Making magickal things, p.1
Making Magickal Things, page 1
part #4 of Roxie’s Midlife Adventures Series
Making
Magickal Things
A Paranormal Women’s Fiction Novel
Roxie’s Midlife Adventures book 4
Leigh Raventhorne
The characters and circumstances in this story are a product of the author’s imagination, and represent no real person, living, dead, nor undead. Any real public places or names are used only to build an atmosphere for the reader’s mind.
Copyright © 2020
Leigh Raventhorne
All Rights Reserved
No part of this story may be reproduced in any way without prior written consent of the author.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 1
Self-defense lesson
“Ow.” I laid on my back, looking up at my bedroom ceiling. Rand’s grinning face blocked it out as he bent over me, holding out a hand to pull me up.
“That was good, Roxie.”
Grunting as I struggled to my feet, I brushed myself off and glared at him. This was our fourth self defense session and I still hadn’t managed to out maneuver him. I could, however, disarm a knife or gun wielding assailant in less than five seconds. I’d also gained moderate proficiency at the heel palm strike, elbow strike, and escaping a bear hug type attack—and I had all the bruises to prove it. Rand had managed to come out mostly unscathed each session, with the exception of a groin kick I’d surprised him with last week. I’d watched a few YouTube videos prior to that particular lesson and was quite proud of myself.
“Great. Can we be done now, please? I told you before, if I’m attacked, it’s probably going to be magickal, not physical. I can protect myself with magick.”
“And I believe I responded by questioning what you would do if you couldn’t access your magick. You need to be prepared for anything, Rox. These lessons are going to help you in more ways than if you’re the victim of a simple mugging. They’ll help you respond faster, more decisively, whether it’s physically or with your magick. This training is just as much mental as it is physical.”
“Well, my back, my calves, my thighs, and my shoulders are telling me otherwise, because physically, I’m done. You said this was to take my mind off worrying about the ceremony tomorrow morning, not to cripple me first.”
He laughed, his eyes practically dancing. He loved all of this and it showed. “Come on, Rox. One more go.” He raised a brow—just one, of course, as if to mock the fact that I couldn’t do that. “How about this? If you can knock my feet out from under me, I will join you in the tub, wash your hair, and give you a massage.”
“Hmm. I think that’s as much a win for you as it is for me, but fine. You’re on.” I backed up a few paces and watched his center to try to predict which way he’d come at me from, as he’d taught me to do. We’d cleared a fairly large area in my room so we’d have enough space to maneuver without wrecking anything. After the first lesson, Gloria, Michael, and I had lugged up a much larger—and much thicker—rug to make the floor a bit softer to land on. I just had to be careful not to trip on the edge of it now as we circled each other. He feinted to the left and I moved the other way.
“Nice. Watch your foot movements.”
“If you tell me to float like a butterfly, dance like a bee, we’re done here.”
He feinted again, this time the other way, smirking as I avoided him. “It’s ‘sting like a bee.’ You must not be a boxing fan.”
“Why on earth would I want to watch two people beating the crap out of each other for sport?” I dodged back and around as he lunged for me, barely avoiding him. I frowned, a little out of breath, knowing I was moving slower than normal since we’d been at this lesson for nearly an hour now. He should have had me there. It suddenly dawned on me. He was holding back, toying with me! That butt! I narrowed my eyes at him. I needed to end this, one way or another.
“I like that look in your eyes. Come on, Rox, show me what you’ve got!”
Ask and ye shall receive, I thought to myself. Straightening up from my crouch, I thrust out both hands, palms forward, pulling on my magick. Rand flew backwards, hitting the wall with a loud thud and bouncing off to land on the floor.
Oh crap! I ran to him. “Rand, oh my gosh! Are you okay?”
He sat up, rubbing the back of his head. “Yeah, I’m fine. That packed quite a punch.”
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hit you that hard.”
“Rox, I’m okay.” He stood. “That was definitely cheating, though.” He wrapped his arms around me.
“You’re sure you’re okay?” I felt the back of his head, expecting to find a lump or blood. There was nothing.
“Right as rain. See?” He pulled his shirt off and turned around, his abs tight and his skin glistening slightly. My mouth went dry. How was that even possible for a ghost? Even a ghost that could maintain a solid form for several hours . . .
“Oh good. I’ll meet you in the bathroom for that hair washing and massage you owe me, then.” I spun and dashed for the bathroom, only hobbling a little.
“Do I really owe you that? Because I still say you cheated.” He followed me into the bathroom at a more casual pace.
“You never said how I could or couldn’t knock your feet out from under you, now did you?” I turned the water on and started taking my sweats off.
He leaned his shoulder on the wall, watching me with interest for a few moments as I struggled with my socks.
“Rand?”
“Mm?” he said, still watching me disrobe.
“My eyes are up here, Ranger.” I threw my shirt at him.
He caught it easily, and pulled his sweat pants off, dropping them to the floor before stalking toward me. Keeping my eyes on his, I stepped into the tub, scooting forward to make room for him in the generous-sized tub. The heat from the water was heaven on my sore muscles.
