Fire Burn and Cauldron Bubble (36 page)

My heart throbbed in my chest as I forced myself to concentrate. I imagined my orb again and focused all my attention on it, feeling the energy surround me. The next blow of fire wasn’t as hot. But the blow after was. I didn’t have time to regroup before another fire onslaught caught me off guard—the heat so intense, I could smell my hair burning. I ran frantic hands over my head but found it wasn’t aflame. It was just in my imagination.

The magic wasn’t real.

Another blow of fire pelted down on me and my skin singed, the pain like the stab of thousands of knives. I focused on my orb, trying to strengthen it, but another blow of fire disabled me. Now I could smell my skin burning.

It’s all in your head, Jolie
, I told myself.
It’s all in your damned head.

Another blow and I shuddered against the pain.

I was dying. I could feel it. The shouts of the audience were a soft droning, like the buzz of flies and my eyelids felt increasingly heavy. My energy was dissipating, and I didn’t have the wherewithal to focus on my own protection. I couldn’t last much longer, and the truth of it was that I just wanted to give in—anything to end the pain.

Another river of fire danced over me and I dropped my head to the ground, no longer able to hold it up. The dirt was rough against my cheek. My whole body was aflame now. I didn’t need to open my eyes to know it was true. I was going to burn to death, whether it was real or not didn’t matter. It felt real and either way, it was going to kill me.

Do not give up.

I didn’t recognize the voice in my head. It was a woman’s voice, strong and sure.

You can beat this. You have the strength within yourself.

I shook my head, feeling another flame of fire lapping at my skin, burning through me. Killing me slowly.

Believe in yourself, Jolie, you have more ability than you know.

And like a wave of calm, the pain within me completely dissolved into nothing. I opened my eyes and found my cheek against the rough earth. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the dragon breathing more fire down on me, but I couldn’t feel it. My eyes found Odran who was focusing on his lap, shielding his face from the spectators who were silently watching the dragon.

I pushed up to my knees and felt the blow of fire on my back but couldn’t feel the pain. There was something within me, something strong and something angry. I stood and wavered a bit before I found my balance. I faced the dragon just as it blew another fire stream. The flames merely danced over me, entertaining more than threatening.

I took a step nearer the beast and when it blew fire again, I held my hand up and the fire merely crystallized into drops of ice as soon as it met my palm. If it was possible for a dragon to look dumbfounded, that’s exactly how it looked. I continued walking toward it, something driving me forward.

The fire meant nothing to me.

The dragon inhaled until its chest looked like it might explode and breathed a torrential downpour of liquid fire atop me. The heat of the fire momentarily stopped me, but I had to continue forward. Tiny pinpricks of heat and pain coursed over me, but I ignored them. Only a few steps separated me from the dragon.

The dragon, apparently realizing I was immune to the fire, threw its face down at me, its mouth open and teeth shining. It wrapped its jaws around my upper shoulder and bit down. I screamed against what I imagined would be hideous pain but opened my eyes when I found I could feel nothing.

The dragon tossed its head this way and that as if tearing my shoulder apart, and I clamped my eyes shut, imagining Dougal as nothing more than a fairy, denying him his dragon appearance. I felt myself collapse to the ground. When I opened my eyes, Dougal lay before me unconscious…or dead.

The sounds of silence from the bleachers was telling. I knew what it meant. I’d defended myself. Now the men who sat around me would be going to war, that is, if Odran kept his word. I moved like I was in slow motion as I faced Odran who stared at me open-mouthed.

I felt myself go down again, and braced my arms against the ground. I inhaled great gulps of air as tears coursed from my eyes. How did I manage to defeat a dragon? The question rang through me and I had to push it aside, knowing I’d never find the answer. Either way, I’d won. I might be half-dead, but I’d won. We actually had a chance to defeat Bella now.

I’d never been prouder of myself.

“Lass.” It was Odran. He reached down and pulled me into him, cradling me against his massive chest. “Ye did it.”

“Is…is he dead?” I asked, my voice still sounding distant and odd.

“Nay, Lass, nay.”

I nodded and my eyes fell to the opening of the amphitheatre as some people left and others remained. Then my eyes found the familiar face of Rand as he made his way toward us, pushing aside anyone unlucky enough to get in his way. He reached me in seconds, his eyes never straying from mine.

“Odran, get the hell away from her,” he said as I collapsed into his arms.

“Wait,” I said, lifting my eyes to Odran as he started to walk away. “Odran, wait.”

He turned to face me and his eyes were angry. “Lass?”

“I defeated your fairy.”

