My Words My Stories

                  The sun blazed red as it slowly sank below the horizon, it's rays reflecting on the mirrored glass of the tall building. The city moved far below and the traffic sounds drifted up to the open window of the top floor, muted by the distance. Stop lights looked like tiny tree lights from this height, Gabe thought as he watched them blink red then yellow then green. He watched the sinking sun through the window and sighed as the purple and lavender hues of twilight began to steal the light. Gabe had been an Earth-bound. An angel assigned to this world to aide those humans who needed help.
                  He knew he was good at his job. But a woman had lied about him and his Father had stripped his wings as punishment. There had been no chance of redemption, no investigation. He was given less chance to explain himself than he gave the humans who were his charge. The woman stood at his Father's right hand and had his ear better than most.
                  Gabe had often been rebellious and troublesome, though none of his shenanigans had been enough to raise his Father's wrath. He got his work done, though through nefarious means and tricky methods. But the woman wasn't as easily amused when she toyed with Gabe's affections and he toyed back.
                  The building, the tallest and most magnificent in the city, didn't exist for the mortals who resided there. What they saw was a beautiful park with plenty of trees and pathways for walking. Gabriel Bedford was a part of the network of Nephlim and Archangels that helped keep the balance in the Above World where humans, angels and fallen lived together in virtual peace.
                  Humans didn't know who was angel, who was fallen. It was best that way. The fallen weren't permitted to breed with humans, though they could have relationships with them. Gabe often wondered why, but never thought to ask his Father about it.
                  It was too late now. He'd been stripped of his wings and banished from his Father's house because he dared to love and the woman he loved betrayed him as easily as she'd slipped on shoes. He'd vowed he would never love again. He'd managed thus far to stay aloof and untouchable.
                 Jenks Angelo's office was on the top-most floor of the tall glass and steel building. Surrounded by mirrored and tinted glass on two walls, brick and mortar on the others, it held a quiet hush of sliding doors and deep plush carpet. Jenks spread his wings and shivered at the feel of the stretched muscles under his skin. He watched Gabe for a few moments. He'd seen that stance before, that stiff backed straight shouldered way Gabe had of standing when he was irritated about something.
                Jenks was Gabe's boss and his best friend. He understood the man better than anyone, and he prayed every day that his Father would figure out that Gabe wasn't one hundred percent wrong in that relationship. How wrong it was that the Angel who trapped the man was never punished for her roll in the affair. No one took the time to figure out why the woman, a nephlim, had trapped Gabe into an affair. Jenks thought it was because she wanted the Father, not the Son. And unable to have one, decided to punish the other. Gabe was young and stupid in love with her. Or at least, with what she offered him.
                Archangela, Inc. was etched into the glass door and a personal assistant kept the fair folk from hounding her boss. The furnishings were of Ebony wood, dark and bold. The glass topped desk dominated the room, the light paneled walls that set off the dark Ebony of the furnishings, held shelves that overflowed with books and papers on ancient lore, mythology, magics, angelic information and other things too numerous to mention. But Jenks could put his finger on any called for information at any given moment by simply walking to the shelf and pulling it to him.
               Jenks' business was dealing with the mythical and legend. Gabe had been his best friend for centuries. He handed Gabe a drink and leaned a narrow hip on the corner of his desk.
               "There are rumblings in the world beneath this one. Loud rumblings, Gabe. Have you found the woman yet?"
               Gabe took the drink without turning and shook his head. "Not yet. Though I know where she's supposed to be tonight. She's friends with a hunter. You know that, don't you?"
               Jenks nodded. "I just got the prelim today. I didn't recognize the name, but that's not anything new. Hunters change their identity as often as I change my socks. We have to find her tonight, Gabriel. There's a reason why she's being singled out and hunted. We have to find out why and keep her safe."
               Gabe turned then and looked at his friend. "I'll do what I can. I won't be able to get near her with that hunter in her hip pocket, but I'll do what I can. She's supposed to be at the Comedy Shoppe tonight. He's performing there, from what I hear. I'll slip in and see if I can make contact, at least. Maybe I can put a tracker on her somehow. That will help. At least we might be able to know where she is. That is, until her pal Ian finds it and that will only be a matter of time."
               Jenks sat down in his dark leather chair, placed his drink on the table next to it and rubbed his hands over his face. "Gabe. What's bothering you? It's something more than the Hunter and the woman. You can talk to me, you know that. Besides, with technology what it is now, we could track her long enough to know her habits, her routine. Then you can move in."
               Gabe finished his drink and smiled. "You always believed in me, Jenks. I'll make sure the woman is safe. I wonder, sometimes, if He didn't regret His sentence after it was done. You never spoke of it; have yet to say. I'm curious, is all. I'm not permitted contact, so I haven't been able to talk to Him."
               With a sigh, Jenks stood and went to his friend. "You don't have to do this, Gabe. I just thought...if you wanted to earn your wings back...then perhaps this will help you. Your fall wasn't all your fault and I always thought it was wrong of the council to take your wings. Banishment for a century would have worked just as well." His hand came up and rested on Gabe's shoulder.
               "You've always been my best friend. Now you work for me. But if this is something you'd rather not deal with, we can look at other options."
                Jenks shook his head. "I can't say what He's thinking, Gabe. You were His favorite son. He was hurt by what the woman told him. She had his ear more than you and he saw no reason why she would die. All I can say is this was His idea. To give you a job He knows you can and will do without fail. He wants you back, Gabe. He wants His son to return to Him."
               Gabe gaped at his friend. How could he have not known that? After all this time and all the trouble he'd dealt with, how could he not have known it would come to this. "I'll do what I can, Jenks. It may not fit with His methods, but I promise, I'll do what I can."
               Jenks smiled. "That's all I can ask of you, my friend. Now...do you have everything you need for this evening? Can I get you anything? Do anything for you?"
               Gabe chuckled. "You could find me a date." Jenks laughed. "You wouldn't get to the woman if you had a female hanging on your arm. We just need to know why the Underworld wants her. What is it about her that makes them all fight to own her. We can't allow that to happen, Gabe."
               The angel nodded. "Her father's a hunter as well. A Purist. I can't let him get a whiff of me or he'll kill me just on principle."
               Jenks frowned. "I wasn't told that. How did you find that out? It's not in the prelim and my people didn't mention it."
             "Your people aren't the only ones with Nephilim contacts, Jenks. And I rely on mine far more than I rely on yours. No offense, my friend, but your 'people' are sometimes of questionable backgrounds and abilities."
              Jenks laughed at that in agreement. "All right. Then I'll look into that. If he's a Purist, then perhaps that has something to do with why they want her. The daughter of a Purist and a human. It would be interesting to see what that mating produced. There were no siblings mentioned, so I'm assuming there are none. Or none that would hold interest with anyone WE would know.

              Gabe's mouth tipped up at the corners and he turned back to stare out the window that had closed automatically once the sun set. He knew it was to keep out undesirables, but he missed the air. He looked toward the sky and shook his head sadly.
                "You never see the stars here. The city lights interfere with that and you never see them. I might head upstate for a bit. I miss the stars, the wonder of them. Maybe I can manage to take the woman with me for a day or two. If I can get her away from Ian for that long. Maybe she'd like to see the stars too."
                  Jenks studied the back of his friend. He knew by his stance that Gabe was missing more than the stars. He also knew he was a lonely man and often hoped that his Father would give him a love that would ease his heart and soul. Gabe had a lot to give and no one to give it to. Maybe this assignment was something more. It remained to be seen.             
         Jenks laughed at that in agreement. "All right. Then I'll look into that. If he's a Purist, then perhaps that has something to do with why they want her. The daughter of a Purist and a human. It would be interesting to see what that mating produced.
      There were no siblings mentioned, so I'm assuming there are none. Or none that would hold interest with anyone WE would know.
                  Gabe's mouth tipped up at the corners and he turned back to stare out the window that had closed automatically once the sun set. He knew it was to keep out undesirables, but he missed the air. He looked toward the sky and shook his head sadly.
                 "You never see the stars here. The city lights interfere with that and you never see them. I might head upstate for a bit. I miss the stars, the wonder of them. Maybe I can manage to take the woman with me for a day or two. If I can get her away from Ian for that long. Maybe she'd like to see the stars too."
                   Jenks studied the back of his friend. He knew by his stance that Gabe was missing more than the stars. He also knew he was a lonely man and often hoped that his Father would give him a love that would ease his heart and soul. Gabe had a lot to give and no one to give it to. Maybe this assignment was something more. It remained to be seen.
      Gabe turned and smiled at his friend. “It’ll all be okay, Jenks. I better get on my way if I’m going to that club.” He placed his glass back on the bar and turned to head for the door when the phones on Jenks’ desk began to ring and the map of the city on the wall behind his desk lit up like a Christmas tree. Red lights flared, causing Gabriel to suck in a horrified breath; followed by green lights which made the red lights grow dim and blink out. In the vicinity of the green lights, were yellow lights. Only one or two of them faded and went out, then the blue lights appeared.
      Gabe stared as the blue lights moved toward the green lights. He looked at Jenks and saw the tension in the man’s eyes. “Jenks?”      
      The blue lights went out quickly and Jenks seemed to relax. “They’re breaching faster and in different places now. It’s all we can do to keep up. Did you notice how fast the hunters showed up? We really need to find out what it is about this woman that makes them want her bad enough to come to above world before total dark. The other problem is the ‘others’ who can come during the day. ”
      Gabe nodded. “How long have they been coming to surface en-mass like that?” He picked up his empty glass and filled it to half, taking a slow savoring sip.
      Jenks shook his head. “A couple of weeks now. We’ve managed to quell them every time, but it’s getting more and more difficult to do. We don’t have enough of us to cover every possible portal that’s been breached. I just can’t understand how they’re managing to open portals that have been closed for centuries. Maybe the woman is the answer. Find her Gabe, and keep her safe by whatever means.”
      Gabe sighed and nodded, setting his again empty glass back on the bar. “I’ll be in touch, Jenks. Thanks for the opportunity.”
      Gabe used the stairs instead of the elevator. He felt it was just his way of staying in shape, not that he had to worry about much along those lines. Half way down the stairs, he paused. Something felt slimy and made his skin crawl. He canted his head for only a minute, then turned and went back up.
      He wanted to tell Jenks about it and make certain his friend was all right. Just as he pulled open the door to the top floor suite, the building was plunged into darkness. What the hell? He broke into a run toward Jenks’ office. The door flew open and Gabe dove through.
      “What the hell is going on? Jenks? What’s happening?” He hauled himself to his feet and glanced around the empty room. “Jenks? JENKS?! Where are you?”
      He startled and snarled when a hand clamped on his arm. “Quiet, you idiot! I thought you were leaving, what are you doing back here?”
      “Jesus, Jenks! I took the stairs because...well, because I could. About half way down, something felt wrong. So I came back up. What’s going on?”
      “There was a security problem right after you left. You wouldn’t have gotten out of the building, Gabe.”

On ebony wing, the dragon flew
In answer to a call
To face the problem at it’s source
To watch the demon fall.
The storm raged across the skies
The bellowing filled the air
The dragon’s cry trumpeted loud
The demon didn’t care.
Lightning flashed like dragon’s breath
Hot and sharp across the void.
The dragon’s roar was loud and great,
The demon could not avoid.
The sudden burst of fury
As the dragon’s charge was met
The demon was brought to his knees
Though not his death as yet.
The fear was great within his eyes
As he watched the beast descend
The Breath of Fire touched him
He knew it meant his end.
The walls did tremble, crack and groan
As down the demon fell
The dragon’s victory cry was heard
Beyond the gates of hell.

The stone spires stood as silent sentinels, keeping watch over the green rolling countryside and the village below them. In their middle was raw power, so the stories went. Sometimes, people who came to admire the stone circle could feel the magic that hummed there. Sometimes, they claimed to have seen a woman in white darting among the stones.
The white-washed and sleepy village that nested in the valley below the Dance had been there for centuries. The people were simple people who prided themselves in the fact there was a stone circle within their county. Sheep and wool were their exports that helped support this mostly farming community. The rest depended on the tourists that came and went starting in the spring through the winter solstice. Then it quieted down again and the village became sleepy and quiet but for the local pub that was always open and always crowded of an evening, with locals providing music for dancing.
