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Excerpts
Healing Time
by Jane
Carver
Time moves on. Why do I have to? Brianna tapped her fingers
against the steering wheel as the windshield wipers tapped time to
the song on the radio. A week after being honorably discharged out
of the Army at Fort Hood in central Texas, she now drove cautiously
into the Gulf Coast/Piney Woods region of the state. Cautiously
because rain fell in buckets, and the daylight, long hidden behind
black clouds, dimmed even more with sunset.
This is like waiting for the other shoe to fall. She no sooner
said that than she cringed, waiting for lightening to strike the
rented Camry she drove. Never wise to challenge the Fates, she
reminded herself. As a way of reinforcing her thought, a bolt of
lightening struck further up the road, and a deafening rumble of
thunder rolled over her.
Okay, okay, so I’ll stop whining. Won’t do me any good anyway. When
it’s my time to go, it will be my time to go. She leaned forward
to look out of the front of the windshield, searching for clear
skies, but saw none. Rain slackened, and she eased back against the
comfortable seat, her shoulder muscles relaxing a little. Driving by
herself was still new, still intimidating. Never one to back down
from a challenge though, she set out on the road trip to her
destination—Spellfire. Decidedly, driving in rain, cold and safety
in Texas beat driving in blistering heat and dust in Iraq, which was
anything but safe.
Watching the signs, she turned on to the road headed for town.
Reaching across to the passenger seat, she picked up the email she
got a week earlier. No need to read it—even if she could while
negotiating the narrower road—she’d read it so many times already,
she had it memorized.
Lt. Fox,
I did some investigating after I met you last fall in that Army
hospital in Iraq. There is something about you that is quite
special—healing is a strength you wear like a second skin. I sensed
that through our brief touching of hands.
Spellfire, Texas—my hometown— has need of a person with your skills.
I offer you a job and a place of peace. Perhaps you might like our
town so well that you decide to settle here.
I understand you will be discharged after Thanksgiving. Please
contact me if you are interested in visiting Spellfire. I look
forward to hearing from you.
Sincerely,
Noah Spellfire
Pertinent contact information followed. Because she seemed to have
time on her hands, Brianna decided to take him up on the offer. But
the words ‘settle down’ really drew her. At no time in her life—her
long life—had she settled down in one place long enough to feel
permanent. She never got close to anyone because sooner or later,
she left. Often unexpectedly. She wanted no one left behind to mourn
her absence or rage at how inconsiderate she was for not telling him
or her goodbye.
So, Mr. Spellfire, your wife says to call when I get into town, and
you said you’d offer me a job. Let’s see what you got. Her one
phone call happened to get Mrs. Spellfire instead of Noah. The woman
sounded enthusiastic about Brianna coming, knew the details of how
she and her husband met briefly when he was rescued after a mission
in Iraq. Stella Spellfire did not know anything about the job Noah
offered, but Brianna wasn’t worried too much.
Heck, just the drive here is great. Seeing the Christmas lights in
each of those towns was fun. Christmas, humm. Now that would
be interesting to see. She slowed and turned on a blinker where
the road sign said Spellfire Ten Miles. She’d never been anywhere
during the Christmas holiday so had no idea what happened, though
others around her talked about it often enough for her to imagine
the activities, the joy and love the season inspired. Please,
Time, give me a chance to see what Christmas is like this time
around.
The
road signs began saying Reduced Speed Ahead and she slowed to fifty
then forty then thirty-five. As the car slowed, her heart rate
speeded up. Fear—she feared this next move in her life. Being scared
was nothing new. Being in a front line medical tent, being shelled
by the enemy while assisting with an operation, that was nothing
new. But this sharp acid gnawing at her stomach told Brianna she
feared for her future in this place…one she might not get to enjoy
for long but one she eagerly anticipated.
------------------
A
Fairy-Barry Christmas
by Elizabeth
Eden
Fairy May Jones stood in silent contemplation, her hands buried
deep in the pockets of her jeans. “Who did this one?” Spellfire Fire
Chief Milton Weatherly dug the toe of his boot into the blackened
earth and shrugged. Ash still flew through the air. The smell of
burnt brush clogged Fairy May's sinuses. Soot clung to her uniform.
Early morning chill crept through her jacket, so she pulled the
collar higher around her neck. Though the fire was out now, she
could hear crackles that made her jump, thinking a hot spot might
have broken out in her precious forest.
“Chief? We found this.” One of the fire fighters slogged toward the
pair. He carried a mangled metal can. “Looks like another arson
case.”
“Damn.” Weatherly held the can to his nose. “Gasoline. Different MO
– method of operation. The other burns weren't started like this.
Even now, we haven't a clue how they started.”
“Good thing Treena spotted the blaze and reported it to Windy.
Otherwise, this could have gotten out of hand fast.” Fairy May knelt
and dug up a handful of blackened soil. “I have to get hold of Bess
Green. She can help repair this mess. At least the undergrowth. Not
a lot of trees were scorched, thank goodness. But this is getting
bad. We have to find this guy.” She nodded emphatically to the
chief.
“We
have a suspect in the hospital. My men found him earlier. Good thing
we did, or he'd have died. As it is, smoke inhalation and a
concussion. Still unconscious when the ambulance rolled. The police
will be calling on him. I will, too.” Weatherly waved to a
firefighter coming their way. “Look, Fairy May, I have to get this
operation closed. Scene secured. Where will you be? Here or at the
Ranger station?”
