“I did,” I said with a frown and took a seat at the table. “Who is this Pelham?”
Rand brought his juice to the table and took a seat beside me.
“An old friend of mine, William Pelham. We grew up together and he died in this house…of cholera. He was only one and thirty. He left Pelham Manor to me.”
I smiled at Rand’s account of Pelham’s age. Sometimes he had a tendency to switch into the language of his time period, and it was amusing. I dropped my gaze to his bare feet and noticed their deep golden tan—it seemed his entire body was kissed by the sun. “How long ago was that?” I asked.
Rand was quiet as he did the math in his head. “Nearly one hundred thirty years ago,” he finished with a sigh and took a sip of his juice.
“But you’ve only lived here sixty years?”
He nodded. “I lived abroad for many years—Paris, Rome, Lucerne. I decided to return to jolly old England about sixty years ago, and I’ve been here ever since.”
“Oh, I see,” I said with a smile.
“So you met Pelham last night, did you?” Rand prodded me, finishing his juice.
He stood up and approached the sink, rinsing the glass. When he bent over to put the glass in the dishwasher, I had a very arresting view of his taut rear.
“Yes, he uh…he scared me a little.”
Rand closed the dishwasher and returned to the table, pulling his chair out and straddling it.
“I’m certain he didn’t intend to frighten you, probably was just excited to find such a beautiful woman in this house. I imagine he tires of me. I’ll have a talk with him.”
“A talk with him?” I swallowed hard, heat crawling up my neck as I wondered just how close they were. Would Pelham divulge what I was doing last night when we met?
“Good friend? As in, you tell each other everything?”
“Well, certainly, do you think great friendships end with death?” Rand asked with furrowed brow.
“No, I suppose they wouldn’t. In your world, anyway.”
He balanced the chair on its front legs, looking like a child pretending to ride a bucking bronco.
“That’s now your world as well, don’t forget. We’re in this together from here on out.”
I nodded, all too familiar with that reality.
“So, did Pelham tell you we met?” I asked, trying to sound indifferent. The stray thought floated through my head that maybe I shouldn’t be so mortified. Everyone masturbated, right? I was a woman, with needs…
Rand shook his head. “No, he failed to mention it.”
So, my embarrassing secret was safe…for now. Rand excused himself and trotted down the hallway. Moments later, he returned with an old leather album in his hands. He opened the jaundiced pages and flipped through them, regarding them with what appeared to be nostalgia. He stopped at one page and rotated the book so it faced me. I inspected the faded black and white picture and recognized Rand in some type of hunting outfit—tight breaches, an overcoat, and a bloodhound at his side.
“Wow, look at you,” I said, thinking I’d start salivating any second. Rand looked like something you’d see on the cover of a romance novel. Fabio had nothing on him.
He laughed. “Styles were different then.”
My atten itmoved to the man standing next to him in the photo—William Pelham. I took the book and focused on his companion. He was attractive and it appeared his hair was light in color, maybe brown. It was tough to tell from the black and white photo. His face was angular with a trim moustache and laughing eyes. There was a certain mischief in his gaze.
“Do you miss him?” I asked and handed the book back.
Rand nodded. “He was my best mate.”
Maybe I could try to bring Pelham back? As soon as the thought occurred to me, my own sense of fear betrayed it. I’d only managed to reanimate one dead person; that didn’t mean I was capable of doing it again. I mean, it had been an accident. Yeah, dropping the idea.
“But you can still talk with him?”
“Yes, Pelham and I continue to be friends though it is more difficult with him in the Underworld.”
“This Underworld, is it an actual place?”
“You can think of it as such. It’s just another level of existence.”
“And does he like being in the Underworld?”
Rand seemed to consider the question, a frown marring his otherwise perfect face.
“I don’t know. As I said before, my interactions with him are not as they used to be. I might see him now and then and get a feeling he projects to me, but it’s not at all similar to you and I standing here and talking.”
Hmm, it seemed like Pelham and I had an easy enough time conversing. Maybe I could add “ghost-translator” to my resume—just underneath: witch with proficiency in bringing back the dead. I inwardly laughed, sometimes I was pretty damned good.
“Why would your interactions with Pelham be any different than Jack?”
Rand shrugged. “You can’t assume what you find to be the case with one entity is the same with all of them. Depending on the person or creature in question, they all have different abilities, different levels in their abilities.”
I nodded, satisfied with the response.
“I hope you’re ready for your lessons?” Rand asked.
“Yes, I’m ready. What’s on tap for today?”
“If by ‘on tap’ you mean, what you’ll be learning today,” Rand started with a smile, “I will leave that to Mathilda.”
“Mathilda?”
“Yes, you are quite fortunate to have the oldest and wisest of the fairies teaching you some of your lessons. I had to promise Mathilda you were a prodigy, so please don’t prove me wrong.”
The warning annoyed me, but I nodded in spite of myself.
“I’ll try to make you proud.” I attempted to keep the bite from my voice, but didn’t succeed.
Rand’s expression softened as he regarded me.
“You’ve already made me very proud, Jolie. No need to worry on that.”