He leaned over and grabbed a bag of epsom salts, pouring a generous amount in the water before lowering himself into the water behind me.
“Thanks.”
When his hands began to gently massage my neck and shoulders, it was all I could do to bite back a moan. He moved on to my arms, sides, and thighs.
“Want to take this back into the bedroom?” he asked, kissing the side of my neck.
“Don’t you still owe me a hair washing?” I asked back, tilting my head to give him better access.
“I would if you hadn’t cheated,” he murmured, working his way up to my ear.
I turned and splashed water at his chest. “You’re terrible!”
He laughed and stood, pulling me from the water with him. “And you’re a cheat, but I won’t hold it against you.” Grabbing a towel he wrapped it around me, then grabbed one for himself before pulling me toward the bedroom.
I smiled, shaking my head. How was this my life now?
Chapter 2
Ceremony at the pixie mound
“How do they all fit in there?”
“Tess, shush.” Sam leveled our friend an exasperated look.
“No, really. There’s how many hundreds of them? That hill can’t be more than twenty feet across. I don’t get it.” Tess’s whispered voice was nearly as loud as most people’s normal speaking voice.
They live in familial burrows underground. The fairy mound extends deep down beneath the surface. This mound barely supports the current population, despite the careful controls the queen has had to impose.
“So is there, like, a bunch of little caves in there? Or large gathering areas? Do they have furniture and stuff? How is it so deep with the water table so high in this area?” She squinted at the wildflower-covered mound as if trying to see into it.
“Tess, please!”
You really should listen to Samantha, Tess. The queen will be quite offended if you disrupt the ceremony, especially since she has allowed a human to be present. Please be respectful. Zara shifted on my lap, trying to find a more comfortable position. I picked her up, carefully cradling her to help support her belly, though she was barely showing yet. She purred contentedly.
Tess sighed as she sat back, her foot impatiently tapping the air in front of her. Sam caught my eye and rolled hers. We were only an hour into the ceremony to honor the twelve young bucks who had accompanied us on Danai’s rescue mission just over a month ago. The queen had already formally acknowledged their bravery and a small troupe of pixie maidens were in the midst of performing a complex aerial dance. From what I had gleaned so far, the bucks would be offered their choice of mid-level burrows in either the new mound once it was established, or the old mound once there were vacancies from the split. With more than a little amusement, Zara informed me that several of the bucks had already been approached by maidens impressed by their bravery and new status.
I allowed my gaze to roam around the small clearing. The entire pixie colony was present, with the exception of those assigned to sentry duty, their small glowing bodies lighting up the trees above our heads, their musical whispers mingling with the rus
Danai, the Healer from the outskirts of my territory, had hoped to be present for the ceremony, but was called home to attend an urgent matter. She promised to return in plenty of time for the birth of Zara’s kittens, barely two months away. We thought. No one was sure exactly how long her gestation period would be. According to Google, a normal house cat’s pregnancy lasted around two months. Most of the ‘big’ cat pregnancies were closer to three and a half months. Since Zara was actually a big cat that could shift into a house cat, and was the first of her kind to give birth since . . . well, since familiars had first been paired with witches, we really had no clue. She didn’t either, but wasn’t worried about it. She said that they would be born when it was time, not a moment sooner, not a moment later. When I asked her if she would give birth in this form or her native one, she was silent. I didn’t push it.
Your thoughts are slipping through again. You need to work on your wall. Among my people, kits or cubs are closer to what we call our young.
Suppressing my groan, I concentrated on my mental wall. Danai, her familiar Sebastian—who was also the father of Zara’s kittens, kits, cubs, or whatever—and Zara herself, of course, had all been working with me on exercises to build a mental wall around my thoughts. I was getting better, but I had to work at it constantly. Unless I relaxed and let my thoughts wander—like now—I could block everyone with enough effort, though Zara could break through, if she tried. We were still working on being able to block Sebastian while allowing Zara to hear me. When I questioned why it was so important that I be able to do this, or to even have a mental wall to begin with, I was informed that there were Others besides familiars that had telepathic abilities. Great.
Rand leaned over from where he stood just behind me, lightly brushing a cool hand down the side of my neck. Not so long ago, I would have suffered a mild case of frostbite from this. Now, it felt like heaven in the humid evening’s sticky heat. “You okay?”
“Mmm. I will be if you’ll do that on the back of my neck, too,” I murmured. Chuckling, he obliged. I closed my eyes as I rolled my head forward to give him better access.
Tess huffed out a breath. “Will you two get a room already?” She might not be able to see him, but she knew he was rarely far from my side most days. Or nights. The exception being when he had to ‘recharge’ in the gray space.
“Already got one. Top of the stairs, to the left.” My whispered response caused her to grin. Both of my friends were happy for me, I knew. My love life might not be the most conventional, but very little in my life could be described that way these days.
