sure you want to take her in?”

“I promise to take care of her.” He let the spell up as police and firefighters raced around the ambulance grabbing equipment.

“Found the pilot. Doesn't look good. Need you now.”

The paramedic grabbed a bag and the end of the gurney as Alarik swung her up. She groaned. Electricity jolted through his hand as if he’d touched a live wire. His othersense screamed. He almost dropped her.

“Are you taking her tonight?”

“Yeah.”

“They were talking about getting her baggage from the plane before the storm really hit. She had one bag with her when they came in. I think I can go find it.”

“That would be great. Thanks.” Alarik watched as the boy weaved his way back into the building.

“He’s sweet. Remind me to send him a card and a signed copy of my books.”

Wings of Rapture Chapter One

Wings of Rapture: Chapter One

Mae Pen

Taryn glared at the screen in front of her. This wasn't going to be easy but damnit she was going to finish the stupid story even if it killed her. Hell, at this rate it just might. Who would want to read about a stupid pair of enchanted wings anyways? Stupid publisher. Stupid editors. Stupid idea. She pushed away from her desk with a huff. Maybe some fresh air would do her good. She scooped her cell phone from it’s drawer and practically jumped when it went off in her hand. With a growl she answered knowing from previous times it was more than likely her editor hounding her to finish.

“Miss Bowyd?”

Taryn paused. It wasn't her editor. Or her publisher.

“Who is it?”

“Shhh.” She waved away the tiny ghost like thing hovering over her shoulder. “Who is this?”

“Is this Miss Bowyd?”

“Depends on who this is.” Taryn countered. This cell was a private number. She’d only given it to a select few and none of them belonged to this voice. With an accent. She frowned leaning against the wall next to the front door.

“My name is Paul Vorrick. I’m calling from a good distance to speak with Miss Bowyd.”

“And what do you want Mr. Vorrick?”

“I wish to hire your services, Miss-”

“Taryn is fine. I don’t-”

“I’m hosting a large gathering for a Charity auction in a few weeks. I’d very much like you to come and give a reading. And perhaps hold an question and answer session at a tea.”
Ah. Work. She pushed away from the wall scowling at the blue orb flying erratically around the room. It was as if she was excited to go someplace.

“Miss…Taryn?”

“Oh, yes, I’m here. What sort of Charity auction? What is it for?”

“A new hospital wing for children. The building is old and needs massive amount of repairs. One of the downside of being in the countryside.”

Taryn frowned. “If your in the country-”

Mr. Vorrick laughed. The little blue glowing ball of energy she’d named Tiny, flittered in and out as if laughing as well.

“This is a high society event. People all over the world come to mingle and donate.”

“My schedule is kinda tight at the moment.” She glared at the laptop screen blinking at her in
abandonment.

“Your travel expenses will be paid for.”

“Again, I’m on deadline.”

“You’re a writer, you can write anywhere. Please.”

Taryn bit her lip to keep from growling at the man. Why did people always assume that because she was a writer that meant she could just up and move whenever it suited them? She had her rituals, her music, her incense… Her gaze flit to Tiny. And her abilities that made it almost impossible to write anywhere. She wished she could be so lucky.

“I've been trying to get ahold of you for months. A lot of my guests are huge fans of yours. I’m even thinking of putting together a small Steampunk event.”
She covered the phone with her hand and groaned. He really did his research. But, she couldn't. She couldn't afford to take time from her novel. The blasted, blasted novel.

“All travel expenses paid plus five thousand. In your account tonight.”

Taryn bit her lip sinking down into the overstuffed love seat. Five thousand was a lot of money at the moment. Her eyes burned with tears. Five thousand would see her sister well cared for. Five thousand, free travel to… wherever this event was held and a Steampunk event with fans. Whoever this man was he clearly knew her weaknesses. She sighed.

“When and where?”

Mr. Vorrick sighed. “Thank you. You won’t regret this. I’ll have everything sent over this evening.”

“Through my publisher. How long have you been trying to reach me?”

“You won’t regret this.”

The line went dead. Tiny burst from her little ball her energy practically zapping Taryn with electricity. She grimaced but didn't have the heart to scold the ghost.

“Oh Taryn! We’re going on a trip!”

She closed her eyes and shook her head. “You can’t go. You know that right?”

“I am bound to you. Your guardian. Of course I’m going.”

“And what do you think people will think when they see me talking to thin air? You've seen how they treated me in high school.”

Tiny snorted shooting out sparks of blue energy. In her excitement she wasn't concerned with what she was expending. Which meant trouble for Taryn.

“The living can be so dense. Anyone could see and hear me if they only wished.”

“Tiny.” She breathed out in sudden exhaustion. The room seemed to close in on her and blacken around the edges. Great! Another one.

A woman sobbing quickly filled the room. Slowly the huddled form of a woman hunched over rocking back and forth emerged into the physical world. Her bright blond hair had dulled with death though the colors of her drenched summer dress was as bright as Taryn’s own lime green sweats. Taryn closed her eyes gathering her emotions. She really didn't want to deal with this now. She opened her eyes with determination. Whether she wanted it or not she had a job to do. The woman slowly raised her head as if only then realizing she wasn't alone.

“You know you’re dead right?”

The woman hiccuped confirming her knowledge. Well, this one would be easy. Should be. She corrected herself. Nothing was ever easy. Look at her sister. Taryn waved to Tiny who smiled gently at the woman. Taryn held out her hand bracing herself for the pain, anguish and fear.