Anyone who lived there could tell a tourist anything about the Dance. Or could hold court about the Druids who lived and worshiped there in the years past, and about those that still do at the solstices. It's said that their beloved Prime Minister had worshiped there in his capacity as a Druid High Priest and the people who lived in the village were proud of the fact that the Prime Minister came to worship the sun cycle at their Dance.
The little village didn't boast a police force as such. They had a Minister of Justice and a few men of the village were duly sworn to act as deputies if the need arose. They kept the peace during the tourist season when tourists who indulged in too much Harp or Guinness could get a bit rowdy with the locals. That was about all that was needed in Halloway. If anything bigger than that arose, then they called for help from Dublin, the largest and closest city.
It was the groundskeeper that saw it first, in the gray of the morning while the sun tried to burn through the early spring fog. The strange shape that poked from the ground in the very center of the 'Dance'. Foxx was far from a frightened school kid who saw myth and legend in everything Irish, though it was true enough most things Irish were made of myth and legend. He stood curiously tilting his head, his cell phone to his ear, staring at the thing. He'd gotten about as close as he was going to get to the silver hand-shaped ‘glove’ that seemed to be growing out of the ground as if it were planted there, and decided that he needed to call someone who had more understanding of the law than he did. He called Dublin and spoke to his friend.
“Yea, that's right. It looks like some kind of metal hand. Yea, here in the middle of the Dance. I don't know how it got there, I just think someone should come and investigate.” He paused and listened for a few seconds, adamantly shaking his head. “No, I'm not going any closer than I am until you get here. What if it's something dangerous?” Sweet Jesus and Mary. “I have no idea what could possibly be dangerous all the way out here in the country, but...you just have to come and see for yourself.” He waited, listening to the other end of the conversation. “I don't know. It wasn't there at eight when I got here, but when I finished my mowing outside the Dance, it was there. So around ten-thirty.”
He nodded and clicked the phone off. What the hell was that thing? It looked to him like some kind of hand. Not a human hand, but a metallic hand. And it seemed to be just growing from the ground in the center of the Dance. He'd been working here for thirteen years and never once saw anything strange until today. No lights, no 'energy field', no ghostly visions of ancient gods or goddesses, nothing at all in thirteen years until today.
Foxx B Calhoun stood between two of the still standing stones of the Dance and waited for the police to show up. A tall and broad shouldered man, with cobalt blue Irish eyes and dark chestnut hair that was stylishly shaggy. He watched the sun climb the sky, reaching toward noon. The quick movement and flash of white caught his eye and he turned to his left just in time to see a woman disappear from view behind the King stone.
“Hey! You! Wait! Wait!” He dashed through the ancient stone circle and felt a zing on his skin that had him glancing back the way he came. Seeing nothing, he ducked behind the King stone and searched quickly for the woman in the flowing white gown. When he didn't find her anywhere, he scowled at the image in his head. Gown? Now? Here in this place?
She had to have been a tourist; one of those who thought the Dance belonged to her since she was one of the “Lady's Chosen”. He'd always thought they were a biscuit shy of a dozen himself. But if that's what they believed, who was he to question. Foxx only knew that no one other than the groundsmen and those Druid people were permitted beyond the blue ropes that kept the tourists from chipping away bits of the monoliths. The stone circles were protected now and he was glad of it.
The sound of tires on gravel had him returning to his post between the two stones; but he wouldn't forget that he'd seen a woman and he'd be sure to mention it. Tall, thin, blond and beautiful, dressed in a white gown. He didn't see only a glimpse of her face, but what he saw told him she was more stunning than any woman he'd ever known, and he wouldn't mind seeing her again.
He waited for the car to arrive, leaning against his rake. Most tourists walked up here, but there was an access road just for these circumstances so the garda didn't have to walk up the winding road to the Dance. He studied the ground in front of him intently. He would feel like a jerk if this turned out to be nothing but a practical joke, but the sight of the metallic hand popping up from the ground made him uneasy.
Top that with the strange woman that slipped away from him just now, not to mention the weird feeling he had gotten when he dashed through the circle of stones after the lady, and Foxx had a good dose of heebie-jeebies. He would be glad to pass this off to the garda and be on his way toward a pint of Harp at Tom Murphy’s pub. A bit of something to ease the case of tremors he was feeling now. He turned at the sound of a car door and felt himself relax. A familiar face approached him from the direction of the police car.
He smiled at the police captain, holding out his hand in greeting. “James. Nice to see you're on the job. I'm not sure what this may be, but I wanted a professional opinion. If it's nothing, I'll say I'm sorry and get on with my work.”
 The captain jerked his head in recognition and looked beyond Foxx's shoulder to the silvery hand. “You say it wasn't there yesterday and not there this morning when you came on? But when you finished what you were doing with the lawn out here, it was there?”
Foxx nodded, as James stepped around him and went to get a close up look at the curious metal hand in the center of the stone circle. “Sure and it's still there. Looking eerie, poking out of the ground like that.” He followed James into the circle and waited to see if the police captain felt the zap. Apparently not, since he was kneeling down to have a look at the 'hand'.
James muttered to himself and shook his head. Pulling a pen from his pocket, he poked at the palm of the piece of armor and found it was impossible to push it over to it's back. A gauntlet, he thought. That's what they were called. But why was it here, in the middle of a stone circle and how did it get here?
Sighing to himself, he poked at it with the tip of the pen he'd drawn from his pocket again. He tried to look at it from every angle and shook his head. He'd have to wait until he could get permission to do a bit of digging. Nothing about this felt 'right'. Captain James Andrews frowned at the gauntlet and studied the dirt around it. It'd not been disturbed that he could tell and the hand did appear to have just grown out of the ground. But he had to get this gauntlet back to the lab so there could be DNA and other forensics run on it.
Foxx stared at the gauntlet. What in all bloody hell? How did it get there? He'd totally forgotten about seeing the woman after seeing this. How did this happen on his watch? He squatted down next to the police captain and shivered at the closer look at the hand that seemed to sprout there like some unholy flower. Dead center in the holiest of holy places in all of Ireland.
“Mary, Mother of God, James. Is that real?”
James turned and nodded grimly. “Afraid it is, Foxx. Trouble is, I have no idea how it got here or what is further under the surface. It looks as though nothing's been disturbed here, but that thing is coming out of the dirt somehow.”
Foxx was stunned. “Jesus, James. You aren't thinking of digging here! In the middle of the circle! You'll be angering more than the folks what come here to see it if you do. This is holy ground.”
James nodded in agreement. “I know. I understand. But I've got what might be a body here, Foxx. I can't leave it just here, now can I? Your tourists will have to wait or go to another dance. The Lord knows there's plenty if you know where to look and what to look for. I have to investigate, you know that.”
Foxx nodded and sighed, shaking his head as he rose to his feet. “I have some calls to make, James. You best call the Minister. They'll be after wanting you to not go digging will-he, nil-he here. He should be the first before anyone else you have to call. And the Vicar should be called, as well.”
He dug out his cell phone when he got nothing more than a grunt from James in response and made his first call to his boss to inform him of the problem and to tell him there would be no one at the Dance today and what should he do?
His next call was to his home to let his mother know that he would be very late because of a problem at work. That call took him a bit longer, as he tried to explain to his mother without actually telling her what was happening. Foxx closed his phone and returned to James in the center of the circle.
“Once the Minister gets here, permissions will start with him. You did call the Minister, didn't you?” James may know law, but Foxx knew the rules for the Dance. James nodded noncommittally and rocked back on his heels with a heavy sigh. There was nothing he could do but wait for the locals to show up and try to boss his investigation.
Just the idea of a body here, in the center of the Dance was making Foxx queasy. And the idea that said body wasn't fully visible, but buried somehow deep in the earth with no visible signs of any one digging or moving the earth in any way was just plain wrong, to his mind.
As Foxx stood and watched James work, he heard a rumbling that had him searching the skies for any signs of a storm. He scowled when he saw nothing, yet he had heard the echoing rumble of distant thunder. He glanced at the others standing around the Dance, noting that none of them seemed to have heard any sound at all.
Foxx scowled and searched the sky again. Nothing. Not a cloud anywhere to be seen. Yet he still felt the sizzle in the air of an approaching storm. Something was very off about today, and it made him very nervous indeed.
He anticipated that once the word got out, and he was sure that the Minister's secretary or someone from the garda would be spreading the word that a body had been found in the middle of the Dance, things would be a mess. By the time he finished talking to James, there were people milling about the circle and even more clicking away with their cameras taking pictures of the strange hand. Dear sweet god, how did they find out already? This kind of thing seemed to always draw a curious crowd. Murder and mayhem seemed to bring out the morbid in people.
Foxx wondered why that was and started to speak to James when he saw her again. She was standing beside the King stone, watching with guarded curiosity, her expression one of great sadness. This time, she wore the clothing of a huntress, complete with bow and quiver, instead of the long white gown he'd first seen her in. He wanted to shout, but somehow he knew she would simply vanish again. So he quietly started to edge that way.
When he was nearly to her, she shifted her attention to him and his breath caught in his throat. She was staring directly at him and he felt his heart stumble a beat or two. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Sharp gray eyes captured his blue ones and she smiled beguilingly. Foxx opened his mouth to speak and couldn't find words that would work well enough.
The woman stared at him for another instant, then turned and stepped behind the King stone. Foxx hurriedly followed, but when he rounded the stone, she had already disappeared. Twice in one day, he had seen her. Foxx shook his head to clear it, then turned back again to the center of the circle itself. He had nearly forgotten to tell James about the woman. Well, now he could tell him more of what she looked like. That would make it more truthful, though he would never lie to a policeman.
James looked up as Foxx approached and nodded. He stopped a few feet away from the hand and motioned James to him. When James approached, he tried to think of a way to broach the subject without sounding like a fool.
“I almost forgot to tell you about the woman.” Foxx twisted the cap he’d removed as he had approached the woman in his hands and waited. James just nodded, encouraging him to go on. “I saw a woman just after I called you about this. She darted behind the King stone, and by the time I'd gotten there, she was gone. Not a trace of her to be seen. I just saw her again. She was watching everything and she looked so very sad. I got close to her before she saw me. Then she looked dead at me and stepped behind the stone again. When I circled around, I couldn't see her. She was gone again.”
James scowled. “Why didn't you call me? We might have been able to catch her.” Foxx shrugged. He knew the answer, but didn't want to express it to his friend. He knew there was something more to the woman than just being a woman. She was 'different'. He wasn't sure why or how she was different, but he understood that she was. And he had the uncanny feeling she wanted to speak with him. It made him uneasy to grasp that idea. And it made him more uneasy to not know why he felt that way.
“I can describe her if you need me to. I don't think she has anything to do with 'that'”, nodding his head at the hand. “Doesn't that look a bit too real?”
James snorted and shrugged. “I'll see if I can take it in to the lab. It's a bit too strange to me. I can't explain it, Foxx. I can't explain any of this.”
Another rumble of thunder, this one sounding closer, startled Foxx into looking again up to the clear blue sky. ”Do you hear thunder? I swear I hear thunder.” James chuckled and shook his head.
“Christ Jesus, Foxx. Seeing disappearing ladies and hearing non-existent thunder. Are you sure you didn't tip one too many at Murphy's last night?” He pulled a notebook and pen from his pocket and pursed his lips. “The woman, Foxx. What did she look like? How old do you say she was? What was she wearing?”
Foxx shifted and glanced at the King Stone before he spoke. “I'd say that she was in her thirties, long blond hair like spun gold, depthless gray eyes and a soft mouth.” James scowled then chuckled.
“You sound like you're in love with her, Foxx. Just tell me what she looked like without all the editorial comments.”
Foxx blinked and laughed. “Sorry, James. But I've never seen a woman quite like her. She was tall, slender, blond, gray eyes. This time, she was dressed in a green tunic thing and tan pants. Low boots, if I recall, and complete with a quiver and bow. The first time I saw her, she wore a long white gown. I wish I could tell you more, but I can't. She looked right at me, James. I felt like she knew more about me in that short glance than anyone ever has. It was a bit uncomfortable, I do have to say.”
James made quick notes on his pad and nodded. “I'll get this out to others as soon as I get back to the station. Foxx? You think you might be able to give what you saw to a sketch artist? Maybe we can get lucky and someone local will recognize her.”
Foxx nodded. There goes his plan to get very very drunk. “How long will that take, James? I had a few loose plans for tonight.” James beamed him a smile. “You'll be home well before pub-time, Foxx.”
