Timeless (2 page)

A bridge through time, my heart it sighed,

How I must seem so strange to you,

So young, so fresh, of seasons new,

Please come with me, let's share this time,

Our love does break temporal lines,

Deep in our souls, our hearts thereof,

Can know only, this timeless love."

By Chris Taylor

The Pagan Wildwood

Please enjoy the next episode of the Witchwood Series.

Chapter 1 – Kiss Me Quick.

'Is this the beginning of the most perfect romance of all time?' Alexandria wrote in her journal before slipping it under her pillow and going to sleep that night, a wide, contented grin stretching across her face.

Forty-five minutes earlier.

His kiss was as gentle as a butterfly's wing brushing her lips. His fingers tousled her long, fair hair like a cool breeze on a midsummer's eve, delicately scented with jasmine. All around her, dozens of fireflies pulsated along with earsplitting sounds of crickets, frogs and night birds. Alexandria had never known a night so perfectly enchanting.

Then suddenly, as though sensing the window of opportunity about to slam shut, tearing away the magical moment forever, his kiss became more urgent, his hands more demanding as they slid effortlessly around her slender waist, drawing her body against his own, making her heart beat faster. The warmth of his nearness enveloped her like the heavy, warm coat she was wearing. Everything about him was intoxicating, delicious, Alexandria thought, like one of the rich puddings Mrs. Barnaby had made for her in winter, topped with lashings of warm brandy custard. She wanted more, so much more, that she ached for him.

Bran pulled away then, as though sensing her surrender, his hands sliding down her arms to hold hers. "My apologies for taking advantage, Alexandria. It's just that it is late, and I should bid you a good night." Then, in the blink of an eye, he let her go and was gone, as though he had become one with the shadows, leaving Alexandria standing breathless and alone on the doorstep of Witchwood Estate. She pulled the long coat he'd given her tighter around her body just as the wings of a raven flapped sharply overhead. She looked up to follow the path of the bird, and thought about The Count, who had been noticeably absent in the last couple of days.

The night sky was an endless, floating blanket of plush, black velvet studded with billions of tiny, sparkling diamonds as far as her eye could see. In the woods surrounding the house, a cacophony of forest creatures filled the otherwise silent night with a myriad of sounds. Deeper into the woods, she heard a lone wolf serenading the silver moon suspended in the sky. It was the most perfect night, she thought, the kind of night that made falling in love so easy, too easy. She sighed with wanting, then turned and went quickly inside, closing the door behind her with a quiet click. Instantly the old chandelier hanging above her head came to life, lighting her way up the stairs, then just as magically, it turned itself off just as Alexandria's bedroom light flicked on, leaving the downstairs room swathed in moonlight.

When sleep eventually found Alexandria curled up in her bed on the top floor of Witchwood Estate, the Sandman mischievously filled her head with visions of the glittering party at the Abbots’ mansion, of Bran, the boy, who in just one night, with just one look, had completely stolen her heart, then had promptly sealed the unspoken deal with a kiss.

That morning, when Alexandria woke, her head still spinning dizzily with thoughts of Bran, she remembered the words Mrs. Barnaby had said only days earlier. "Oh, how exciting," she'd said, looking at Alexandria over the rim of spectacles carefully balanced on the tip of her nose. "I see a journey, and a very handsome young man on a horse, who plans to ride off into the sunset with you. Careful he doesn’t steal your heart, young Alexandria," she’d warned. Sliding out of bed, Alexandria padded over to the windows and enthusiastically pulled back the drapes, welcoming the golden rays of sun into her room. Outside, the morning dew clung precariously to blades of long grass and every leaf on every tree, sparkling like tiny, flickering light bulbs.

A flock of gray doves took flight from the large tree standing like an old custodian over the weathered, weed encrusted pergola in the back yard. Cooing harmoniously, the birds banked, then one by one they disappeared over the roof of the house. Perfume from woodland wild flowers, and the jasmine vine that busily curled itself up the drainpipe outside her window as she watched it, filled her senses with the heady scent of springtime. The new day, overflowing with endless beauty and possibilities, had begun, and Alexandria, for one, her fingertips lingering lightly on her lips, was indisputably ready for it. Being in love, she decided, had heightened her senses to the world and its inhabitants around her. Taking her quite by surprise, everything she looked at and smelled resonated with a beauty and sweetness she had never experienced before. "Ridiculous," she said aloud to her reflection in the windowpane. "Impossible," she added, shaking her head, picking white jasmine flowers from the vine as it snaked its way through her bedroom window. Moments later, with her nose buried in hands overflowing with tiny jasmine blooms, she turned and walked away.