He was silent before he nodded, his eyes furious. “Aye, Lass, we will join ye.” Then he turned on his heel and strode away, reminding me of a great lion. A great lion retreating.

“Rand, did you hear that?” I said, facing him again.

“Yes,” he whispered with a grin. “You did it.”

His arms tightened around me as I collapsed into him, sobs tearing through my throat.

I did it.

I didn’t know how and I had no idea whose voice I’d heard in my head or if I’d invented it or what. But all that remained was the fact that I’d done the impossible. And I never could have done it without Rand.

His fight was my fight. We were in this together from here on out. And I couldn’t say that bothered me. Even with Bella’s army looming above, I believed in us…I knew we could win.

I looked into Rand’s eyes again and they glistened with unshed tears. His lips were tight. There was something in those eyes—a warmth. Love. I could see it as clearly as the moors of Pelham Manor after a cool rain.

He and I would have our day—I didn’t know when and I didn’t know how but someday, Rand and I would find what we both wanted. I didn’t just believe it; I knew it was true.

Rand had changed my life—in some ways for the better and in some ways for the worse. I guess nothing is ever one hundred percent black or white. But, either way, he had been my ever-fixed pillar of strength. He’d taught me to accept my abilities and he’d taught me how to use them. Without Rand, I’d still be sitting in my shop in Los Angeles thinking my cat was the best kind of company.

Are you okay?

I glanced at Rand and nodded, sinking into the chocolate beauty of his eyes.
Everything’s perfect.

Perfect?
He chuckled.
Well, I don’t know about perfect, but I’ve certainly put you through a lot.

I didn’t drop his gaze.
I wouldn’t change it for the world.

Pondering my life, I’d never thought it would’ve taken the turn it did. The Jolie of just six months ago was a different person to the Jolie of today. I didn’t fault the old me—I didn’t resent my apparent acceptance of the status quo or the fact that I thought I was happy with the lonely life I’d led. I loved the person I used to be, but I also loved the person I now was. I was strong, independent, and capable.

I was beautiful.

And I was ready for whatever life decided to throw at me next.

Bring it on.

The End.

Baileyd @ Demonoid.me

Sneak Peek at Book 2 of the Jolie Wilkins Series, Toil and Trouble (Available now)!

One

It was all I could do to open my eyes and take in my surroundings. I turned my neck and squinted against the bright light infiltrating the window in a garish display of brilliantly colored poppies. Blinking a few times, I tried to make sense of the scenery before me but my memory still wasn’t with the program. I attempted to sit up but found I couldn’t move. It didn’t feel as though I were strapped down—it was more like my body decided to go on strike.

“She’s awake!”

It was Christa’s, voice. Relief washed through me. Whatever bad situation I was in had just gotten more bearable.

“Chris?” I started, attempting to shield my eyes against the glare but I couldn’t lift my arm.

Something is very wrong
, I thought, a lump forming in my throat.

“I…I’m paralyzed,” I stuttered. At least my voice still worked.

I blinked against an onslaught of tears and forced myself to focus on the bails of straw forming the ceiling of my abode. Where the hell was I? It was like I was playing hostage to Bilbo Baggins.

“Jolie, don’t try to move,” said a man and his voice was decidedly unhobbit like. It took me a second to realize it was Rand.

Rand… my warlock boss who I was massively and totally in love with.

It was Rand who first enlightened me to my powers as a witch and although my life had since taken several twists and turns, (some good and some really really bad), I wouldn’t have changed it for the world.

Rand leaned down into my line of sight, his pitch black tee shirt contrasting against his tan complexion. I wanted to smile but I wasn’t sure if I could. None of that mattered anyway; what did matter was Rand’s stunning face smiling down at me—the aquiline features of a Roman nose, chiseled cheek bones, deep dimples and a strong and well-sculpted chin. Eyes the color of molten chocolate and hair a matching shade. Although his hair was mussed and dark circles decorated his eyes, he was male beauty personified.

I felt the heat of his fingers against my face and an electric current passed through me at his touch. It was the same feeling I always got whenever Rand touched me—I never had figured out what it was--maybe his energy. I closed my eyes against the feel of him, afraid I might start crying.

“Jolie, you’re going to be alright,” Christa said and grabbed my hand with an encouraging squeeze.

At least I could still feel my hands even if they weren’t working. I glanced up at Christa and immediately noticed her swollen eyes—she een crying. I could only assume it was concerning my predicament.

“What happened to me? Why can’t I move?” I whispered as panic began to stir in my stomach, sounding like a grumbling ogre in a cave.