James turned at the sound of a truck and started to return to the center of the circle. Foxx was about to get back to work on his lawn and try to fit time with the sketch artist into his day. The people milling about were beginning to chatter amongst themselves and move around to try to get a better view of the 'hand'.
Foxx heard again the roll of thunder and turned back to James just as lightning streaked from the sky and struck the ground. Foxx lurched and stumbled and saw James fall, then scramble on his hands and knees away from the strike zone, his clothes smoking from the electrical charge the lightning sent into the ground.
Foxx's teeth hurt and he could taste blood before he understood that he was on his stomach in the dirt. He looked at James to see the man crawling away from a burned spot in the grass, others struggling to gain their feet and some of the people staring unbelieving at the spot where the curious hand had been.
Gone! It was totally gone. The hand was absolutely no longer there. Foxx blinked and shuddered at the strangeness of the day. James was pulling himself to his feet and gaping at the barren spot on the ground where the hand had been, along with everyone else.
“Sweet Mother of God!” James muttered as he staggered forward to look at the ground. Foxx joined him at the center and several people muttered excitedly. Others stood in stunned silence and stared at the burned circle inside the stone circle.
Foxx shivered, not knowing why. His eyes tracked to the King Stone and his breathing hitched. She was standing there, clear as a bell, dressed in pale blue and wearing a circlet of gold. There were tears on her cheeks as she canted her head slightly when she caught him watching her.
Foxx thought about nudging James, but something told him if he did, she would be gone again as soon as he spoke out loud. He felt the ice creep down his spine and he shivered. She stood and watched him for a long time, before she stepped behind the King stone. Foxx assumed she disappeared, just like last time.
All he wanted to do was get away from here and hit the local pub. He needed an ale and some time to relax and give this some thought. He glanced over at James, who was staring toward the King stone. He canted his head and frowned.
“Something wrong, James? You look like you're deep in thought.”
“I thought I felt someone watching me. Gave me shivers. I just couldn't pinpoint it. I don't know. Was strange, that's for certain.” James shuddered and glanced back at the place where the hand used to be. “What do you think happened here, Foxx? Some kind of explosive rigged to go off at a certain time?”
Foxx shrugged and turned his attention to James. “Why would you think I would know about anything like that? I called you. I have no idea what it was, what it meant, why it was here. That's your job to figure out, not mine.” He looked at the man who was his childhood friend. “You thinking I had something to do with this?”
James shook his head. “No, not really. But I'm thinking you know something that you're not saying. And I'm curious why you aren't saying it.”
Foxx wasn't pleased with being in this position. He scowled at James and shook his head. “That makes no sense, James. No sense at all. Why would I try to hide anything from you? We've been friends since childhood. I've never lied to you or tried to make myself innocent when I wasn't. Why in all hell would I try to do that now?”
James shrugged and smiled as best he could and still look serious about his work. “I wasn't accusing you of anything Foxx. I'm just trying to find answers. Since you were the one to find it and seem to be the one seeing non-existent women and hearing thunder that isn't there, I had to assume you may know something that would help us solve this.”
Foxx scowled and shook his head again. “I know what you know, James. At a little past ten-thirty this morning, I saw what looked like a metal hand standing upright in the center of the Stone Circle. While I was waiting for you, I saw a woman in white flitting among the stones. Thinking she was a tourist and may have seen something, I gave chase. She ducked behind the King Stone and I was mere seconds behind her, but when I got to that point, she was gone. Simply gone. There was no trace of her anywhere. I returned to my original place to wait for you. After you arrived, I saw her again, in green, like a huntress. Again, by the time I got to the King Stone, she was gone with nary a trace. I saw her again after the hand thing disappeared, dressed in blue. And she appeared to be crying. I heard thunder before the hand thing disappeared and saw the lightning streak. Jesus and Mary, James, I thought you were struck dead. It was grateful I was to see you move. Was it hot? Did it burn?”
James chuckled and shook his head. “It felt like a bomb had gone off directly in front of me. For a minute, I couldn't see or hear, my ears were ringing and the bright light from the flash blinded me. I thought my career was ended and I'd be a blind and deaf cripple for the rest of my life. When I finally realized what had happened, my instinct was to get away as fast as I could. Everything felt hot for one solid minute, before my legs and arms moved enough to get me away from the source of the blast. I didn't know the hand was gone until I was able to settle myself and catch my breath. That's when I heard you curse and I looked in this direction and saw the hand was gone.”
He was about to continue his story when the Vicar came rushing into the circle, waving his hands wildly, his black cassock flying behind him in the slight breeze. “You can't dig here!! STOP!!!” Foxx chuckled and James just stared at the man in disbelief.
“Vicar, no one is digging anything at the moment. But this IS a crime scene and you're walking all over evidence.” James' voice was bland and his face schooled into a neutral expression. “But we will have to dig at some point. I don't care if I have to take this to the Taoiseach to gain permissions.”
Vicar Timothy O'Malley stopped running and leaned forward to catch his breath. “Thank the heavens, Captain. I heard from Mrs. O'Brien that there was a body here buried in the ground. There should be a dispensation for digging here. I assume you will be getting the proper papers?” Under his cassock, the Vicar wore a pair of faded jeans and scuffed work boots. Foxx would have bet a week's wage he also wore a beat up flannel shirt as well.
“I don't have any idea, Vicar, just what will happen. I will ask whoever I need to get this crime solved. We need to figure out what happened here and why. If I have to dig to God damned China, then I'll do so.” James snarled at his frustration and wondered just how this had gotten so out of hand so quickly.
The Vicar frowned. “There's no need to take the Lord's name, James Andrews. I'll hear your confession on Saturday. I won't argue if the proper papers are signed and sealed giving you permission to dig here. I just want to make sure that nothing is destroyed in the business of your investigation. This is not only a National Monument, James, it's a religious place. Sacred ground. Things have to be done with respect and care.”
James sighed and studied the ground at his feet, feeling the heat of embarrassment touch his cheeks. “I know, Vicar. I'm sorry. I'll get all the papers in order and then there won't be any problems. I'll be careful and respectful and everything will be put back the way it was, I promise you.”
Tim O'Malley nodded. “Then let's look at this, James. What kind of crime do you think has been committed here? Where's your evidence?” The Vicar looked around the inside of the circle curiously. “I was told there was body part exposed, but I don't see it anywhere.”
James smiled grimly. “Everyone wants to be a detective,” he mumbled to himself before giving over his attention to the Vicar. “I think someone was murdered here, Vicar. I think their body was buried here in the middle of the dance. I don't know if it was something ritualistic or if it was just because it's the Dance. There was a hand in a silver gauntlet that appeared to be growing from the ground. It was just there. Then the lightning came and it disappeared. We haven't been back to the spot to see if we can tell what happened here. I thought I might as well wait on the Minister so I won't be repeating myself yet again.”
The Vicar stared at James and furrowed his brow in thought. “A hand you say? In a gauntlet? There's an old tale about this Dance. Have you ever heard it?”
James shook his head and settled himself on one of the toppled stones, figuring he was about to hear the story whether he wanted to or not. He had the time. He had to get papers signed for authorization for the digging and the Minister wasn't here yet.
Timothy sat down next to James and Foxx joined them. He smiled at the interest the two men suddenly showed and settled in for the telling.
“Long and long ago, in a time before time, there was a Lady who fell in love with a warrior. He was beneath her status as her father was a Baron and he was just a warrior. A man who loved the Baron's daughter with all that he was, everything that was in him to give, he gave to her. And she returned his love tenfold. They wanted desperately to marry and so made plans to do so. But the Baron had other plans for his beautiful daughter and refused to give his permission for the bans of marriage to be announced. Instead, he offered his daughter to any man who would kill the warrior and rid him of this disgrace.
“A man stepped forward; a Duke from a neighboring land. He had admired the Lady from afar and decided to accept the Baron's challenge. He befriended the Lady's warrior and found out their plan to meet at the Dance and run away. The Duke had other ideas, so he summoned the warrior to his home and killed him easily since the warrior wasn't expecting him to bury his dagger in the warrior's heart.
“The legend says the Lady waited at the Dance for her lover, who never came. The weather turned bitter and she waited, true and faithful to her warrior. She froze to death in the storm and when they finally found her, she was clinging to her warriors hand. Apparently, his body had gone to her, even though he had died hours before. But the only thing that could make the transition from ether to corporeal was his left hand. She had slipped a ring onto his finger and died there, clutching his hand to her breast.
“It is also said that when the time was right, she would return to the Dance and wait for him. That he would reincarnate and return here, to meet her again. Once they were together, they would make the choice as to where they would remain. Here or there...one place or the other.
“The legend says that the Duke rushed to the Dance, but he was too late to save the woman. He swore vengeance upon the Warrior and the woman as well as the gods for taking her from him. A streak of lightning, a freak thing in the dead of winter, struck the Duke and killed him. Some say the gods punished him by burying his body so the Lady's rescuers never found him.”
The Vicar looked over at the King stone and shook his head. “For some reason, the King stone is an important part of the story, but I can't recall now what it is. I'm sure there are things that have been written about the legend and could be found in the library. I think you may find something interesting there about what's happened here. Perhaps, the Lady has realized that her lover has returned.”
Foxx swallowed and shivered. Now he really did need that drink. He was the only one to have seen the Lady. The only one she seemed focused on. Sweet holy Mother. Did that mean that he was her lover of old? He had no idea what it meant, but he didn't think he liked it. He wanted no part of ghostly apparitions from the past, no matter how distant that past was.
James chuckled. “You really think this has to do with a legend that's hundreds of years old, Vicar? That hand was there. I touched it, and it wasn't some ghostly apparition. And somewhere under the earth is a body that belongs to that hand. I can't base my police work in myth and legend.”
The Vicar nodded and looked thoughtfully at the scorched mark in the middle of the circle. “Maybe, this time, James, you'll have to at least consider what was and what might be.” He stood and looked around. “I'll trust you'll get the permissions before you go to digging. I have to go and visit the good Widow Gracey. She's feeling poorly and has asked for confession. You'll keep me informed of the progress?”
He started out of the circle when he paused and turned back to the two men sitting side by side on the toppled stone. They'd been friends for as long as Timothy could remember. When Foxx's father had died in a horrific accident, it was James' parents who took him under their wing and saw to his well-being, taking the greater load of raising a boy alone off his mother. When James’ first marriage had hit the rocks, it was Foxx who was there for him to help him pick up the pieces. This very strange case would affect the both of them in some manner, he was sure of it. He would add both men to his prayer list tonight.
Foxx sat quietly, considering the Vicar's words. “You think he was serious, James? What if it's true? What if the Lady is here because she's come for her lover?” James snorted and shook his head.
“Are you serious, Foxx? It was just a legend, a story. There's no way that would actually have happened and no way in hell it would come true now. You really didn't believe him, did you? Damn, man! Use your head. Why would you even think that this could be a possibility?”
“Then you tell me, James. Why am I the only one to see her? She appears when the place is crawling with people and no one sees her but me. I was the one to see the hand first. I saw the woman, I heard the thunder. No one else, including you, saw or heard anything. No one other than myself. And to be honest, James, it's making me a bit nervy. I'm ready to go home. Or to the pub, which ever place is nearest, and drink myself into sleep. I wish I hadn't come to work today, that's what I wish. And I really wish you would stop talking to me like I'm one of your suspects.” He tossed his work gloves onto the rock and cursed inventively. “I'm going, James. If you've a need to arrest me, I'll be at Murphy's.”
Foxx stomped off, leaving the Captain looking ashamed and embarrassed. Foxx was his friend, they had been like brothers since childhood. But there was just something that James could sense and it made him uneasy. Why WAS Foxx the only one to see and hear these things? It made little sense to him and until he could figure it out, he would keep making his friend uncomfortable. It didn't matter. James knew where to find Foxx if he needed him. The man was always true to his word. He would be where he said he would be, of that James had no concerns.
What did concern him was the why of it. And until he had answers, he'd continue to be concerned. Not only for Foxx, but for Foxx's safety and sanity. If this was some kind of prank, some kind of challenge to Foxx, then he would find a way to stop it before someone got hurt. Having decided that, James took himself back to the place where the hand had been. There wasn't any indication at all that anything like a hand had been there. And if James hadn't seen it himself, he would have doubted Foxx.
