Spell of the Black Unicorn

By Lorelei Bell

Zofia Trickenbod, a sorceress from another planet, is stuck on modern-day Earth. Things have been quiet for the past three years, until one morning she finds her long-lost husband Dorian on her doorstep. And he's undead.

Meanwhile, the evil wizard Vaseelvod Blood is hypnotizing Zofia's neighbors in order to get the magical Stone of Irdisi back from her - and maybe kill Zofia in the process. After Blood abducts her children, Zofia has to deal with a nasty demon, get past a dragon, deal with a lamia, save her children, and tell her boyfriend that her husband is back.

Spell of the Black Unicorn is a romantic fantasy adventure with hunky vampires, evil wizards and unicorns. What more could you want?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Next Chapter
• Release date: Feb 1, 2022

Book preview

Acknowledgments

~ Shelly Arkon, who became a great friend, and beta reader for this book

~ Borders of DeKalb, Ill. for hosting my first ever book signing

~ Family, friends & fans who bought the book when it first came out in 2008,

and said wonderful things about it.

Originally in paperback published by Infinity Publishers 2008

Thank You!

In the Beginning . . .

And so it was that the Immortal and Prime Ruler Astorath had discovered that mortal men were over-hunting the unicorn for the magical properties of their beautiful horns. He became angry, as the unicorn was given unto the world as a sign of innocence and beauty. But the mortals had become greedy, putting shame upon themselves so that Astorath took the last two remaining unicorns, a male and a female he did take, and brought them to The New World, Euphoria. And there they existed unmolested and multiplied in the great land east of the Sea of Clouds known as Eoffindor Provence.

From that time on, no one had seen another unicorn on First World. And so the unicorn, the dragon, wizards and sorcerers became a myth unto them. And Astorath said unto them, The incorruptible will have a new beginning, to which only good things belong.

And behold, all these things came to pass. But also did the darker spirits, imps and demons follow them. Because of it I wept and was troubled, because I had seen the vision.

~ Attributed to The Oracle of Zamora. Translated by Smaganus Aspergillam

Chapter 1

Mistress Zofia!

The peevish voice jolted Zofia out of the dream she was having. She sat bolt upright and gulped in air. The gray of pre-dawn on First World met her eyes. She was in her own four-poster bed. Thank goddess, just a bad dream.

What? Who's sick? She expected to see her sixteen-year-old daughter, Blanche, or her eleven-year-old son, Elton, or her Aunt Tillie, standing over her. But as Zofia's vision cleared, she saw no one was in the room with her. Whose voice had pulled her out of deep slumber?

Looking beyond the pencil posts of her bed, Zofia spied the highboy where a large brown fur-ball lay on top. Turquoise eyes scrutinized her. It was Argyll, one of her two guardian cats. Argyll sent Zofia a disgruntled look, but then her eyes fell shut and her head sank back down. So, it wasn't either of her cats calling to her.

Someone's at the front door ringing the bell, and it's giving me a h-h-headache, the detached, slightly willowy male voice moaned.

Oh, all right, Biddle. Really! Zofia grumbled. Throwing off the covers, she swung her long legs over the edge of the bed. She had to shake the cobwebs from her head before straightening to her full, barefooted height of five-seven.

Her gaze cut to the clock on her nightstand. A quarter past five in the morning. No wonder she couldn't get her eyes open all the way. Who would be ringing her doorbell at this hour? Damn Ugwump salesman probably. If they couldn't snag you via the phone, they came to your door. Well, she'd take care of him. One little zap to his ass would make him take off. Or better yet, maybe a good scare would keep him from coming back, and she wouldn't have to open the door at all.

You're a Ghogal, Biddle, she snarled. You should've at least seen who it was before bothering me.

I don't do doors, the detached voice retorted haughtily. No wonder she hadn't seen anyone there. It had been Biddle, her Ghogal, and he was very much invisible.

Grabbing the silky powder-blue robe at the end of the bed, Zofia pulled it on hastily as she charged into the hallway. The peal of the door chimes grated her ears as much as it did anyone's. Biddle was her servant, a returned invisible spirit, and was capable of carrying out many physical tasks for their chosen masters. Nearly every wizarding family had one on Euphoria, and Biddle had been in her family for generations, so naturally he had come with her when she had made her exodus from Euphoria to First World. Many of the Ugwump inventions here either stumped or frightened him—including the dishwasher. But the doorbell aggravated him.