“You defeated Dougal, Odran’s fairy,” Christa said in a tight voice. She quickly looked away and began dabbing her eyes. I closed my eyes again, trying to remember what had happened, what it meant that I’d defeated Dougal. Attempting to remember was like wading through tar—completely exhausting and more so, useless.

“And because of it, you’ve lost a lot of power, Jolie,” Rand added. “You absorbed Dougal’s negativity thereby neutralizing most of your strength and now you need to heal.”

And that was when the memories came pouring back as if someone had dumped a pitcher of realization juice over my head.

It was a freaking miracle to surpass all miracles that I was still alive.

Dougal just happened to be the strongest of the Fae King, Odran’s, fairies. And I, like a dumbass, had challenged him to a duel whereby I had to defend myself against his fairy magic. Doesn’t sound like a major deal? Yeah, that’s what I’d thought too but that was before I was stuck in bed, as immobile as an engorged tick.

So, somehow I’d managed to prevail over Dougal’s magical ambush and now my victory would force Odran and his fairy league to uphold their end of the agreement by allying with us in an impending war. Ah, yes, now the pieces of the puzzle were falling nicely into place. If only I wasn’t paralyzed, I might have considered it a good day.

“What do you mean, I absorbed Dougal’s negativity?” I asked.

Rand heaved a sigh and sat down on my narrow cot-like bed. His weight caused mine to shift, the straw of the bed poking me like the bite of a thousand ants.

“While you were defending yourself, using your own magic, you expended your life force. In the process, you absorbed some of the hostile negativity Dougal used to attack you.”

“Oh my God!” Christa yelled and collapsed on top of me in a new deluge of tears. “Your life force!”

Rand chuckled, shaking his head. “Christa, Jolie just needs to sleep it off for a few days. It’s similar to a bad hangover.”

Christa sat up and wiped her tears away, looking a little bit embarrassed. If she was embarrassed, I was relieved. A hangover I could handle, paralysis was something entirely different…

“And speaking of a hangover,” Rand started, leaning over me with a mysterious smile. He grabbed hold of my shoulders and lifted me up, pushing me back into the soft down of my pillows. Now propped in a sitting position—well, more like a slumped-over position, at least my line of sight was more interesting. Rand reached to the wood table behind him and presented me with what appeared to be a tankard of something that smelled like…ale.

“Beer?” I asked.

Rand shook his head “It’s a fairy potion meant to aid in your healing. One of the elders gave it to me this morning.”

“Can’t you just heal me, Rand?” I blurted, remembering the many instances he’d used magic to heal my upset stomachs, headaches, cramps, the list went on.

Rand shook his head. “Unfortunately not. My magic is useless here.”

By “here” he was referring to a fairy village in BFE, otherwise known as Glenmore Forest, Scotland.

Christa eyed the tankard of fairy juice suspiciously, her eyebrow arched in exaggeration like a cartoon character. And in her fairy provided blue gingham dress combined with the yellow ribbons in her dark hair, she looked like Pollyanna.

“Are you sure that stuff isn’t the tainted mead Odran was trying to make her drink the other night?” she asked.

The tainted mead in question had been exactly that—mead tainted with a love charm to get me to acquiesce to the King’s sexual advances. And the stuff had almost worked-- I’d narrowly escaped with my virtue intact. One thing I’d learned about the otherworldly is they’re a randy bunch…

“Yes, I tried it myself,” Rand answered and turned his smiling eyes on me. “We almost lost you once, I wasn’t about to take my chances again.”

His words, though meant to be comforting, had the exact opposite effect.

I had almost died.

It felt as if the weight of a semi had suddenly descended on me as I considered how fortunate I was to have survived at all.

“Jolie,” Rand said, grabbing my attention. He gently tipped my chin up so it would be easier to swallow and held the tankard to my lips. I gulped a large mouthful before the taste of something akin to vinegar hit my tongue and I started to gag.

“Ugh,” I protested as Rand dabbed the nasty stuff from my lips.

“You’ve got perhaps five more sips.”

He repositioned the foul stuff on my lips and I had a vision of the black tar like substance bubbling into my mouth, reluctantly making its slimy way down my throat like a slug.

“I think she’s gonna ralph,” Christa observed.

I came damn close.

“She should get some rest,” Rand said, facing Christa.

Christa nodded and dropped her eyes, fiddling with a piece of straw which had escaped the bedding or the ceiling. She glanced up again and offered Rand an apologetic smile.

“Rand, would you mind if Jules and I had some girl talk?”

“Of course. Take all the time you need.” He stood up. “I’ll just be outside.”