They always felt the same. Even Tiny had felt that way when she’d attached herself to Taryn as a babe. Tiny inched the woman to Taryn’s hand. Taryn smiled with all the love she held in her heart. The sobbing stopped.

“It’ll be alright. Your loved ones are just beyond the light waiting for you. It will not hurt you. There is nothing to fear.”

The woman looked at Tiny who nodded her acceptance and with that tiny little nudge the woman grew bright. So bright that Taryn had to close her eyes or be blinded for days after. Roses wafted through the room and Taryn slouched against the cushions her entire energy now spent. So much for that walk. Tiny curled into her little blue ball conserving her energy as well.

“You know you could move on as well. I know you have ones waiting for you.”

“When you are safe.”

Taryn snorted. She’d never understood Tiny’s insistence that she wasn't safe. She was just as safe as any other person living in this world. More than most, at any rate. She closed her eyes and drifted in the haze between wakefulness and sleep.



“So now you've got-”

Paul sighed and slumped his shoulders. He glared at Alarik. “This is your fault.”

“My fault? How is this my fault?”

“You and those stupid wings.”

Alarik jumped from the wing back chair he’d watch the conversation in and glided over to the window that looked out over the deteriorated garden.

“It is just as much your problem as it is mine. Has being here addled your memory so much?”

Paul glared at him but kept silent. Alarik twitched his shoulders trying to itch something that was no longer there. At least not physically. At the moment. He sighed.

All this doubt was giving him a headache. This house, this town, had been the home of their ancestors for centuries. It had thrived for just as many until World War Two when the fabled wings had disappeared. There were some in the town who felt that the wings had been buried deep under the church to protect them from Hitler and his fanatical need for paranormal objects. Alarik had a different idea of what happened. In his research he’d heard rumors of an American author researching the fabled wings for a new novel. He’d scoured the Internet looking for her and had almost given up. Until three days ago.

“You might as well let them out. You’re twitching all over.” Paul’s words pulled Alarick’s attention back to the present. Paul chuckled.

Alarik grimaced but shook his head. They were supposed to be human. He would stay in character until otherwise notified.

“When will she arrive?”

“Her publisher will be giving her the tickets and such in a couple of hours. Her flight is two days away. And it’s a fourteen hour flight without missing connections to the little airport just outside of town.”

“Which means four days.” Alarik sighed. What would he do for four days? As if reading his mind, Paula picked up a paperback book and threw it at him. Alarik caught it nimbly as he always did.

“Research. And help me figure out how the hell to put together a Steampunk event.”

Alarik snorted. “What made you think of that anyways. What is Steampunk?”
Paul slammed his head against the back of the chair. “The hell if I know. This is all your fault actually. If you hadn't traced her down I wouldn't have to host this stupid event out here in the middle of nowhere.”

“This nowhere is our home. Do not forget where we come from brother.” Alarik snapped clenching the flimsy novel in his hand. Paul shook his head.

“I didn't mean it the way it came out Al. I do love this town, but this land… this house… there’s something here not right. It’s always bothered me.”

Alarik turned to look out over the garden. Despite their ancestry the brothers, twins, weren't the same. Paul was normal - mostly - Alerik wasn't. Far from it. His shoulder itched again and with a growl he used the corner of the book to scratch. Paul laughed breaking the tension as only he could. Once the itch was satisfied for the moment he flipped the book over. The cover was tastefully done.

“She’s actually pretty good.”

“It’s a bunch of drivel.”

“Everything is drivel to you.” Paul eased up out of the chair. “Are you going to help?”

“Oh no! This is your mess. We could have just invited her for research with the legend of the wings.”

Paul paused frowning. Alarik bit his cheek to keep from grinning. His twin hadn't thought of that. One of Paul’s many faults, one he didn't usually recognize until too late, was his inability to think simple. Or plan simple.

“Oh you’re helping. Just as soon as I figure out what the hell Steampunk is.” Paul stomped out of the parlor more than likely in search of his laptop. Alarik laughed so hard he had to clutch his sides.

“Shut-up!”

Alarik dropped the novel bending over trying to catch his breath. Tension left him for the first time in decades. This was going to be fun. Maybe.




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An Ill-Advised Experiment by Sarah Raplee

Dr. Franklin Stein peered over the rim of his spectacles and squinted at the display on his latest invention, a Physio-Energetic Transposer, or PET, device. The numbers and needles on the dial were a blur, as if they were swimming in lard. Frustration expanded his chest as though it were a balloon on the brink of bursting. He slammed a fist on the laboratory bench and let loose a string of expletives not meant for delicate ears.

He could not work, and it was his own bloody fault! How could he have neglected to order new spectacles? How could he tell President Grant about the delay?

The President would not be pleased with the man his Cabinet members had nicknamed Pet Scientist in Chief. Franklin hated to disappoint the one man who had staunchly supported his wide-ranging research efforts over the past five years.

A soft rap on the door made his stomach clench. He’d believed his new bride, Prudence, to be outside in the garden when he had given into his frustration. Had his coarse language offended her? If only his unique intelligence allowed him to navigate the intricacies of human society with a modicum of grace. But he was the metaphorical bull in the China shop of Society.

Heaving a sigh, he crossed the laboratory in two long strides and flung open the door. The sight of Prue’s beatific smile eased the tension in his shoulders. She seemed unaware of his recent fit of temper. She wrapped her arms around his neck, rose onto her tiptoes and then kissed him with lips as soft as butterfly wings.

