"It wants him here, doesn't it?" Angela whispered. The winkies shimmered into pink for a moment, and then their lights dimmed more.
"They're coming," Ethan called. "This isn't normal, is it?" He spread his arms, taking in the mist that enclosed them in a dim, silver-gray-white world. At his movements, winkies flared to life, red and purple, clinging to his clothes and streaking his hair. He scowled and flicked a bright green point of light off the tip of his nose.
Angela laughed. She couldn't help it.
At the sound of her voice, all the winkies coating her and Ethan shimmered with more light, their colors shifting to pinks and greens and bright blues.
"You can see them now, can't you?" she called.
"Yeah, and it's driving me nuts!" But he grinned at her, uncertainly, like someone who didn't have much practice in smiling. "Look, those lunatics who hired me broke into my bank, looking for that cursed coin that hurt your friend. Even if they don't find it, I've got the feeling they're on their way here to finish the job."
"A job that never got started," she reminded him.
"Yeah, true, but won't you be safer getting out of town? Lead them on a wild goose chase?" He gestured back at his car. "Let me protect you. I know I'm not the dragon-slaying knight that chick in the wheelchair thought she saw, but... Heck, maybe I can figure out how."
Angela caught her breath, when a trick of the shifting darkness and pale light and the changing glow of the winkies suddenly wrapped him in dark silver armor. Ethan's blue eyes were the scowling eyes of her silent stone knight from the garden of her dreams.
"Let's get out of here, Angela. I swear, whatever it takes, I'll do it to protect you."
"No. I can't leave." She swallowed hard at the sudden thrill of panic that wrapped around her throat. "And you have to get inside. Now. Before the mist gets any thicker." She gestured at the winkies coating him. Their light had faded again as the mist crept closer around him. If their light went out...
"Ethan, come inside now. You're only safe--we're only safe--inside the walls here."
She saw the struggle of his mind and soul in his face, the stiffness of his posture. He wanted to believe. He didn't want to believe.
A thick tendril of mist looked like a hand, rising up to wrap around his face, around his throat. Angela saw the moment Ethan's gaze shifted and he saw what she saw. He ducked and dodged and tugged aside his jacket, revealing the shoulder holster and the handgun that gleamed like a sword in moonlight. But mortal weapons were useless here. What tragedy would have to befall him before he learned that painful lesson?
"Okay," he called, not yet drawing the weapon and pivoting with every other step to look around himself as he approached the wrought iron gate. "I'm coming in."
The gate refused to swing open when he pushed on it.
If the enemies wanted him here, letting him through the mist to reach her house, why wouldn't they let him get to the house?
Unless their whole purpose was just what Ethan had proposed? For her to leave with him? To get her to leave Divine's Emporium and all the magical safety woven into its physical being.
Angela gripped the doorframe, imagining the mist thrusting a tentacle at her to yank her outside. She watched as Ethan leaned into the gate and pushed, hard, so she could see the bulging of the muscles in his arms through his coat, saw the strain in his face. He growled a curse, put both hands on the stone post the gate was anchored to, and swung himself up and over in one smooth motion.
Gale force winds plunged down from the sky as his feet touched the flagstone path to her door. Ethan stumbled back, nearly impaling his buttocks on the pointed tops of the iron posts of the fence. Wind blinded him, creating ripples in his skin, pressing his eyelids closed, tossing debris into his eyes and mouth. The winkies were torn away, their lights going out completely.
"Stop it!" Angela shouted, and stepped forward, reaching out to him.
Her winkies shrieked as she put one foot over her threshold. She froze, feeling a force yanking on her leg, a sensation as if something hot and prickly and stinging grabbed hold of her ankle.
"No!" Ethan gasped. Through the assault of the wind on his face, she could see his sudden terror. "Don't come out. That's what they want. You'll die."
Angela sagged back, bracing herself on the doorframe, shivering as she remembered almost too late the dream where the knight had pulled her off the porch of Divine's Emporium and she had shriveled in his arms.
A funnel of blackness spun down from the ceiling of darkening mist, the narrow tip aiming for Ethan.
She shouted his name and pointed.
He flung himself forward to dodge it. The winds resisted him, keeping him nearly upright, but he did gain a few feet. The funnel twisted, following him as he went to his hands and knees, digging into the gaps between the flagstones with his fingers, pulling himself forward.
Angela watched, willing all her strength to him.
