Tales From Otherworld: Collection One (4 page)

Instead, I settled for yanking the garbage out from under the sink and stomping out the kitchen door to pile it in the bin. From there, we’d cart it to the dump. Our house in Belles-Faire wasn’t on the main trash collection route, so we were responsible for taking care of the trash ourselves.
 

Delilah was smart enough not to follow me, and I stood in the crisp October air, breathing deeply as I tried to relax and take stock.

I couldn’t believe that Trillian had taken off.
Not today.
 

Fucking men. He knows what today is, and he knows that I expect something more than an “I’ll see you.”
 

Sometimes I wondered why I’d gotten married at all. To any of my husbands, for that matter. Right now, all three of my men had been acting inconsiderate. It crossed my mind, maybe I should just pack up and take a few days for myself. Go home to Otherworld and hang out by the shores of Lake Y’Leveshan. I could set up camp, kick back, read a few books, go visit the High Priestess Derisa, in the Grove of the Moon Mother. Hell, for that matter, I could stop in and see Aunt Rythwar. In general, maybe I really needed a breather from the constant stress we were under.

The sun glimmered through afternoon clouds as I strolled over to the herb garden. The garden was starting to look a little raggedy around the edges. We’d moved the kitchen herbs to the greenhouse that the men had built as an add-on to Iris’s cottage, but I’d kept my magical herbs here. They needed to stay in the magical circle in which I’d planted them, at least until they were harvested. I knelt down by the mandrake and whispered a hello to it. A few drops of rain from the high clouds made me glance up at the sky. We’d be in the thick of storm weather soon. It was almost time to compost around the base of all the perennials so that when the rainy season did hit, they’d be safe from the chill. Because the first frost wouldn’t be far behind.

A little bit calmer, my thoughts returned to Trillian and his abrupt departure. How could he? But if I dwelled on it, I’d just get upset again, so I pushed it out of my mind and decided a walk would do me good. I’d head down to Birchwater Pond. The water always soothed me. But as I set foot on the path, Delilah called to me from the back porch. She sounded insistent, and so—with a sigh—I glanced one last time over my shoulder at the path before heading back inside.

“Since Trillian’s gone tonight, I thought you might like to start planning out what we need to do before the rainy season hits. House stuff—you know? What needs to be fixed, what needs replaced, all that.” Kitten thrust the household notebook into my arms. “With Iris so near to having her twins, I figured that you would probably want to take over. Hanna doesn’t know enough about running the place yet, and she can’t read English.”

Lovely.
Just
what I wanted to do today. Grumbling under my breath, I sat down at the kitchen table. “Well, bring me a plate of cookies and a latte, then.” I glared up at her. “And speaking of…where is Hanna?”

“I gave her the afternoon off. She wanted to do some shopping.” Delilah made me a quad-shot iced caramel latte, and set a plate of Hanna’s peanut butter cookies on the table next to me. She settled in next to me, and we began to run over the upkeep schedule on the house. After about thirty minutes, we were knee deep in plans, and there was no good place to stop, so I decided to write off the day and throw myself into getting the task finished.

The afternoon wore away before I knew it, and I didn’t look up until Hanna bustled in from wherever she’d been. She wasn’t carrying any bags, so I assumed they were still in the car, and that Vanzir must have driven her to the mall. I glanced at the clock. Almost six, and my stomach was rumbling.

“I guess we might as well order a pizza or something.” I stood, wincing as I realized I’d been sitting for three hours straight.

Delilah shrugged. “I’m not that hungry.”

I looked at her strangely.
Kitten was turning down pizza?
That was a new one. A moment later, she swore under her breath.

“What’s wrong?”

“I left my dagger down by the pond when I was there last. I can’t believe I did that.” She frowned.

“Well, go get it.” By now, I was ready to pack it in for the day and just go upstairs with a bag of chips, lock my door, and tell Smoky and Morio they could sleep in the parlor.

“Camille, pretty please, won’t you go do it for me? I’ve got a stomachache and was about to go lie down.” Delilah turned on her sad-kitty face.

I groaned. “
Really? Really?
Oh for fuck’s sake…it’s always
Camille to the rescue
, isn’t it?”
 

With a sigh, I slammed through the back door and headed out into the backyard, ready to blow. I stomped across the yard to the path that led to Birchwater Pond. Lovely, just lovely. I was always the fall-back person. Don’t feel like doing something?
Just ask Camille.
It had been this way all my life and I was sick and tired of it.

As I passed the place where Hyto had captured me, I shuddered, unwelcome memories flooding over me. But Smoky and the men had cut down the trees his father had blasted, and in their place, they’d planted rose bushes that bloomed well into the autumn, trying to replace bad memories with prettier ones. It had been Trillian’s idea. Right now, that didn’t make me feel any better. But their spicy scent spiraled down to catch my attention. I couldn’t help but pause and close my eyes.
 

As evening breeze flickered past, I listened to the echo of birdsong and caught another deep breath, letting it out slowly before I opened my eyes and continued on. Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all. I’d wanted to go down to the pond earlier, and Delilah’s forgetfulness
had
gotten me out of the house. I’d apologize to Kitten when I got back. After all, if she was really sick, then there was no harm in helping her.
 

I slowed my pace, letting the approaching dusk wash over me. By the time I came to the opening leading out to the shores around Birchwater Pond, I was calm again. But wait…there were lights flickering from the grotto. There shouldn’t be—not this time of year. Yes, we’d built picnic tables and benches and a shelter near the pond so we could come down here in inclement weather for our rituals and holidays, but there shouldn’t be anybody there right now.