As always, she took his breath away.

When she pulled back and gazed up at him through her lashes, laughter danced in her lovely violet eyes. “May I be of help, husband?”

She pressed her lips together instead of smiling, which confused him. Sometimes he felt completely at a loss with her, as if they spoke different non-verbal languages.

Several tendrils of chestnut hair had escaped her chignon to curl alongside the white column of her neck. Franklin found himself imagining what it would feel like to lift them away and kiss her where they had caressed her soft skin. Then he would sweep her off her feet and carry her into the library—

Prue tipped up her chin and raised her brows. “What in the world are you thinking, sir?”

He grinned. “Scandalous thoughts, m’dear, scandalous thoughts.”

Color rose in her cheeks. She folded her arms across her breasts and gazed at him askance. “I only wanted to help, not to distract you.”

He pulled her close, inhaling the calming scent of her flowery perfume. Lord, what did I do to deserve such a woman? She was not a typical female, frail of sensibilities and faint of heart. She helped him when his faults were a hindrance. Otherwise, she overlooked them. No longer a girl like the silly chits who’d hoped to wed him, she had come to his bed with an eagerness and generosity that had astounded him. One taste of her and he was lost forever.

“Well?” Prue said.

Franklin sighed. “I cannot read the transposer dial. I should have ordered new spectacles before the wedding.”

She smiled. “Then I can be of help. I’ll read the instruments for you so your work will not be affected. You can order the spectacles this afternoon.”

He opened his mouth to protest the need to run the errand today, but Prue’s smile melted his thoughts the way sunlight melts butter. Besides, his bride was not afraid to reveal her iron backbone when his well-being was at stake. There was no point in arguing about the spectacles.

She looped her arm through his and they walked toward the PET. Prue stopped unexpectedly and cast a puzzled glance up at him. “What happened to your seawater desalinization project? President Grant expects the results in three days.”

Franklin smiled. He enjoyed having someone intelligent with whom to discuss his work. “Not to worry. I perfected the process two days ago. The President already has my report.”

Her expression cleared. “I must visit the laboratory more frequently. What is your latest project, then?” She bent down to peer at the dial and switches on the PET’s central unit. Bundles of insulated electrical cables protruded from either side of the box for more than a yard before ending in shiny silver helmets.

“I call my new invention a Physio-Energetic Transposer, or PET. The basic idea came to me while I studied at Yale, but my experiments failed repeatedly. I needed a chemical compound with the proper biological and energetic properties for test subject preparation in order to be successful. Unfortunately, I failed to find one at that time.”

“But you’ve discovered one?” Prue said, her eyes shining.

He nodded. “The recent measles outbreak in Baltimore induced me to investigate Native herbal remedies. While searching for a plant to strengthen a person’s resistance to illness, I stumbled onto an herb known as datura. Priests and priestesses of the Indian tribes who live at the confluence of the Missouri and Mississippi Rivers use datura to allow their spirits to roam free of their bodies. I believe datura weakens what I call the physio-energetic bond. This may be what I need to transpose minds.”

His excitement dimmed in the face of her shocked expression. He replayed their brief conversation in his head, but could recall nothing to explain her apparently negative reaction. His shoulders slumped. “What is it?”

Prue composed her features into a smile and laid her palms against his chest. Her warm brown eyes peered up into his. “I’m sorry; I thought you said you were going to transpose minds.” She laughed as if she had told a joke.

In response to Prue laying her hands on his chest, he slid his arms around her supple waist. This was a ritual they had developed to ease them through impending disagreements. The close physical contact helped him to remain calm when he felt confused.

In this case, her reaction to his invention was not at all what he had expected. What the devil did it mean? “That is exactly what I said. The president believes the ability to transpose minds between bodies may serve the country well. That is a direct quote.”

Prue blinked. She studied him for a moment and then shook her head. “Politicians are ambitious men, which sometimes makes them shortsighted.”

Franklin blinked. His fingers tightened on her waist. It had never occurred to him that the President of the United States of America might have faults like any other man. The implications were mind-boggling. His lungs compressed.

Prue cupped his jaw in her warm, soft hand. “Don’t look so horrified, Franklin. Only God is perfect.” She dropped her gaze to the rise and fall of his chest for a moment. “You must remain calm, my dear. Breathe slowly and deeply.”

He did as she instructed. His chest gradually opened up.

She grinned, and he knew she had thought of a way to help him understand her concerns about his project. He relaxed a little.

“Better?” she said, still smiling.

He hadn’t a clue as to what was coming next, but her smile was reassuring. He smiled back. “Much.”

“Help me to understand why you want to transpose minds, other than that the President is in favor of your research. What specific good do you foresee will come of it?”

Prue would wait patiently for his answer. She understood that these sorts of questions were difficult for him to answer. He thought back to the beginning of his quest, back to his time at Yale. He couldn’t remember ever giving the outcome of his work any thought. Why was that? “Predicting the effects of my work in society is impossible.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I disagree. You may find yourself ill-equipped to do so, but I believe I can safely predict little if any good will come of these experiments.”

Franklin didn’t know how to respond. He lifted his gaze to the blank wall and processed her words. Prue believed his work would cause only harm. It was logical to assume she wanted him to quit the PET experiments—forever. The thought alone made him break into a cold sweat. Once he began a project he was like a dog with a bone until he had his answers. He could not bring himself to give up the quest when he was so close to accomplishing his goals. Could he?

