Tempest’s Fury

My suspicions were confirmed when I felt a sweep of power from Blondie, testing for other forms of life. When she found nothing, she nodded to Magog, who reached into her coat’s massive pocket and pulled out a coal-black rock that was big enough she handled it with two hands. She laid the rock on the shelf of the radiator by the front door, touching it lightly as she squatted down to murmur to it, imbuing it with the power of her breath. Nearly all winged things were Air elementals, and Magog’s whispers were laced with a strength that made me shiver.

As soon as she was done, I felt a whoosh of power emanate from the stone, and then the street noise disappeared entirely. Then Magog took off, moving around the tiny house quickly, as if scouting.

“A shield, called a nullifier,” Gog said, his voice as gravelly as his skin. Magog, already done looking around the downstairs rooms, whooshed past us as she headed upstairs. “We use them to make safe houses. If anyone is nearby, this house looks like a dead zone, even if we’re using our power.”

I nodded as if I understood, wondering what we would do now.

“You settle yourselves,” Magog said, her footsteps pounding on the stairs as she dashed down from her second story investigations. “Clean up, do whatever, but try to disturb as little as possible. I’ll pop over to the shops for supplies. There’s a double bedroom, a single, and the couch in the lounge folds out to a double, I’m pretty sure. Feel free to claim which room you’d like, but leave a double for Gog and me.”

With that the raven was off, but only after Gog had reopened the door in his odd way. It was only then I noticed the alarm system installed next to the front door. It was blinking away in safe mode, content that no one had gotten in on its watch since the door had never, technically, been opened.

“You and Magog take the double upstairs. Blondie can have the single. Jane and I will take the lounge,” Anyan said to Gog, after which Anyan shot me a look as if to ask if that was all right. I smiled my acquiescence, hoping I didn’t look like a girl who’d won the lottery.

“That works,” Gog rumbled, shouldering his and Magog’s packs.

“Um, Gog?” I asked, despite the fact I probably didn’t want to know the answer. “Are we supposed to be here?”

The grey man turned to me, his brows furrowed.

“Are we… guests?” I asked. “Or did we break in.”

Gog smiled, a real smile unlike Magog’s, and I saw that he was missing his bottom front teeth.

“Oh, we’re not guests, Miss. We definitely broke in.”

I squelched my alarm at the alacrity with which he said that we were committing what had to be felony, even in Europe.

“How did you find it?” Anyan asked, casually.

“Facebook,” Gog said. “You’d be amazed at what people put on their walls. This young couple is enjoying a weekend in Amsterdam. It was very nice of ’em to let us know exact dates, don’t you think?”

I shook my head, very glad that for all intents and purposes, I lived in 1996. Having no friends, I’d never been up on social networking.

And now I had no inclination to start.

CHAPTER TWO

What is a lounge?” I asked, turning to Anyan. “I like the sound of it. I’m hoping for something in purple velvet, personally.”

Sorry to crush your dreams, but the lounge is that room,” Anyan said, pointing to his right. “ ‘Lounge’ is just British for living room.”

“Oh,” I said, trying not to sound disappointed as I schlepped my backpack into the decidedly non-purple and non-velvety “lounge.” I left the pack near the wall by the door, but took my labrys case with me. I sat down on the couch, and set the case on the brass-and-glass coffee table. Tearing through the various pieces of official-looking tape keeping it shut, I finally pried it open.

The ax didn’t look like much: rough-hewn, double-headed, and not at all fancy. But I felt a sense of peace as I touched the handle, caressing the old wood with a gentle touch. It glowed faintly, just for a second, as my skin made contact and I felt an answering spark of power deep in my chest.

Content that it was unharmed after its long journey, I shut the case again and stood up.

“I need a shower,” I said. “Really badly.”

Anyan nodded from where he stood rooting around in the large backpack he’d brought.

“Me too. It’s probably upstairs.” Then he looked up to meet my eyes and I flushed at the heat I saw in them.

“It’s probably not the best idea, under the circumstances,” he said, moving towards me. I didn’t know whether to back up or launch myself at him. “But I love the idea of conserving water…”

“Going green, are we?” I said lightly, despite the tension in my belly.