That prickling, stinging sensation returned, and she gasped, throwing herself backwards as she realized she had edged forward, putting the toes of one foot, her hand, her nose and forehead over the threshold. She saw very clearly what the enemy wanted--to lure her out of the safety of Divine's Emporium, into the mist and darkness and wind. It would keep Ethan away from her, tormenting him, until the tension was too much for her and she forgot herself and raced out to help him.
When this was over, she promised herself she would find a way to punish her enemies so they never rose up against her ever again. This was wrong. It was cruel and evil. She rarely used the power at her disposal for her own satisfaction, but she would feel no guilt in using it now.
She dug her fingers into the doorframe, holding herself fast, and watched Ethan struggle.
He had made it halfway up the flagstone path now, his clothes stained with sweat and the debris ground into them. In the flickering light, she saw darkness on his hands and feared he had torn his fingers open in the struggle to pull himself along the stones. The enemy would pay for that, too.
Angela sagged, breathless for a moment as images raced through her mind. Memories, she realized, with a pang that took her breath away.
Ethan standing in a stream, bare-chested, laughing, bronzed by the sun. His trousers rolled up to his knees. His hair long, tangled and curly. Holding out those long-fingered hands to her, beckoning. She gave her hand into his and stepped into the stream, holding her long skirts high. He teased her, waggling his eyebrows at the sight of her legs bared to the knees. When she stepped back, pretending pique, he roared laughter, lunged, and caught her up, to throw her over his shoulder and stride across the stream. She kicked and wriggled and laughed and he swatted her behind before setting her down with a thump.
And captured her mouth in a kiss that went on forever.
"No!" Ethan shouted, tearing Angela out of the memories. "Go back!"
Gasping, she flung herself backwards, falling down hard in the doorway of the shop. She had stepped forward as if to cross that stream from her memory. To go to him. And nearly left the shop entirely. Her legs stung up to the knees and her fingers felt nearly numb and the skin of her face felt as if it had been scoured by the debris and force of the wind. For good measure, Angela scrambled backwards, putting two more feet of space between her feet and the threshold.
She ached, fighting tears of fury and a longing that felt as familiar as her own breath. Yet strange, having no part of the life she had made for herself in Divine's Emporium. Had she once felt that pain as if she had been torn into two pieces, as if everything inside her had been emptied out and scoured clean? Had it been so long that she had forgotten?
Or was this another trick of the enemy, trying to make her think that Ethan was her lost love, her knight from the midnight garden? Did they try to awaken loneliness she had never known before, to trick her into going out into that storm?
"Angela?" Maurice's shout drew her back to the doorway again.
Holly and Maurice came around the side of the house. They had probably come up from the park into the back yard. The mist swirled away from them and glimmers of the moonlight outside the enchantment shone through, reaching down the tunnel their presence had created. Angela struggled to her feet, leaning against the doorframe, trying to wrap her mind around the multiple reasons why the enchantment didn't affect Holly and Maurice, yet kept Stayn and his allies from getting through to her.
"Stay there!" she shouted, listening to a half-formed idea.
Intent, she suspected, was half the battle, and half the solution. Maurice and Holly were merely coming back from a picnic, coming home, with no idea that a magical battle was taking place in the front yard. Their thoughts were elsewhere, focused on each other, shielding them from the enemy's touch and notice. Angela had no idea how long that window of freedom would last, but she intended to use it.
In the back room, she found a coil of rope and a ten-pound disc weight from a used bench press set she had bought but hadn't put out in the shop yet. She tied the weight to the end of the rope, swung it around as far as the doorway would let her, and tossed it to Maurice. Interestingly, the wind didn't affect the weight and rope at all, just like the enchantment didn't affect Maurice and Holly. Because they weren't interfering with the enemy's plans.
For the moment.
"Give it to him, then get up here," she shouted, as Maurice caught hold of the rope.
It was good to have people around who were accustomed to strange things happening and malevolent enchantments--and who trusted her enough not to ask questions. Maurice and Holly linked arms. They both took hold of the rope with their free hands and crossed the yard to where Ethan still inched forward along the flagstone path, with the wind pushing him away while the black funnel cloud continued to make jabs at him and he rolled from side to side, dodging it.
Angela frowned, suddenly seeing a pattern in those jabs. If she didn't know better, she would think it was trying to hit Ethan's coat pockets. That made no sense.
Since when does evil make sense? Who said it ever had to make sense? someone asked in her memory. She caught her breath when she suspected that laughing, rich male voice was Ethan's. But when had they ever had such a conversation?