Franklin searched his wife’s loving eyes for an answer. Prue had never interfered in his work until today. Nor had she given him bad advice or claimed to have skills or knowledge she did not possess. She must feel strongly about this. She loved him, therefore she wanted what was best for him. “What do you suggest?”

“How far along are you in your research?” In a rare indication of nerves, she briefly worried her full lower lip.

He focused on her mouth while he considered her question. “I have determined the PET is safe to use on guinea pigs. They seem to suffer an hour of confusion before settling into their usual patterns of behavior. But that doesn’t prove their minds were actually transposed. Guinea pigs are very similar in their general behaviors.”

The pink tip of her tongue darted out to lick her lips. He lost his train of thought.

“I suggest we purchase two dogs of differing breeds with very distinct behaviors, one well-trained to follow commands and one totally undisciplined. After we take time to become familiar with the dogs, you may attempt to transpose their minds. If you are successful, their behaviors will offer proof of success. And I have no doubt you will find my negative prediction has been verified”.

He frowned. “But you don’t approve of the PET experiments.”

“I want you to trust my judgment in these matters without reservation. Only hard experience will enable you to accept my advice. Besides, once you’ve begun a project, I am convinced you will fall ill from curiosity if not allowed find the answers you seek.” With an affectionate smile, Prue brushed a lock of hair off his forehead. “I have only one request, Franklin.”

“Of course.”

“When you realize the wisdom of my prediction, will you destroy the PET device along with your notes, and then report that the experiment was an utter failure?”

He drew his brows together. “You want me to lie to the President?”

She shook her head. “If transposing minds causes nothing but problems, then the experiment is a failure for all practical purposes, don’t you see? Just because mankind can do something doesn’t mean we should.”

Prue’s explanation left Franklin breathless, as though he were on the brink of an epiphany but couldn’t see the next step. He was certain of only one thing. He could not stand for her to be unhappy.

“I will do as you ask. You have my word.”

Her eyes shone. “You are the dearest, sweetest man God ever put on this earth.” She pulled his head down for a kiss that burned away all logical thought.

#

A month later, Franklin waited in the laboratory for Sparky and Bruno, the dogs he and Prue had purchased three weeks before, to awaken from anesthesia. Each dog slept on his own pillow on the laboratory floor. Each wore a collar and chain attached to a ring set in the stone wall. They would be able to see each other, but not reach each other.

After completing the transposition, he had removed the silver helmets and tried to make the dogs comfortable. His Physio-Electric Transponder readings had indicated the datura loosened the mind-body connection in both dogs enough for the transposition to be successful. Things seemed to have gone smoothly. Only time would tell.

A soft rap on the door announced Prue’s arrival. Franklin opened the door.

His lovely wife swept into the room bearing a silver tray holding two cups of fragrant tea and a small plate of cookies. She set the tray on a workbench and then handed him a steaming cup. ““I’m so excited I can hardly breathe. Perhaps the tea will calm my nerves.”

Prue chattered when she was nervous.She had told him so.

“What about you, Franklin?” she said, smiling at him over the rim of her teacup. “Are you excited to find out if the transposition worked?”

He considered the question. His stomach was queasy. His muscles felt wound up as tightly as clock springs. His gaze dropped to Sparky’s small, inert form. His heart skipped a beat. What would the incorrigible terrier be like when he awakened?

He had never before owned a dog. The animals' companionship had been enjoyable. He and Prue played fetch with them every morning after breakfast. Bruno was the calmer of the two, obedient and prone to napping. Franklin found stroking the mastiff’s smooth coat quite soothing. Sparky’s antics made him laugh, and the little rascal had turned out to be a champion ratter. Their groom was delighted to have the terrier visit the stables.

Soft fingers grazed his cheek. He started, then offered his wife a sheepish smile. He had become lost in thought and forgotten to answer her question. “I don’t think I’m excited. I feel—twisted up inside.”

Prue sighed. “You’re worried, Franklin,” she said. “You’ve grown attached to the dogs.”

Before he could formulate a response, Bruno’s paws began to twitch.

#

Twenty minutes later both dogs were awake and pulling at the ends of their chains. Bruno, no longer obedient, would not stop barking and jumping around. Franklin wished he had used a larger gauge chain to secure the big dog. This one might not hold much longer..

Little Sparky had staggered around for a few minutes, stopping periodically to blink at Franklin with what felt like reproach. Then he flopped on his side on his pillow and closed his eyes.

Prue laid a hand on Franklin’s arm. She had to shout to be heard over Bruno’s barking. “I believe we have enough behavioral evidence to prove the PET device worked. The noise in here is giving me a headache. Let’s go sit in the garden.”

Franklin let her lead him outside. They sat on a warm stone bench. The air was infused with the scent of roses. Bruno’s muffled barks were clearly audible, but at least he could think again. He removed his spectacles and scrubbed his face with one hand.

Prue’s prediction had been accurate. He would never again doubt her advice. Switching the dogs between bodies was possible, but inadvisable. Dog’s emotions were relatively straightforward and thus easy for him to read. The animals were obviously unhappy. Knowing that made his heart ache. They were also ill-suited for their new bodies. Sparky-the-terrier was an incorrigible mite, while Sparky-the-mastiff was a danger to himself and others. He shuddered to think what might happen if the mastiff got loose.