Zofia swiped a wild veil of wavy sienna hair out of her face. Probably look like someone has taken an egg beater to my hair. She Transvected—levitated—out of her bedroom and down the hall toward the staircase. Darting out from beneath her dangling feet, two large, tawny, furry bodies surged ahead of her. Perth and Argyll dashed down the steps and waited at the entry, meowing impatiently before she could land barefooted on the cool slate floor.

A chill plunged down Zofia's spine as she approached the door. The memory of her dream crashed through her mind like a poltergeist in a glass shop. Why did she have this dream again after five long years of it abating? She now had dreamt it a sixth time in a fortnight. Was Vesselvod Blood near? Had he found her?

Heavy pounding on the door made her jump out of her thoughts.

Just a moment, she said, and looked through the small wedge of glass in the door. The shadow of a tall, square-shouldered man stood there. But with his back toward her she couldn't identify him. He wasn't wearing a suit, so she knew he wasn't a stupid Ugwump salesman. It certainly wasn't Richard Keys, who was much taller, and more robust. Besides, this man had shoulder-length black hair. Whoever he was, from this angle, the guy looked interesting.

Who's there? she asked.

The man turned to face the door. He shook the wild mane out of his dark, brooding, sapphire eyes and Zofia stared into a handsome face. She pulled in a gasp as instant recognition hit her hard like a troll's fist to the noggin. He looked almost like he had the day he'd left her to go on assignment, five First World years ago; longish hair, and sideburns needed trimming. Even in this light she could see the slight bump on the bridge of his nose where it had been broken in a fight in his youth.

Zofia? It's me, Dorian, he said in a distinctive Ogenthow accent with a mellow, almost crooning voice. Let me in, darling.

Her heart gave a lurch. A multitude of emotions zipped through Zofia. She twisted the locks and yanked the heavy oak door open so frantically she broke a fingernail—oh hell… I'll mend it later. Their eyes met for the first time in five years. Zofia couldn't believe he was standing there looking alive and fit as a Troll who'd eaten a whole village. Even so, she held off pulling him into a tight embrace. Mostly because all the warning bells were clanging in her head.

Zofia, I— His gaze took in every inch of her like a man who'd not set eyes on a woman in a thousand Euphoria years. How wonderful you look in that— his hands gestured toward her. You look like one of those women in a lingerie ad on Ugwump TV.

Zofia had been holding her breath since opening the door, and now exhaled with her words, I thought you were dead! I thought Blood had killed you! She crossed her arms and glared at him, waiting for an explanation.

Well, yes he did—

I saw it all in my dream the night you disappeared. That's why I fled with the children. The same dream I've been having, like last night.

I know, Dorian said. He glanced over his shoulder, turned back to her and said, I've not much time. Could you just invite me in? I'll explain everything—

I mourned for one hundred days, as required by the Code of Ethics. The children— her voice broke with an emotional chirp. She averted her gaze. Embarrassed to show her emotions in front of Dorian she went on. We couldn't find your-your body so as to sever the head, a-and then burn the body so that a demon couldn't take it over, she strove on matter-of-factly, trying to regain control over those wild emotions, but it proved nearly impossible with the memories of what she'd gone through thinking he was dead.

That would've been a mistake, he said low.

And now here you are! Marshalling her emotions she said in a low, dangerous voice, "How dare you make us all go through that, and now here you are at my door after five years of nothing!"

I'm guessing you're upset—

Upset? Me? she said, voice going up an octave. If I were upset, you wouldn't still be standing there.

But, darling, you didn't stay in Ogenthow long after that night. And I wasn't myself, believe me, after what Blood did to me. Not only did I forget the attack, but once I remembered what had happened, you'd already left Euphoria. I learned you'd come here to First World in order to escape Blood. I then followed you to this low-brow burg called Gladstone ill.

"It's not ill, it's Illinois," she corrected.

What? Oh—whatever, he said, swiping the air dismissively with his hand. Just let me in and I'll explain everything. Again he looked over his shoulder. I don't have much time, darling. Please?

Why? Is someone following you?

"No. Not a who exactly. But the sun's about up. Just let me in before I turn to dust."

His words gave her pause. The dream. Blood had turned Dorian to dust in the dream. How odd he would use such a turn of phrase.

Finally giving him a dubious look she said, You'd better have a good explanation for not being able to find us sooner than this.