On Maurice and Holly's second step, the enchantment swirled around them. Angela grabbed hold of the rope, throwing all her weight against it to keep it taut and help them stay upright. They were farther out in the yard than Ethan, and they let the wind push them, so they swung around on the end of the rope, yet the action actually brought them against him. Maurice tripped over Ethan, while Holly went to her knees next to him. The wind shrieked, louder and higher, and pulled at their clothes while Ethan struggled to get into a sitting position and Maurice and Holly worked to get the rope wrapped around him.
"Now let go!" Angela shouted, half-afraid her voice couldn't be heard over the uproar of the wind.
All this time, the attacking funnel cloud had ignored Maurice and Holly, except when their hands got in the way of another attempt to get at Ethan's pocket.
Angela shuddered as an idea came to her. What if the enemy was trying to get something inside Divine's Emporium? Was the resistance simply to delay him until they could put something in his pocket, and maybe convincing her that they didn't want him to get to her? Angela imagined Ethan finally reaching the shop, battered and exhausted, and her so busy tending to him that she wouldn't realize she had let the enemy within her walls until it was too late, and inimical magic had a foothold.
"Very well," she muttered, as Holly and Maurice responded to her gestures and rolled away from Ethan. "Have it your way. Or so you think."
Forewarned was forearmed.
When Holly and Maurice were only a few yards away from Ethan, the enchantment let go of them. The wind no longer pulled at their hair and clothes. The tunnel of moonlight caught up with them again. They joined hands and ran up to the porch and inside the shop.
If the enemy really wanted to keep Ethan from getting into the shop, they wouldn't have allowed Holly and Maurice to join her and help her pull him inside.
"You sure this guy is worth it?" Maurice turned and grabbed hold of the rope and leaned backwards, helping to pull Ethan into the shop.
Ethan got to his feet again, leaning into the force of the wind, and let the rope guide him. It was as if he were pushing on some huge, invisible object with his shoulder, bracing against the ground and shoving with his feet. Angela watched the funnel cloud as they pulled, bringing Ethan closer to safety a foot at a time. The evil enchanted thing's movements grew quicker, more frantic, if such emotion could be ascribed to a non-living thing.
"Gotcha," she muttered, when the cloud slipped its tip into Ethan's left pants pocket, and then pulled back.
It made a few more jabs at him, as Ethan stumbled up onto the steps of the porch, but the winds softened and the funnel cloud didn't come anywhere near making contact with him. He took bigger, faster steps as the resistance weakened. Angela shook her head at the foolishness and arrogance of her enemy. Did they really think she wouldn't notice?
Then Ethan was inside. Holly slammed the door shut as Angela, Maurice, and Ethan went to their knees in the entryway of the shop, gasping and sweating, filthy and bruised.
"Holly, get three silk scarves from the display," Angela said, still fighting to get her breath back. She scooted backwards, freeing her legs from the weight of Ethan sprawled across her.
"What was that all about?" Maurice demanded. He helped Ethan sit upright, and nodded, grinning, when the other man mouthed, "Thanks."
In that moment as they sat there, recovering, wiping sweat and grit from their faces, Angela hoped Ethan and Maurice could be friends. They had certainly contributed to changing each others' lives in a large way, just in the space of a few days.
"What do you want me to do with these?" Holly asked, returning.
"Ethan's left pocket. Reach in and take out whatever you find, but don't let it touch you. Use the scarves for protection."
"Uh...okay." Holly shrugged. "Sorry."
"That's okay," Ethan said, and wiped his face again. He leaned against the wall, turning to give her easier access to his pocket. A moment later, he swore when he saw the talisman lying in Holly's hand, encased in the scarf. "I swear to you, Angela--"
"They wanted you to bring it in here, and they wanted us to be so busy with the battle to get you inside, we wouldn't realize until too late," she said. As she struggled against her wobbly legs to get to her feet, Ethan hurried to get upright and bent to help her. An entirely pleasant jolt of electricity shot through her at the touch of his big, hard, calloused hand on her elbow. "Thank you." She blushed when her voice cracked and wavered for a second.
"So what do we do with it?" Maurice demanded. "It's back for round two, and I bet those creeps who sent it aren't too far behind."
"We get it out of Divine's Emporium once and for all." Angela shuddered as the rest of her nebulous plan fell into place. "But we take it where they least expect."
At least, I hope so, she added silently.
"I'll take that," Ethan said, holding out his hand for the talisman. Holly carefully slid it into his grasp, with lots of layers of scarf around it on all sides.