Foxx was nearly off the tor before his anger subsided and he could think clearly. He couldn't get the vision of the woman out of his head as he logged out at the gate. He nodded to the night man and turned toward the village and Murphy's pub. James was just doing his job. That was all. He hadn't actually accused Foxx of any crime other than being stupid. Foxx gained a better hold on his temper with every step.
By the time he reached Murphy's, he was almost back to himself. He smiled as he pushed open the door. Tom Murphy was behind the bar, a towel slung over one shoulder and a rag in his hand. He wiped at a spot and Foxx claimed the stool. Murphy was a large man, broad shouldered, green-eyed and a red headed Irish temper to match his size. The pub was his woman. Murphy had never married.
“What's up with the Dance, Foxx? People been in and out of here all day saying there's some kind of investigatin' going on up there. I told them to come back around pub-time tonight and you'd tell them what it's all about.” Murphy looked at Foxx expectantly as he drew up the pint of Harp Foxx had ordered.
“I'm not sure what's going on up there, Tom. Strange stuff as near as I can tell. Things appearing and disappearing all over up there. Vicar O'Malley told us about the legend that goes with this particular Dance. You know they all have them. Do you know the legend?”
Murphy nodded with a knowing smile. “I do, yes. Tim O'Malley spends every Saturday after confession here. I think he's trying to drown out all those sins he hears of a week all in one night. But he's a good story teller, he is. He's told that legend in here a lot lately. Almost as if he's trying to make us believe that there's a woman who haunts the Dance waiting for her lost love.”
Foxx nodded and sipped the ale that Murphy had set in front of him. “James thinks there's a body buried in the Dance. He wants to dig it up.” He placed the pint down and looked up at Murphy. “I saw the woman, Tom. I saw her three times up there this morning. God's witness, Murphy. She was standing next to the King stone, big as you please.”
Tom Murphy eyeballed his friend and frowned. “A body, you say? Sweet Mother of God, Foxx. How did it get there?” Murphy ignored the last statement Foxx had made, pretending his friend and customer hadn't told him about the woman. He didn't want to talk about haunts in his pub.
“Jesus, Murphy. Did you hear what I said? I saw the woman. Big as you please. Just like I'm seeing you now.” Foxx took a long drink of his ale and let it settle in his stomach for a bit.
“I heard you, Foxx. I just don't like talkin' about the Dance and the woman.” Now Tom Murphy had Foxx's attention and both men stared at one another. “Don't like it a'tall.”
“You've seen her too, haven't you? Murphy, you have to tell me. I thought I was losing my mind. Seeing women and hearing thunder and....c'mon, Tom Murphy. 'Fess up.”
Tom signaled Foxx to the other end of the bar where they could talk in private. “I saw her. Once. Beautiful like an angel she was. All tall and slender in that white gown, lookin' sad and alone. I went to talk to her, you know, friendly like. And when I reached the King stone, she was gone. Gave my heart a hard thump, it did. I dreamed about her for a week after. I never told anyone about it. Just didn't seem right. Then O'Malley comes in here tellin' his tales and it made me think of her all over again. I haven't been back to the Dance since that day. Not since then. I was too scared to go back, Foxx. Now you're tellin' me you've seen her too. What about James? Did he see her as well?”
Foxx shook his head. “He didn't, no. Only me. I saw her three times, Murph. Three times near the King stone and she looked at me with those sad gray eyes and it seemed she was wantin' me to come talk. But every time I tried, she would slip behind the King stone and disappear. I thought it was just me. James all but said I was crazy or stupid. But you've seen her and I'm laying a week's wage that Father O'Malley saw her too. That's why he tells the legend. I just want to know why I'm seeing her; what it means. Maybe tomorrow I'll head into Dublin to the library and see if there's anything written on the legend. Maybe start to find some answers.”
Murphy nodded and went to help the last couple of people who had wandered into the pub. Foxx shrugged off a feeling of being watched and stood, having finished his ale. He wanted to go home, get something to eat and return later this evening. He felt exhausted as he slid the mug across to Murphy.
“Headed home. I'll be back after dinner. Maybe we can talk more then.” Murphy saluted Foxx as the man headed out the door, happy to return to his customers. Foxx turned toward home and started his walk. The late afternoon had turned a bit nippy so he tugged the collar of his jacket up and wished to hell he'd had remembered his scarf this morning or that he hadn't tossed his gloves at James.
Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he turned the corner onto his street. When he did, he looked up and froze in his tracks. There, in front of his home, stood the woman he'd seen at the Dance. And she was talking to his mother as if she'd known her all her life. Foxx got his legs to moving and sped to his gate. He'd bloody well get some answers now.
The woman looked up as he hurried along and offered him a bemused smile. “You're Foxx. You're mother has been so kind and has told me a great deal about you. My name is Marissa. Would it be alright if we spoke a bit? I have a tale to tell you, Foxx, if you'll listen.”

Chapter II

Foxx was so startled that she spoke, he could only nod his head and swallow the sharp remark that danced glibly on his tongue. She spoke! She actually spoke! And she didn't disappear like before. She was real. He could touch her. She smiled at him again and the heat shot through him like an arrow and settled in his groin. He shifted slightly to hide his uneasiness.
“What is it you want from me? Did you put that hand in the Dance? If you did, you need to tell me why and we need to go talk to James.”
Marissa only shook her head. “I didn't put the hand in the dance, Foxx. It came there of it's own accord. It's time. And because it's time, I must tell you a story.” When she took his hand, Foxx couldn't have told her 'no' if he wanted to. And he didn't want to. He needed to hear this story and try to figure this out .
They walked together into Foxx's house and settled at the table. Tea and a hearty soup was waiting, and Marissa smiled. “It's been awhile since I've had high tea, Mrs. Calhoun. I thank you for the consideration.” The older woman simply smiled and nodded, then joined them at the table. Foxx frowned at his mother and started to object when Marissa interrupted him.
“No, Foxx. She is part of this, so she must remain. Your mother...well, it will come with the telling of the tale I need to tell now.” Marissa, smiled and sipped at her tea to wet her throat before she began her story.
“I'm sure that the Vicar has told this tale many times in the village and to people who have been to the Dance. But I will give you the true tale and you will be able to understand more than you do now. Together we will tell you all you need to know, your mother and I. We will give you the understanding that hopefully will make sense to you.
“My father was a man of wealth and privilege, who had little time for a heart's fancy. I was far too old to be single, yet far too young to be on my own without a man's guiding hand. My father longed for me to marry for the betterment of the land and for money.
“But I was in love with a warrior. My warrior hadn't the social or political standing he needed to marry me to please my father's demands. Yet I was determined to have him, to make a life with him in spite of my father's wishes. I plotted and planned with him to run away to wed and return triumphant in my foolish plan to thwart my father.
“Little did I know that he was planning my warrior's demise. He had sent out a plea and the Duke responded to his message. They plotted a way for my warrior to meet with the Duke by claiming the Duke had work for him that would make him wealthy beyond his wildest dreams. He accepted the work, befriending the Duke. The man made arrangements for my warrior to meet him to do the work that the Duke had asked him to do. When my warrior went to the place to meet with the Duke, he was ambushed and killed.
“I had also made a plan to meet with my warrior after the work had been completed. We were to meet at the Dance and run away together. I was to wait for him to come to me. I waited and waited long into the night, but he never came. Instead, my priestess met me and told me what had happened. She told me that she had cast a spell and the warrior would return to me in a future time. But she couldn't separate the men and so, when my warrior returned, so would the Duke and my father. And they would again try to kill my love and take him from me unless he could remember and stop it from happening again.
“I've been given only three days in which to have my warrior remember enough to stop the attack, or I will lose him again forever. I died at the Dance. I can't tell you more than that. What happened after, I have no knowledge of.”
Foxx stared at the woman in front of him and then at his mother, his eyes wide in disbelief. “Did you know the legend? What else did you know? Who is she? Who am I? Why is all this happening, now? Mother? What is it you aren't telling me?”
Foxx's mother smiled sadly and shook her head. “I was Marissa’s witch, Foxx and even that I didn't know until I started to hear the stories of people seeing the 'White Lady' at the dance. And when you told me today that there had been a problem at the Stone circle, I put two and two together and came up with the answer.”
Her green eyes, as deep and intense as Foxx's blue ones, studied him for a long moment. “You have been chosen, Foxx. I should have known you would be. You have always been destined for something greater than what you are. There's more you need to know, son. More we need to tell you.”
His mother poured more tea and sat quietly until her son stopped staring at his cup and looked up at her. “What more do I need to know?” He took a long study of his mother's face and shook his head. He was nearly thirty. Why in bloody hell was his life changing so drastically? What had he done to deserve this?
Marissa reached and touched his mother's hand and the older woman smiled at her. She looked back at Foxx. “The people involved in your life, Foxx. Those you know and call friend are part of this. Your true friend will always remain your friend, but there is an enemy among them and not so easily spotted. It will be a difficult journey for you. There will be hard choices for you to make. I can't force you to this; this is one choice you must make yourself. I will help you as much as I can. I will leave you and your mother to discuss. I can only stay in this form a few hours every day. But I will return here each day and answer what questions I can. Until we talk again, stay safe.”
Foxx sat quietly as the woman moved away from the table and went out the door. It seemed to him that she would have just disappeared if she was a ghost, like she had at the Dance. He turned to his mother. “What do you know that you aren't telling me? If I'm to survive this thing, I need to know what you know.”
His mother looked him in the eyes, green to green. “Not everyone or everything is as it seems, Foxx. Not everyone or everything is good or bad. Sometimes, one must become an enemy to remain a friend. You will do well to remember that.”
Foxx nodded and stood from the table to help his mother clear the dishes and cups. He wasn't in the mood now for the pub, nor was he in the mood for James and his inane questions. How was he to explain this to him? James was as much a non-believer as he is..was..may yet again be. He was sure that James would always be his friend and would help him in whatever he chose to do. He and James had always been fast friends. There shouldn't be any question as to James' loyalty. But there was. The woman, Marissa, had put it there. She had placed doubt squarely on his shoulders about the people he thought of as friends.
He sat by the fire that evening, numbing his mind with a glass of Irish. The whiskey felt good in his belly, letting him forget what he'd seen and heard today. It had been a very long and very trying day. He wanted to talk to someone, but who would believe him and who could he trust? He wasn't even sure he could trust his own Mother.
He leaned his head back and drew in a deep breath. He would close his eyes for a moment. Just a bit of a rest to curb the dull ache that was starting right behind his eyes. He could rest for only a few minutes, then maybe he would wander to the pub. Perhaps music and people would be what he needed.
It all happened so fast, Foxx couldn't orient himself. He was ripped from his chair near the hearth, and tossed, arse over tin cups, into a vision. The land was harsh. Early Spring had clogged the roads with mud and the land was drenched to over capacity. There were no streets or houses in the immediate vicinity, just a cart track that disappeared over the closest hillside. He heard the rushing roar of water as a local stream gushed passed, causing a small bridge to tremble from its force. Was he an active part of this vision or was he just an observer?
The sounds and smells of battle came to him first before it materialized in front of him, slashing swords and swinging maces. Men on foot and on horseback, shouting, yelling, attacking. The ground was soaked with blood and dead bodies were everywhere. Foxx was stunned as he took in the scene. Just an observer, then. He walked slowly among them, warriors and dead alike. Who were these people and why did it matter that he see this particular battle?
He couldn't speak to any of them, all he could do was watch as they killed and maimed one another, as men were wont to do. He saw a man on his war horse, slashing and killing with abandon, his Love's favor tied to his arm, a blaze of brilliant blue against the bloodstained armor. The vision was blurred enough that Foxx couldn't see the man's face and doubted he would know him if he could have seen him.
Then everything slowed to a crawl, the man on the war steed turned his head and looked straight at Foxx. The visor of his helm was down, and all Foxx could see were the man's blue eyes. There was rage and fury there as they stared at one another for only a few seconds. Then the warrior lifted his blade in a salute and the vision faded. Foxx found himself in his chair in front of the hearth. And he suddenly had an urge for the pub and company.
He polished off the Irish in his glass then stood from his chair on shaky legs. What was happening to him and why? He carried his glass to the kitchen where his mother was mixing what he knew would be soda bread for the coming week end. A ceili in honor of some bans of marriage or other. Foxx couldn't recall now. But his mother would bake the bread and special foods along with several of the neighbor women.
