Authors: Anise Rae
He frowned, his heart hurting for her. She never complained like this. It was this place, too much horror, too many memories. “Maybe this is simply the mix of light and dark, the two swirling together. There’s a poem etched on the first tower.” Though she nodded impatiently, he continued. “I’d never heard it before.” He’d memorized it during his guard duty over the last three days. He lifted his fingers to her face and stroked her temple, her cheek, the softness of her neck, repeating the path over her fine skin as he recited it.
“Wrap my cloak of darkness tight to your skin.
Dance my song of lightness now, then again.
A glitter of starglow, a soft beam of moon,
shadows in sunshine, a cloud’s veil at noon,
darkness and light ray, within you, alive,
One needs the other to live and revive.”
She lifted her long lashes, her gaze finding his immediately. He wanted to wrap her up and carry her away at the need in her eyes.
“Light and dark,” he whispered. “Both existing at the same time. That’s all these days are.”
For a moment, he thought he’d said the right things, but then she shook her head and stepped back, shattering the moment. “But I don’t think I can exist in this gray. I don’t understand this,” She pointed into the darkness that contained the scene of violence, greed and selfishness. “Why did it happen in the first place and why we aren’t allowed to fix it if we can? To let life keep its glow. To revive it. That’s what I don’t understand, the things that prevent revival and renewal.”
The sad frustration in her voice broke his heart. “The park will be fixed someday. For all the frustration the committee has caused, they want the best for the place.”
She shook her head again, disheartened or disappointed, something he couldn’t read. She stepped down the path, past the bouquets of flowers encased in thrive spells. A yellow string of tape around the pond, supported by a spell, bobbed gently in winter’s night.
The wind stirred the empty branches of the hibernating trees, swaying in sympathy of the pond’s loneliness. No one stayed to play anymore. No one floated paper boats.
He stayed at her side as she ventured forth, slow and hesitant.
“It’s at the top, isn’t it?” She ducked under the yellow tape and jumped the four feet into the empty, concrete-lined pond. “I’ll be back.”
That was her way of saying she was going alone, that he wasn’t to come with her.
With her gaze fixed on the concrete tiers of the crumbled fountain, she passed the humped boulders to her left, a warrior goddess on a mission with hips swaying. She didn’t hesitate as she reached the fountain, climbing the first tier and then the second.
“We don’t know how stable it is. Be careful,” he called, unable to stop himself. He paced down the sidewalk, keeping even with her. “And don’t touch the fissure. Remember to use your mage sense.” She looked so small up there.
The other side of the fountain had borne the brunt of the damage, a wedding cake stomped in half by a giant foot, leaving enough intact for the cake topper of elephants to stand. One leaned against the other. Both their trunks were broken off and the far elephant, the one sitting upright, was missing half its face.
Aurora unbuttoned her coat and let it fall to the pond’s floor. At eye level with the creatures, she lifted a hand stroking one, then the other. Just like that, the energy of the land righted itself. His soul sighed in relief.
He smiled, his own vibes suddenly light, as if he’d inhaled a puff of a
light-hearts
potion. There was nothing to grin about though. After all, he’d learned Aurora had almost died in the terrorists’ bomb, someone had tried to blow up a trash tower, his family had turned on him, the fissure culprit remained at large, and the Republic would go to war if this evil wasn’t stopped. Too much horror abounded to contemplate happiness. Nevertheless, his soul had been doused with joy from the inside out.
Perhaps he should have been alarmed as his tension drained away. Perhaps, he thought, following her gaze as she lifted her face to the sky, he should have commented on the fact that the persistent clouds were finally thinning. Instead, he laughed and sat down on the metal bench at the edge of the pond’s paved path. He leaned back, arms spread wide against the cold metal.
The world slowed, even the trees’ sway looked drunken and sedated. Just like him. Wait. Whose spell was this? He took a breath to call out to her, warn her, but all that came out was a whisper. “Aurora.”
She looked at him and graced him with that sexy smile. He hadn’t seen that in a long, long time. Since after dinner. Way too long.