"This way." Angela led him up the stairs.
She considered for a few moments tossing the coin into one of the inimical paintings, but what if that was the actual plan--and the talisman held the doorway open so the nightmares captured inside the painting could come out? She wagered that this attack was on her. The first attempt to pull Maurice through the painting and burning out his magic through the tug-of-war between the two enchantments had been aimed to pull her out of Divine's Emporium. The trick was to take the talisman beyond the influence and reach of her enemies.
Asmondius' words just a few days ago provided the guidance and assurance she needed. As long as she did what she did by choice, and not forced into it, she would be in control and effectively negate her enemy's power.
On the second floor landing, the massive stone arch coalesced into solidity from out of the lavender sprigged wallpaper. The intricate gate of silver swung open on silent hinges. Angela stumbled to a halt, memories crashing through her. She knew the garden beyond those gates. It was part of her.
For a stuttering heartbeat, she doubted her plan.
Take her enemy's magic in there? To the most precious spot in all the multi-worlds?
"Here?" Ethan asked, and started past her.
For half a second, she wanted to shout "No!" The panic that choked her convinced her. The enemy's hand was too heavy, once again, giving away what it wanted. And didn't want.
"Yes."
Ethan leaped through two steps ahead of her.
When they had both passed through the stone arch, the talisman shattered into dust sharper than diamonds, and scattered to the four winds, shredding everything it touched. Angela didn't even try to shield herself as the world shattered around her like a mirror fractured into ten million pieces as fine as grains of sand. It was too late for anything.
Or was it?
"Lady? My lady?" A man's sobbing voice broke through the haze of rainbows and chimes and the cool, sweet perfume of roses that fogged all her senses.
Angela blinked and turned her head and wasn't surprised to find herself lying in Ethan's arms. That was where she belonged, where she had longed to be for centuries of lonely moonlit nights.
His name wasn't Ethan, any more than hers was Angela, but those were the names they wore now, and would do quite well.
"My love? Please, speak to me." His voice cracked. "Forgive me."
"Forgive you? For defeating our enemies after all this time?" She sat up and laughter bubbled out of her.
Rainbows dashed in a whirlwind around the garden, painting the flowers ten thousand colors and shades. Fountains came to life and birds burst into song. The winkies danced through the air, leaving streamers of iridescent dust in their trail.
This garden had been her home, so long ago she had no memory of the beginning. She had been guardian and guarded both, innocent and alone and unaware of her solitude. Until he stumbled through the barrier, a knight from a world filled with wars and blood, hatred and death. She had healed him, body and spirit, and they gave each other their hearts.
He broke sacred vows to stay with her, and that opened a gap wide enough for evil to dig one claw into the shielding magic and tear it to shreds.
The only way they could protect their world was to leave it and each other, and trust to the healing magic of sacrifice.
"How many times have we found each other and lost each other again when our enemy attacked?" Angela blinked back happy tears and reclined in his arms again.
"I don't--" Ethan shook his head. "I could remember if I wanted. But I don't want to. The magic wiped our memories to protect us every time we were torn apart, didn't it?"
"We might have died of despair twenty lifetimes ago if we remembered. Love, was it hard?"
"The worst part was learning not to believe." Ethan bent his head to hide his face in her hair. "I think I killed half my soul when I did that."
"No. It only slept. Enough to trick our enemies into thinking they could use you against me."
"That was a fatal mistake," he growled, and turned her in his arms to kiss her.
"Love was too strong," she whispered against his lips.
Nothing mattered then, but making up for the centuries of loneliness and separation.
* * * *
"Asmondius!" Maurice slapped the Wishing Ball. "Come on, I don't care what time it is there, somebody has to be there. Somebody has to hear me."
"Maurice?" Holly stepped up to him, pressing her cheek into his back and wrapping her arms around him. "It's going to be okay. Don't worry."
"Don't worry? Angela's gone!" He twisted free of her arms, though Holly's presence, her embrace, her calmness and reasonableness were all that had gotten him through this very long, strange night.
The enchantment separating Divine's Emporium from the rest of Neighborlee had broken with a sonic boom that made the walls ripple and clattered all the dishes against each other and knocked the wind chimes off their hooks to the floor. Every winkie in the entire town had vanished, and that worried Maurice more than he liked to admit. Stanzer and Lanie and all their talented friends, and every Fae visiting in Neighborlee had come running.