Transposing people was no doubt possible, but the end result would at best break their spirits. At worst it would drive them insane. He no longer felt driven to continue with these experiments. He did not want to hurt anyone.

He donned his spectacles and then turned to his wife. The love that shone in her eyes made him feel that everything would come out alright. “I would appreciate your assistance in choosing future projects,” he said gravely.

Prue grinned. She began to unpin her hair. To his surprise, he knew exactly what she was thinking. As her hair came down, his blood heated. When the last pin came out, she rose and offered him her hand. “Transposing Sparky and Bruno back into their own bodies can wait until tomorrow. I suspect they need some rest before undergoing a second procedure. Let’s have a lie-down before dinner.”

He kissed the back of her hand, pretending he had misunderstood her intent. “You never take naps.”

She arched her brows at him and slowly unbuttoned the high collar of her white blouse, then the next button, and the next. Franklin swallowed. He could see the shadow of her décolletage and hear his blood rush in his ears.

“I do not plan to sleep,” she said.

He surged to his feet. “Neither do I.”

With that, he swept her into his arms. Her smile swelled his heart to bursting with love. As he carried her to the French doors that led to the library, he kissed her nose, her eyelids, her chin. After opening the doors, he carried her inside and deposited her on the brocade-covered settee. The air was heavy with the odors of leather and old books. He closed the doors and the heavy drapes for privacy.

“Why Dr. Stein,” Prue said from the shadows. “I do believe you have compromised me.”

“Not yet,”he said, “but I am about to, Mrs. Stein.”

© 2013 Sarah Raplee All rights reserved

Grave Pledge

The last thing Dafdd wanted to do was attend Gaelan's funeral services. The Ettarian had been like a father to him after his own parents were massacred in a mistaken hunt for vampires. The need for blood to sustain them may be similar, but the need to kill strictly belonged to the Vampires. 

Unfortunately, the humans didn’t understand that difference. They often mistook one of his race for the hated and feared Vampire. He twisted his neck relieved as some of the pressure released with the audible pops. He shook his hands out releasing the bent up energy swirling inside just waiting for a moment to be let out. Dafdd had never thought this day would come.

The sounds of mourners mixed with the rapid beating of the devices that kept the Ettarian graveyard above the clouds in the dark midnight sky. For a split second he thought about the humans below in the city of London and wondered if any of them had ever glimpsed the floating City of the Dead. He highly doubted it. His race kept their presence secret.

One soft voice separated itself from the rest. A female. Human. The words were indistinct but the husky timbre pierced straight to his stomach. Daffd frowned. What would a human be doing up here? It wasn't uncommon for an Ettari to invite humans into their homes, though it was usually as servants and rarely as friends. To bring one to the secret of this place was unthinkable. The appearance of a human, any human, on the City of the Dead had to have all seven Councils approval and the approval of the Seer. He’d never heard of a human allowed to attend one of their funeral rituals.

He glided over the mechanical ground covered with grass. Just one of the many mysteries of the place. The large stone and metal mausoluems stood guard against any intruders. Gargoyles peeked from the top of several. A wing tip moved guiding the way to the most current event.

Daffd nodded his acceptance. Despite popular human thought Gargoyles were real beings. They hid in the shadows where they watched and recorded history. It was unusual to see so many in one place. But then again, Gaelan had had many connections within the borderworlds.

"Daffd. It is good to see you. Come. We shouldn't keep everyone waiting."

Daffd looked to his left and smiled slightly. The soft gentle voice belonged to the Seer. She still looked young, well youngish, considering her great great age. The rumors going around put her at the scene when the first Ettarian was created by the Gods. Of course he didn't believe it anymore than the creation myth they were all taught as children. She slipped her age spotted thin arm around his and led him deeper into the city.

The hum of the floating disk below them reverberated against his feet. The white marble statues mixed with the black granite headstones and the large dark iron crypts. He paused as they approached the crowd of mourners.

Gaelan hadn't skimped on his mausoleum. The gleaming copper edifice stood taller than a three story house with a crystal dome encased at the top. The black iron filigree decorations along the edges gave it an elegant look among the stone statues. A large group of people stood around the entrance to the mausoleum. Like the red sea the group parted to let him and the seer pass through.

Despite what the humans might think, their bodies did not turn to ash when they died. If left in the earth, their bodies decayed the same way as anything else. But up here, in the sky, the bodies remained very nearly the same as when they had lived. His heart clutched his ribs when they stopped at the opening. Gaelan lay in all his glory, an Ettarian Warrior of renown, his claymore clutched in his clasped hands over his armor clad chest. The grey of his once alive skin and the stillness of his once vibrant body permeated Daffd's disbelief.

His knees almost went out from beneath him. Only the hold of the Seer on his arm kept him upright. The dull gleam of Gaelan's sword bounced candle light around the room. Daffd's gaze narrowed focusing on the play of the golden rays. Blackness swallowing one such light drew his gaze to the huddled form on the floor. Black taffeta day dress with a tiny black top hat with a veil over her face. The standard funeral wear. Movement near the sarcophagus drew his attention to the Seer as she readied to proceed over the ritual. Grief unlike anything he'd felt before filled him. Tears clouded his eyes. His heart stopped.

His gaze returned to the woman who huddled on the floor. No sound emerged from her but the agony pouring out of her told him she had meant more to Gaelan and he to her than anyone else on this moving death disk. Possibly even more than him and Gaelan had meant to each other. The woman's head lifted.

