He took a deep breath and let it out slow. Anxiety oozed from him. She could almost taste it in the air. His fingers began tracing the edge of the glass display case of silver jewelry. He rolled his lower lip just enough to bite at it gently. His smile fell a little, but the tension remained.
“I thought you would say that,” he said. He took another deep breath but held it before letting it go. It seemed odd to see him so nervous. They had known each other for nearly a century.
“What if I go out for sandwiches? Would you let me eat in with you?” The sideways look was a boyish gesture. He used it almost as a substitute for the word please. It made him seem younger than his nineteen-year-old appearance. In reality, he was ninety-six. Fairies aged at a slower rate than witches but only by a small amount. Over long periods of time, the differences added up.
“Oh, all right. I’ll eat in with you. Get the usual and a sweet tea with lots of lemon. Just don’t tell Eleanor I let you behind the counter,” she agreed. She gave him a smile. The tension melted away as quick as a midspring snow. His cheeks flushed a bright hue. The cheerful façade became the real thing.
“I’ll be right back!” He sprinted out the door, giddy at her acceptance. Her stomach clenched at the scene. He was still hopeful she would change her mind. If she consented, they could never be as they were. If it did not work out, she would lose her best friend. Some things were better enjoyed as they were and not how people wished they could be. Besides, Eleanor would never have allowed it, period. Her aunt had never allowed dating and did not date, as a rule.
Shaking her head with her hands on her hips, she blew a lock of heavy black curls out of her face. It had escaped the dark-colored clip she used to pin her shoulder-length tresses back. She liked the clip. Its dark shade melted into her blue-black hair, giving it the appearance of holding itself up.
She had no choice but to bind it in some way. It was summer in the Plott Balsam Mountains of North Carolina. The hot, humid air felt like walking around in a steam bath every day between early May and late October. The stifling heat turned the tiny, old-fashioned shop into an oven every afternoon. The back window wasn’t large enough to allow for a proper-sized air-conditioning unit and the National Registry listing did not allow for modernization. Shades along the west-facing street side windows helped, but the greenhouse effect won out by 2:30 p.m. each day.
Sabrina went back to checking in the new shipment of herbs and crystals. She and her Aunt Eleanor owned a New Age supply shop in the small town of Sylva. Rows upon rows of glass jars with handwritten tags filled the shop’s main selling area’s walls. A display case held boxes of crystals, semiprecious gemstones, and jewelry. An antique scale sat beside a brass antiquated manual cash register on a wooden cabinet. Stick and cone incense took up the Peg-Board display in front. The small backroom held a table, a chair, the equally old-fashioned water closet, and a few boxes of supplies. The musty smell from the hot dried herbs filled the space with a thick, earthy scent.
The little bell gave another happy tinkle. Sabrina gave a huff. At this rate, she was never going to get the week’s shipment recorded and put away.
Sabrina reentered the sales floor. A tall man stood scanning the rows of herb jars. He didn’t acknowledge her attendance when she stepped back behind the nearest display case. He wore long cargo pants and a woodland camouflage hunting shirt with the sleeves rolled up. His heavy boots clunked on the wide-board wooden floor as he stepped. His dusty-blond hair was cut into a flattop. If she had seen this man out, she would never have guessed he needed anything from a New Age shop.
She asked in her best customer-friendly voice, “May I help you, sir?”
He looked around a few more seconds before responding. “Yes. I would like to see one of your larger sterling silver pieces in the jewelry case.” He pointed to a pendent shaped like a tree. The branches and root system held a number of colored stones ringed by a thin circle.
Sabrina sighed to herself. She had an allergy to silver. It burned her flesh the instant it touched. The other witches in the community often whispered behind her back. There was some debate as to the purity of her bloodline. Some whispered werewolf. Others said vampire. Still, a handful debated demon. Perhaps she was a day-walking Child of Lilith. All of them agreed it had to be something dark and dangerous. However, no one was brave enough to approach Eleanor about it.