She looked up from her work and nodded. “Headed for the pub, are you?” Foxx smiled at her and slipped his arms around her waist. “I am. Enough of the evening's been wasted. I won't be out late. I just want to talk to Murphy for a bit.”
He kissed her cheek and smiled at her. “Don't be over-tiring yourself, Ma. You know how the doctor fusses when you do.” She smiled and nodded and returned to her bread making. “What does he know? Can't have a good ceili or a good wake without good food.”
That had Foxx chuckling to himself as he stepped out the door. He knew there was no sense in fretting over her. Maggie Calhoun would die with her hands in bread dough and a smile on her face. After her heart trouble last year, Foxx tried to get her to slow down. Her only response was God would come for her when he was ready for her, made no difference if she was sitting doing nothing or baking bread for the next wedding, ceili or wake. Foxx couldn't argue with any of that logic and just let her be. It was better that she was active. It helped keep her sharp.
Once Foxx was gone from the house, Maggie sighed. This was surely an unexpected turn of events. She'd have to see what she could do to discourage Foxx from pursuing this legend story. She would have to stop him and she wasn't sure how she would accomplish that task. She continued making her bread, letting her mind wander a bit.
Why in all hell had that Vicar started telling the story? There was a purpose there, she was certain of it. Then the strange woman showing up at her gate, saying her name was Marissa and offering no other, looking for Foxx. Maggie had known her straight away and was staggered by her sudden appearance. Of course, she would have to stop that before the boy found out the truth. Maggie's lips twitched into a sneer as she turned out the bread dough to knead. She would find a way to stop it. Had to find a way to stop it.
Foxx strolled along the hedgerow headed toward the village pub. It would do him good, he imagined, to be among the people he knew best. The drink, the music, the dancing...and perhaps pretty little Mary Elizabeth O'Dell would be waiting the tables, too. The hedgerow closed in around him, making him feel like he was walking in a tunnel of Irish green. The cares of the day slipped from his shoulders and his mood lightened.
The thought of the pretty maid gave Foxx's heart a bit of a bump and made him smile. And of course, the thoughts of Mary Elizabeth pushed all the other thoughts out of his head. By the time he'd reached the pub, he was grinning like a Cheshire Cat. He heard the music before he got close enough to open the door, heard Tom Murphy's voice, heard Mary Beth's laughing response to a question, heard the laughter of the other patrons as they drank their pints and glasses and sipped their whiskey.
He stepped inside and sidled up to the bar, parked on a stool and nodded at Murphy. “Build me a pint, then, Murphy. And I'll be havin' a bag of those new crisps while I’m waitin'.” Tom nodded at Foxx to indicate he'd heard him, finished the pint he'd been building and slid it down the bar to Charly Hennessy.
Tom Murphy slid the bag of crisps over the bar and wiped the spot in front of where Foxx was sitting. “Everything okay, then?” Foxx tipped his head at Murphy's question. “'Tis. Nothing new here? Father O'Malley hasn't been in or a strange woman?”
At Foxx's question, Tom stopped wiping the bar. “I haven't see Tim O'Malley yet this evenin' and there's been no strangers, woman nor man, tonight. Why do you ask, Foxx? Something wrong?”
Foxx nodded only slightly and eyed the others at the bar. They all seemed to be involved in their own trouble, so he leaned closer to Murphy's ear. “She was at the house when I got home today. The woman from the Dance. She was conversin' with me mother as free as you please. Ma invited her in for tea. Jesus, Murphy. What's a man to do about something like that?”
Murphy continued to wipe at the same spot in front of Foxx and gape at the man. “Your MOTHER saw her and talked to her? She was at your house?” Tom rubbed his free hand over his stunned expression and tried to school his face into something akin to neutral. “Mother of God, Foxx. Why is all this happening now? Why now?”
Foxx shook his head and shrugged. “I have no idea, Murphy. I think I'm headed into Dublin to the library there in the morning and see what's been written about the stones here. Whatever is happening, it has to do with them. I need to find out what I can.”
Tom jerked his head once in acknowledgement. “Good luck to you, then, Foxx. I hope something can be found to settle this nonsense once and for all.” Murphy wandered down the bar to take the order from new patrons and Foxx fixed his attention on Mary Elizabeth as she waited tables.
Foxx had always thought they would be a solid couple one day. They were just seeing one another now, but that could change at any time. She was making signs like she would like to make it a permanent relationship and Foxx was more than ready to do that, but not as soon as Mary Beth had planned. He thought it would make his mother happy if she knew he had someone to share his life with, though why it worried her was beyond his thinking.
Mary Beth had winked at Foxx several times as she passed him in her rush to get orders made to the kitchen for 'pub grub' and ale orders to the bar. As she paused to wait while Tom built two ales for her, she sidled to Foxx, offering him her sweet smile and a toss of red curls.
“It's a good evening to you Foxx. How's your sweet mother? I hear she's making food for the ceili on Saturday. It promises to be a beautiful day and I heard that Jared's family is all coming up from Derry for it. I hope I'll be seeing you there?” Foxx nodded and Mary Beth picked up her tray to deliver the ales to her customers.
Foxx would go to the ceili and enjoy himself. Especially if Mary Elizabeth was going to be there. His mind wandered as a man's would to her sweet curves and pretty Irish green eyes. He would have a taste of her lips and be content. If she would allow him more, there would be more. But with her strict upbringing, Foxx wasn't planning on much more than a kiss or two.
Mary Elizabeth O'Dell had a multitude of plans in her lovely head for Foxx Calhoun, and all of them led to the altar and Father Timothy O'Malley. She just had to convince Foxx that was what he wanted more than anything. She smiled at him several times tonight and talked to him about the ceili. Now that she knew he would be there, she knew exactly what she would do to give him a boot toward finalizing her plans.
She thought anyone with any lick of brains would know she and Foxx were destined to be together. She also knew that Foxx's mother would be a hurdle she'll have to jump in order to get him where she wanted him. She didn't know why she knew or how she knew, she just knew things would be difficult when it came down to his mother.
Foxx would like nothing better than a tumble with Mary Beth. But he knew she had white gowns and church bells in her head, and that wasn't what he was about. He would play along for a while and try to talk her out of her clothes, but if it didn't work, Foxx would eventually move along. Wedding bells were just the key that turned the lock, and he wasn't ready for locks.
The music was bright and the lights low as Foxx sipped his second ale of the evening. He wasn't paying much attention to his surroundings, seeing's he was watching Mary Beth at the moment. He was smiling, tapping his foot to the rhythm of the whistle and drum. Someone beside him picked up the spoons and the rhythm was getting wild even for the Irish.
Then in his head, he heard the voice. It brought everything in him to a stop and his breath caught in his chest, his heart pounded. It sounded like...Fox wasn't sure what it sounded like. But he would never forget it for as long as he lived.
“It is I who comes for you. I who will do for you. You will die here, Foxx Calhoun. And no one will be here to save you.”
It was coming from behind him and in front of him and from the side. Foxx spun, his mug raised and nearly clouted old Jimeson Gray in the head with it before he realized that Tom Murphy had hold of the mug, his eyes wide with fear, and was calling Foxx's name.
“Foxx. Foxx? Foxx! Give the mug to me, lad. Give it to me.” Foxx felt his fingers relax as he nodded and the panic gave way to fear. His blue eyes, as deep and sharp as blue skies, stared at Murphy. His mouth was open, but he couldn't form words as he watched Murphy nod and take the mug from his hand.
“It's okay, now, Foxx. There's a lad. Sit down, I'll have Nell bring you something to eat. You'll feel better for it.” Foxx nodded at Tom's words and shuddered once before he turned those eyes back to old Jimeson.
“I'm sorry. I don't know what I saw or who I saw, but it wasn't you, Jimeson. Christ Jesus, I didn't mean to scare you and you know I'd never hurt you.”
The old man nodded and swallowed. “I don' know who you thought I was, Foxx. You was talkin' in some language I di'n'a know. If 'twas Gaelic, it's none I've heard before. And you kept saying 'ainmhithe'. I know what that means, Foxx. I don't think you was being polite.”
Foxx simply stared at the old man and shook his head. “I'll apologize again, Jimeson, and say I can't tell you what came over me in the moment. I'll buy you a pint, then and we'll be over it.”
The old man nodded, accepting the apology and the pint. “'Twas more 'n a moment, Foxx. Liam and the boys, they played three jigs and a sweet song while you was threatenin' to bean me head.”
Foxx shook his head and his lips twitched. “Make it two pints, Tom. Jimeson here needs it. I think he's lost his marbles tonight. Saying I was speakin' Gaelic, calling him ‘animal’. What was that all about?”
Tom peered at Foxx over the rim of the coffee mug he had nearly to his mouth. “You were saying something, Foxx. None of us knew what you were saying. You just kept saying to Jimeson 'ainmhithe' and threatening him with your mug. I don't know what was happening in your head, Foxx, but it was scary, to be sure.”
Foxx stared at Tom, then shook his head. “I hardly know Gaelic. I don't know how I would be talking in any other. And I don't know why I would be callin’ Jimeson an animal.  I've never done so before. We’re friends, why would I call him names?” His mind worked overtime as he tried to think why he would keep saying it over and over to poor old Jimeson.
“I think I'd best be headed home, Murphy. I have too much on my mind for ales and music tonight. I want to get an early start in the morning with the Library in Dublin and see what I can learn about the Dance and the woman.”
Foxx tossed a few bills on the bar and nodded to Jimeson. “That should cover him for a few more rounds. I'll stop by tomorrow when I get back.” Tom nodded and swiped the bills off the bar and wiped up the wet where Foxx's mug had been sitting.
“You take care, Foxx. Strange things happening all around us now. Just remember, I got your back if you need it.” Foxx nodded, frowned at the odd statement from Tom and stepped out the door into the cool early spring evening. He would head home and try to get some rest before he started out in the morning. It wasn't a long drive to Dublin and he was sure his Lorrie could handle it. He'd stop for petrol on his way out of town and just___
He looked up at the sound that seemed to be directly in front of him and staggered back a couple of steps. The man had a sword aimed at Foxx's chest and a leering grin on his face. Foxx backed against the wall of the building behind him and swallowed hard.
“What do you want with me? Who are you?” The man kept advancing until the point of his sword was just touching Foxx.
“It's I who will do for you, Foxx Calhoun. I who will end you.” The man stepped forward quickly and the sword pierced Foxx's chest. He felt the pain, saw the blood and grasping the metal in his hands, he dropped to his knees. He looked up at the man as he stood over him and couldn't believe what he saw vaguely in the man's face. He blinked and the world faded.
When Foxx woke, he found himself staring up at old Jimeson and Mary Beth. His fist was resting on his chest and grasped nothing. There was no blood on his shirt nor evidence of a sword wound. But his chest felt as if someone had hit him hard with a rock. He blinked and struggled to stand, watching Mary Beth and Jimeson as they watched him. Not one of them spoke until Foxx was totally on his feet and leaning against the wall of the building, dragging great gulps of air into his lungs.
“Are ye' fine, there Foxx?” Jimeson canted his head and frowned. “Ye' don' look so good, boyo. Maybe we should get you to home, son so's you can rest? Mary Beth here found you just layin' here and mumbling to y'self. She came right back to the Inn and got me and we came to see if you was dead or just drunk. Seems ye's neither one. You was moanin' and clutchin' at your chest there like y' was holdin' onto somethin'.”
Foxx was too stunned to speak. He had been run through with a sword. He knew that, felt it, saw the blood. Yet here he stood, breathing in air like a tire pump and staring at the woman he wanted and the old man he damn near killed with an empty mug at Murphy's. How could he explain what he'd just seen and felt? How could he even begin to explain it when he couldn't get his own head around it? He groped for the right words and found himself totally without them.
Mary Beth pushed old Jimeson aside gently and took Foxx's hand in hers. “I'll see he gets home, Jimeson. Thank you for helping me with him. I'm sure Foxx will be ready to talk tomorrow. You go on home, now, Jimeson. I think I can handle it from here.”
She smiled at Foxx and pulled him gently away from the wall. “You feel okay to walk or should I see about finding a ride?” Foxx shook his head. “I'm fine to walk. Truly, Mary Beth, you don't have to walk with me. I'm out of your way and you shouldn't be wandering about alone at night. I should be walking you home.”