Daffd froze. The breath caught in his lungs. The air between them charged with static electricity. Her vibrant turquoise eyes speared straight through to his very soul. Oh Damn! He shook his head, dragging his gaze away from hers. There was no way she was his soul companion. Who the hell was she? Where had she come from?

The others gathered around anxiously waiting to present their offerings for Gaelan's journey to the next world. Daffd clutched the small glass jar of tears he'd bottled upon hearing of his death. He glanced at the woman to see what she had brought. Her pale hands clenched tight to her stomach.

"As Gaelan lived so did he die. With honor, integrity and love." The Seer's voice, though hushed, boomed across the silent tomb. "Who sacrifices for his journey to the next world?"

"I sacrifice my coin so that he may buy whatever he may need." Madam Levoy spoke pushing her way to the front. She laid the large bag of gold coins near the bottom of the sarcophagus.

"I sacrifice grain from my land so that Gaelan may have plenty to eat." A sheaf of wheat stalks were laid next.

"I sacrifice my candle so that he may have light to see."

Grief welled up choking her. Was this what the rest of her life would feel like? A hazy mix of despair and numbness?

Mallory crouched on the cold metal floor. Drafts floating around the room were nothing more than fingers of fog around her already freezing body. Gaelan stood in the shadows his translucent form barely visible in the darkness. If only her voice would work. She snorted. Like anyone would believe her. No one believed she saw and communicated with spirits, even the people among Gaelan's race didn't believe her.

As if knowing what was going through her head, Gaelan slid his haunted blue gaze to the man standing in the shadows of the doorway. Her eyes followed. The stranger was very handsome in a rugged sort of way. Of course being an Ettarian his skin was a flawless coppery tan. His crystal blue eyes held the same sadness that echoed in her chest. A transparent woman stood just behind him to the left. Her soft brown eyes never leaving his continence. He must be Daffd.

Drawing her gaze away from the man who was destined to be her caretaker, Mallory tried to concentrate on the ritual before her. Chills chased across her skin. The sense that someone was watching her threw her off. She peeked through her lashes running her gaze across the group of mourners lining up with their sacrifices. Her gaze stopped on Daffd at the end of the line. Her stomach clenched. Her heart pounded. Finally, emotion pried its way into her chest. Her breath puffed an erratic staccato. Her knees trembled, barely holding up her weight.

Warm arms slipped around her corset and taffeta clad waist. Inhailing deeply, the scent of cinnamon poured into her very soul. The weakness in her legs grew less and less until she was able to stand on her own. She turned to whisper a thank you to her rescuer and found herself face to face with Him. She felt a blush of heat stain her pallid cheeks and let her lashes drift down.

"I sacrifice my tears so that he may know sorrow, but not feel the loneliness of his passing." Daffd spoke slowly releasing her.

His words blew heat into her and electricity sparked through her body as his hand scraped hers. She shivered. He settled a small clear glass bottle within the other offerings.

She stared at the long line of offerings ringing the bottom of the crypt. Hollowly she wondered when she passed if anyone would know or care. She was human after all, so it wouldn't be long before she moved on to the next world. She believed there was a next world with every beat of her heart. She saw it every time she looked outside her bedroom window. Would Daffd mourn her death as much as he mourned his mentor and father figure? Would any of his people accept her into their world as Gaelan had? A slight nudge against her arm turned her attention back to the Seer. She held her hand out over Gaelan's ashen body.

"I sacrifice my blood so that milord Gaelan will be nourished in the next world." She pushed out barely more than a whisper.

Mallory drew the little pen knife she always carried across her palm. Lightening fast pain speared her hand up through her arm. Blood gushed from the wound covering Gaelan's hands and sword. The room filled with a collective gasp. Ignoring the whispered words of shock, she concentrated on the blood sliding down the silvered blade to drip onto the metal floor. Each drop echoed within her pounding head.

"That's enough little one." The Seer's whispered compassion surrounded her.

Mallory blinked. Gaelan nodded his approval. She clasped her handkerchief over the wound and stepped back. Daffd and another man she'd only seen once moved forward. The harsh grinding of stone against stone rumbled through the mausoleum as they slid the top closed. She gasped. The room closed in and grew so dark nothing but a tiny glimmer of blue illuminated the space. She blinked and the room was once again filled with soft gas light.

"Thank you Seer for leading this farewell ritual. Gaelan would have liked it." Daffd's voice broke over the crowd like a wave on the seashore. Everyone's attention turned to him and the Seer.

"I am honored as always to perform such a sacred ritual. I was asked to perform another ritual as well."

The room hushed. Mallory kept her head down fearing the repercussions of the next few minutes. Could she convince Daffd to forgo this decision for another few years? No. she shook her head. That would be asking him to give up his livelihood and the respect his fellow Ettarians had for him. Daffd ran his gaze across the crowd before stopping at her. She couldn't pull her gaze away from his crystal blues. Would Daffd treat her as well as Gaelan had? Gaelan had been her whole world since she was five. Only Gaelan and the Seer had been able to teach her how to interact with the spirits she saw everywhere.

Be brave sweet Mallory. And trust me.