Twenty minutes later, bathed and dressed in a white sundress, with jasmine flowers entwined in her hair, she watched Andrew from the top of the stairs as he dusted his hands on a pair of slightly oversized, paint-splattered trousers. He proceeded to pull out the t-shirt that dangled out of his trouser pocket and dragged it across his forehead, wiping away glistening beads of sweat, completely oblivious to her watching him. He was lean, broad-shouldered and easily six feet tall. Alexandria was still amazed at being able to see him after sunrise, although they had quickly discovered that this phenomenon was only possible when Andrew was inside the house. The moment he stepped out of the house, and into the sunlight, he completely vanished. There was obviously something about the Witchwood house that temporarily freed Andrew from the witch’s curse, and there was a large part of her that wondered what that might be, and whether the house held answers to removing the curse altogether.

Alexandria also knew that it was going to take more than just one witch to remove such a powerful spell, and from what she had learned reading her mother's grimoire, she'd need a circle of witches. The Saken Circle, the grimoire said, had consisted of five witches. There was Kat, of course, who had turned out to be not only a witch, but also a Harvey witch, making them cousins, which only presented Alexandria with even more questions, like why hadn't Kat's parents taken her in when her parents had been murdered all those years ago. She certainly didn't have any regrets about growing up with the Barnabys, not at all; she loved them as though they were her real family, and for most of her life, that was exactly what they had been, and continued to be. Perhaps Kat's mother's grimoire or one of her journals would hold more clues about finding other witches to complete the circle. She would have to read it, and perhaps in doing so she would discover more about forming the Saken Circle of witches.

"You're up bright and early," she called, sitting on the polished banister then riding it all the way down to the bottom of the stairs, just as she had done as a child. Andrew caught her midair as she flew off the end, then set her down on the ground. She squealed and laughed in delight, then added, "Considering how late you got home from the party, I thought you'd sleep until noon."

"How late did I get in, do you know?" Andrew asked, trying to fill in the blanks in his head from last night, worried that the blackouts were happening more frequently now. He pulled the sweat-drenched t-shirt over his head and collapsed into the nearest lounge chair, a plume of dust billowing up all around him. He knew he should say something about his blackout to Alexandria, but decided that she had enough unanswered questions of her own to add his to them. To his surprise, though, Alexandria looked like a girl without a care in the world this morning.

Alexandria sneezed, then sneezed again.

"Bless you," he said, smiling.

"Thank you, and late," she said, dragging a powdery white sheet off the chair opposite him. She sat down slowly so as not to disturb any further dust, although she had to admit that the dust motes looked particularly pretty this morning, dancing lazily in the golden sunbeams filtering in through the open window. She sniffed the air and studied Andrew's white, paint-splattered hands and trousers. "You look like you've been busy. Painting, I presume, by the coat of paint you have acquired?"

He rubbed his hands together, then set them on his knees. "Couldn't sleep, so I got up," he said, pulling his fingers through the brown, shoulder length hair that he'd pulled back into a ponytail with an old shoe lace. A loose strand of hair fell across his face and he pushed it back behind his ear, only to have it come free once again. "You will be really pleased to know that the west wing is now completely livable and has received a fresh layer of paint. Bedroom, bathroom, and sitting room. No squeaky doors, floorboards or rattling window shutters to keep anyone awake on a wet, windy night."

"Is that the room you've decided to take?" she asked, getting up and walking toward the kitchen. "Coffee?" she called over her shoulder. "Where did you get the paint?"

"Attic, and no to the room, yes please to the coffee." He rose from the chair, following her into the kitchen. At the kitchen sink, he scrubbed his hands with a bar of sand soap and scouring pad until most of the paint was gone.