Romer's Candle: Broke In Magic, #3

By Winnie Winkle

In a world torn between darkness and light, can love survive?

 

Metamorphosis. The muse restored his life and Romer's guardian abilities exploded. At least, that's what the wings seem to be saying. He's drawn to the gorgeous newcomer, Zoelle, but his extreme light is attracting dark magic of all sorts into Magic, New Mexico, just in time for Christmas.

Zoelle, a talented forest witch, never trusted her heart or the light, preferring to hoodwink from the shadows. Her connection to Romer forces choices, but she isn't ready to cede control over her body or how she wields her gifts.

 

Dark magicals flood the town, turning townspeople against each other. Is Romer the key or the curse? Forsaken by his neighbors but determined to protect them all, he struggles with his love for the darkening Zoelle. Can he save both, or must he release his beloved to sinister forces, lost forever?

 

Discover what happens when a genuinely good man is called to an extraordinary task.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Winnie Winkle
• Release date: Nov 16, 2021
• ISBN: 9781732905092

Winnie Winkle

Winnie Winkle is a fabulous Central Florida broad who swills bourbon, likes dogs and cats, and practices yoga, but not with any degree of grace. Supporting live local music is a pretty big deal to Winnie, so if you pass a gravestone that admonishes, 'Go see the band and hit the tip jar', it's probably hers. But, since she's not dead yet, she'll keep penning fun stuff to rock your reading chair. Winnie has lived in Florida for 30 years and splits her time between South Daytona Shores and the Mount Dora area. She prefers writing beach-side as much as she can because, if we’re baring our souls here, the ocean is a mighty muse and there’s only so much that coffee can do. Winnie writes humorous fiction with a new series, "The Record" releasing three titles in 2021 )Boogie Beach, Slat Shaken, Speedo Down). She also released a literary fiction, "To Walk in the World: Twin Tales of Inception in 2021. Winnie also writes (6 books so far)  paranormal and sci-fi romances for the series "The Worlds or Magic, New Mexico".

Book preview

Chapter One

In the ​​pinyon pine and juniper woodlands, the jays and nutcrackers fell silent. Mists, the color of a French lavender field, wafted between the trees, covering the ground in a soft, humid boil. Beneath it, blades of grass, tips of emerging flowers and plants, and tendrils pushed up from the unforgiving New Mexican soil. More mist surged from the cauldron, until an acre trembled with growth, the vines forming a fence, then walls, and a living roof rising over a cozy cottage. Soft grasses covered the floor, and fragrant blooms dotted the walls and ceiling.

Not a disappointing mixture, Zoelle pushed heavy blond hair back over her shoulders, patted the great iron pot, and waved to smother the fire with a quick spell. I think we’ll be fine here, Grimpelt.

The fat cat blinked and purred, his splotched tricolor coat of orange, white, and black framing one green and one blue eye. He stretched with elaborate deliberateness, then sashayed his puffy tail into the new home, taking his place on the windowsill and eyed the birds, still withholding their songs.

From here, we can spy, discover what Magic, New Mexico, looks like under the surface. Nothing is ever as it appears, Zoelle murmured, pulling a cup of tea from thin air. The truth teller was adamant that I needed to pull up roots and leave the great woods in Wisconsin. She blew out a sigh and rubbed Grimpelt under his chin. But I distrust happiness. It’s never served me well. Mayhem, now that’s an attitude I can embrace.

The moon rose, a slender, smiling sliver in the sky, and she nodded at the cat, her dark blue eyes crinkling at the corners. Keep watch. I’ll be back before dawn.

To his rumbling purr, she snapped her fingers and vanished.

The wind whipped along the flat sandy high desert, and Zoelle stood, perplexed and invisible, staring at the glow strolling — meandering was a better description — across the flatlands. The ball of bright light, which appeared to have feet, changed colors, ebbing and expanding in wild abandonment. Whatever it was, it pulsed with a feral, gorgeous ferocity, and she felt both drawn and repulsed, although she remained in place.

Quirrup!

Zoelle glanced up at the immense tree and narrowed her eyes.

What the heck is that?

A large bird with brilliant feathers in red, blue, copper, and green flew low over Zoelle’s head, arcing out across the sand, lost in the night sky.

I know I’m unseen, Zoelle muttered to herself before turning her gaze back to the kaleidoscope marching around in the desert. Have to admit, I’m curious.

The bird landed near Romer’s blazing auras and clicked its beak.

Hey Tashi, Romer greeted the squinting firebird. I heard you’re sitting on another egg. Congratulations.

Quirrup! Quirr, quirr, quirrup! The red head jerked with vehemence toward the rocky hill topped by the gigantic tree.