I do. I promise. Really.

Gazing down at her cats she said, What d'you think, girls? Should we let the lout in?

A pair of slightly crossed aqua eyes gazed up at her. They both meowed. But Zofia was the only one able to hear them speak—a blessing from the Immortals.

"It would make things interesting, wouldn't it, sister?" Perth said.

"Aye, it would, sister. Argyll replied. In a delicious way, I'm sure."

Zofia looked up at Dorian and said, Well, it's unanimous.

She stepped aside. But Dorian paused at the threshold without entering.

Well? Didn't you just beg me to come in?

"Just indulge me for a second and ask me in," he said, his voice going tight with agitation. Maybe a tinge of fear to it, too.

What?

I can't enter your house unless you invite me in. His voice had phased back to its normal coolish note.

She rolled her eyes. Okay, Dorian Grandier, come in.

He rushed into the house, slammed the door behind himself, sprinted over to the windows, threw the thick curtains closed, then backed away from them.

Zofia frowned at his strange behavior. What're you afraid of?

Panting, he turned. The white tips of his incisors peeked just below his upper lip. She studied his deep-set eyes, almost straight nose, and the strong jaw line. He looked blanched, as if he'd been living in a cave for years. Smudges beneath the eyes—which Zofia had not seen before this—made him look a little spooky. He seemed frightened. She could not remember a time when Dorian had ever been frightened of anything. After all, he was a Knight of the Witenagemont who went after wizards who walked on the dark side, Ogres with illegal stashes, demons, dangerous imps, illegal shape-shifters, vampires and Werewolves who stepped one toe out of the Oblast into the Province, all of them were thrown out, put into rehab, or incarcerated in Hamparzum's, mostly thanks to him. His appearance both horrified and saddened her. This was not the Dorian and husband she knew.

Suddenly, both cats hissed vehemently. Backs arched, fur straight out, they both darted into the next room.

Dorian! she said, backing away a few steps. The hairs on the nape of her neck prickled. She now wished she'd brought the Stone of Irdisi-loaded scepter with her for more protection. But, she hadn't seen it in weeks and couldn't remember what she'd done with the darn thing. Dorian, explain yourself, before I put a hex on you!

Bringing his hands up in a defensive move he said, I—uh— He cleared his throat. I've been turned into a vampire.

Chapter 2

A vampire? You? Zofia said, incredulous. How could a vampire even get close enough to bite you? A Knight of Witenagemont, Dorian had brought eighty vampires into rehab, and seventeen, or maybe eighteen Weres in his time, second to none. He was the best man his boss, Stephen Restormell, had as a Knight. He had a foolproof hex he could put on vamps and Weres to make them snooze, given to him by his great-great grandfather.

It's a long story, but believe me, Vesselvod Blood was behind it, Dorian explained.

"So, the dream was true," she muttered to herself.

Don't ask me how, he sighed, plowing long fingers through his dark locks. I still don't remember exactly what happened. I suffered temporary amnesia.

Really?

Really. I couldn't even remember my name, let alone that I had a wife. All I do remember is that when I came to I had a terrible headache as though a Troll had hit me over the head. Plus this terrible thirst for human blood.

Zofia sucked in a noisy gasp, and back pedaled a few steps away from him.

Don't worry, he said, assuring palms up. I've been through rehab.

Really? Where? She squinted at him. There were good rehabs and there were awful ones that took money from the unsuspecting vampire and he wound up being even more addicted to human blood than before—if that were possible.

RVR.

Her eyes popped again. You went to Radu's Vampire Rehab? Who took you in?

My brother.

Declan?

No. Raoul, he said. Impressive, really, RVR was. I met an eight-hundred year old vampire. It was his fifth time in. He just couldn't keep his fangs out of humans. It's just like any other addiction and takes a long time to get over the desire for human blood and replace it with animal blood, or the new Wizard's Brand. I couldn't go with the synthetic. I need the real thing. It's half the reason it took me so long in coming to find you, he explained. Stepping further inside, his gaze moved to take in the house.

Well, that's a big relief! At least I know you came out of it cured. Right?

Right, he slurred, moving along. Great digs, darling. How do you afford it in this Ugwump-run world? He ambled toward the open staircase.