Mary Beth smiled and nodded. “Then I'll just stay at your house until morning.” She chuckled at his shocked expression. “I wish I had a camera, Foxx. Your mother has an empty room, doesn't she? I can just stay there until daylight, then make my own way home. But I'll see you to your door tonight, Foxx Calhoun. And you'll be safer for it.”
Foxx let her lead him away from the village and toward home. He finally stopped walking and shook his head. Resetting his newsboy cap and adjusting his long scarf, he smiled at her. “You're an amazing woman, Mary Elizabeth O'Dell. An amazing woman. If you weren't so dead set on marrying, I'd talk you right out of your clothes tonight in my own room.”
She smiled back and wrapped her arms around him for a short spell, then took a step back. “It's cold, Foxx and you've had a shock of some sort. We should keep walking. Do you want to tell me what happened to you? Or is that something that you'd rather not talk about?”
Foxx turned his gaze to Mary Beth and sighed. “I really don't know how to explain what happened to me. I lost total blocks of time tonight and I have no reasonable explanation as to why. Not to mention trying to beat Jimeson to death with my mug. Today was just a very strange day.”
Mary Beth nodded and slipped her arm through his as they continued to

“Suuuuuzzz!! You can’t get a tattoo! What will your father say?” Angie always stretched her name out when she was upset, and it made Suzy cringe. She was almost eighteen, so why would her father say anything at all?
The two girls stood with their noses pressed against the darkened window of the tattoo parlor, trying to see what they could see. Suzy gave her friend one of her signature looks and shrugged. “I’m nearly eighteen, Angie. I can wait until I am to get a tattoo, and he won’t be able to say anything at all. Let’s go in and look at tattoos so I can decide what I want for mine.”
Angie shuddered at the thought of being seen entering the little dark-windowed shop. “Suuuuuzzz!! I don’t want to go in. What if someone sees us?”
Suzy sighed and tugged her friend through the door. “I really wish you’d stop whining, Angie. You’re the same age I am and you’ll be an adult before me, so just come on!! We’re only looking at pictures. Geez.”
The bell jangled as the door closed behind them, sending the room into semi-darkness. The black lights made the tattoo pictures pop from the books on stands along the walls. Suzy immediately became engrossed in the book that held small flowers and other symbols. She slowly turned the pages and stared at the beautiful artwork displayed there. When Angie tapped her shoulder, she glanced at her, her brow furrowed in annoyance. Angie gave her a bland look and nodded to her left. Suzy looked up and was startled to see a man watching her. He canted his head and took the few steps that brought him from behind the counter to stand next to her.
“Can I help you find a tattoo?” His voice was so soft and sensual; it gave Suzy a slight quiver deep in her belly to hear him speak.
“I-I want a tattoo,” she found herself saying as she stared up at him. “Here. Right here,” she touched the soft mound of her breast and was flattered at his smile. Angie sucked in a breath at her friends sudden boldness.
The man nodded and took the book from the stand and tipped his head toward the counter. “Come over here. You can’t appreciate some of the tattoos in this light. I have one that I think you’ll like.”
The girls followed the man to the counter and watched as he turned the pages. The pictures were of faeries, small angels, flowers and symbols that made no sense to Suzy. Then he turned the page and stopped, his finger pointing to the beautiful black rose with droplets of bright red blood. Suzy stared at the picture and before she could stop herself, she nodded.
“That’s it. That’s the one I want.”
Angie crowded closer to look at the tattoo pattern, but Suzy ignored the friend she had known since babyhood. The man was holding her attention once again as he reached and stroked the soft mound of breast.
“I have another thought for the placement of this tattoo, if you’re interested.”
His smile was warm and welcoming and Suzy was enthralled with his attention. Angie wasn’t impressed. She wanted out of this place and she wanted Suzy with her when she left. “Suzy. I want to leave. Let’s go to the movies like we planned. Please?”
Suzy shook her head. “I want a tattoo. This tattoo. And this wonderful man is going to put it where he thinks it will look smashing. You can go if you want, Angie. I’ll catch up with you later.”
“Yes, Angie. Go on. Suzy will catch up with you when I’m done with her...tattoo. Run along now.”
Angie didn’t want to leave Suzy here with this man. She wavered, then nodded. “I want to know your name. Who are you?”
“Why?”
“Because if something happens to Suzy, I can tell her father where to start looking for her.” She glared at the man behind the counter, then at her lifelong friend. “I think we should go, Suzy. I’ll come back with you on your eighteenth birthday and hold your hand so you can get your tattoo. But I think until then, we should just stay away from here.”
“My name is Michael. Just Michael. And when your friend is ready for her tattoo, I think we can manage to deal with it without you.” He turned his attention to Suzy and smiled. “Are you ready for your tattoo, Suzy?” Deep Irish blue eyes stared into her green ones.
Before Suzy could answer him, Angie yanked on her arm and jerked her toward the door. “I’m calling your father, Suzy. The Chief of Police needs to be kept informed about riffraff in the town. And you have no idea what he may have in mind. You didn’t notice he didn’t give you his full name. I think there’s something weird going on here. Come on, Suzy. Let’s just get away from here, please.”
Suzy was angry with her friend, and she snarled at her. But Angie was determined. “I mean it, Suzy. Either we leave now or I call your father. I don’t want to be anywhere near this place in the dark. Let’s just go grab a pizza and go home. We can pick up a movie on the way and we’ll just spend the night in pizza and movie heaven.”
To keep the peace, Suzy went grudgingly with Angie, but not before a backward glance over her shoulder to Michael and a mouthed ‘I’ll be back without her’ as they slipped out the door. Suzy glared at her friend.
Michael smiled and nodded as he watched Suzy leave his shop. “Perfect.” He muttered to himself as he turned to go back into his rooms. “She’s perfect and will do quite nicely.” He fought his hunger back once again, as he had done on previous nights. But Suzy McAdams was perfect. He could wait a bit longer before he took her, tasted her blood. He could wait until the full moon.
Chapter 2

Suzy was furious with her friend. “What is wrong with you, Angie? Didn’t you see he was coming on to me? He was interested in me, and you just blew it out of the water. Thank you so much, you prude.”
Angie nodded and smirked. “Prude I might be, but I’ll be very much alive. I wasn’t sure I’d ever see you again, Suzy. I didn’t want to lose you to some tattoo artist. He looked dark and dangerous and, and hungry.”
Suzy stared at Angie. “Whatever THAT means. Geez, Angie. Artists are supposed to be dark and mysterious. And what did you think he was going to do to me? For crying out loud! Let’s just get the pizza and movies and go back home. I didn’t know I had such a ‘goody-two-shoes’ for a friend.”
The girls spent the night in teen bliss, staring at the hunky werewolf on the TV and swooning when it appeared the young star was looking directly at them. They laughed, ate and talked about boys, but Suzy had other things on her mind that she didn’t mention to Angie. She was making plans for the next day.
The next morning, the girls had breakfast with Suzy’s father before he went to work. Suzy’s mother had died when Suzy was only four, so there had always only been Suzy and her father for as far back as she could remember. He’d raised Suzy to be conscientious, caring and brave enough to try most anything.
Breakfast conversation circled around school and her dad’s work. Mark McAdams was the Chief of Police in the small town where they lived. He’d been a police officer nearly all his life, so Suzy was used to his crazy schedule. He’d worked late last night and was headed back to work today. Seems a couple of hikers had gotten themselves lost in the National Forest, so he was going back to help coordinate the search for that day.
Angie had to be home to go to church with her folks, so Mark agreed to drop her off on his way to work. Suzy had been careful not to mention Michael, so Angie wouldn’t think to talk to her dad about him. Suzy hugged her best friend ‘goodbye’ and promised to come around after church to hang out for a while, which was the normal thing to do when Mark had to work so much.
Suzy hurried through her morning chores, then planned her wardrobe for her excursion to the village tattoo shop and Michael. The afternoon found Suzy back in front of the little shop, peering in the front window. But she wasn’t looking for pictures of tattoos. She was looking for Michael. Hoping he would appear like he had yesterday. Her hands were cupped around her eyes as she tried to block the sun from reflecting in the glass. She’d taken care with her clothes this morning. Showered with her best body wash, shampooed her hair, which was a rich and heavy mahogany color with deep golden highlights, using the same scent as her wash, fussed with her makeup, being careful to wear just enough to make her look interesting and grown-up. Her stomach fluttered as she peered carefully into the glass. He had to be here. Even though it was Sunday, he had to be here. She only wanted to see him, see if her reaction had only been because he startled her yesterday, the way he looked at her like he’d known her since forever.
“Finding anything interesting?” The voice jolted her and she spun to face him. “Michael! You startled me. I - I was looking for you. I thought perhaps you could tell me about that tattoo and where you thought it would look its best on me.”
Michael smiled and unlocked the shop door, pushing it open, then stepping aside to allow her to enter before him. When she passed him, her scent filled him and it took all of his control not to grab her and drag her into his rooms. He wanted her, needed her blood. Her blood. The others had been only to satisfy a hunger. But she would satisfy so much more. He would have to take his time with her. Ease her into a level of trust he knew she didn’t have yet. He found himself grateful she’d rid herself of that whiny little girl she’d dragged in here yesterday. That one was going to become a problem, he could already see it.
“So, you’ve decided then? About your tattoo? Come here with me, Suzy is it? I’ll show you my workroom and we can talk about placement.”
Suzy followed him like a happy puppy into the small ‘work room’ just off the main floor of the shop. “It’s Suzanne, actually. Suzy is just a childhood nickname. I prefer Suzanne.”
Michael smiled to himself. ‘Like fish in a barrel,’ he thought as he sat her down facing him. “I wanted to explain the tattoo to you. It’s a symbol of who and what I am. A symbol of eternity, of love and life.” He reached and touched the back of her hand with a gentle finger. “I would like to place the tattoo where only you or your lover will see it. Someplace...intimate, if you understand me.”
Suzy’s mind went to mush at his touch, at the way his eyes captivated her, and she simply nodded. Michael smiled and lifted her limp hand to his lips. He intended only a smell of her, but she was so pliant and giving, he couldn’t stop himself before he turned her hand palm up and sank fangs into her wrist. She watched him with eyes wide, and only murmured a small sigh as he drank from her. He would stop. He had to stop. He couldn’t take more yet. He forced himself to stop, lick her wounds closed and pull himself away from her. She simply blinked and smiled at him.
“I think I get your meaning, Michael. Thank you. The spot you suggested will be perfect and no one will see it but me...and my lover. I have to go now. I promised someone...oh, Angie. I promised Angie I would come by this afternoon.”
Suzy stood and blinked again. Michael stood with her and walked her to the door. He took her hand in his and kissed her knuckles, pleased with himself when he turned her palm up to kiss again to see the punctures had healed quickly and left only two very small red dots, like bug bites to be seen by anyone else. Michael hoped the euphoria Suzy felt at present would dissipate some before she reached Angie’s house, and hoped fervently it would bring her back to him tonight. Michael thought he should have planted a suggestion as to where she’d been. Too late now to think of those things. He knew she would return and he prayed he had the willpower to hold off claiming her until the full moon. She would be eighteen by then and free to do as she pleased.
Chapter 3

Suzy walked to Angie’s house in a cloud of euphoric bliss. She’d seen Michael, spoken with him, sat in his little workroom in his shop and held a conversation with him and she was still alive. Angie didn’t know what she was talking about. There was nothing wrong with Michael. Nothing at all. She smiled dreamily to herself and turned up the walk toward Angie’s front door. It was then she noticed that as she had gotten further away from Michael, the less euphoric she had felt. She paused and almost turned to go back to see if the feeling got stronger as she got closer, but before she could do so, Angie had come out the door and was waiting for her.
“Well, for heaven’s sake, come on. Where have you been? I tried calling your house to tell you we were home, but you didn’t answer. What’s wrong with you? Are you feeling alright?”
Suzy nodded, her brow creased in a frown of curiosity. “Yea, yea, I’m fine. I was just lost in thought, I guess. Maybe you called and I was already on my way here? It’s such a beautiful day; I thought I’d walk over. Meander over is more like it, I guess. But I’m here now, so what should we do? Want to walk? Or stay in and watch movies?”
Angie smiled at her friend and opened the door. “Let’s just stay in. My mom’s making spaghetti and meatballs and Aunt Jeanna and her girlfriend are coming over. You know how much you like Aunt Jeanna. She has a new girlfriend and she wants us to meet her.”