A stranger? Hmm.

Romer gazed over the stretch of desert for a long beat, and reached into his pocket, pulling thin silky fabric, resembling an oversized magician’s handkerchief, and shook it until it billowed into the night wind. In a way, it was. The sheet, a gift from his teacher, Topper, helped him go incognito when warranted.

In an instant, the swirling ball of light vanished.

Weird. I sensed no witch, but transport is our gift to wield. Zoelle propped her hands on her hips as the bird flew unnoticed over her head and landed, settling on her egg and giving the visitor a hard stare.

Guess I’ll check out the town, see what other incongruities appear.

With a snap, Zoelle vanished.

Tashi reached into her nest, pulled a coin free with her beak, and flipped it into the air.

A faint pop, and Topper appeared. Today her hair was blue with a wide white streak along one side of her grin. About fifty, she was trim in faded jeans; a lightweight burgundy hoodie protecting her from the cool desert night.

It’s rare you call for me, Tashi, are you alright?

With a rustle of feathers, Tashi shifted, stepping off her nest and plunking her naked butt on the branch. A firebird and moon elf blend, she was an unabashed free spirit. Topper lifted a palm upward in question.

I can only be off the nest for a few moments, Topper, but a strange witch popped onto my hill, and she saw Romer walking, trying to control his glow. I flew and warned him; he used the wrap you made for situations like this one, but she’s headed into town. Strands of Tashi’s hair moved, of its own volition, around her face and shoulders in alarm. I didn’t get a good vibe.

Did she understand what she was seeing?

Does anyone? Tashi snorted. Hell, Romer can’t even figure himself out yet. But no, I believe she understood he’s a being, not a ghost or a light phenomenon. She knew he was off, though.

It was getting too quiet around here. When do you expect to hatch?

Another week. I’ll miss the fun with our new snoop.

Topper laughed as Tashi, once more a firebird, turned the egg and settled her body over it.

Romer, invisible to curious eyes, climbed the steps to his second-floor flat over the Kokopelli Brewpub and Bar and pulled the door shut behind him. The original plan had been for him and his best friend Wellie to share the apartment, and the dwarves had built it to suit.

But Wellie went to New Orleans to visit family, fell one thousand percent for Trini, and now they had a three story place near Topper’s home. Trini, a harpy, flew from the wrap-around third-floor balcony; Wellie spent time as the cook at the Krazy Kettle. Well, when he wasn’t trying to figure out how that amulet fused to his chest was changing him.

None of us came through our introduction to Magic unscathed.

None also included his other best friend, Jasper Jones, who survived his metamorphosis, and lived with his gorgeous wife, Melia, who was a muse and a total badass. Their house, next door to Topper’s, was a regular crash for Romer, and they’d decked out a room to suit his situation.

I understand the benefits of living in this cave, but it still sucks.

Romer gazed around his apartment, covered in blackout curtains from floor to ceiling, and dropped the magical sheet. From every pore, light blazed in a swirl of blending colors. After dying to save Jasper, he received the gift of rebirth from the muse collective. While appreciated, the light show was getting old. Still, until he understood how to control it, this was his life.

Which was a significant motivator.

Daily, he studied at Topper’s with Wellie and Jasper, each of them determined to master the upending twists that changed damn near everything.

We aren’t who we were, hell, who we spent damn near thirty years becoming. We’re starting over, but the possibilities are huge.

He stretched out a long, well-muscled arm and pulled his current book closer, one borrowed from Topper’s vast library, and laid his bookmark aside.

The answer lies in these books. He ran strong fingers through his thick brown hair, otherworldly cerulean blue eyes seeking the words. I’ve got to discover what, and who, I’m becoming. Hiding isn’t the answer.

Zoelle stood outside Topper’s house and nodded.

Witch, and a good one based on the protective spells she placed.

Topper stepped onto her big wrap-around porch, a bottle of bourbon and two glasses bobbing in the air behind her. With a glance at Zoelle’s hiding spot, she crooked a finger.

Nightcap?

She saw me? How interesting.

I’d love that, Zoelle answered, shimmering into view and walking up the drive, sand making little puffs with each step. How do you stand this dust?

Every place offers charms alongside the not so charming elements. Each of us decides which matters most.

Topper gestured to a wicker chair with a deep cushion. Zoelle sat, wrapped slim fingers around the floating highball glass, pulled it toward her, sniffed the sweet, smoky scent, and sipped.

Nice, she nodded.

I’m Topper. Welcome to our town.

Thank you. My name’s Zoelle. I’m visiting from Wisconsin.

Far less dust there, Topper