Watching his languid gate, her eyes slid to his butt. Imps! Didn't mean to go there. She couldn't claim him as her husband any more. He was an Undead, and under Code 136-7 (or was it Code 126-7?), the Undead could not return to their home and claim to be married, because it was Taboo to do it with a vampire. Taboos were definitely the biggest no-no's to break. Breaking Code was one thing—and people broke them on a daily bases—but breaking any Taboo brought some serious consequences. It could send you into Hamparzum's, which was filled with the most vile and wicked wizards, sorceresses, demons, Ghogals, and anything else they threw in there. You'd be lucky to survive it, and if you did, come back sane.

We've a potions and herb shop uptown, she explained, her face becoming warm. His sudden appearance threw her for a loop. Look, you can't just reappear after all this time and not tell me what happened to you. It's not fair, she said, following him to the stairs. I mean, how did Blood turn you into a vampire? He has no Powers.

Dorian chortled dryly. Believe me, I've wondered that ever since. I mean, why turn me into a vampire at all? Why not simply kill me. Right?

Zofia bit her lower lip. She wasn't going to go there. Bad enough he was Undead.

He yawned deep and loud.

Like I said, not only was my soul taken, but also my memory. That's why I couldn't communicate to you what had happened. He stifled another yawn with a fist to his mouth. Sorry, he said. Glancing at his watch he said, Oracle of Zamora! No wonder I feel dead on my feet. I need my nap. He surged up the stairs. Half way up he paused. Pivoting, he regarded her. This is all your house isn't it? I mean, you don't share it with any Ugwumps, do you?

No. It's just Aunt Tillie, the children and I.

Children? His brow arched. He looked stumped.

"Yes, Dorian. Our children. We have two. Did you forget them too?"

No. Of course not! He turned and briskly continued up the risers.

"You have forgotten them!" She gulped in air.

He stopped on the landing at the turn and fixed her with a look of profound annoyance. "I do recall some things, you know."

Prove it! What are their names?

Er… Brooke and—uh-uh—that's funny. The name's on the tip of my tongue.

Eldon! And it's not Brooke. It's Blanche!

Blanche and Eldon. Right. He chugged up the remaining risers to the second floor. He strode toward the first door in a languid, predatory gate and stopped at the first door to his right. Grabbing the door knob, he opened the door.

Bathroom, she said. He looked inside without turning on the lights.

Amazing what one can do with a water closet. He turned to face her. By the way, d'you know that your door bell gave me a zap?

A what?

It zapped me. Just a little one.

Oh, you mean it gave you a shock? Zofia frowned, knowing the culprit behind this had to be Biddle. She'd have to speak with him later.

"No. I'd have said shock if I'd meant shock. Just a nice, pleasant, thrumming, he said. Just like when I used to tease you— he touched her with the end of his index finger. Zzzzz!"

Oh! she cried and jumped out of reflex. Of course she felt nothing when he touched her. But when Dorian was a wizard with full powers, he'd had a playful knack of giving her a little zap, not unlike the feel of a static electric charge in the dry winter months here on First World. He would do it when she was least expecting it, as a joke, and then titter about it like a school boy.

Stop it! She slapped his hand.

I thought you rather enjoyed my zapping you.

Yes. Just about as much as I enjoy having my fingernails bent back.

I'll have to remember that.

She rolled her eyes at him for a second time. If she had to do it a third time, she might get the head spins.

He turned to the door across the hallway. Pointing, he threw her a questioning look.

My bedroom.

He opened the door and peeked inside. Nice big bed. He inhaled several quick breaths, sounding like a dog on a scent.

What?

Turning, he flashed her a roguish grin. I don't smell anyone's scent but yours in there.

Wow. You can smell that?

He advanced on her. Startled, she backed into the wall. Large hands went flat against the wall on either side of her face, his arms caging her while he sniffed around her face and shoulders. Nothing is as unnerving as having a vampire sniff you like you were his next meal. What on Euphoria was he sniffing for? Blood type? Garlic? She wondered if the small silver ankh at the hollow of her neck would be enough to fend him off if he had a sudden relapse. A lot of people mistook it for a crucifix, at first glance. On her planet, it was used as a talisman, a form of protection, but it could be invoked for fertility, in all things, including plants. This one was made of silver, and vampires had an aversion toward silver. She worried its power too inconsequential to ward him off.

Hmm, Dorian said, looking as though he had found some interesting scent or pheromones on her.

What?

"Not what but who?" He arched an eyebrow.