Angie’s Aunt Jeanna had gone through a difficult break up with her former girlfriend only a year ago. So the idea she had another was exciting and intriguing. And even though Suzy was happy for Angie and her family, she felt empty and odd. She wanted to be with Michael. She couldn’t think of anything she would like better than to please him. But she felt she owed Angie the afternoon at least and maybe she could go to see Michael later on tonight or tomorrow.
The family dinner conversation circled around the two missing hikers and the dangers of hiking in the National Forest without a GPS or at least a compass. Angie’s father said that they were city kids from upstate who had never backpacked anywhere more wild than Central Park. Aunt Jeanna said at least they weren’t local kids and she hoped they would find them soon. Her new girlfriend, Whitney, was a veterinarian and had her own practice. Suzy was impressed and asked all kinds of interesting questions and got many interesting answers. They were partly finished dessert when the phone rang and Angie’s father answered it. The two girls could tell it was something serious by the way his voice dropped and he closed the door to his study. They passed worried glanced to one another and the house got suddenly quiet, with everyone speaking in whispered tones.
When John came out of the study, he was pale and shaken. “That was your dad Suzy. He asked that you stay here until he can come and get you. He doesn’t want either of you walking anywhere or staying anywhere alone. They found the two hikers. Seems they’ve been murdered.”
There was a heartbeat of silence, then everyone was talking at once. John finally put his hand up and called for quiet. “No one has any details as yet. But Mark doesn’t want Suzy to walk home alone or be home alone. He’ll stop here when he gets done with things. If it’s too late, he’s going to stay at the station. Suzy will stay here with us and he’ll come get her in the morning. He’s asked the school board to close school tomorrow so no one has to be on the street for any reason alone. I have to agree with him. We’ve never had a murder here for as long as I can recall. Now we have two of them and to say it unsettles me wouldn’t be stretching things far at all. Jeanna, you and Whitney can stay as well, if you’re spooked about driving home.”
The two women shared a look and agreed to stay, but they would have to leave first thing in the morning because of Whitney’s veterinary practice. Since there was no time of death on the two hikers, no one could say if daylight would be any safer than the dark, but dark seemed worse for waking fears.
Angie and Suzy exchanged looks and stood to help Angie’s mom with clearing the table. “Suzy?” Angie’s voice was a whisper. “Will you let me know what’s going on as soon as you know?”
Suzy nodded. “As soon as my dad tells me anything, I’ll call you right away. This is just too weird, isn’t it? I wonder what happened to them. Those poor people.”
Angie agreed with a bob of her head and began to place the dishes into the dishwasher. Aunt Jeanna and Whitney stopped in to say good night so they could leave early in the morning to get back so Whitney could open her practice in the next city over. Suzy and Angie finished their chores and went out to sit on the front porch swing and enjoyed the evening and the warm weather, talking and giggling about boys and their week end dates. Though Suzy wasn’t planning on a weekend date with anyone but Michael. She couldn’t tell Angie that, so she pretended to think about her friend Josh.
Chapter 4

Michael paced the floor of his rooms in the back of the little tattoo shop. Narrow streams of sunlight made their way passed the heavy drapes that covered his windows. He’d closed them since he was in no mood for the sun. Avoiding those narrow beams like the plague, he didn’t try to stop them. He usually enjoyed watching the dust motes that floated there, but not today. Today, he was furious with himself for allowing the pleasure of a taste of Suzy...Suzanne. Now she was inside him and he couldn’t shut her out.  The two in the forest were just to satisfy the need to feed and the enjoyment of watching the fear register in their eyes when they understood what he was and what he intended. He had taken them fast, his hunger unbearable. There was little pleasure in the kill, but it kept him from going out to find her. Where had she gone from here? He followed her to Angie’s through the small link that had formed when he bit her. But the longer she stayed away, the more the link faded and now he had no idea where she was.  He’d watched the police cars leave town and knew they had found the bodies. The vampire had tried to make it look like an animal attack, and hoped his ruse had been successful. But he knew from experience that wouldn’t stand for very long. Michael had wanted them to keep looking, at least until the full moon.
Where was she? He’d anticipated her returning to him before dark, had planned on seducing her. It was now nearly total dark and there was nothing from her. He had to think she wasn’t able to shed her ‘friend’ or maybe Angie had talked to Suzy’s father. That wouldn’t do at all. He stood by the window in his private bedroom and watched the moon rise. His worry ate at him. What the hell was wrong with him? She was only a human; with the sweetest blood and the most angelic face. He sucked in a sharp breath and shook his head.  Stop it you fool. Put her out of your mind. She’s nothing but human, a feeder; and beneath you.
Michael chuckled at his own nonsense, but kept watching the moon. Where was she? Why wasn’t she here? The bell at the shop door rang and he leaped to go to the front. It had to be her. She was just late, that’s all. There was no compulsion that she come to him, but he thought she wouldn’t be able to resist the pull the bite should have produced. Stuttering to a stop as he stepped into the shop, he stared at the man who stood in the middle of the floor, his mouth agape. “Good evening, Chief. How can I help you?”
Mark startled at the sound of a human voice and glanced toward the door in the back. Michael stood watching him from the open doorway, a smile toying at the edges of his mouth. “My name’s Mark McAdams. I’m sorry to bother you so late, but I was wondering if you had seen either of these two young men? If maybe they stopped in to look at your designs or to get a tattoo?”
Chief McAdams laid two photos on the counter for Michael to look at. While Michael looked, the police chief stared at all the tattoos on the walls. Michael took a cursory look at the photos then shook his head. “I’m sorry, no. Have they done something wrong?”
Mark frowned. “They’re dead. Something or someone killed them in the forest not far from here. I understand the draw of young men to body art. I got my first tattoo when I was barely eighteen. So I’d hoped that they had stopped in here while on their journey. Maybe looked at pictures, made an appointment for their return?”
Michael shook his head, looking concerned and sympathetic. “I’m sorry, chief, but they didn’t stop here. I wish they had. How were they killed? That’s too bad for their families.”
Mark nodded. “It looked like an animal attack, but we won’t know more until the M.E. gets done with his business. That may take a couple of days, depending. Well. Thanks for your help, Mr... ?”
“Michael. Just Michael. I’ve not been a ‘Mr.’ for a very long time. I wish I could have been more help, chief. I hear a lot of interesting things when I’m working on my art. If anything strikes a chord, I’ll let you know. Stop in sometime. I’ll re-ink your tat for you.”
Mark chuckled and nodded. “I might do just that one of these days. Thanks, Michael. I’ll be in again.”
Michael would have sighed if he’d had breath to do so. So that was Suzy’s father? Interesting. He drummed his fingers on the countertop for a moment, while he thought.  Then his ever-working brain drifted to Suzy and his worry was back. Maybe he should go check on her? He could just go there and make sure she was all right. No one would see him, he was certain. But he had hoped to hear from her and since she hadn’t shown up at the shop, he could only imagine she was busy somewhere. Probably home. He would check there first.
Though he didn’t need it, he grabbed a light jacket. It helped to make him look ‘normal’, as he walked the streets. He stepped out and locked the shop door, then made his way along the street, headed for the McAdams’ house. He slowed his pace as he neared the tidy little house with the picket fence and the bright red door. That always tickled him in his wanderings. He had known the sheriff lived there, but had known nothing about his lovely daughter until yesterday. Twenty-four hours ago, he’d met and tasted the one woman who drew him like no other had before. He didn’t understand it, didn’t care to try. All he knew was she was the one and he would have her. He just didn’t want to be sloppy about it.
Chapter 5

Michael paused on the walk across from the house and studied the windows. He had no idea which room was Suzy’s, so he watched them all. The upstairs rooms stayed dark, and the single light that was on downstairs never went out. She obviously wasn’t home. She had mentioned Angie, so she may be there. It was smart of her to remain indoors, off the streets. He knew a closed door wouldn’t stop him if he really wanted to get to her. But he would wait for now. At least he knew she was safe, wherever she was.
Now that he could relax about where Suzy was or wasn’t, Michael became more aware of his own needs and the demands being a vampire put on him. He started back to his shop to deal with those needs and necessities. He smelled her before he saw her. Female! Her blood scent tickled his nose and he stepped into shadow with the intent of letting her get beyond him, since it seemed she was heading straight for him.
As the woman got closer to him, instinct took over and his hunger roared through his system. He knew he shouldn’t kill here. He needed to woo her away from the village and into the forest, but there was no time. His hunger and what he was wouldn’t allow time. He stepped back into the street and started to walk toward her. She rounded the corner and he nodded as she trotted passed him. Running. What was it about humans and running? Tonight, this one would wonder why she bothered at all. He spun quickly and before she had gotten more than five paces beyond him he had her, grabbing her arm and jerking her off her feet. She opened her mouth to scream, but the only sound she made was a small whimper. His hand closed over her throat quickly as he lifted her into his arms.
The woman, small and slight in build, could only stare into red eyes that were dull from hunger and need. She wasn’t Suzy, but she would do for now. He carried her easily, his hand still at her throat.
“I won’t hurt you. I promise you, there will be very little pain.” Michael’s voice was rough with the ache inside him to feed. She whimpered and he looked down at her. “Do you have children waiting for you?” She shook her head ‘no’ and he smiled. “Excellent.” He had vowed long ago that he wouldn’t take a woman from her children.
He carried her the few blocks to his shop, then slipped into the back door. She might be fun to play with for a while. He opened his back door and slipped inside, carrying the woman into his rooms. By the time he had her secured to his bed, she was trembling. He sat down next to her and brushed his fingertips along her jaw. “Don’t be afraid, little one. I only need a taste of you.”
Michael smiled down at her, used his fingertips to turn her head away from him to expose her lovely long white neck. He leaned and sniffed. The scent of her was intoxicating. He closed his eyes and bared fangs as he let his own euphoria envelope him, then sank fangs into her neck and drank deeply. She only struggled for a short while before the bliss and sensuality of a vampire’s bite took her under and she died there on his bed, in total surrender. He finished her, then sat up. His hunger was sated for now, but she hadn’t struggled enough. The rush of the kill wasn’t there. And now he was left with a body to move. He glanced at the window to judge the time. Too close to dawn. There was no way to get her out of the village and into the forest. And he would have to take her deeper this time. They can’t find her as fast as they found the other two. Making the decision to keep her until night and move her then, Michael went to the basement for the plastic and tarp. They would hunt for her, but there was nothing to lead anyone to his doorstep and he hoped to be gone long before the woman was found, taking the sheriff’s lovely daughter with him when he left.
He easily hid the body of the woman, then set out to go about his day. He began by pulling the heavy drapes over his easterly window. The heat would decay the body too rapidly, and he didn’t want that. He’d read about those dogs that found bodies, and he had no desire to meet one face to face for several reasons. He’d managed to get through most of the night without Suzy crossing his mind, but now the image of her crashed into his head unbidden. Damn it! This had to stop.
While he changed his clothes, he snarled at no one and headed for the front of the shop. He would have to see what he could do to get his woman into his clutches soon. If she stopped in, perhaps another more serious taste of her. Maybe it was time to take this to another level. He didn’t want to kill her, didn’t want to feed on her. He wanted to change her, take her as his. He would have to plan today and make every attempt to get Suzy into his shop again. He glanced at the calendar to see when the moon was full. He had only a few days to get things finished and in order before he had to make his move.
His priority for the evening was to remove the body from his rooms. In the meantime, he had to open his shop and wait on the customers. Perhaps he could find something sweet and tender before his evening activity. Something to give him a bit of a rush and a little more strength. He’d made no plans of further kills, but one never knew who would enter his shop or when. His smile was vicious as he made his plans and answered the questions of those who found their way into his little place of business. He saw the police car when it pulled up to the curb so he met the man at the door.
“Chief. You’re making a habit of gracing my place of business. Welcome.” He stepped aside for the man to enter. Chief McAdams’ nodded as he did so; glancing around to be certain they were alone.
“The M.E. preliminary report is back. I know a lot of your business here in town is at night, so I thought I’d warn you. It was some kind of animal. More work has to be done, but from what we know right now, the young men were killed by some kind of animal. Maybe you should keep to indoor activities for a little while until this can be cleared up. We’re setting traps now and hope to trap the thing and get it relocated if it’s not sick. If it is, then we’ll put it down. But maybe you could try to encourage your customers to come during the day. I’m imposing an ‘off the street’ curfew of seven pm.”