Christa nodded and we watched his heavy stride as he neared the door. Iwasn’t sure if Christa noticed how his black kilt revealed the tiniest hint of his taut backside but I sure as hell did. He opened the wooden door which looked like it would be better suited to a makeshift fort and threw us both a grin. As soon as the sound of the door closing reverberated through the small cottage, Christa faced me.

“Jolie, I thought you were going to die,” she said and started crying again, tears blurring her green eyes until they resembled glittering emeralds.

“Did I come close?” I asked, my stomach dropping at the idea.

She nodded. “You were in a coma for three days.”

A coma! A new bout of anxiety visited me, turning my stomach sour.

“Sounds like I’ve been through hell and back,” I said and offered a weak smile.

“And I was so worried about Rand, Jules.”

I wore my surprise. “Why? Did Dougal or Odran hurt him?”

Christa shook her head. “No, no. Rand is fine. I mean, no one hurt him. He just…seemed to fall apart where you were concerned.” She sighed, long and deep. “He sat by your bedside day and night, Jolie. He didn’t even sleep.”

Warlocks don’t actually require much sleep so that wasn’t as big a surprise as it otherwise could have been. But, still, the idea of Rand assuming the role of ever vigilant caregiver was something worth considering.

“I didn’t know what would happen to him if you…well, you know…died,” Christa nearly choked on the word and glanced away.

“He seems okay now.” It was all I could think to say. I still hadn’t moved past the fact that I’d been in a coma and nearly merged into the express lane of death.

“Yeah, he’s okay,” Christa said with a smile and then dropped her gaze to her fidgeting hands. “I just…I just wanted to tell you that I couldn’t imagine what my life would be like without you.”

I smiled and attempted to squeeze her hand but the attempt was useless. “Thank you, Chris.”

She nodded and stood up, smoothing down the skirts of her blue dress. I couldn’t see the outfit the fairies had magicked for me but given the circumstance, fairy scrubs were probably in order.

“Guess I better go let Rand back in,” she said, clearing her eyes as she started for the door. She opened it and Rand poked his head in, the sunshine outside acting as a halo around his head until he looked like an angel. All that was missing was a choir and organ belting out the notes to
Gloria in Excelsis Deo
.

“How is she?” he whispered.

“Seems to be better,” Christa answered. “You probably want some time with her?”

“I can hear you,” I said. “My ears are still working just fine.”

Rand didn’t say anything more but by the fact that I heard the door shut and Rand was the only one to approach my bed, I figured Christa had left.

“I don’t remember feeling like this after dueling with Dougal,” I said, starting to get annoyed.

Rand nodded and took a seat on my bed. “Your adrenaline was piqued. I knew it would be a matter of time before his fairy magic drained you.”

“So, is this paralysis thing just temporary, I hope?”

“Yes, but you have to rest, Jolie, that’s the only way you’re going to heal.”

Did I mention Rand is English and therefore has that wonderful and melodious British accent? Granted, Rand is insanely hot but I think the accent makes him even hotter. But, as it was, I had bigger things to think about than Rand’s hotness. There was that whole subject of the fairies and our new alliance. Another thing I’d learned about otherworldly creatures was that they had a way of appealing to their own self interests. And to say Odran hadn’t wanted to join our war was an understatement.

“Is Odran still on our side?”

“Yes, the fairies are perhaps the most honorable of creatures. Odran will not go back on his word.”

Odran and honor didn’t seem likely bedfellows.

“Are you sure?” I asked.

Rand ran a hand through his longish hair. “While you were sleeping, we discussed plans to go forward.”

I just nodded, allowing all of it to sink in. And what a lot of it there was.

Bella’s plans to become Queen of all otherworldy creatures and Rand, believing in the ideals of democracy and probably more so in the lunacy of Bella, stood against her. Not surprisingly, Bella had declared war against us.

So far, she had recruited half the vampire population, the majority of the witches and virtually all the demons as well as endless packs of werewolves. Until the fairies agreed to join us, we were exponentially outnumbered. Now we could wage war on a more even battleground.

“When can we go home?” I asked.

“It’ll be a few days, Jolie,” he answered. “You’re in no shape to travel. You need to rest and let yourself heal.” He stood up. “And having said that, I should leave you to get some sleep.”

But, I didn’t want him to go. Now that we were alone, there was so much more to say although I didn’t know where to start. We’d been through so much together already—confessing our feelings for one another but never acting on them. Rand had told me a long time ago that love between a witch and a warlock wasn’t the same thing as what humans consider love—it was all encompassing, a “union of souls” he’d called it. Well, after what had happened with Dougal, when certain death had seemed imminent, now seemed as good a time to talk as any.