You mean—? Oh! A twinge of guilt went through her. She'd broken it off with Richard months ago when he'd gotten serious. (How could she have explained that she could levitate herself, and dishes, with a mere thought? Never mind telling him she was from another planet.) Could he still smell Richard on her?

An Ugwump? Really, darling, you could do better, he sneered, releasing her as he backed off.

Yes, an Ugwump. What else would I find on First World? It wasn't as if wizards were in abundance here.

He squeezed his eyes at her. So?

So?

So, who is he?

She pressed her lips together. Her love life was none of his business. Even though she hadn't had a date in several weeks now.

You don't want to tell me? Fine. I'll find out eventually. I'll match the scent with all the humans we come across, he said, then turned and forged on up the hallway. Which way to your attic?

Attic? She pictured Dorian sniffing every man who came to her door like an overly ardent hound.

You do have one, don't you?

Well, yes, but—

Which door leads— His hand clutched Blanche's bedroom doorknob.

Stop! she wheezed, trying not to wake everyone up. Not that one. The last door to the right… yes, that's the one.

He followed her directions.

Wait, she surged forward, stopping a few feet from him. You haven't told me what happened that night.

I promise. Just an hour or so— He yawned into his fist. We'll talk then. I need my nap. He yanked open the door and plunged into the darkness.

She listened to his footsteps clamoring up, and then heard something tumble heavily to the floor.

Oops, his voice filtered down to her. Sorry. I think I knocked somebody's arm off.

Zofia frowned up into the dark stairway.

She's rather stiff—

You mean the mannequin? That was up there when we moved in, Zofia called up. The only one you have to share space with is Biddle.

Who?

Biddle.

I don't see anyone else, darling.

"You can't see Biddle. He's my Ghogal."

You're what?

Zofia sighed. Never mind. He'll make himself known to you soon enough.

Zofia shut the door.

A sudden cackle made her spin around to meet the dried apricot face of her Aunt Tillie. Her teeth gleamed amber in the glow of the courting candle she held in her ganglion-veined hand. Gray-blue eyes twinkled with impish delight. Two braids framing her face tamed her lily-white, wiry hair.

I told you he'd come back. You owe me a pound of fudge! she said.

Chuckling to herself, she twirled about. Shuffling down the hall, her ruby-red robe fluttered like curtains in a storm. She disappeared back into her own room.

The peal of door chimes set Biddle off moaning once again.

"Oooo… aaaah… stop it! Make it stop!"

Jumping imps and demons! Doesn't anyone sleep in on Saturdays anymore? Zofia cried. She spun, and rushed back down the stairs.

This time her visitor was her neighbor, Eleanor Tuestad. Forty-something, with long, wavy brown hair swept back off her face, she wore a bronze and ocher-colored broomstick skirt and a matching blouse.

Hi, she said, her large blue eyes rounder than usual. She looked excited. Your doorbell just gave me a shock!

Sorry. I-I'll have to get that fixed, Zofia said, trying to hide her irritation. This made two times. There was no doubt Biddle had jinxed the doorbell to give a shock to anyone who used it.

I saw you were up. Who was that handsome man at your door just a while ago?

Zofia scratched her head to buy time. Just my husband—

"Husband? Her large eyes went even larger. I thought you'd said he was dead."

Zofia bit down on her lower lip. "W-we thought he was dead. But as it turns out, he wasn't—er—isn't." Goddess, I'm so lame sometimes.

Wow, Eleanore gasped with a reverent expression on her face. That must have been a Karmic moment. What happened?

Zofia blinked at the Ugwump woman. Eleanor Tuestad seemed to have caught Zofia in a lie. It wasn't exactly a lie. But now she had to make something plausible up. Fast.

There was a fire, you see and somehow he'd managed to escape. But he lost his memory. He'd only recently gotten some of it back. Then it took him a while to find me. Perspiration slithered from her armpits down her ribcage giving her a spidery feeling there. Goddess, she hated lying to people.

Well, I think that's just wonderful, Eleanor said, fingers laced together in front of her, pausing as though waiting for an invitation of some sort.

Did you need something, Eleanor?

A hurt expression came over her plain features. "I told you that I'm going by my new name, Natasha, now. I've changed it, after my re-birthing classes and aura readings with my Esoteric Counselor. That's how I learned that I've lived many past lives, in two of which my name was Natasha. You do remember, don't you? Anyway, I came over to remind you about the re-naming party today at eleven o'clock, at the Tea Room. She took a breath, gazed high over Zofia's head and raising her hand she stretched invisible words across the air. Now it'll be called, Natasha's Tea Room."