Gaelan's whispered words breathed cold air across her cheek. She spun around only to see him standing in the shadows near a bright blue portal of light. He was waiting to see things through before he crossed. The Seer grasped her uninjured arm gently pulling her back to what was about to happen. A piece of her wanted to shout to the world that she wasn't a piece of jewelry to be handed off, but the anger couldn't break past the knowledge that it wouldn't matter what she said. It never did.

"It was Gaelan's last wish for his charge, Mallory Iverness, and his long time friend, Daffd, to bond."

"What!" Daffd's startled exclamation filled the room.

Daffd couldn't believe what he was hearing. The Seer must have mistaken what Gaelan had said. Gaelan knew he'd never again connect with another woman. He'd lost the only woman he'd ever love many years ago. He took a step back shaking his head. No. It didn't matter how much he'd loved and respected Gaelan. He wasn't going to do that again. He couldn't. The last time had destroyed him. He still wasn't the same.

He froze when the Seer approached him. He could do nothing against her hazy white eyes that saw more than anyone cared to admit. Her cold, thinly skinned hand took his own and led him back to the human. The Seer motioned for the female's hand. Without hesitation the woman, no Mallory, put her wounded hand in the old woman's. He stared down at the bloody cloth dread filling him. He tugged back like a reticent child. The Seer snapped around to him as Mallory's head dropped. A crystal stream fell like a waterfall over Mallory's delicate pale cheeks.

His heart clenched. A piece of the wall he'd built up after Ishma's death shattered. He grabbed his chest uncertain what was happening here. What were the odds that her grief would break through the barrier he'd erected? Daffd shook his head. He wouldn't give in to the need to comfort her. Even if Gaelan had cared for her, it didn't mean he had to.

"I have seen into the soul of each of these young people and have found a future to be proud of." The Seer looked at Mallory who raised her gaze slightly. "Do you honor Lord Gaelan's last wishes?"

"I willing put myself into the custody of Lord Gaelan's most trusted friend."

Her voice was soft, so soft only one of his kind would be able to hear it. The Seer turned to him but the words were ash in his mouth. He shook his head. He couldn't. Could he? What did the seer see that he was oblivious to? He looked down on the small woman. She barely reached his chest. Her thin bones could snap so easily under his hands. Her pallid skin told him she didn't get out much. Why? Was she dying already and Gaelan had only needed someone to care for her in her last days? Yet, that delicate aura brought out his protective instincts. She was beautiful in a lost soul type of way.

Daffd shifted. The Seer stood next to Mallory compassion on her wizened face. The Seer knew everything about everyone. She had told him that Ishma wouldn't be there for him. He hadn't believed her then. If he'd been able to convince her to transform into Ettari she'd still be with him. The Seer believed Mallory would fit him. She must believe Mallory was his soul companion or she wouldn't match them. Had Gaelan known? 

No. Only an Ettarian will know the other half of his soul. He ran his gaze over Mallroy again with a more critical eye. Most of her body was covered by the black taffeta mourning gown. Her black hair was pinned tightly to her head allowing the tiny hat to sit like a crown. It was her turquoise eyes that always drew him back to her face.

Her gaze shifted to look behind him to the right. He turned his head and though he didn't see anything in the physical space the atmosphere was different. Colder and more dense than the rest of the building.

"What do you see?" Daffd asked.

Mallory whipped her head to stare up at Daffd. Could she really tell him? Expose the secret Gaelan and she had worked so hard to keep? Her body trembled. Bile pushed its way up her burning throat. He looked so honest. And scared. About as terrified as she felt. She swept the room of people lingering. If she told him here, now, would it ruin his future? Would it ruin his standing in his society? Gaelan had constantly told her the Ettarian society respected the gifted, but there had been incidents in the past that threw her into trouble for what she did. His hand on hers sparked energy deep within her. She turned back to him surprised to find his intense gaze completely centered on her.

Gaelan had told her a little about Daffd's past. She knew he had lost a love one many years ago. Gaelan had often compared her to Ishma, but despite what Gaelan had thought she wasn't Ishma reincarnated. Ishma, as that must be the spirit who stood just behind Daffd, nodded to Mallory as if to encourage her to confess the sin of her black soul.

Chills raised goosebumps along her exposed skin. She glanced back at Gaelan to see him nod as well. Mallory had learned that the spirits had the knowledge of the cosmos within their grasp. She'd learned to trust the spirit's guidance. Taking a deep breath and trusting in their knowledge, Mallory poured the deep darkness of her soul to the people standing witness.

"Lord Gaelan. I see Gaelan waiting to continue on his journey."

The room gasped and whispers echoed. Each astonished voice going round and round until the only thing holding her steady was the Seer's grip. Daffd turned to look at the corner where her gaze kept straying. His black brows pulled down in a frown creating lines in his forehead. She had the insane urge to reach up and smooth the expression away. Her heart thudded against her rib-cage. Was this the emotion Gaelan had spoken about? Her hands tingled as the whispered words bouncing around them settled into the pit of her stomach.

"I don't see anything but shadows."

"She's lying."

"Why would she lie? She was already given blessing. You can't deny a deathbed request."

"She is human. Humans lie and cheat. It's their very nature."

"She's ill. That must explain the visions."

"Poor poor thing. She's delusional."

Mallory gulped back the vile unrespectful things she wanted to hurl at the whispers. The once brave part of her began to crumble. The woman stepped around Daffd sympathy in her pale brown eyes and soft smile. Mallory let her hand slip from the Seer's grip. Mallory's stomach tightened with every second of silence from Daffd. Her world, once secure and somewhat safe, crashed all around her. Just like the day her parents had died in the steamship crash. No one wanted her. No one believed her. More scalding hot tears fell free from her closed eyes.