I cautiously slid to the side of the trail, easing toward the lights. Could they be eye catchers? But we didn’t have eye catchers Earthside. What about will-o’-the-wisps? Maybe we had another invasion of the freaking pests? They could range from mischievous to highly dangerous.
 

Just as I was about ready to return to the house for backup, I heard music. One of my favorite softer bands—Tamaryn. Now, will-o’-the-wisps wouldn’t be trying to lure me in with an MP3 player!
 

Frowning, wondering what was going on, I stepped into the clearing to get a better view.

“Surprise!”
 

The onslaught of laughter startled me as the majority of our household jumped out from behind bushes. Morio and Smoky were first, then Shade, Nerissa, Roz and Vanzir. Behind me, Delilah and Hanna laughingly raced in from off the path behind me, carrying Maggie.

“Menolly will be here when she wakes up,” Kitten said.

“What is this?” I now noticed that the picnic tables were covered with food, the lights were Christmas lights strung from tree to tree, and the music was coming from the sound system we’d wired through the woods. There were also presents on one of the picnic tables, wrapped in pretty paper.

“Happy anniversary, love.” Trillian stepped out from behind a cedar tree. “You didn’t
really
think I’d forget, did you? You honestly believed I’d run off to Otherworld on our anniversary if I didn’t have to?” He was laughing, and he opened his arms.

I stared at him, briefly wanting to kill him for what he’d put me through. Then, with a laugh, letting the day slide into the past, I moved into his arms, and pressed my lips against his.

MEETINGS

Here’s a short scene that gives you just a glimpse of the first time that Maria, the D’Artigo Sisters’ mother, met Sephreh ob Tanu…

The first time they met, it was shortly after summer solstice, in a little outdoor café off a back alley. Maria had been there many times, always alone, to eat lunch while she sketched. Pastries were expensive. Due to the war, sugar was rare, and they were chewy, made from whole grains rather than white flour. But they tasted good, and were big enough to make lunch from, along with a piece of cheese and a glass of wine.

She wasn’t wealthy, but the inheritance from her foster parents had left her with enough money to go abroad, to study art. And—though she never admitted it to any of her friends—she had come to Spain to look for family she had never met. Family only rumored to still exist. The journey had been dangerous and her friends thought she was crazy. Coming into a country so soon after civil war had ended, with yet another war waging not so far away in Europe—no, it didn’t really make for sanity. But so far, she’d been lucky.
 

Maria had ignored all the warnings. She’d always gone her own way. After all, nothing waited for her at home. Her foster parents were dead. She had no boyfriends nor close friends to tie her down. And perhaps the most important factor: She had no clue about what she wanted to do in life. All she knew was that she was searching for something, and she wouldn’t find it at home. So she’d packed her bags and come to Spain, and even though she didn’t really know anybody over here, she loved the city and the culture, and the old world charm.

And that was how she’d ended up here: In a small village, on holiday from the university, drinking red wine, while she contemplated the rest of her life.
 

A moment later, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. She stiffened, uncertain what had alarmed her. As she looked around, trying to figure out what it was that suddenly had her uneasy, she couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary. There were no militarists in sight. No sounds of bombers or explosions—frequent visitors over the past couple of years. No, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

“May I sit with you?”
 

The voice was deep, smooth and wary. But it struck a chord inside of her. Even before she looked to see to who was speaking, Maria knew she wanted to hear more. She slowly raised her gaze.

The man standing in front of her was slightly above average height—maybe near to six feet, maybe a hair under. He was obviously European, for he had jet black wavy hair that reached his lower shoulder blades, and eyes the color of…

Maria blinked. For a moment, she could have sworn his eyes were violet, but that was impossible.
I must be tired
, she thought, rubbing her hand across her face. She looked again. This time, his eyes seemed pale blue, impossibly frosty but still…

“Please, join me.” She wasn’t in the habit of inviting strange men to sit with her, but there was something about him that resonated inside her. She realized she wanted to know his name.
 

As he sat, she realized how pale he was against the black suit. He looked almost albino, with creamy skin that would be the envy of every woman around. As she curled a tendril of hair around her finger, she realized that her heart was beating faster and thoughts she tended to keep under lock and key were rising, along with a heat between her thighs.

“What might be your name?” Again, the deep, smooth voice glided over the words, sending a ripple of hunger through her body. She couldn’t place the accent, but it was lilting and sensuous.

She ducked her head. “Maria D’Artigo. I’m from the United States.”

“Hello, Maria D’Artigo,” the man said, a smile playing over his lips. “My name is Sephreh ob Tanu. Can I buy you another glass of wine?” And then, he leaned forward, his hand gently brushing hers, and in that single moment, she fell, hard into a dangerous stream of thought.

“My life has just changed forever,” she thought. A door had just opened, and no matter where it led, she was going to follow. With a winsome grin, she tossed her blonde hair over her shoulders, and walked out of her past, into her future.

BIOGRAPHY

Biography:

New York Times
,
Publishers Weekly
, and
USA Today
bestselling author Yasmine Galenorn writes urban fantasy for Berkley: the Otherworld Series, the Indigo Court Series, and the Fly By Night Series.
 
In the past, she wrote mysteries for Berkley Prime Crime, and nonfiction metaphysical books.
 
She is the 2011 Career Achievement Award Winner in Urban Fantasy, given by RT Magazine.

Yasmine has been in the Craft for 33+ years, is a shamanic witch, and describes her life as a blend of teacups and tattoos.
 
She lives in Kirkland WA with her husband Samwise and their cats.
 
Yasmine can be reached via her website at
www.galenorn.com.