She trailed her fingers over one ailing elephant’s head. It glimmered, as if she’d dusted off the dirt, revealing the bronze beneath. Another brush of her hand and it glowed under her touch. No, it glowed under the moon. The ever-present clouds parted wide, revealing the sparkling sky that was the moon’s vast stage.
The world shined under its luminescence. The pale light hung heavily above them. The white gleam illuminated Aurora’s soft skin, giving her a halo of light and power. Her hair danced through the sparkly glow, trailing down her shoulders and back, tousled from the climb.
She glanced at him with a slow-motion blink. Yes, he remembered that look. And this energy, he remembered it, too. Communing. He’d caught the trailing end of her ritual the day he’d first met her.
A silent question formed in her eyes. Far be it for him to stop her. He crooked an eyebrow at her, daring her. After all, this family-filled neighborhood was sound asleep.
Her pale belly came into view as she tugged her shirt from its tucked-in spot and offered it to the sky. Her lacy bra followed with a toss. It might have sprouted wings and flown around the neighborhood for all he knew. He couldn’t look away from those breasts, full and high, and capped with the most delicious nipples.
She toed off her boots, twisting slightly. He almost winced in sympathy at the cold, but surely the connection between enchantress and skylight warmed her from within. Her pants fell next to reveal the curve of an ass that needed a lifetime of worship. He fisted his hands to keep from reaching out.
She lifted her arms high, as if to reach up and touch the white glow of the symbol of the goddess’s nighttime form. Power rained down with Aurora as its focus. What would it feel like to be at the epicenter of that? He wasn’t mage enough to handle it. He could commune with the dark; he could destroy the world, but this was beyond his reach. Watching this was a close as any mage—except an enchantress—could come to communing with the goddess.
Drenched in vibes she’d pulled from the moon, she was the goddess personified, every jiggle and bounce of that bountiful form. The light grew around her, brightening in an ethereal cloud of vibes, until it encompassed the statue and its tiers to the bottom of the concrete pond, an earthbound moon that seared his eyes. He had to turn his head.
The first thing he noticed was the sound. The hard splatter of water against concrete. He turned back to see. The elephants, whole and perfect, were spouting their victorious healing. Water shot from their trunks. Mist sprayed from between the tiers. The luminescent energy disappeared, replaced by a wet, misty cloud with a drenched, naked enchantress at its pinnacle.
Edmund jumped to his feet and yanked off his suit jacket. He tossed it to the bench and raced over. The mist stuck to his clothes, not enough to penetrate them right away, but it would.
He met her at the second tier. With a hand on her hip, he steadied her until she made it down one more level and then he lifted her shivering form off the fountain and into his arms.
“Not how I thought that would end.” She laughed with the words, but stuttered from cold.
He raced out of the pond’s hole, clutching her slippery form to his chest. He tried to warm her with a spell, but his vibes slipped from his control. He’d absorbed too much of the power that Aurora had conducted. It was like trying to move an ocean. “Warm yourself, Ror. You’ve got plenty of vibes after that. No need to just shiver.”
“Can’t. Blissed out. Don’t destroy anything. Wouldn’t be able to help much.”
“I’ll try to contain myself.” He stopped at the edge of the pond and set her on her feet at the top. He was eye-level with the most marvelous place in the world, covered in a soft patch of dark red hair.
“Oh, princess.” He swallowed hard against the urge to lean forward. Instead, he stepped out of the pond, now filling up thanks to Aurora’s pull with the goddess’s power. Retrieving his jacket from the bench, he draped it around her, guiding her arms into its sleeves, and pulled it tight across her chest. He looked back at her clothes, now resting within a shroud of cold, icy mist.
That was going to take heroic effort. Normally, he’d cast an arc of vibes to keep him dry, but he was so drenched in power his cast wouldn’t work.
“Forget those.” Aurora laid her head against his shoulder. “Let’s just get in the car.”
He scooped her up again and strode toward the car. “Next time I have a committee mired in disagreement, I’m going to stick you on them.”
Encased in vibes, Aurora stared out the Donninger’s foggy windows as they passed through downtown and into the Drainpipe. She leaned her head against the seat and turned to him. His hooded glance shifted her way, dark, determined, greedy.
“Did anyone see me?”
“I saw.” He laid his hand on her thigh.