Sabrina pulled out a shiny brass key from the register drawer and unlocked the glass case. She used a polishing cloth as a buffer between the pendant and her hand. She held it out to the man. He took it without touching her.
“Is it sterling silver? And how much are you asking?” He held it up as if he were inspecting the quality of workmanship. Sabrina noticed he looked through and around the delicate filigree at her.
“Yes. We only sell sterling silver pieces here. That one is $54.95 plus tax. I can order you something in pewter, if you would prefer.”
He said nothing. The longer he looked at her, the more uneasy she felt around this man. Everything about him was off. Sabrina wished deep down he would go away. Why did the weirdoes always have to come in when Eleanor was out?
“No. Thank you. I think I’ll shop around,” he said, still meeting her eyes.
She opened her cloth-covered hand to accept the piece back. Instead, he made it a deliberate point to drop the pendant onto her uncovered wrist. The reaction was intense. Light smoke and the burning started the instant it made contact. Instinctively, she jerked her hand back and gave a yelp. She watched the silver fall to the floor, charred where it had touched flesh. Her other hand clutched her burnt wrist. She opened her fingers to check the wound. The damage was already healing.
The man did not react. He stood by observing her. When she looked up, he was watching and grinning. His eyes were filled with a triumphant malice. The grin turned to a snarl. He jumped over the glass display case and grabbed her by the throat. He shoved her back against the shelves. Glass jars crashed to the floor all around them.
The dark crystal flashed into life. Bright rainbow-like rays turned to white light and pushed out from its facets. The man was thrown back. Sabrina crumpled to her knees, gasping. He was stunned by the surprise, and the hesitation gave Sabrina the chance to scramble to her feet.
She fled toward the back room, hoping to make it out the back door. The man was faster. He charged her at full steam. Landing in the middle of her back, he went down with her to the floor. Using his weight to pin her, he pressed his face against the side of hers.
“Where is Midnight’s Jewel?” he panted. “Is that it around your neck?” He tried to pull at the heavy gold chain. The thick braided gold bit into Sabrina’s neck, but it did not come off. The man cursed and turned loose. The chain burned his hand. She could feel the heat but not the effect.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about! I don’t know what a midnight jewel is!”
She was beginning to panic. If he was there to rob her, why did he not just take the cash in the register or break the glass case? Why ask for something she did not know about?
A large hand grabbed a fistful of her hair. The clip bit into her scalp. He yanked her head back hard and gave a frustrated growl. “I want Midnight’s Jewel. You’re going to give it to me. Take off the necklace.” His voice vibrated with intense anger.
“I can’t! It doesn’t come off! There’s no clasp!”
Fat tears were starting to roll down her cheeks. She could not think of a single defensive spell to help save her. Her magic was sketchy, at best. In serious distress, it was nonexistent. She could not overpower him. He was twice her size. All she could come up with was to do like any human woman would. She took in a deep, shuddering breath and let a scream rip from her throat.
His weight shifted off of her body suddenly. Freed from his clutches, she crawled toward the backdoor. The sounds of a scuffle drew her attention. Over her shoulder she could see Clay rolling on the floor under the attacker. The camo-wearing thief sat astride Clay’s body.
Clay was holding the man’s wrists back. In the double-fisted grip of the man was a serrated hunting knife. He was shaking with the effort to overcome Clay’s resistance. The blade’s tip shook unsteady over Clay’s exposed neck. They were at a stalemate for the moment.
Sabrina threw out one hand and shouted, “Stop!” She meant to freeze the man in place. Only the weapon reacted.
The knife flew out of anyone’s reach. Instead of going after it, the man pulled back and punched Clay hard enough to knock him out. As he went limp, the man leapt up and took long strides in Sabrina’s direction. Before she could do anything, he was on her once more. This time he had her pinned against the wall with his whole body. She could feel his stiff cock against her thigh. The struggle and chase was arousing him. There was no telling what else he planned to do to her once he obtained the mysterious jewel.