The appearance of a newly awakened Christa interrupted us. She rubbed her sleep-swollen eyes and stifled a yawn.
“What’s for breakfast?”
#
Well, fairies, for one thing, don’t have wings—as far as I could judge by my introduction to Mathilda the fairy. She was a very old one but beautiful in her own right with skin so transparent, it glowed. A few crows’ feet and laugh lines marked her years, though I imagined she was much older than her appearance would lead me to believe. Her green eyes, although alight with power, betrayed her age with their depth. Her hair cascaded about her small frame like a sea of silver, and she walked with the air of someone important and proud. Intrigued and self-conscious, I could only hope she’d be proud of her new pupil.
After our introductions, Rand allowed us the privacy of his office and Mathilda neared me, her eyes never leaving mine. She took my hand in hers and covered it with her other hand as if she were reading my soul through my skin.
“Tell me, child, why should I teach you? What makes you worthy of such a gift?”
I was surprised, as I’d thought Rand had already told her why I was worthy and for myself, I couldn’t even begin to fathom why I was worthy. I couldn’t very well tell her that though, especially in the wake of Rand’s none-too-subtle account of how difficult it was for him to get this Mathilda to tutor me.
“Rand believes in me,” I said in a small voice, reclaiming my hand when she dropped it. I approached the fireplace and took a seat on an armchair near the fire, berating myself for my stupid answer.
Mathilda laughed, a sound that reminded me of church bells.
“That is the answer of one who does not believe in herself.”
I sighed and dropped my gaze. Who was I to think I could outwit a fairy and a very old one at that? Better just to tell the truth, potentially angry Rand or not.
“I’m not sure I’m worthy, to be honest. Everyone seems to think me capable o
f wonderful and great things and it seems that everywhere I turn, people…er…creatures are fighting over me and I’m not sure why.”
Mathilda’s face softened, relaxing the hold of her lips until they unraveled into a smile.
“Rand believes you are capable of great things. He has told me extensively of what you have been able to accomplish. Things that we have never seen in any one creature.”
“Well, I hope to become great with your teachings.” Ugh, I was brownnosing.
“I can see greatness within you, Child. I see into you and I see goodness and kindness. That is the best place to breed magic.”
“Thanks,” I said, not really sure what else to say. Then I felt the uncomfortable drag of silence. I’m one of those people who can’t stand long silences, so I think of stupid things to say to fill up the void and I was doing just that as I sat with the formidable fairy.
“What do you see when you behold me?” she asked and interrupted my mind’s search for something, anything to say. I was pleased with the interruption.
I wasn’t sure what type of answer she was looking for—did she mean physically what do I see, emotionally? Mentally? I figured just to go for the easiest answer first.
“I see a striking woman with long silver hair and a petite frame with the most beautiful green eyes I’ve ever seen.” Yep, one hundred percent brownnosing.
She smiled. “You have yourself to thank for that.”
I wore my confusion.
“I am whatever anyone wants me to be. To Rand, I am an old woman with a knotted face and limbs and tangled hair. Someone, to him, who represents age and wisdom. To you, I am much more beautiful—someone who represents wisdom and femininity, it would seem.”
It took me a second to grasp this and when that second passed, I still wasn’t sure I fully understood.
“So, you look different to Rand?”
“Rand can only see me as old, old but wise. There is nothing sensual or feminine in the picture Rand paints of me. He cannot join the notion of womanhood and age-old wisdom.”
I frowned, not sure I was keeping up. “Is he a chauvinist?”
Mathilda laughed, and the bell-like cadence was music to my ears.
“No, certainly not. He believes in you above all else. He sees you as the embodiment of feminine sensuality and beauty. He believes you are the Savior of the species, Child.”
I gulped, pleased I was seated as this was certainly information to take sitting down. Savior of the species was a hefty title and one that shouldn’t attach itself to me.
“How do you see me?” I asked.
“Young and naïve, but capable of incredible things. You need to grow and trust in the magic that is inherently part of you. You will be torn in different directions and you must trust the witch within you to show you the correct path.”
So, this is what Luke Skywalker must have experienced upon meeting Yoda. It was almost as if she were speaking a different language. I just couldn’t understand what her ambiguous words meant. Not wanting to encourage this line of garbled insight, I changed the subject.
“So, people see you however they want to see you?”
She nodded. “That is the beay of fairy magic. We can be whoever you want us to be. You should take that as a lesson, Child, you too can be whoever you want to be. As a witch, you can choose to be great or good. It is all up to you.”
I smiled and appreciated my first lesson—believe in myself and I could achieve anything—it was like an after school special.
All joking aside, I imagined this would prove to be the hardest lesson I’d ever have to learn. I wasn’t really good with the whole self-confidence thing.
NINE
Two weeks later and I’d somewhat managed to adapt to my new circumstances. I had an English bank account now, and Rand had added to it generously. I knew he owed me wages, but I was convinced he’d overpaid me when I received my first bank statement. Trying to argue with him was futile and in the end, he told me to spend the extra money on a vehicle, something I’d need if I were to have any sort of independence. I wasn’t sure how he did it, but he managed to convince me and before I knew it, I was the proud owner of a silver Range Rover Freelander, a smaller and less expensive version of his black Range Rover.
