The Witch's Dream - A Love Letter to Paranormal Romance (Black Swan 2) (11 page)

Elora wasn't worried about his adjustment. She figured he wasn't going to be alone in Edinburgh unless he wanted to be. Fae girls would be all over him.

The main foyer of Headquarters general offices building was originally designed to make a grand first impression. And it did. Though it had been modernized with elevators, air-conditioning, and state-of-the-art plumbing, the improvements had been made without compromising the essence of the era. The building entry featured a pair of wide, wrought iron and turned oak staircases that rose from the polished marble of the ground level floor and gracefully curved toward each other ending in a mezzanine gallery that joined the two halves of the building.

Litha was crossing the mezzanine on her way to the Office of Letters when the little band of travelers arrived. She slowed just a bit, curious as to why people had come out of their offices and were now standing by the railing looking down at the front entrance. She heard a whispered conversation off to her left and slowed even more. One person said to another, "Do you know who that is?"

"No. Who?"

"That's Bad Company."

"No shite? B Team from New York?"

Litha looked down at the group just as Storm looked up at the mezzanine. Their eyes met for an instant, but, unlike hers, his eyes kept moving and didn't stop until he had thoroughly surveyed the environment. She wished she could look away as easily, but she was frozen in place, staring.

She thought that she could have seen this man in a mall, at a fair, in a bank lobby, it wouldn't matter. She would know him anywhere. He was the furthest thing from metrosexual, the furthest thing from soft or malleable. What she was admiring was a man born to be a knight. She had no idea or warning that there was a place in her heart that harbored a secret desire. But, just like that, in the blink of an eye, Litha suspected that the feeling that washed over her, leaving an indelible impression, was love.

She thought of herself as a person who had a reasonably healthy interest in men and sex, but, for some reason, had just never thought of herself as being
in
love; had never expected it or envisioned it, or hoped for it, or planned for it. Love was something that happened to regular people.

The Order's personnel files were full of extraordinary biographies and resumes; people who were gifted or accomplished. Litha was one of a kind: a transplant from Northern California who was both witch and tracker. She knew she was scheduled to be temporarily diverted from more important work to help B Team with a werewolf fiasco that anyone with rudimentary dousing ability could handle. She had been thinking of it as a nuisance assignment, right up until she saw Engel Storm walk into the foyer of her building.

When Litha was finally able to make herself put one foot in front of the other and move forward, she was talking to herself under her breath. "Of all the secret societies, in all the towns, in all the world, he had to walk into mine."

One of the two coworkers who had been standing close by said, "What was that?"

She stopped long enough to scrunch up her face then looked at them. "Love! Shit!" Resuming her errand she walked away a different person from the one who had started across the mezzanine bridge a few minutes earlier.

The two coworkers thought nothing of the outburst. The Order was a veritable hot spot of interesting personalities. Some might say quirky. There were those with unique talents and those with miraculous skills. It was simply a fact of life that special gifts were often paired with unusual disposition and/or social adjustment that was a little off center. Of course, there were exceptions, but there were days when even the exceptions gave themselves permission to act out.

That was why ramrods like Sol and Simon were so vital to the organization. Somebody had to keep the menagerie herded into a working group.

Litha closed the door to her office and leaned against it, doing a personal checklist. The Great Palpitating Revelation came with a distinct lack of the accompanying symptoms it was supposed to trigger. There were no bells ringing. There was no sense of walking on air. She did not feel high. Loss of appetite? No.

What she really felt was a damn foreboding sense of looming inconvenience. This was definitely not part of the plan. Her plan.

She pushed away from the door restating the initial accurate assessment of her true feelings, once more for good measure. "Shit! Love!"

The fact is that nobody believes in love at first sight. Until it happens to them.

Since Ram and Elora were the rare married couple working for The Order, and the only one with a pet, they were given a spacious corner apartment on the top floor with bedroom, living room, and bath. Glen had been assigned a small room next door for quarters, but had been sleeping on their sofa so that Blackie could feel more settled.

Elora heard the dog barking when the elevator door opened. He already knew they were there. Glen opened the apartment door and let him run down the floral carpeted hall to greet Ram and Elora. She got down on the floor with him and gave him a good long, hello tummy rub while quietly assuring him that she missed him and was very glad to be reunited with him.

The temporary apartment home was decorated in muted, restful colors of sage and brown. Someone had provided water bottles, fresh fruit, and fresh flowers with a card that read "Honeymoon Headquarters". Making an educated guess, Elora thanked Glen for his thoughtfulness. Since he didn't deny it, she assumed she had guessed right. She had read his file and knew that he had spent a semester assisting in the Operations Office at Jefferson Unit. And Elora knew firsthand that a kid didn't train under Farnsworth without learning a thing or two.

Their work schedule was free until the next morning. Their social schedule was free until dinner. So they decided to unpack quickly and try out the new bed. After all, what could top a cool and drizzly afternoon with nothing to do but make love and nap in each others' arms?

Kay went out for dinner with Katrina and the Norns. Aelsong had already met some people close to her age in the Psychic Division and was off doing something with them. Ram, Elora, Baka, and Storm were invited to dine at the Director's table.

Simon Tvelgar, Head of Agent Affairs, was to be their direct supervisor for the duration of their assignment in Edinburgh. Ram's first order of business was to interrogate Director Tvelgar about Aelsong's recruitment.

