Fire Burn and Cauldron Bubble (13 page)

I flicked the light on and found a man, well, a ghost really, sitting on the edge of my bed and smiling up at me, resplendent in nineteenth century trousers and waistcoat. His sideburns were long, his hair was curly and short with a brownish tint.

My hand flew to my chest as I made the split second decision not to run screaming from the room.

The ghost didn’t look mean or scary, just curious. I inhaled deeply, trying to calm my heart.

“Who are you?” I managed to ask in a mere whisper.

They call me Pelham; I was Lord of this Manor.

His voice inside my head threw me off for a second. “Can’t you speak?” I asked aloud.

He sighed.
It is more difficult for me to speak in the way in which you are accustomed, so I just converse like this. I hope it doesn’t bother you?

I began to shake my head when I remembered what I was in the midst of doing when this man…er ghost… interrupted me. I couldn’t help the blush that stole my cheeks as mortification got the better of me.
Don’t you know it’s rude to spy on people
? I thought.

Ah, yes, sorry about that. It is so rare for me to get any visitors here—usually just Balfour
.

Balfour? Ah yes, Rand…Rand Balfour.
Well, it was very rude of you, all the same.

I apologize. What is your name?

Jolie…Jolie Wilkins.

He smiled in his ghostly way and floated toward me, as if to shake my hand. I took a step back until the door pre-empted me from further escape.

Pleased to meet you
, he said and the smile on his lips deepened.

Likewise. Are there any other spirits here that I should know about
?

The ghost shook his head.
None others, just me. Well, I suppose I should take my leave and allow you to return to your previous occupation.
He gave me a wicked grin.

“Oh my God,” I muttered, covering my face with my hands. I couldn’t imagine anything more embarrassing. Silence reverberated through the room. I peeked between my splayed fingers to see my surroundings empty; my visitor was gone.

#

“Good morning!” Rand greeted me with a wide smile as I entered the kitchen. Apparently, he was a morning person.

“Where is Christa?”

I shook my head and admired his blue jeans which hugged his rear and his white t-shirt which looked entirely too tight around his biceps. God, couldn’t a girl get a break?

“She never rises before nine.”

“How’d you sleep?” he asked as he helped himself to a glass of orange juice.

“Care for a juice or a bucks fizz?”

“A what fizz?”

He grinned and held up the bottle of orange juice. “A juice and champagne.”

“You mean a mimosa. No thanks.” I chewed on my lip while I tried to figure out the best way to bring up the ghost. “Is this house haunted?” I guess I’m not likely to win any prizes for subtlety.

Rand laughed. “Ah, you got a visit from Pelham?”

“I did,” I said with a frown and took a seat at the table. “Who is this Pelham?”

Rand brought his juice to the table and took a seat beside me. “An old friend of mine, William Pelham. We grew up together and he died in this house…of cholera. He was only one and thirty. He left Pelham Manor to me.”

I smiled at Rand’s account of Pelham’s age. Sometimes he had a tendency to switch into the language of his time period, and it was amusing. I dropped my gaze to his bare feet and noticed their deep golden tan—it seemed his entire body was kissed by the sun. “How long ago was that?” I asked.

Rand was quiet as he did the math in his head. “Nearly one hundred thirty years ago,” he finished with a sigh and took a sip of his juice.

“But you’ve only lived here sixty years?”

He nodded. “I lived abroad for many years—Paris, Rome, Lucerne. I decided to return to jolly old England about sixty years ago, and I’ve been here ever since.”

“Oh, I see,” I said with a smile.

“You met Pelham last night, did you?” Rand prodded me, finishing his juice. He stood up and approached the sink, rinsing the glass. When he bent over to put the glass in the dishwasher, I had a very arresting view of his taut rear.

“Yes, he uh…he scared me a little.”

Rand closed the dishwasher and returned to the table, pulling his chair out and straddling it. “I’m certain he didn’t intend to frighten you, probably was just excited to find such a beautiful woman in this house. I imagine he tires of me. I’ll have a talk with him.”

“A talk with him?” I swallowed hard, heat crawling up my neck as I wondered just how close they were. Would Pelham divulge what I was doing last night when we met? “Good friend? As in, you tell each other everything?”

“Well, certainly, do you think great friendships end with death?” Rand asked with furrowed brow.

“No, I suppose they wouldn’t. In your world, anyway.”

He balanced the chair on its front legs, looking like a child pretending to ride a bucking bronco. “That’s now your world as well, don’t forget. We’re in this together from here on out.”

I nodded, all too familiar with that reality. “So, did Pelham tell you we met?” I asked, trying to sound indifferent. The stray thought floated through my head that maybe I shouldn’t be so mortified. Everyone masturbated, right? I was a woman, with needs…

Rand shook his head. “No, he failed to mention it.”

So, my embarrassing secret was safe…for now. Rand excused himself and trotted down the hallway. Moments later, he returned with an old leather album. He opened the jaundiced pages and flipped through them, regarding them with what appeared to be nostalgia. He stopped at one page and rotated the book so it faced me. I inspected the faded black and white picture and recognized Rand in some type of hunting outfit—tight trousers, an overcoat, and a bloodhound at his side.

“Wow, look at you,” I said, thinking I’d start salivating any second. Rand looked like something you’d see on the cover of a romance novel. Fabio had nothing on him.

He laughed. “Styles were different then.”

My attention moved to the man standing next to him in the photo—William Pelham. I took the book and focused on his companion. He was attractive and it appeared his hair was light in color, maybe brown. It was tough to tell from the black and white photo. His face was angular with a trim moustache and laughing eyes. There was a certain mischief in his gaze.

“Do you miss him?” I asked and handed the book back.

Rand nodded. “He was my best mate.”