Michael nodded gravely. “That is very wise of you, Chief. One never knows what’s wandering the forests. Sick, injured, crazed. Animals do strange things when backed into a corner, threatened or hungry. I will curb my business to fit your curfew. Thank you for telling me.”
Mark nodded. “Thanks. That will help keep the kids off the street. I know they like to at least gawk in your windows. I appreciate your keeping your tattoo art to those of legal age. Keeps the parents calm.”
Michael simply smiled and nodded. Just as Mark turned to leave, the door opened and Suzy stepped in. Michael’s mouth watered at the sight of her and her eyes ogled at her father. “Dad! I saw your car out front. Is everything okay? Are you on your way home? I could use a lift if you are. I walked to Angie’s and now I’m a little afraid to walk back home alone.” She was babbling and she knew it. She had stopped to talk to Michael and now that was impossible.
She couldn’t stop staring at Michael and it was with great difficulty that the man turned his attention back to the police chief. “Your daughter? What a lovely girl, Sheriff.” He turned back to Suzy with a smile that nearly had her swooning. “Welcome to my shop. Perhaps when you’re older, you will come in for a look around. But right now, you’re underage.”
Suzy smiled, but her eyes narrowed just a bit. “I’ll be eighteen in a few weeks.” She took offense to him referring to her as ‘young’. “Dad? Can you take me home?”
Mark snapped out of his shock at seeing his daughter in the tattoo shop and nodded. “Sure can, Suzy. Come on, let’s go.” He blinked at Michael as if seeing him for the first time. “Thanks for your cooperation, Michael. I’ll be stopping by later to get that tat re-inked.”
Michael nodded. “Anytime. You won’t even need an appointment.” He winked at Suzy and turned away before he attacked them both. The girl had no idea what her very presence did to him. As soon as he was alone, he snarled and stuffed his shaking hands into the pockets of his jeans. He was running out of time; he had to act soon if he was going to take the girl. He closed the shop earlier than normal and went back into his rooms to prepare the woman’s body. As soon as he felt at ease, he would remove her body and take her into the deep woods and leave her to the animals there. It would take them awhile to find her and he would be long gone by then. Along with the sheriff’s lovely daughter.
Michael paced away the minutes and hours until the village slept, then moved the body of the woman he’d killed. He had wrapped her in plastic earlier and now he placed her in the back of his truck, covered her with a tarp and began his journey. He drove always within the speed limit and never tried to hurry past police cars he spotted or make any odd maneuvers. When he reached the road he would use to enter the national forest, he paused as he waited, watched and listened. There was nothing to tell him of any danger, so he went on with his grim chore. After driving for nearly two hours, he stopped and nodded. Far enough. He unloaded his grizzly package and took her farther into the forest on foot, making certain to leave no trail anyone could find right away. He moved with vampiric speed and by the time he felt safe enough to drop his load, he had gone several hundred miles into the deep woods.
At hearing the roar of a mountain lion, Michael nodded. “Here’s your dinner, then. She’s a tasty morsel, if I do have to say.”  He unwrapped her body, stripped her naked, then let her roll a bit down a small embankment.
He placed her clothing, the plastic and the tarp into a black bag and quickly returned to his truck. He would dispose of that bundle as soon as he could. He found an abandoned campsite and used the fire pit to burn the items he’d used to move the woman’s body and her clothing. He watched and waited until everything was ash, adding wood when it was needed. Satisfied that every bit of fabric and plastic was gone, he covered the remaining coals with sand, then climbed back into his truck and headed for home. He slipped inside quietly as the sun was turning the dark night into the soft purple of dawn. Michael stripped, showered and then went to bed. He could rest for a few hours. Being a vampire, he never truly slept. Not like the humans. When he woke it would be soon enough to begin his plan to ensnare Suzy, make her his and leave the village to the humans. He cared little for the shop and its supplies. He could always get more. Besides, the tattoo he longed to place on Suzy’s lush body was only for his enjoyment and hers.

Chapter 6

Michael spent the day in frustration. He wanted Suzy, but he didn’t want to take her roughly, without heat. He wanted her to come to him. He was testy with his customers, short with himself. He paced and thought and snarled at every shadow that crossed his door. Growled at every human because they weren’t Suzy. What the hell was wrong with him?
At noon, he put up a sign that said he was out to lunch, and hunkered himself down in his rooms. Need clawed at his belly like a hunger and desire swept through him as a wave that crested then crashed over him. His tongue brushed against his sharp incisors as he struggled to hold on to the humanity that was Michael Zarkov. That was what let him stay among the humans. His ability to blend in, to mix with them well.
It was a gift left to him by the one who had mentored him at his change. She had only stayed with him for a short while, before she told him he had to make his own mark, learn to live in a world that shunned his kind and killed them with regularity. He felt he had progressed well enough, but lately the thought of spending eternity alone didn’t hold any appeal with him.
He’d had human lovers. But once they began to age and he hadn’t, they became burdensome with their begging to remain with him and stay forever young. He didn’t want that kind of female. He wanted one who loved him first and the vampire second. One who wanted to stay with him because he was Michael Zarkov, not because he was ‘Michael’ and immortal. He hadn’t known that was what he was waiting for until he met Suzy. His first look at her had him salivating. Then she was inside him and he couldn’t stop the want or desire. He was so lost in his reverie, he snarled at the voice that called his name.
“Michael? Are you here? Hello?”
Sweet Jesus, she was here. In his shop. He struggled to pull himself back to the present and give her an answer. Just as he rose from his chair, she spoke again, this time from his doorway. “Michael?” She stopped when he snarled at her and stared at him. “I...I’m sorry. I thought maybe you were sick. Your ‘out to lunch’ sign is still up and the door was unlocked. It’s after six, so I was worried you were ill. Are you alright? You don’t look well.”
She started toward him and he stepped back. “Stop. Let me get myself oriented and I’ll be right out.” He didn’t know what he would do with her standing in his doorway, looking for all the world like ‘prey’.  She took another step forward and he took another back. His legs hit the edge of his bed and he caught himself before he fell.
She stopped and looked around the simple living room. There was nothing striking about the furniture, nothing untoward or ‘bohemian’. She frowned at Michael and nervously fidgeted with her fingers that she had clasped in front of her. “A woman’s gone missing, Michael. Her parents said she’d gone out for a jog two nights ago and hasn’t returned.”
He watched her as she examined the room they were in. It occurred to him she was afraid, but not of him. Not of being alone with him. This puzzled him a bit. “I’m sorry, Suzanne. I know that makes more work for your father and leaves you alone more often than not. But you’re safe. Nothing will happen to you, I swear.”
“And you know this how? How can you say that with such confidence? Will you keep me safe? Do you know something, Michael?”
He shook his head and smiled at her. “I’ll keep you safe, Suzanne. With my very life, I will keep you safe.” Because I have to keep you safe to keep my own sanity. Because I need you like the stars need the sky. Because you are my hope, my home, my light. But he couldn’t say that to her. Not now.
He shouldn’t have taken the woman. Not so close to the others. What had he been thinking? He had used her to sate a hunger that only one woman would satisfy in him. His blue eyes rimmed red and his fangs pushed against his tongue. He turned away from her quickly and hoped she hadn’t noticed.
“Michael? Are you sick? Do you need something to eat? I can get you something if you want. I’ll just go lock up and turn off the lights out there and we can enjoy a meal together. Unless you don’t want to spend time with me?”
He answered her without turning. “I’m not sick. You just surprised me. If your father knew you were here, I could be in a lot of trouble.”
“I just thought - I mean, I’d hoped that you would want to be with me. My dad isn’t home and probably won’t be home for a while. It’s my birthday tomorrow. He always takes the day off and we celebrate with Angie and her parents. So I thought....Michael? Please look at me.” Something was very wrong, she could sense it, but didn’t know what it was. Since he didn’t respond, she shrugged to herself. “I probably should go.”
She was leaving? Leaving?!  No! No, no, no...she couldn’t leave. “Please, don’t leave. I want you to stay with me.” His back was still to her and she frowned at him. He turned then and let her see the red that rimmed those Irish blue eyes, let her see the fangs that brushed his lower lip. “Stay with me, Suzanne. Be my forever.”
Suzy ‘eeped’ and tried to turn and run. What was wrong with him? He’d never looked like that before. Michael lunged and pulled her to him, feeling her heart rabbiting around in her chest, her pulse hammering in her neck. Wrapping his arms around her, Michael brushed his lips against her neck. “I want you. Since the first day I saw you, I’ve wanted you. I want you to be forever with me. I can make you like me, Suzy and we can stay together for eternity.”
Suzy kicked and squirmed, panting in her sudden fear of him. Her fight only drove Michael into further frenzy. “Please, Michael. Please, don’t kill me. I...I’ll stay with you for as long as you want, but please don’t kill me.”
He felt her shiver and laughed at her fear. “You still don’t understand, do you my little mouse? I killed those boys in the forest because I had to feed. I killed the woman as well, but they’ll search a long time before they find that one. I wasn’t quite so careless with her.”
Suzy could feel the strength in him and knew she would die before morning. Nothing he was saying was getting through the terror as she gulped air and tears slipped from frantic, fear-filled eyes. Michael was behind her and he held her with one hand as the other pulled her hair away from that sweet spot on her neck.  “I won’t let you die, Suzy. I will teach you how to live.”
Michael hadn’t wanted to end this in this manner. He’d envisioned candles and soft music. A sincere discussion of what he could offer her and pictured her in his mind as accepting and loving. But the situation called for action. He nudged her head slightly, turning her face away from him. He’d wanted to watch the euphoria as it slid over her, as she climaxed in his arms before she “died” and he fed her to bring her back to him.
His words soft whispers in her ear as he spoke. “I’m sorry I have to cause you pain before you feel pleasure, Suzy. But I feel pushed to change you now. I hadn’t planned on this tonight, but I’ll give you a nice birthday present.” Soft sensual lips brushed her skin again and he heard her whimper. “Shsh. This won’t take but a few minutes.” He bared fangs and leaned into her just as the bell on the shop door chimed. Michael cursed and then smiled at Suzy.
“Make a sound and I will kill whoever is out there. Understand?” As Suzy nodded, he sat her in the overstuffed chair and kissed her. “Not a peep.”
He went out to the shop, wiping his hands on a small towel. “Ah, Chief McAdams. What brings you by this evening?” Damn the man! Would he ever be rid of him?
Suzy caught the sob in her throat. Her father? She battled between running to him, screaming or being silent and taking Michael at his threat. She couldn’t risk her father, so she stayed very still in the chair and wept silently, shivering with fear.
“Michael. I just noticed your door was open and was checking to make certain you weren’t in any trouble here.” The Chief nodded his head at seeing Michael still standing.
“I’m sorry. Must be my last customer didn’t pull it tight enough to stay. You know these old buildings and their little quirks. I was just cleaning up. Thanks for stopping by. I’ll close it and lock it from in here.”
Mark nodded again and left the building. Michael followed him immediately and closed the door, flipping the deadbolt and drawing the shade down to indicate the shop was closed. Returning to the back, he smiled at Suzy, but there was nothing gentle in that smile.
“Now. Where were we? Ah, yes. You and your delectable blood.” Michael’s eyes changed and Suzy shrank back against the chair. “I won’t hurt you, Suzy. I want to spend my life with you. And it’s a very long life.”
Michael reached for her and yanked her to him. Now, Michael, Now!!  Take her now before she’s aware. Michael’s blood pounded through his veins, threatening to burst from him, blanking out all other sound. He viciously bit and drank from her. She fought at first, struggling to escape his clutches. Her struggles only fanned the blaze of need surging within him. He sank fangs deeper, took more, took quickly until she was nothing. Until her heart had stopped and he was sated. He hadn’t known it would feel like that. Her blood washed through him like a cleansing fire. He pressed her face to his chest for only a moment before he tore open his wrist and forced blood into her mouth.
“Take, my love. Take and live. Take and be with me for eternity.” He waited patiently until she began to drink, her hands clutching his arm, drinking from him on her own. Michael smiled as he waited until she had pulled away from him. Mine!  He felt the draw, the pull they shared for one another and it lightened his heart a little. She was his and he, without question, was hers.
Michael would disappear into the night, into the dark, with Suzy at his side. And no one would ever find them. He stood by the window and watched the moon rise. They would leave soon....very soon. Before anyone missed her and her friend Angie would begin to put the bits and pieces together in her head. Michael and Suzy would be very far away before that happened.