A warm hand cupped her chin. Had a plate in the floor malfunctioned? The power of the touch shot through her. Her body sang like an electrical wire put directly to her veins. Her chest rose with her inhailed breath and stopped. It wouldn't release. Oh god, she was going to die right here. Her chin rose on the calloused hand until her gaze collided with Daffd's. His face showed just as much shock as she felt.

"I do not see him-"

"No one ever sees them. Just me."

"That must be very terrifying." His soft words held tenderness. Almost as if he was talking to a child confessing a broken heart.

Mallory shrugged not sure how to voice the bone chilling fear that had crept into every crevice of her life. At first it had just been the nightmares. Then the nightmares had morphed into night terrors, and then sleep walking had taken over. Then they'd started to happen during the day time when she was awake. This was the most peaceful she'd felt in ages. The dead here were definitely the dead. It said a lot about their ritual.

"You're human." He made it a statement, not the question she knew he was fishing for.

"Yes, milord. Pure human all the way back. No fairy blood or otherwise in any of my family tree."

"Hmm... Are there any other spirits here?"

Mallory looked down. She really didn't want to have this conversation here. She didn't want to bring up his past, a very personal past, in front of other people. She would rather bring Ishma up in private.

"Our people respect those with abilities. Do not be afraid to say what you see." Daffd's gentle words and the slight squeeze of his fingers against her chin encouraged her. Taking another deep breath and clenching her fingers tightly together she nodded.

"The City of the Dead is relatively quiet, milord." She squeaked out, avoiding his gaze.

"But?"

She swallowed the lump rising in her throat. Peeking through her lashes Mallory tried to hide the shivers coursing through her. The dead almost always left a visible coldness in her. It was so constant now that she didn't know how to be warm anymore. Ishma smiled and nodded, gliding close to her. Mallory felt her heart rate grow rapid. Darkness tinged the edge of her eyesight. Her gaze locked on to Ishma and her sultry voice echoed in her mind.

Tell him. He is a good man, but there was nothing he could do. I wasn't his soul companion. I never would have been.

Sadness slid over her like an oily substance. Her lips trembled. She shook her head. He tightened his fingers enough to bring him to her attention again. His fingers let go on her chin but slid a caress over her cheek. Mallory didn't think he even knew he was touching her so lovingly. A little of her anxiety melted with the touch.

"What is it?"

"A woman. She...she...she..."

"Who is she with?"

Mallory looked up at him hoping he'd see the honesty in her eyes. "You."

He gasped, his hand dropping to his side. He looked around but just as before he couldn't see her. "What did she say?" He choked.

"She said you are a good man. And there was nothing you could do. She says she wasn't your soul companion."

Daffd shook his head tears sliding freely now. "No, she wasn't. She always told me that, but I didn't listen. Do you know what a soul companion is?"

Mallory nodded. "Gaelan explained it to me. A soul companion is the other half of your soul. You cannot be a complete person without her. And she can't be whole without you."

"Now you see what I saw." The Seer spoke taking their hands again.

Mallory felt his gaze all the way through her soul.

"Who witnesses this couple in the bonding ritual?"

One lone voice sent an "Aye" in the now silent tomb. Daffd pulled her closer as if wanting to protect her from the prejudice of his people. Which was ridiculous. He didn't even know her. He only knew a tiny portion of her secret. Not even Gaelan had been able to guess how alone she felt. The Seer gripped her hand tenderly. Mallory looked into the old woman's gaze. The Seer had known. And she was gifting her with a future. How strange it was to think she could have a future. Especially a happy one.

"I willingly put myself into the custody of Lord Gaelan's most trusted friend, Daffd." Mallory's voice came out stronger though not by much.

The room went silent anxiously waiting for Daffd's response. "I willing accept into my care, Gaelan's charge, Mallory."

The room breathed again. The Seer unwrapped her wounded hand. Taking the pen knife from Mallory, she sliced a line across Daffd's palm. She set Mallory's still bleeding palm on top of his.

"I present our newest bonded couple, Mallory and Daffd."

The room rumbled beneath their feet. The crowd screamed and scrambled to the safety of outside leaving them alone. Daffd collected her close to him trying to protect her. Heat filled her chasing the chills away. Hot air whipped around them like a hurricane at sea. Her hat flew off. Her hair thrown out of its many pins cocooned them. Her heart lurched out of her chest reaching for something only he seemed able to give. They both clutched at their chests, their eyes large in their faces. Waves of fire washed over her sliding into all the crevices that had been cold for so long.

Just as sudden, it stopped. The room was just as it had been, yet everything was different. Mallory looked to the back corner. The woman now stood with Gaelan. They both looked happy. The blue light of the portal widened and pierced the darkness of the death chamber. Daffd covered their eyes. A split second later it was gone. And with it Gaelan and Ishma.

"What was that light? That wasn't part of the bonding ritual."

"The portal to the next world. Gaelan and your Ishma just passed through."

"Is it always like that?"

"The light? I'm usually the only one that sees it."

"You are bonded thoroughly and for true. You aren't alone in this anymore child." The Seer spoke, kindness gleaming from her faded gaze.

"No. We're not alone. Ever again." Daffd spoke softly looking down at their still clasped hand.

Joy and a hint of sadness poured through him and through her.