Maybe I could try to bring Pelham back? As soon as the thought occurred to me, my own sense of fear betrayed it. I’d only managed to reanimate one dead person; that didn’t mean I was capable of doing it again. I mean, it had been an accident. Yeah, dropping the idea.

“But you can still talk with him?”

“Yes, Pelham and I continue to be friends though it is more difficult with him in the Underworld.”

“This Underworld, is it an actual place?”

“You can >

“And does he like being in the Underworld?”

Rand seemed to consider the question, a frown marring his otherwise perfect face. “I don’t know. As I said before, my interactions with him are not as they used to be. I might see him now and then and get a feeling he projects to me, but it’s not at all similar to you and I standing here and talking.”

Hmm, it seemed like Pelham and I had an easy enough time conversing. “Why would your interactions with Pelham be any different than Jack?”

Rand shrugged. “You can’t assume what you find to be the case with one entity is the same with all of them. Depending on the person or creature in question, they all have different abilities, different levels in their abilities.”

I nodded, satisfied with the response.

“I hope you’re ready for your lessons?” Rand asked.

“Yes, I’m ready. What’s on tap for today?”

“If by ‘on tap’ you mean, what you’ll be learning today,” Rand started with a smile, “I will leave that to Mathilda.”

“Mathilda?”

“Yes, you are quite fortunate to have the oldest and wisest of the fairies teaching you some of your lessons. I had to promise Mathilda you were a prodigy, so please don’t prove me wrong.”

The warning annoyed me, but I nodded in spite of myself. “I’ll try to make you proud.” I attempted to keep the bite from my voice, but didn’t succeed.

Rand’s expression softened as he regarded me. “You’ve already made me very proud, Jolie. No need to worry on that.”

The appearance of a newly awakened Christa interrupted us. She rubbed her sleep-swollen eyes and stifled a yawn.

“What’s for breakfast?”

#

Well, fairies, for one thing, don’t have wings—as far as I could judge by my introduction to Mathilda the fairy. She was a very old one but beautiful in her own right with skin so transparent, it glowed. A few crows’ feet and laugh lines marked her years, though I imagined she was much older than her appearance would lead me to believe. Her green eyes, although alight with power, betrayed her age with their depth. Her hair cascaded about her small frame like a sea of silver, and she walked with the air of someone important and proud. Intrigued and self-conscious, I could only hope she’d be proud of her new pupil.

After our introductions, Rand allowed us the privacy of his office and Mathilda neared me, her eyes never leaving mine. She took my hand in hers and covered it with her other hand as if she were reading my soul through my skin.

“Tell me, Child, why shoulI teach you? What makes you worthy of such a gift?”

I was surprised, as I’d thought Rand had already told her why I was worthy and for myself, I couldn’t even begin to fathom why I was worthy. I couldn’t very well tell her that though, especially in the wake of Rand’s none-too-subtle account of how difficult it was for him to get this Mathilda to tutor me.

“Rand believes in me,” I said in a small voice, reclaiming my hand when she dropped it. I approached the fireplace and took a seat on an armchair near the fire, berating myself for my stupid answer.

Mathilda laughed, a sound that reminded me of church bells. “That is the answer of one who does not believe in herself.”

I sighed and dropped my gaze. Who was I to think I could outwit a fairy and a very old one at that? Better just to tell the truth, potentially angry Rand or not. “I’m not sure I’m worthy, to be honest. Everyone seems to think me capable of wonderful and great things and it seems that everywhere I turn, people…er…creatures are fighting over me and I’m not sure why.”

Mathilda’s face softened, relaxing the hold of her lips until they unraveled into a smile. “Rand believes you are capable of great things. He has told me extensively of what you have been able to accomplish. Things that we have never seen in any one creature.”

“Well, I hope to become great with your teachings.” Ugh, I was brownnosing.

“I can see greatness within you, Child. I see into you and I see goodness and kindness. That is the best place to breed magic.”

“Thanks,” I said, not really sure what else to say. Then I felt the uncomfortable drag of silence. I’m one of those people who can’t stand long silences, so I think of stupid things to say to fill up the void and I was doing just that as I sat with the formidable fairy.

“What do you see when you behold me?” she asked and interrupted my mind’s search for something, anything to say. I was pleased with the interruption.

I wasn’t sure what type of answer she was looking for—did she mean physically what did I see, emotionally? Mentally? I figured just to go for the easiest answer first. “I see a striking woman with long silver hair and a petite frame with the most beautiful green eyes I’ve ever seen.” Yep, one hundred percent brownnosing.

She smiled. “You have yourself to thank for that.”

I wore my confusion.

“I am whatever anyone wants me to be. To Rand, I am an old woman with a knotted face and limbs and tangled hair. Someone, to him, who represents age and wisdom. To you, I am much more beautiful—someone who represents wisdom and femininity, it would seem.”

It took me a second to grasp her meaning and when that second passed, I still wasn’t sure I fully understood. “So, you look different to Rand?”

“Rand can only see me as old, old but wise. There is nothing sensual or feminine in the picture Rand paints of me. He cannot join the notion of womanhood and ageold wisdom.”

I frowned, not sure I was keeping up. “Is he a chauvinist?”

Mathilda laughed, and the bell-like cadence was music to my ears. “No, certainly not. He believes in you above all else. He sees you as the embodiment of feminine sensuality and beauty. He believes you are the Savior of the species, Child.”

I gulped, pleased I was seated as this was certainly information to take sitting down. Savior of the species was a hefty title and one that shouldn’t attach itself to me. “How do you see me?” I asked.

“Young and naïve, but capable of incredible things. You need to grow and trust in the magic that is inherently part of you. You will be torn in different directions and you must trust the witch within you to show you the correct path.”