“I'll finish my investigation here then head to the hospital. I want
to talk to that guy.” She let the anger that simmered beneath the
surface bleed out into her tone.
Weatherly came back and put a hand on her shoulder. “Listen, I know
how it must be to see the place like this, but no one was hurt.
That's the most important thing to remember. All fairies, nymphs and
spirits accounted for. Treena was the only one close to the blaze.
She's shook up but all right. You'll still have lots to work with
when the time comes next spring.”
“Yeah, you're right, but I really wanted to do some extra special
painting for Christmas. The weather is so nice and cold that I
thought some real frost-type maroons and golds might be pretty.” She
gestured, moving her hand to encompass the landscape like an artist
would. “A lot of folks camp here over the holidays. I wanted to make
it look really nice.”
“Things will work out. We'll get this guy, and you'll still have
time to paint the town.” Weatherly burst out in laughter at his own
joke. “Check you later.”
Fairy May cast her glance up, in frustration and to keep from
laughing, too. “Paint the town,” she mumbled.
“Ranger Station Four to Jones.” The radio clipped to her belt
squawked and startled her.
“Jones here.” She raised the radio high enough to respond without
breaking her line of vision…the place looked so bad. Smelt just as
bad as it looked.
“Get back here when you can and get the report done. Then high tail
it to the hospital. That guy hasn't woken up yet, but I want you to
be the first thing he sees when he does.” The disembodied voice rang
with outrage. With so many to guard the dense forest around
Spellfire, who could imagine an arsonist giving them fits?
“Yes, sir, my thinking exactly. I have to call Bess over at the
nursery. She'll get out here and start some regeneration as soon as
the fire chief gives her the all-clear.” She headed for her green
truck, the Forest Service symbol smudged by the latest round of
fires.
“Do
that. Out.” A crisp click signaled the end of the conversation.
A
flip of her wrist and Fairy May opened her cell phone. A quick
series of numbers and she waited for Bess to answer. Four rings
later…
“Hello?”
“Bess, it's me, Fairy May. We had another one this morning. Not big,
but that makes three so far in the last three weeks. Guys found a
gas can this time. Treena and Windy got hold of the fire department
in time to contain the fire. Can you get out here and do a little
regen on the spot? Shouldn't take much.”
“Sure, I'll get Bob to watch the register. The rest of the crew can
handle the place for a while. I'll be there in half an hour. Good
enough?”
“Better wait 'til after lunch. The chief wants to finish his
investigation first.” Fairy stepped up into the truck and cranked
the engine.
------------------------------
St. Germain
by Jim Deep
"I
assured Mayor Normil that I had no intention of vaporizing the city
of Spellfire as I had come to consider it my new home. He was most
relieved by that announcement."
11 Ianuarius, 2007
Rancho El St.
Germain
RR 2, Spellfire, TX
As
I am now in the New World for the foreseeable future, I probably
should relate the dates of my Journal in the style used here. That
practice would make this month- January. However, old habits die
hard. I shall, as I always do, do as suits me at the time from here
on.
I
moved here from my previous estate in France some time ago. While
the property remains in my name, and at some point in the future I
may return, for now I am back in the New World and in the Lone Star
State as it were. And have been, full time as it were, for just over
a year although I neglected my duty to document it.
I
shall now correct that oversight.
The
République Française no longer suited my needs nor
tastes, and the political situation was beyond my ken. I still enjoy
political intrique as much as ever, but even I found the situation
untenable with far too many factions pursuing their own agenda in
the public arena. As I do not wish to be involved in another Terror
as after the Revolution, I vacated, as is my wont to do. And as I
have done before while maintaining both my life and lift-style and
dignity.
Ah, alas, that unpleasantness is now in my past.
My past. Lord, do I have a past. At
times I feel the weight of it above all else.
But there are times when I profoundly miss leaders
like Tzarina Catherine. She would have put today’s petty political
types in their place in short order.
* * *
*
It
was quite the culture shock, but as always, I have adapted.
I
have always adapted.
For
over two thousand years, I have adapted.
* * *
*
Fortunately here the... do I use the word ‘people’? Citizens?
Denizens?
The
Locals, for lack of a better term, have so far left me alone for the
most part.
Yes
indeed, some of them are, and I shall strive to be polite, some of
them are—not quite as normal as the occupants of the village of my
last residence. Indeed, there were only two bona-fide witches in
residence there. Here in this town I have lost count of them. And
there are others as well, some of which even I lack the appropriate
language to accurately describe without resorting to Latin.
But
enough of that for now. They are here, as am I, and we must maintain
some level of civility in the best interest of all.
The
residence I purchased, sight unseen, was initially only slightly
less disagreeable than my apartment in Bavaria during what was a
most evil time for me. The agent through which I procured the estate
was, of course, a lady of attractive features, figure and
personality, one Mrs. Whistler, whose kinfolk have some importance
in the town. And during our business relationship, I most certainly
availed myself of all of her knowledge and charms on several
occasions. The estate has the advantages of being outside the town
proper, but still within a pleasant driving distance.
And
now the construction and renovation and other projects have been
completed, and I am able to live without the sound of power tools in
my ear. So, I have begun employing a full domestic staff.
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