“I said give me Midnight’s Jewel! I’m not leaving without it!” He grabbed her around the throat again by one hand and lifted her up just enough that her feet could not touch the floor. She tried to pry his fingers open and beat at his arms with her fists. The world began to dim and spin. She needed air. His other hand tugged at the pendant. Now, it lay quiet and complacent but still firmly in place. “I’ll take your head if I have to, but you will give it to me!”
A heavy twang and whistling zing zipped through the air, ending in a meaty thwump. The man dropped her. Another zing and Sabrina could see an arrow point jutting out of his throat. His neck had been skewered. Bloody foam oozed from his mouth. He fell as the life left his eyes. The first arrow was buried in his back over his right lung. A bright red pool was spreading across the floor.
Sabrina forced herself to look up from the body on the floor. Her rescuer was none other than Eleanor. Bow still in her outstretched hand, she had notched another arrow and was ready to fire a third. Her gaze swept the room for more targets. Finding none, she lowered her weapon.
“I had a feeling I should return early,” she said. With a wave of her hand, she locked the door behind her and turned off the neon “Open” sign. Another wave of her free hand brought down all the shades at once. As she reached Clay, she stooped to check on him. “I think he will be fine when he wakes up.”
On cue Clay took a deep breath and let out a soft moan. He blinked several times and attempted to sit up. Eleanor placed a hand on his chest and shook her head. “Be still for a moment. You took a hard hit. You can get up when you are steadier.”
Eleanor brought herself up to her full height. The effect was imposing. She strode over to where Sabrina was rooted in place. She lifted Sabrina’s chin and eyed the bruises Sabrina could feel blossoming.
“There will be marks, I’m afraid. We’ll use a little mugwort and have you right as rain in a few days. Now, did he say what he wanted or why he was here?” True to form, Eleanor shifted from warrior to caregiver and back without missing a beat. Some mistook her calm resolve as coldness, but Sabrina knew it was her undying sense of duty. There was a task at hand, and Eleanor would see it through.
“Yes. He demanded a midnight jewel. I’ve never even heard of it. He seemed to think it was on my necklace. He tried to pull it off twice,” Sabrina explained. She touched the stone’s surface. It flared back to life. Dark rainbows danced against her skin once more.
“Did he say a midnight jewel? Or did he call it something else?” Eleanor’s questions seemed cryptic, as if she knew the answer but was waiting on Sabrina to supply it.
After a moment of thought, Sabrina remembered. “Not exactly. He called it Midnight’s Jewel.”
Eleanor bent over the body. She rolled his head to expose the right side of his neck. Just behind the ear below the base of the skull was a dark-orange tattoo. A straight line simulated a horizon. A semicircle sat on top of it with four equally spaced lines jutting out like rays.
“Damn,” Eleanor sighed. Her brow furrowed hard. She looked up at Sabrina. “We need to get out of here. The Army of Light has found us.”
“Who are they?” Clay had managed to get to a kneeling position. His hands were braced on his knees and his head down. Sabrina thought he might be sick.
“They are the reason we have been hiding in these mountains for almost a century. They will stop at nothing to achieve their goal. No one is safe,” Eleanor stated, as if that cleared it all up. She kept watching the doors and windows.
“Aunt Eleanor, you do realize we have no idea what you’re talking about, don’t you?” Sabrina reminded her. She was shaking now that the attack was over. It took a great deal of focus not to collapse into a heap.
“It is important for you to know all the details, but for now, we need to get out of here. Clay, slip out the back and bring my car around,” Eleanor ordered. When he left, she stroked Sabrina’s face. The trembling fear eased at the elder witch’s touch. “I had hoped to spare you this until you had had time to make it all unnecessary, my pet. As it stands, I must place your safety above my good intentions. Trust me?”
“I’ve always trusted you, Aunt Eleanor,” Sabrina said with true sincerity. Never had the woman she knew as her only mother figure led her down the wrong path. Her faith in Eleanor was steadfast.
From the backdoor’s frosted window, the outline of a black car pulling up could be seen. Clay left the engine running and the driver’s side door open. He knocked before entering. A blast of noonday heat rushed in with him.