The gate and wall Maurice had glimpsed in the wallpaper on the second floor landing now stood out like they had been painted there. The residue of magic clung to them, and the faint reverberations of a dimensional doorway that had just closed. But no one could get that doorway to open, no matter what power they threw at it.
Felicity came and threw her EM bursts at the doorway. Lori called Alexi and Guber and Harry, and they combined their magic, to no avail. Maurice was worried when Alexi with his Eclipse-level magic couldn't budge anything.
Stanzer, Dawn, and the five new members of the Hunt came together and begged the Hounds to come and help them, but their inter-dimensional guardian beasts either weren't listening, or they weren't willing to get involved.
Or, as Holly pointed out with her calm reasonableness--Maurice wanted to hold her and kiss her, and yet shake her at the same time--the Hounds knew everything would be all right eventually, and they didn't want to waste their time and energy.
"How do you know it's permanent?" Holly caught up with him, stopping him when he started pacing again. "Come on. Let's go upstairs and make some breakfast. Who knows? Angela could be getting hungry about now, and come home on her own. We should have a meal ready for her and Ethan."
"I do hope that ring on your sweetheart's finger means you proposed," Asmondius said, his words accompanied by the shimmering sound of a transportation globe opening. "She's very good for you, lad." He winked to Holly as he bowed elegantly to her. "What seems to be the problem?"
"Can you put the curse back on me?" Maurice blurted. He choked on the burst of laughter that wanted to rise up in his throat. Half of him couldn't believe what he was asking, but he was getting desperate.
"Put it back?"
"Yeah--shrink me, give me wings--give me some magic--so I can go through that doorway and look for Angela? Or at least make me able to take care of this place while she's gone. Or do something!"
"Angela..." Asmondius settled into the little while bistro chair, clasped his hands in his lap, and closed his eyes. "Angela isn't gone."
"Now see? That's why I need my magic back--even if I have to go through the rest of my exile. Heck, slap another two years on me. Whatever it takes, to rescue her. I'm willing to pay any price." He swallowed hard, realizing as the words left his lips how that had to sound. "Sorry, Holly-berry. I know that's a rotten deal for you--"
"No, that's okay. I'm worried about Angela, too." Holly slipped her hand into his.
"What good am I to anyone? I'm a wreck," Maurice moaned, and wrapped his arms around her, drawing her head down onto his shoulder. He stared at Asmondius over her head. "What do you mean, exactly, that Angela isn't gone?"
"She's still here in the shop." Asmondius smiled benignly. "If you'd calm down enough to listen, to feel with what's left of your magic--which seems to be healing quite nicely, I might add. I don't smell any more scorching on you, lad. You're quite sensitive to magic, even if you can't manipulate it as easily as breathing, as you once used to do."
"Fat lot of good it does Angela. Where is she?"
"We're right here." Angela came into the room.
But a changed Angela. Blushing, glowing, looking positively shy, she leaned into the arm Ethan had wrapped tight around her. He had that smug look Maurice had seen on a lot of men who had suddenly won the hearts of the girls they loved after a long, hard struggle. A lot of struggles either aided or impeded by magic, right here in this shop.
"Wow, where have you two been?" Holly breathed, eyes wide.
Maurice's first guess would be the vintage clothing room, but he knew Angela didn't stock those Renaissance-style clothes. She and Ethan were decked out like high nobility, rich colors and sumptuous cloth, jewels and gold chains. Maurice took a sniff, remembering Asmondius' words, that he was sensitive to magic even if he couldn't manipulate it anymore. He sensed the authenticity of their costumes, and smelled the rich aroma of a long-sleeping enchantment finally broken, curses that had run their course and promises fulfilled.
"How long have we been gone?" Ethan asked.
"About nine hours--or an eternity," Holly said, tipping her head up to smirk at Maurice.
"That could come in handy." Ethan caught up Angela's free hand and brushed a slow kiss across her knuckles.
Maurice thought his jaw would hit the floor when Angela blushed and looked away.
"Handy?" he asked, just to yank his mind away from the image being painted on it. "Where were you?"
"In our garden..." Angela sighed contentedly. "We were there nearly a week before we remembered we had to come back."
"I can see I'm not needed here," Asmondius announced. "One of these days, you do need to fill in all the missing pieces of the story, my dear." He bowed to Angela as the transportation globe shimmered into being behind him again.
"Asmondius? Do us a favor and post our wedding banns anywhere you think it might matter?" Angela chuckled when the old Fae official stopped short, his mouth dropping open.