“Yes, obviously, and so showering with you would really be the right thing to do. To reduce my carbon footprint, and all.” His voice was getting growlier by the second, and my lady Jane growled back in sympathy. He was close to me now, his big body dwarfing mine. For a second I imagined climbing up him like he was a vine, then I reimagined that scenario with both of us naked, and then I shivered.

“And I do have a terribly difficult time washing my own back,” I said. “I always miss places. End up smelling like a goat…”

He chuckled as he stepped so close to me that the tips of our shoes touched.

“I can always count on you to say something sexy,” he said.

I blushed. “I know. I’m very smooth.”

“You are smooth,” he murmured, leaning down to brush his lips against my forehead. “Smooth and soft and warm. I could touch you forever…”

And with that his lips found mine. The kiss was gentle, but his lips moved against mine with an authority that made my own knees weak. When he pulled away I whined, till he nuzzled away my protests with that big, crooked nose.

“Jane, we should talk,” he said, his voice dark with lust.

“Hmm?” I said, dreamily, rubbing against him like an overzealous cat and not caring one bit.

“We should talk,” he repeated, his voice slightly strained. “I think we need to…”

“Get a room?” said a new voice: one that didn’t belong to any of the people I knew were in that house.

Anyan and I raised shields, looking towards the door to the lounge. There stood a little being, no taller than three feet, which looked like the classical incarnation of a cauldron-stirring, Shakespearean witch. Its skin was a crazy mottling of blue and purple, with hair that streamed up in haylike stalks like a homemade Troll doll. It was bent, wizened, and its nose tapered in front of it like a lewd, homegrown carrot. Its clawlike blue hands clutched a walking stick and its beady yellow eyes flicked across my skin in a way that made me feel even dirtier than I did after the long flight.

“Hiral,” Anyan said, greeting the little creature in an exasperated voice.

“How did you get in here?” I demanded, stepping away from Anyan and getting ready to make a mage ball.

“I was invited,” the creature said, “despite the cold greeting I’m currently enjoying. And there’s not a door in this kingdom that can keep me out, pet,” Hiral responded in a voice that was squeaky and unpleasant, before stumping painfully into the room. On further consideration, something about the little creature’s voice and mannerisms told me that it was male, although I wasn’t entirely sure until he paused to give his balls a bold and thorough scratching. After which, he looked around until his eyes lit on the beanbag propped in the corner of the lounge.

“Ah, perfect,” he said throwing his staff on the beanbag before settling himself down with a long sigh. “Yes, this will do.”

Then he looked from Anyan to me, his yellow eyes twinkling. When he smiled his teeth were long, crooked, and black with rot.

Anyan looked at Hiral for a long minute, but the little creature just kept grinning at him. His smile wavered, however, when Anyan strode forward purposefully. Causing Hiral to squawk like a chicken, Anyan picked up the beanbag, Hiral and all, and carried it into the kitchen. He set it in an out of the way corner, tucked behind the table.

“Perfect,” said the barghest, dusting off his hands. He turned on his heel to stride back into the lounge, closing the pocket doors that divided our room from the kitchen with a definitive clink.

“The lounge is ours,” Anyan said, in a faux-evil prince voice that made me giggle.

“That it is. But we have to clean up and we have to be ready to talk to Blondie. So anything else will have to wait.” I said, albeit regretfully, as I moved towards my suitcase to dig out my toiletries and something comfortable to wear.

“You’re right. Good idea,” Anyan said, following my lead and opening his own backpack. But he didn’t sound like he believed what he was saying. To be honest, I didn’t believe what I was saying. Part of me was sick of waiting, while another part wanted to figure out just what I wanted from the word “wait.”

The truth was that I’d been relieved when Hiral had shown up. Redefining “coitus interruptus” had been the running joke of my time with Anyan in Rockabill, before and after I’d been attacked. We’d finally get a chance to have some alone time and something or someone would interrupt. It was like all the forces of the universe had conspired together in a massive cock-blocking scheme. It had sucked, yes, but it had also meant that Anyan and I were sort of permanently, deliciously stalled between desire and consummation. I found myself terrified at the idea that we might now have the chance to dive into something. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">