“Will you two pay attention? Astra has given me the stink eye twice now. As the token human, I do not want to be escorted out of here at the sharp end of tiny pixie swords.” Sam’s whisper was more urgent than exasperated now, so we both straightened and turned our attention back to the aerial dance. The pixie troupe continued their weaving, dipping, twirling, and diving gracefully in intricately complex patterns. It was mesmerizing and I found my mind wandering back over the events of the past two months as I stroked Zara’s soft coat. Aunt Stella’s passing, everything she had left to me, the magick lessons, two of my best friends moving down here, the threats and subsequent battle with Romilda and Ravena Curtens. Ravena’s death. Meeting The Powers in a dream . . .
You did what you had to do, Roxanne. We both did. There was very little we could have done differently. Zara’s voice was a welcome interruption. I didn’t exactly feel guilty—we had gone in with a small rocket launcher as a backup plan, after all—but I fervently wished things had been different, that there would have been some way to walk in, rescue Danai, and leave without confrontation.
I believe that is what is referred to as a pipe dream. Let it go and focus on what is before us now.
Sighing, I knew she was right. I stole a glance at the rest of our small group sitting in a half circle around the outer edge of the clearing. Gloria watched the dance intently, wiggling with excitement every so often, her expression enraptured. Dutch stilled her with a gentle stroke across her hand and she leaned on his arm, laying her head against him. At some point during the last few weeks, the two had become a thing. I wasn’t sure how long the horse shifter brothers would be staying on, so naturally, I worried about my house manager’s heart. The rest of the logistics I couldn’t even wrap my head around. They both came from not just different lines of shifters, but different kinds of shifters altogether. Clyde saw me watching the two and grinned, shaking his head. He didn’t seem concerned, so I turned my attention to Sam and Tess.
Sam sat next to me, observing everything with calm interest. Tess had a hard time sitting still, some part of her always moving—her foot doing that air-tapping thing, shifting in her seat, her thumb rubbing along the pads of her fingers. She’d been high-energy for as long as I’d known her and I figured she was nearing the end of her attention span.
We have at least another hour of celebrations before Astra makes her announcement regarding the location of the new fairy mound. Tess will be fine.
When I had first met Zara, my aunt’s tabby cat familiar at the time, her voice in my head was disconcerting. Now I couldn’t imagine not being able to hear her voice. She was like a part of me. Her purr intensified as she stretched her neck, resting her chin in the crook of my arm.
It will be time for you to speak soon. Are you ready?
No. I hate giving public speeches. Remember what happened at the last one?
You weren’t even the one speaking at that, so it doesn’t count. It doesn’t have to be long. Just say a few words, thank them for their bravery, and present the gifts.
My hand went to the bag resting against my hip. I’d brought mead, or honeyed wine, for the celebration itself, and thirteen of my first real attempts at Making. Zara and Danai had both guided me and the results were good, I felt. Hopefully, they would be well-received. And work the way I’d intended, since I had no way of testing them beforehand.
Quit worrying. Those twelve bucks will be the envy of every pixie here by the end of the night. Astra will be pleased, as well.
Crossing my fingers that she was right, I watched as the dance ended and another small troupe took the place of the first. This one was comprised of eight pixie couples and was less complex, though no less graceful, than the preceding dancers. This dance was much shorter, or perhaps it was just my nerves that made it seem so.
Astra glided down from her perch above the proceedings as the couples left the space above the fairy mound, her eyes on my small group. When she was only slightly above our eye level, she hovered, spinning around in a slow circle as she addressed her people.
“Today is a day of celebration on so very many levels.” She motioned to Gaz and his flight. “We celebrate the bravery of these twelve young bucks who aspired to move up from their places in the outermost bachelor burrows.” Turning to us, she continued, “We celebrate the victory that they took part in with our benefactor, Madame Roxanne Devraux. And last, but not in any way least, we celebrate the opportunity to finally be able to expand into a new mound, something we have not been able to do for hundreds of years.” She paused, smiling as a small roar of cheers and applause erupted from the trees around us. When it died down, she resumed. “Tomorrow, Madame Devraux has agreed to bear witness at the site of the new mound as we break ground. Those of you who have petitioned for a place in the new mound may meet us there, as well.” Another round of cheers made her pause again. The excitement generated by the pixies was almost palpable, charging the air with . . .
Magick. Yes. This is another reason why it is so important for the colony to be here, within your protection. What you’re feeling is wild magick. There are those who would attempt to harness and use it—even humans, though any families old enough to remember the old ways to do so are long gone.
Wild magick? I didn’t remember reading anything about that in any of the monstrous volumes on all things Other that Zara had urged me to study. Then again, most of the information on fae creatures was a bit on the sparse side.
Wild magick is a by-product, of sorts, only produced by certain types of fae. The knowledge of it has been kept as much a secret as possible over the centuries—few, if any, of the Turned know about it. Pixies tend to produce an abundance of it comparative to their small size, which is why they were hunted for so long and why the belief that their kind is extinct has been perpetuated. Unfortunately, that belief is closer to fact than fiction. There are very few colonies left in the world.