“You should just marry Rand,” Christa said as we took the car for a test drive.
I slammed on the breaks.
“Marry him?”
“Umm, hello, you’re in the middle of the road.”
I glanced in the rearview mirror. Fortunately, we were on a lone country road with only a few cows to show their disapproval. Getting used to driving on the left side of the road was hard enough and having Christa as a passenger made the overwhelming task even more daunting.
“He’s loaded. You’d never have to work another day in your life.”
I snorted, thinking of married life with Rand. Ridiculous. He’d be controlling, demanding, sexy as hell…I shook the useless thoughts from my head and looked to my right for oncoming traffic. Then remembered I should be looking to the left.
“Well, first of all, Rand is hardly the marrying type, so it’s ridiculous even to have this conversation.”
She turned on the radio and sifted through the stations, settling on techno.
The insistent thudding from the speakers acted like a rat gnawing away at my nerves.
“I was just saying,” she said defensively.
“There’s no point…” The music gained in intensity, reverberating through the car like a stray bullet.
“Oh my God, Chris, can you please turn that off? It’s going to make me have an accident.”
“I bet Rand’s good in bed, too,” she continued with an impish smile.
“What makes you think that?” Images of a naked Rand flashed through my mind like a bad porn. Not something to be thinking about when you’re trying to learn to drive on the wrong side of the road.
Christa shrugged. “I don’t know…he just has that certain something about him. I wonder if he’d be naughty…”
I laughed. “Do you realize you can’t go for more than a day without talking about sex?”
“That’s what makes me so popular with the boys,” she answered with a little giggle. We pulled up to the driveway of Pelham Manor, and I parked the car, relieved we hadn’t hit anything or anybody.
“I bet he’s super naughty.”
“Oh, God,” I said with a frown and watched as the subject of our heated conversation neared us, his dimples in full effect.
He opened the door for Christa and once she’d stepped outside, poked his head in with a grin.
“How are you finding the car?”
I returned the smile. “I love it.”
He nodded. “If your afternoon is free, I wanted to teach you your next lesson myself.”
I was thrilled with the idea, being infinitely more comfortable with him than I was with any of the fairies. So far, I’d been tutored by Mathilda and another fairy named Gor who taught me spells of nature—how to see with your natural eyes, those untainted by human society. Upon using my natural eyes, I was able to perceive all sorts of woodland life. There were pixies of all kinds—those that live in flowers, those that prefer bushes and trees, and even water pixies who swim about in slow moving streams or in puddles.
I opened the door, and Rand took my hand. The contact sent heat spiraling through my body. Swallowing hard, I followed his lead into the forest, wondering if my poor nerves would ever get used to him.
“Today I’m going to teach you how to find your inner beast.”
I started to laugh, thinking it sounded ridiculous, when I remembered Rand changing into the shape of the bear at Bella’s party. The laugh dropped right off my lips.
“Every witch has a sister beast within herself and in times of danger, it can be best to revert to the shape of the beast,” he continued.
“How do I know what mine is?” I asked. “Or will I be a bear too?”
Rand didn’t a
nswer right away but unlocked the decrepit wooden gate that led into the wilderness bordering Pelham Manor. The squeak of the hinges sounded like a witch cackling.
“No, your beast won’t be a bear. Your creature will choose you, and it will come to you in time. It tak a great deal of patience and…”
“Focus,” I interrupted him with a grin. “Your favorite word—focus.”
He laughed. “Yes, focus. Sometimes it’s easier to bring forth the beast when you’re in its natural domain. I find it much easier to draw forth the bear in the forest, and I imagine it will be easier for you as well.”
Leaves crunched under my feet as I followed him further into the woods, the sun splaying against his hair until it appeared almost chestnut in color. The further we walked, the more the sun fought to get through the umbrella of tree branches. Finally losing the battle, we were bathed in an umbra of shadow.
We settled in a meadow, and I noted a few pixies as they danced upon a blade of grass, using it like a trampoline. They didn’t seem to pay any attention to Rand or me and instead, just bounced up and down, giggling to one another.
I couldn’t help the awe I felt at being able to see them. Without Gor’s lesson, I’d never have been able to.
“Look at the pixies, Rand,” I said in a whisper. Rand noted them with disinterest—a quick nod of his head. I glanced at the pixies that were now facing both of us, one of them with her little hands on her hips, apparently not appreciating Rand’s dismissal.
“Careful, they have a mean bite,” he said with a smile.
Pixies and fairies were distantly related, think second cousins or cousins removed twice—whichever is farther apart. They looked nothing like one another. As I mentioned before, fairies (as far as I could tell after meeting Mathilda and Gor) don’t have wings and are human size. Pixies, on the other hand, have beautiful ethereal wings that beat as quickly as a hummingbird’s, so you can only see them when they’re still. And pixies are rarely still. They reminded me of ants—each one set on her own mission and all appearing very busy. They’re about the size of my thumb.
“Now, think of all the beasts in nature and allow one to choose you,” Rand said, pulling my attention from the pixies. “Your beast will come forward to claim you; just allow it to do so.”