Zofia closed her eyes against the head spinning induced by Natasha's long-winded speech.

"I just love what you've done to this place, Natasha said, weaseling her way into the house. Her gaze took in Colonial blue walls, and ivory dental molding and door headers. She looked like a prospective buyer for the house. It looks as it should, you know? Like it might have in its heyday." She continued to weave her way through the great room and now stood in front of a dahlia quilt hanging over the brick fireplace.

Is this old? She pointed at the quilt, turning to look at Zofia.

Not very— Zofia said, stifling a yawn.

Ohhh—and is that real-to-gosh pewter? Of course it is! she answered her own question and went up on tiptoes to look more closely at the pewter mug and plate on the mantle. Silly me. She tipped back on her heals letting out with one of her hyena-like laughs. Why, everything here must be antique.

Not everything, Zofia said, slouching against the baluster she yawned more deeply. How good it would feel to climb back into bed. I wish Natasha would go away. If she were back on her world, this Ugwump wouldn't be pestering her at this hour. In fact, she would probably give Zofia wide birth, unless she needed a love philtre, or a decoction put together for some remedy.

Natasha gushed over the spinning wheel and butter churn next to the fireplace. Unable to take much more of this silly Ugwump's invasion, Zofia said, Natasha, is there anything else? I'd really like to go back to bed.

The woman's owl-round eyes darted back to Zofia. Natasha broke away from her perusal of the house. Gasping, her hand went to her almost flat chest. "Ohmigoodness! Certainly. I'm so sorry. You'd like to be with your husband, and here I am rambling on and on and on like a fool. She retraced her steps back to the door and stopped. With a finger in the air she turned and said, Now, don't forget, eleven o'clock at the Tea Room. And tonight at dusk, my house."

Tonight? What's happening tonight?

The séance, silly. B'bye.

Chapter 3

A rooster's crow from the backyard woke Zofia. An errant breeze through open windows brought her more awake. She glanced at the clock. An hour had passed since Biddle woke her announcing there was someone at the door. Finding Dorian on her threshold had caught her completely off guard. Especially since she'd just had the dream, again. It never varied from when she'd first dreamt it five years ago. Of course, she now knew she'd taken the dream too literally. She thought the dream meant that Blood had killed Dorian, but this morning proved that interpretation all wrong. Blood had found some way to turn Dorian into a vampire.

So now Dorian was a wraith form who had powers of his own. But he was definitely linked to the darker forces, and—bluckh—drank blood in order to continue to exist. He could subsist on other living creature's blood—bluckh—which she would have to provide—double bluckh. Aazel, the captured demon, had forewarned her about trouble. Trouble in what form? She wondered if the trouble would come directly from Dorian… or because of him.

After yawning and stretching, Zofia rolled out of bed.

The dream had come again. No. The nightmare. Vesselvod Blood, the evil sorcerer who had killed her parents, had starred in her nightmares since childhood. Also, whenever she stood in front of a mirror in the buff, the memories resurfaced because of the scar she wore thanks to him.

She strove to send those images away. Stepping to her dresser, she picked up a silver hair brush that once belonged to her mother. Blinking back angry tears, she ran the brush through long, thick, brown hair. She did resemble her mother. Her brown eyes and nose and the color of her hair especially. I miss her so. Immediately she pushed those gloomy thoughts out of her mind and resigned herself to thinking about Dorian again.

He had returned to her. Amazing. Even though he had become a vampire, at least he had come back to her. He had traveled from their world, Euphoria, where magic and wizardry was commonplace, and the Immortals were the gentile ruling class—direct descendants of the gods and goddesses. They had once lived on Earth, a couple of millennium ago, but the religious rulers had begun persecuting witches. Or rather those they thought were witches. The Immortals had found them a new home where they were the ruling class, and the Ugwumps revered them.

Zofia refocused her eyes on her own image in the mirror. Wizards-gone-bad, like Vesselvod Blood, had been the very reason the Ugwumps of that time had become terrified. She knew what someone like Blood was capable of when he'd had wizarding Powers. His crimes were why his Powers had been stripped from him, and he was sent into Hamparzum's Place of Darkness for the duration of his life. Even without his powers, Blood threw terror into her just the same because she knew he was evil.