She sidled closer as desire’s flame began to chase away her chills. “I haven’t seen the moon in so long. I hope I didn’t embarrass you. I can’t believe I did that.” Her words were slow and airy. “But I couldn’t resist.”
“You called down the goddess’s power to a place that had lost her blessing. I am in awe and will be ever grateful I witnessed it. I wish I had a picture to save forever. Could we reenact it?” His smile warmed his handsome face as he gently squeezed her bare leg.
She leaned across the narrow console and rested her head against his arm, needing his touch. “You’re the only one who’s ever seen me do that.”
“Then I’m damn lucky. You know, a few months ago Bradford’s enchantress sold tickets to her communing ritual.” He kept his voice soft, as if unwilling to disturb the ocean of vibes that had flooded both their senses. “It was very pricey. The profits went to some charity.”
“Did you go?” She lifted her head, trying to block the picture of him standing in an elite crowd watching a naked woman call down the light, but the vision crystalized in her mind anyway.
“And admit I need to pay to see such rarities? That’s far beneath me. I donated though. Besides, I’d already seen yours last spring, and you’re incomparable.”
He slowed for the turn into the junkyard, passed her shop, and then continued by the metallist’s building. He drove past the trash towers before it dawned on her that he’d missed his parking spot. “Where are you going?” The Donninger bumped through the field. “Edmund, you’re going to make the car cry, not to mention the fact that you’re going to lead someone right to my house.”
“Princess, you’re nearly naked. It’s below freezing. We’re both wet. I’ll cloak the car.”
She gave him a raised eyebrow. Neither of them was in any shape to cast a cloaking spell for a blade of grass much less a car.
“I’ll cloak it as best I can, but tonight you get an escort to your door.”
The car hit a hole and she jostled in the seat. Beneath his jacket, her breasts bobbed along. She caught his quickly shifting gaze and the hard swallow that bobbed his throat.
“And once we get to the door, your chivalrous servant will cater to your every need.”
“You’re a king, not a servant.”
“Oh, I’m not worthy to do anything but kiss your dainty little toes, but I’m not going to let that stop me.” He carefully navigated the field, drove around to the far side of the water tower, and parked.
Three hard taps sounded on the window. She jumped. Edmund scrambled out of the car.
“That’s disappointing,” Bull said. “I thought you first family types were too powerful to sneak up on.”
Edmund cleared his throat. “It’s been an unusual night,” he said slowly.
“You drunk?” The derision in Bull’s voice drew Aurora out of the car.
Her feet froze the moment they touched the crisp field. “It’s my fault.”
Bull scowled at the sight of her. “What in the goddess’s name are you wearing? Are you naked under there?” He held up a hand and turned away. “Don’t tell me. Blasted hells, I don’t want to know.” He strode away, hollering over his shoulder, “Just thought my Second might like to know everything in the yard is fine. It must have been some stupid kids trying to blow up the tower. Keene even caught a glimpse of some teens hanging around Schiller Park…way past curfew…but they ran off before he could catch up with them. Maybe it was them. Later, Monday. Put some clothes on, Aurora.” Bull’s voice faded away as he headed back toward the towers.
They both knew Bull was wrong. It wasn’t kids. It was someone who wanted to harm the entire territory, and they had no clue how to stop him. She eyed the trash towers in the distance where the culprit had done his latest dirty work.
“Stop,” Edmund ordered her as he strode around the front of the car. “No worrying about this. Not tonight.” He bent, scooped her up, and strode to the hidden entrance of her tower.
“The night’s almost over.”
“All the more reason it can wait.”
The vines parted and Edmund ducked under, holding her tight.
“Put me down. You’ll be huffing and puffing by the time we reach the top. You’re not carrying me up thirty steps.”
“As your servant, it’s my honor to huff and puff for you.”
“I don’t want a servant.” She leaned in and brushed her lips against his. “I want you.” Warmth welled up from her heart at her truth, embers of love that melted away the fear that always hovered close. For tonight, she’d bask in it.
He smiled beneath the whisper of her touch. “Well, in that case…”
He shifted her in his arms until his shoulder met her waist. Before she knew it, her hair dangled toward the floor and her blood was on a rapid descent toward her upside down head.