Director Tvelgar, was about the same age as Sol, but, unlike Sol, he wore a permanently pleasant expression. Like all the administrators who had begun their careers as knights, Simon retained the hardened physique of a warrior and the presence of an underlying tension that implied that the civilized manner was pure veneer. In close proximity to such a personality, the subconscious mind of the innocent registered a feeling of comfort and security that they would be protected if necessary. On the other hand, that same presence created an urge in blaggards to flee.

Tvelgar seemed somewhat amused by Ram's questioning and was more than patient with the concerns of an older brother, especially since those concerns centered around the fact that there were Elves now living in the fae capital.

The Director said that he had planned a private lunch for the next day in which he would introduce personnel who would assist them until Baka had established what his permanent personnel requirements would be. They had cleared away space on the second floor designating a "War Room" with three adjacent offices.

It was nine o'clock by the time they finished a nice dinner of charred salmon with mustard, boiled potatoes in butter, and unleavened bread. Even in April the sun set late that far north. Ram's mouth twitched as he reached for Elora's hand under the tablecloth. He knew that, after the dinner plates were removed, she was looking around wondering when chocolate would be available and in what form.

He leaned over and whispered: "Do no' worry. We shall adjourn shortly and go on cocoa quest."

She squeezed his hand and, thinking no one was looking, brushed her lips across his cheek suggestively. Storm saw the exchange out of the corner of his eye and felt his heart seize ever so slightly. He wondered if it would always be that way.

***

CHAPTER
6

Across the dining hall, Litha Brandywine half listened to her companions while she watched Storm dine with Director Tvelgar, a man with model cheek bones and piercing blue eyes, and two people who were obviously a couple - a beautiful couple. He was either elf or fae. If there was any difference, she'd never been able to detect what it was.

After dinner, she decided to make her way to the Office of Records and find out more about the tall, dark, and striking knight.

Twenty-seven years earlier, Litha had started life as a Dickens cliché, having been left on the church steps in the tiny village of Clitheroe on the edge of Pendle Hill, Lancashire; a region of Britannia most noted for legends of witchcraft and strange goings-on. The Anglican priest who discovered her was entertaining an old friend at the time; a Cairdeas Deo monk visiting from California. When discovered, the pretty baby was not crying and fussing, but kicking happily at her blankets while patiently waiting to be found.

Brother Cufaylin, who had one of the seven gifts, recognized her as something special. He appealed to his friend, Father Daugherty, to let him take the child home to the monastery four thousand seven hundred miles away. He vowed the other monks, his brothers, and he would love her like a daughter and dedicate themselves to seeing her thrive, helping her reach toward her potential and find her destiny - whatever that might be. While Father Daugherty had his doubts, he'd heard too many stories about the bleak futures of hapless children who were orphaned or abandoned to a system that worshipped nothing but bureaucracy. Brother Cufaylin's offer to give the little girl the best of everything was very tempting. In fact, he didn't see how he could refuse.

Although he never would have offended his friend, Father Daugherty also had misgivings about the nature of Brother Cufaylin's beliefs. The Cairdeas Deo sect was far too mysterious for his comfort. There were even indications that perhaps they were not
strictly
Christian. Still, he supposed the baby's fate would be better off with atheists or alchemists than the alternative.

So, they managed to acquire the credentials that would allow Brother Cufaylin to pass through immigration and attain legal guardianship. After a quick course on the care of an infant from a village woman who had served as nanny to the high-born when she was younger, he carried the pretty babe home to the vineyard monastery at Bodega Bay.

The Cairdeas Deo monks had been "hiding in plain sight" for centuries, disguised as a Christian sect since the term automatically created a societal mystique that functioned as a protective barrier against close examination or typical standards of rational thought. The Cairdeans actually served the twin masters of the Merkaba: truth and life force, privately calling themselves the Friends of Life.

Brother Cufaylin brought the child home to the Sonoma Coast winery on the very day of the Summer Solstice and dubbed her Litha in celebration of the Feast Day of that name. The monks were, at the same time, celebrating a very fine review of their handcrafted, bottled-in-bond, one hundred proof, seven-year-old brandy. So she became Litha Brandywine, precious daughter to seven monks who could not have been more surprised that an odd twist of fate brought them the opportunity to be proud parents.

They were in a unique position to help Litha develop and channel her very special talents. Her mind was polished and refined on the turning wheel of free thought. She was exposed to every myth, doctrine, superstition, and philosophy according to the principle that minds with little education form a narrow palette of capability which is far too easily manipulated. Their view, that mental strength requires a perpetual diet of new material to digest, found perfect expression in Litha's step-by-step development.

She never felt that she missed out by not experiencing a more typical family environment. Nor did she ever spend a minute of her life wanting for love or attention.

What Brother Cufaylin saw in the infant that day at Father Daugherty's Anglican church was his secret, but he judged truly when he concluded that she was special.

In point of fact, Litha was the daughter of a practicing Pendle Hill witch and the demon she conjured.

Litha’s mother had been told that her great-great-grandmother was reported to have summoned a demon. The seed of that tale grabbed hold and took root in such a way that her future was then deprived of real choice. No one knows what sets the heart on an intractable course, but Litha’s mother yearned to repeat her great-great-grandmother’s adventure into the occult and worked tirelessly to discover the key that would enable her to do so.

One of the central issues in the practice of witchcraft has always been unpredictability and the inability of the witch or sorcerer or magician to replicate results. In the case of demon summoning, the craft took a wrong turn sometime early in the Dark Ages that could be traced back to a practitioner who successfully conjured a demon and documented the episode. The problem was a faulty conclusion based on incomplete data. The magician’s assumption was that a recipe of steps involving tools and words of power had wrought the event whereas that was only true in part.