Dismissing these morose thoughts she dressed for the day in a yellow blouse and matching skirt, then Zofia stepped out of her bedroom. The aroma of frying bacon cloyed the hallway. Her stomach growled. Hunger pains gnawed at her insides. Zofia and her two feline escorts followed the bacon scent down the stairs into the knotty pine kitchen. Ravenous, she burst through the door fearing the others would all be seated at the table snarfing down every last morsel before she could lay claim to any of it. Of course, Tillie would have saved her something, and Biddle would have made sure some was left for her, his mistress—but she would have to play him a few hands of cards to get it away from him.

Surprise! and then, Happy birthday! Elton, Blanche and Tillie shouted in unison, nearly scaring the pea soup out of her. They each wore brightly colored party hats and blew on noise makers.

You guys! she shouted over the noise, covering her ears. That's enough noise to wake a dead Troll. In the same moment, she spied the nicely wrapped presents on the table and now surged toward them. Wow! For me?

Did we surprise you? Elton, her son, asked. His clear-blue eyes blazed impishly beneath a shock of black hair. He wore his favorite T-shirt, his usual torn-out-in-the-knee blue jeans and worn out sneakers. He had new jeans for school, but it was summer, and these he preferred for knocking around with his friends on his bike and skate board.

Yes, you really did, Zofia said and patted him fondly on the head. She paused as she looked into his face and realized how much he favored his father. A twinge of guilt hit her. She had to tell them that their father had returned to them. The how and what she would tell them was the daunting thing.

Open my present first! Elton cried, interrupting her thoughts.

No. Mine! Blanche pushed him aside, her long, dark hair still damp from her shower. She had chosen a pink halter and cream-colored low-ride shorts. There wasn't a yard of material on the girl anywhere. The mode of Ugwump dress was a constant headache for Zofia. No one dared to dress like this on Euphoria—not even the Ugwumps—and she had the dubious position to remind them of that.

Okay, okay, Zofia said as she settled into her chair. Last year I opened Blanche's present first, so I'll open Elton's first, this time.

She never forgets, Elton said, and stuck his tongue out at his sister from a safe distance across the table from her. Mine is the black and silver wrapped one.

Zofia eyed the presents. There seems to be an awful lot of black wrapping paper here.

They all chuckled with mischievous looks in their eyes.

That's because of the 'big four-oh'! Elton burst with laughter.

Thanks for the reminder, she said. I'll go and check myself for chin hairs right after breakfast.

Tillie hushed them, and then said to Zofia, Go on. Elton's present is right there in front of you.

Zofia picked up a box about the size of a thick book. It's not very big, she teased as she tore open the gift wrapping. Inside the cardboard box she found a set of turned wooden candle holders and two bees wax candles to go with them.

Elton, these are beautiful! Did you make them in shop class?

He nodded. Last semester, Mr. Tugit showed us all how to turn the lathe and junk. They took two weeks to make.

I'm sure they did, using Ugwump's tools. These will look wonderful in my bedroom, she said. Thank you.

Zofia opened Blanche's present next. She'd given her a nappy-haired teddy bear to add to her collection. Tillie had given her a clear crystal on a gold chain.

Thank you. All of you, Zofia said, trying to find a way to segue into telling them the news about Dorian. I wonder how the children will take this news. In the same moment she caught Tillie's knowing gaze. Tillie had been excited by the fact Dorian had returned, but she didn't know the whole story yet. The children hadn't seen him since they were small. Blanche would remember him. But Elton was five when Dorian disappeared.

Before she could begin her story, Elton grabbed his plate and asked, What're we having? I'm starving!

Yes. What is it, Tillie? It smells heavenly, Zofia said.

Raisin buns, Irish bacon and sunny-side-up eggs, Tillie said, as she levitated platters of food from the counter to the table.

"Bon appetite!" Biddle's voice came out of thin air. He removed the domed lids from the platters. Out wafted delicious steam. The lids drifted back to the counter, as if of their own volition. Everyone filled their plates.

Before she could back down, and while everyone was digging into their food, Zofia announced, I've some news.

Tillie's face broke into an impish grin. An announcement, at last!

What announcement? Blanche asked, spearing a forkful of eggs.

It's good news, Zofia said, catching the wary look on her face. Amazing news, actually.

Just tell them, Tillie said with an encouraging wave of the hand.