Give Me (2 page)

“I am in need of a wife, and you have two daughters.”

Great gods! Frona’s heart compressed and she had to struggle for breath. This was just the sort of thing Brother Sun and Sister Moon liked: a marriage among adversaries. If sun and moon had their way, the fae would dine at King Jowan’s table on mischief night!

“That won’t do, mighty Aeolios.”

“Give me the young one. She’s of no use to you.”

“No.”

“She will reign as my queen. Her children will be demigods.”

“Never!” Not Elyse, not sweet Elyse, Frona’s only reminder. The only thing she had left of…him.

“Very well. The beautiful one then.”

For the blink of an eye, it was tempting. Frona reconsidered Aeolios. Proud and eternal. Dependable. Stronger than rock. Perhaps only a god like that could handle her eldest daughter, Lourdes. And it would solve that other problem.

The winds calmed somewhat. “Then you agree?”

But Aeolios was also thoughtless and as quick to strike as a snake. Lourdes’s headstrong personality would more likely spark than mitigate his violence. And in truth, Frona loved Lourdes as much as she did Elyse. She couldn’t let either of them go. The girls embodied the best qualities of their two very different fathers.

“I must decline your generous offer.”

“Rrrrrrrrrhhhhhhhaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!”

The god’s wail blasted through the air, and the winds ratcheted to gale force.

“Help me, Igdrasil.” Frona laid her palms against the great oak’s trunk to draw on its strength. She was a wyrder, skilled in all the magics, but she wasn’t a god. “Help me.” She drew power down from the heavens through the world tree’s branches and up from the underworld through its roots.

She removed the protective shield from around herself and Igdrasil and infused it with the power she’d collected. She transformed the boundary into a veil which Aeolios couldn’t pass. He let loose another scream, but the sound was insignificant and far away.

“The veil will fade when your rage dissipates.” She spoke quietly, but Aeolios would hear. She sensed him backing away from the veil and its infused higher divine power.

After a silent prayer of gratitude to Igdrasil and the high gods, Frona turned homeward to Glimmer Cottage. She was the most powerful wyrder in all of Dumnos’s history, but she didn’t feel so mighty. Great magic always demands compensation. Brother Sun and Sister Moon had allowed her to draw on Igdrasil’s energy to keep Aeolios at bay, but now it took all her strength to force her legs forward. The encounter had damaged her heart.

She didn’t mind. She’d wyrded the iron out of pride and thoughtless arrogance; she should be the one to pay. She’d give anything to protect her daughters from harm. Aeolios was as changeable as the wind; likely he’d already forgotten that he even wanted a wife.

1
Lucida in Platinum

21st Century California

I
t seemed every ad insert had fallen out of today’s
Times
and the
Journal
too. Lilith Evergreen dropped a K-cup in the Keurig and scooped up the mess from the break room table. As the leaflets fell into the recycle bin, she inhaled sharply.

Great gods!
She dug through the ads until she found the image that had caught her eye. It was on a travel brochure for somewhere in England she’d never heard of. The tree was on the front. Unfolding the flyer, her heart pounded harder with each picture.

Come to Dumnos, a magical fairyland.

Impossible. Impossible. It was impossible. Her hands trembled all the way back to her desk. It was all she could do not to spill her coffee. She spread the brochure out: green fields, thatch-roofed cottages, cliffs overlooking the Severn Sea, the rock piles of a ruined castle—all images featured in the wild dreams she’d had this past month.

Every night, a dream of those castle ruins and that sea. And of that tree, a lone oak at the edge of the cliffs—except that in her dreams the tree was split down the middle as if it had been struck by lightning.

Dumnos is a land of mist and rain.

She couldn’t find an email or internet address anywhere on the brochure, no contact information but a UK telephone number. She pulled out her phone to text Greg. Ha! What would he say now? This proved they were more than just crazy, random dreams. They meant something.

I’m psychic!
she texted.
I just found the ruins from my dreams
. They rarely actually spoke during the day anymore, not since Greg had started practicing law. He never knew if he’d be busy with clients or in a deposition.
We should go there on our honeymoon.

Maybe she shouldn’t have mentioned the honeymoon thing. They weren’t officially engaged yet, not until tonight. They were meeting after work at the Bistro at Fantasy Springs, and he was going to propose. She’d seen the bill from Tiffany’s: a Lucida diamond in a platinum band setting, $18,550.

She didn’t need a diamond. She would have been deliriously happy with the antique ring on her right hand, the one Greg had brought from London last month. He’d gone to take a deposition in his current big case and bought it from a street vendor in Piccadilly. A simple band of braided gold, and the moment she’d seen it the thought
love everlasting
had settled over her.

She had started to slip it onto her left ring finger, but Greg stopped her. He said it wasn’t good enough for an engagement ring. It was just a souvenir since she hadn’t been able to go on the trip.

She had wanted to. She’d even taken the trouble to get her passport when the deposition was first set. She hadn’t realized that of course significant others weren’t allowed to travel on the company dime.

Then just last week, she’d seen the bill for the Tiffany ring. Shocking. But Greg did like what he called the finer things. She knew what he’d say: They’d sacrificed and worked hard the past three years to make the kind of life where they could buy things like that.

Of course she’d love to have that fabulous rock on her finger to show the world how successful her man was and how much he loved her. Truth be told, the sparkle of fine stones made her heart sing. But her little gold band held a tender place in her heart. When she’d put it on, a sense of well-being had washed over her. Something about herself, her life, had seemed to fall into place. This wasn’t about material braggadocio. It was about love.
Love everlasting.

Psychic?
His return text popped up.
You should have been a witch in Salem, Lily.
Greg had called her Lily since London. Her mother would have snapped his head off, if she were still alive. She’d always insisted people call her Lilith.

Weren’t the witches hanged?
she texted back.

Flower child then. Hippie tarot reader
.

How he equated her, a boring insurance claims adjuster, with witches or hippies was a mystery. She chuckled and put away her phone. Everything was working out perfectly. Only six months after passing the bar, Greg was already lead assistant to a partner in his firm. His team was deep into a massive construction defect case expected to take years and bring in millions in contingency fees—they’d already settled out one subcontractor.

While Greg was in law school, worry over money had become a habit. It was strange shopping for groceries now without adding up in her head the cost of each item she put in the cart. For years she had stressed over whether the rent check would hit the bank before her paycheck did. The belt-tightening was finally over. She even bought expensive, high-quality baking chocolate at
Sur La Table
.

She glanced at the clock on her desk phone. Two more hours until she was off. She wasn’t a witch or a flower child, but Greg was right about one thing. Insurance adjuster wasn’t the right job for her. The constant pressure to deny claims, even legitimate ones, was grinding her down. Heck, maybe now she’d go to law school herself. She could represent people screwed over by insurance companies. Again she checked the time.

When the workday was finally over and she pulled into the Fantasy Springs parking lot, it was still over a hundred degrees outside.
This heat will kill me,
her mother always used to say. Whenever Lilith asked why they lived in the desert, a sad smile was the usual answer. Sometimes she’d say
it’s safer here.
Lilith could have moved away after college, but those words always stopped her—
it’s safer here
. And then she had met Greg.

He was worth the heat.

Lilith glanced up at her rearview mirror and saw her mother’s green eyes staring back at her. “Great gods!” She slammed on the brake and caught her breath. eyes were dull blue, but sometimes in bright sunlight they seemed green. It always freaked her out, a trick of her mind that happened when she was especially lonely for her mother.
It’s only the sun, Lilith.
Her

It was no use looking for a parking place. The only open spots were so far away her mascara would slide down to her jaw before she reached the entrance. Valet parking was definitely in order.

The parking attendant gave her an appreciative once-over. Saucy boy. She wasn’t an idiot. She knew she wasn’t the juiciest peach in the bowl. There were no highlights in her light brown hair. Her eyes were nothing special. She was average everything—height, weight, build.

But Greg adored her, and that made all the difference. Greg’s love made her happy; and while she was by no means a knockout, this was the best she’d looked in all her twenty-nine years. She winked at the attendant and dropped the keys into his hand.

At the entrance a blast of cool air rejuvenated her, and she felt a lusty urgency between her legs. Poor Greg was keeping such late hours working on this case. They hadn’t had sex in ages. Well, she was certainly going to jump his bones after dinner. They should get a room and stay the night.

Maybe she wouldn’t go to law school after all. Maybe she and Greg would make a start on the three children they’d decided would be optimal.

Lilith reached the Bistro’s maitre d’ desk just behind a woman who looked like she’d stepped out of a fashion photo shoot. Her jet black hair was streaked with artsy-fartsy colors—fire-engine red, white-blond, and blue. Her makeup was perfect—the sun would never dare disturb such beauty—and her little black dress was surely designed exclusively for her tall slim body.

She couldn’t be any older than Lilith—in fact, she looked a little younger—but her voice was sophisticated and confident. “Has the Sarumen party been seated?”

Sarumen
. The name of Greg’s boss, the senior partner on the construction case. The woman’s face lit up as an older, equally good-looking man walked up and kissed her cheek.

“Jenna, darling.”

It felt like eavesdropping, but the two didn’t acknowledge her. Like aristocrats, they seemed oblivious to the common people.

“Oh, Dad,” Jenna said. “Isn’t it good to get away from that wretched case?”

Sarumen obviously adored his daughter. “That wretched case is paying for the world tour you call your honeymoon.” He led her away to a silver-blond beauty who handed them each a flute of champagne.

Lilith asked for Greg’s table, a twinge of envy shadowing her happiness. She had never known her father. Her mother had refused to speak about him or about anything in her past. She died when Lilith was in college and left nothing behind but a macramé necklace and an old stock pot. Thank god for Greg. He understood what it was like to be alone in the world. His parents were alive, but he was estranged from all his relatives.

No matter. They’d build a new family.

“Lily?” the hostess said. “Your date asked you to meet him up at the 12th Floor Bar.” She leaned forward. “That’s a good-looking guy you have there.”

“It’s true,” Lilith said with a grin. “He’s much prettier than I am.”

Riding up in the elevator, the image of the beautiful young woman at the Bistro stayed with her. Jenna Sarumen, the boss’s daughter. Greg had mentioned that she was a brand new lawyer and had been assigned to the same case. He hadn’t said how fantastic she looked. Lilith wasn’t a petty person, but she was really glad Jenna Sarumen was getting married.

Everyone in the world was getting married it seemed, the grand and the aspiring grand. She’d let Greg know his boss was in the house—after she opened her little blue box.

Greg was in the lounge watching the lights come on in the valley below, a desert version of fairyland. He really was prettier than Lilith. Like a modern day Prince Charming, he had sandy blond hair highlighted with white-blond streaks. He was tanned and brown-eyed and had a firm jaw and caressable cheekbones and oh-so-kissable lips. Greg didn’t like public displays of affection, but Lilith bent over his back to give him a light peck on the cheek.

“This is much more romantic than the Bistro,” she murmured in his ear. She loved the feel of his muscular shoulders, the smell of his skin. If this dinner weren’t so special, she’d suggest they get a room right this minute.